Photo by Victor Pelayo

By Sergio López Vigueras

Translated from Spanish by Jacqueline E. Bixler

The Bullet presents the story of Lauro and Valeria, who furtively glance at and wonder about each other every morning as they ride to their respective jobs on a microbús. On this particular morning, their daily routine as well as their lives change dramatically when two armed men board the bus to rob the passengers. Their verbal and physical abuse of the passengers forces Lauro and Valeria to reflect on their monotonous, lonely lives, to take action, and, ultimately, to speak to one another. The Bullet is a proletarian love story and at the same time a serious reflection on the numbing existence of the millions of people in Mexico City who get up each day in the cold hours of dawn and spend hours alone with their thoughts, on dilapidated buses, just to get to work.

A deceptively simple play, The Bullet is at once verbally beautiful and physically terrifying. But what truly makes it special, and at the same time somewhat difficult to translate, is the way in which the dramatist mixes not only the poetic and the vulgar, but also the voices of the characters. Rather than dialogue, the text consists of a series of interior and crossed monologues, particularly when the words of the leader of the two assailants are uttered by Valeria. As a result, we are left wondering if Valeria, Lauro, and Jonathan are speaking directly to the spectator, to one another, or just to themselves. The translator is further challenged by the multitude of uniquely Mexican vulgarities, the poetic structure, and the rapid-fire pace of the text.

Sergio López Vigueras: The original text, La bala, was written by Sergio López Vigueras  (Mexico City, 1985). He studied Dramatic Literature and Theatre at the UNAM and has worked as a director, dramatist, and scenic designer for Lagartijas Tiradas al Sol, Seña y Verbo, La Máquina de Teatro, Área 51,  and TeatroSinParedes, among others. La bala was awarded the 2017 Gerardo Mancebo del Castillo National Award for Young Playwrights and published that same year in Teatro de la Gruta XVII, Fondo Editorial Tierra Adentro. The play premiered in Mexico City on June 1, 2018, in the Foro La Gruta, directed by the playwright. Other plays written by the same autor include La púa de la biznaga, Damiana y Carola, La luz del otro, and Tártaro, the latter of which won in 2022 five Association of Critics and Journalists of Theater (ACPT) awards, including Best Monologue and Best Mexican Playwriting.

Jacqueline E. Bixler (Ph.D., 1980, University of Kansas) recently retired after 43 years of teaching Hispanic literature and culture at Virginia Tech, where she held the title of Alumni Distinguished Professor. A specialist on Mexican theatre, she has published nearly 100 articles as well as six monographs and edited volumes. She continues to serve as Editor of the Latin American Theatre Review and to be an active scholar. Her most recent endeavors involve the translation of plays by Sabina Berman (The Narco Deals with God and Testosterone), Alejandro Ricaño (Idiots Contemplating the Snow and Hotel Good Luck), Sergio López Viqueras (Tartaro and The Bullet), Conchi León (Extraordinary Events), and Emilio Carballido (Photograph on the Beach).

The Bullet

Written by Sergio Felipe López Vigueras

Translated by Jacqueline E. Bixler

LAURO

My blood is so cold.

It’s a battle to get moving.

To wake up is not the same as waking up:

To wake up is to barely open my eyes

and surrender to the daily routine.

Six forty-five a.m.

Dawn.

Light that announces light,

an icy time of day.

My fingers stiffen in my pockets.

The street is empty.

The streetlights are on.

A pasty mixture of dust and dew

bathes the rear windows of the cars.

The scarf meant to keep out the cold is strangling me.

My breath fogs up my glasses.

My feet resist.

I think about my bed.

My flannel sheets, my blankets, my pillow.

I try to extend my toes inside my socks.

I think about the apathetic horde of students awaiting me

for the first composition class of the day

in a pretentious private prep school.

Two more blocks to go.

Then a minibus, the subway, a change to another subway line,

and four more blocks.

It could be worse.

The young neanderthals get there at 7:00.

