The mate

I woke up, it took me a moment to get my bearings, I was alone in the wide bed. I stretched; my faithful four-legged friend had taken over the empty spot, as if he understood my sadness.

I got up, went to the kitchen like an automaton: lit the gas, put the water on to heat, looked for the mate —I couldn't remember where I'd left it— and got it ready. I drank the first mate, I didn't know if it was bitter from the yerba or from my tears.

I went back to bed. Second mate: the memories came, the two of us young in high school, me in fifth year, him in fourth. He was the oldest in the grade; he had dropped out for two years over family troubles, his father was sick, he'd had to help his mother in the shop. Third mate: we met during a recess, it was love at first sight; we became friends, we helped each other study.

Fourth mate: we started getting ready for university, the CBC, me in biology, him in Letters; he wanted to be a lawyer, I a doctor. Fifth mate: in the middle of our studies we had our first experience of love, shy, embarrassed, happy. Sixth mate: we graduated, we decided to go live together; our families were against it, without a wedding it couldn't be.

Seventh mate: the water went cold, I went back to the kitchen, my faithful friend came with me this time. Water, like love, goes cold. From our union Manuel was born. Eighth mate: a young lawyer started calling every day. «Don't worry, she's just a kid.» Ninth mate, sitting in the kitchen, and with the last mate the young woman took him away.

My son is already at university, following in his father's footsteps. But I hope this isn't the last mate.