Why bother if they’re just going to end up holding up minibuses?

VALERIA

That’s what they say.

It sounds good.

Sounds exciting.

“This is the first day of the rest of my life.”

That’s how it goes.

Okay.

Today I’m in control of myself.

That’s what I should say to him: That’s it, Oscar. It’s over.

For me at least.

Truth is I’m bored.

I know it by heart:

promise, complaint, argument, reconciliation, promise.

That’s how he’s avoided decisions, but now it’s my turn.

And I’m going to make it easy for him:

Either you leave me alone or I’ll go up to Human Resources right now,

and let’s see what you tell your wife when they fire you.

JONATHAN

Get up, the boss says, as he shakes me,

Today is the day.

I go outside and take a shit,

I wash my face.

There’s bread and Nescafé inside.

Eat something, he says.

He prays.

I take a bite of bread and look at him.

Fucking fatso,

Someday I’m gonna be like him.

LAURO

The briefcase,

full of homework that the kids copy incorrectly off the internet,

and that I mark up,

hits my hip

with each step.

The strap presses on my shoulder,

wrinkling my gray sport jacket.

I leave it like that,

unwilling to expose my hands to the cold.

I approach the first station:

the corner bus stop

that sets everything in motion.

There she is.

Standing.

Like everyday.

Always.

VALERIA

Lauro arrives punctually at the bus stop.

His parents died when he was a child,

my mother told me.

She also told me that back then he had a lot of imagination.

That at an outdoor party,

next to the market,

there was a contest,

and he read the most amazing stories,

but the winner was another boy who recited a patriotic poem.

I don’t remember any of that.

I know that he’s now a school teacher.

Every morning

he comes to this corner to catch the bus

at 6:50 on the dot

and he looks at me.

He doesn’t know me.

He doesn’t know that I know him.

I like that he looks at me.

No one else looks at me like that.

Like a puppy anxious to grow up.

JONATHAN:

No bus is coming.

The tardiness makes the cold more acute.

If the bus arrives full as hell, you let it pass,

Otherwise you can’t even move.

The boss says hello to a cop.

Hey, it’s still early,

I haven’t even pulled a job yet.

LAURO

Her hair pulled back in a ponytail.

Perfect, lint-free sweater.

Shiny shoes.

Those eyes that look the other way if I get close.

I think about the worn fabric of my sport jacket.

How much longer til the sales?

She must have a boyfriend.

He probably takes her to the movies, buys her gifts.

No doubt illiterate,

but nonetheless her boyfriend.

VALERIA

Lauro: one more of my daily certainties.

Seeing him here every dawn.

The number one daily certainty.

What will Oscar be to me, afterwards…?

Another certainty,

that of lost time?

Or will I end up coming back like I always do,

adrift,

bowing to his whims?

LAURO

We wait.

Birdsong announces the dawn.

Sixty seconds,

one hundred and twenty,

the lavender sky crackles.

We share sunrises,

does she realize that?

Of course not.

I’m pathetic.

Insignificant.

JONATHAN

It’s better in the morning.

They’re all sleepy, like calves.

They left home early for work or school.

At night they’ve had it.

It’s harder if they’re pissed off.

They get all fired up at the least little thing.

At noon or during the afternoon they’re awake.

At this hour, however, they don’t even expect it.

They have less money on them, but it’s easier.

You get on and you hop off, without them even realizing it.

It’s faster.

They don’t even notice.

LAURO

The bus is coming.

The motor of its violent, criminal body

rattles and shudders.

Get on, get on, there’s room.

VALERIA

I climb on.

LAURO

She goes first, I follow.

VALERIA

The same thing every morning.

I sit down.

LAURO

She sits down,

near the front.

There’s an empty seat next to her.

I could sit there…

The driver steps on the clutch,

and shimmies the stick shift

until it goes into first and

makes the engine roar.

JONATHAN

The Boss knew how to do it.

He’s the king of the street.

These streets at least.

He’s already built an empire.

There are only three rules, he says:

Stay calm, stay calm,

above all, stay calm.

If you aren’t calm, you fuck up.

You know what you’re going to do,

you’re doing a job.

You get there, boom, no hassle,

and let’s go, on to the next one.

You don’t even need to worry about it.

LAURO

I pay.

The movement of the bus rocks me.

I let inertia move me

down the aisle.

I leave her behind.

The seat next to her is still empty.

It’s better that way.

What would I say to her?

“Hi, I’m Lauro,

the writer who doesn’t write

and who plays babysitter in a prep school for seventy pesos an hour.”

JONATHAN

That’s how he did it,

without stopping to think about it.

He doesn’t work for anyone,

whatever he earns is his.

If you try to compete with him:

You’re an idiot, a fucking deadman.

It’s not easy being the king.

I watch him, I see, I watch,

I study, I notice, I learn.

I look for details, cracks.

I’m not gonna let myself become his asshole forever.

Everyone has a secret,

finding it is just a matter of time.

One day the king will fall from his throne,

it’s just a matter of knowing how to make him fall.

VALERIA

I sit down and let Lauro pass.

He looks so sweet in his cheap little suit.

I realized that he hesitated

as to whether he should sit down next to me.

I’ll be getting off before him,

and seeing him again when I leave work.

As soon as he sees that I’m getting up,

he’ll make eye contact,

hold it for a second,

and then turn toward the window.

That’s the most we’ll have today:

a second.

What would happen if I greet him one day?

Would it scare him even more?

What would he say if he knew that I think about him at night

and wonder if he’s thinking about me

as he fondles himself under his briefs?

LAURO

I sit down in the rear.

I see the usual streets,

miniscule,

like an unconscious animal

taken every morning to the slaughterhouse.

JONATHAN

I follow his orders for today.

The classic:

he takes the driver,

I go down the aisle.

I’ve got a canvas bag

and a small 22-calibre pistol.

LAURO

I dissolve as the streets make me invisible.

VALERIA

Am I being too hard on Oscar?

It’s true that he bores me,

but no more than the rest of my life.

I’m bored by Lauro and his timidness,

by his provincial, priestly seriousness.

The office bores me,

the return home bores me.

I don’t suffer. It’s not torture.

It’s sheer boredom.

It’s knowing that after I wake up the bus comes

and that after the bus comes the office,

and that after Monday comes Tuesday and so on until Friday,

and that my life will continue to bore me

and will bore me even more as I get older.

JONATHAN

Wouldn’t it be a good idea to cover ourselves?,

I asked him once,

to cover our faces or something?

How can you think that?, he said.

That’s more important

than the money.

They need to understand who’s in charge,

know that someone controls this route,

and that that person has my face.

And now, your face, too.

VALERIA

A lover can at least be entertaining.

It’s fun to watch him get upset

in the motel bed

when I remind him (yet again)

that the time by which he promised to leave his wife has almost expired;

watch him sob if his worries kill his desire;

watch him swagger if I make him believe that he’s the one deciding.

No.

The truth is that it’s not amusing.

I bore myself even more.

Oscar and I were a fling,

freedom, a game.

When exactly did I turn into a nagging broken record?

LAURO

The news stand, the hardware store,

the stoplight, the cables, rooftops,

pharmacies, 7-11’s,

bridges, speed bumps, u-turns, median strips,

juices, coffee, tamales,

the one-way street that they transgress

to avoid the chaos of the intersection,

the building where I finished middle school,

where the pockmarked pubescents now get off the bus.

Everything in its place.

The dull melody that plays every morning.

Lauro’s melody:

the symphony that never got beyond a monotonous hum. 

VALERIA

Actually, what would change

if I left him?

What difference would I notice

between one meaningless day and the next?

What would I miss,

beyond the sweat and the scraped skin,

beyond the chafed knees

and the itch that comes on at the worst moment?

LAURO

Until they get on.

JONATHAN

He gets on first.

He’s got the technique. He knows how to do it.

He knows the right moment.

That’s the whole secret.

The exact moment when you raise the pistol

so that the driver doesn’t get scared and keeps on driving.

When I learn that secret…

VALERIA

Shit, not again.

The second one already this month.

Even assaults have become part of the routine.

LAURO

There are two of them.

Over-sized hoodies.

A dark-skinned fat man and a pale skinny guy.

Their hands swimming in huge sleeves

like the mouth of night,

wielding pistols.

JONATHAN

Once he sees that I’ve gotten on,

he raises his pistol.

At that moment I can raise mine.

Same with the passengers.

Once they see that the driver has put the bus in gear,

that the driver is calm,

I can go back there with them.

I can’t get on and immediately aim the gun at them.

An assault is like fucking: it’s a question of rhythm.

A split second.

It’s all about

discovering that secret.

LAURO

The gun metal reflects the January sun.

I feel frozen.

It’s not the cold.

I rest my hands on my legs

and the sweat begins to soak my pants.

Don’t move, Lauro.

The skinny guy goes down the aisle

threatening with an amateur clumsiness.

Up in front,

his pistol still trained on the driver,

the fat guy says,

not very loudly:

VALERIA

Okay, you fuckers, I don’t want any nonsense.

Keep driving, what are you looking at?

JONATHAN

Everyone calm, everyone quiet,

you’re going to take out everything you’ve got,

cellphones, wallets, bills, watches,

you’re going to put it on your lap,

the Boss tells them,

and my friend is going to pick it up.

His friend is me.

I don’t talk.

The Boss is the one who does the talking.

He knows how to do it.

On that we agree.

I obey.

LAURO

The fat one says:

Does everybody understand?

Quiet. I don’t want any nonsense.

I close my eyes.

I could charge for writing them more original speeches.

VALERIA

They could at least not be all alike.

Tell a joke.

Say, “I wouldn’t be assaulting you if…”

while they’re actually doing it.

LAURO

I’m sure they didn’t look me in the eyes.

They didn’t see me with my eyes open.

I close them.

Not much.

Just enough so that it’s not obvious that I’m closing them.

This shit always scares me stiff.

Even if I went through it a thousand times.

I try to pretend I’m asleep,

close my eyes and let everything happen.

Ten minutes, a trip, a lifetime.

JONATHAN

There’s always one who pretends to be asleep,

a meddling old woman,

a child who starts to cry.

That’s to be expected.

That’s also why the Boss prefers to stay with the driver.

The people make him nervous,

he says that one day his gun is going to go off on him.

VALERIA

I open my purse and leave it on my lap.

I take off my earrings, they’re costume jewelry,

and I put them next to the purse.

I’m also wearing a watch.

I happily take it off.

Oscar gave me that one.

LAURO

It’s better to stay unnoticed,

to turn gray like the dirty seat covers.

It’s better for me to stay out of it,

sink down onto the floor like a shadow,

be worthless,

insignificant.

If I get to school late, will I tell them what happened?

No.

The students would love it.

JONATHAN

Yes, we carry a pistol,

but it’s a shield.

I’ve never shot anyone.

As for the Boss, I’m not sure…

Yes, I’ve seen people die.

I always know when I’m falling asleep

because I start seeing the faces

of those I’ve seen die.

But to be the one who shoots…

VALERIA

And your watch?, he’s going to ask.

They ripped it off me!

I got robbed on the bus!

Since you don’t have the balls

to tell your wife

to stop checking your bank accounts

and buy me a car,

I run the risk of being assaulted and raped.

I don’t know why I’m telling you this,

when I already know that you don’t care…

LAURO

What would I leave behind?

If someone had to go to my room to get my things,

what would they find?

Nothing.

Shirts and underwear.

A notebook of scribbles as testimony

of an absolute lack of talent.

VALERIA

This is what my entertainment comes to:

being assaulted on public transportation

and running to complain about it to a co-worker

who’s lost the battle against baldness.

LAURO

And what about her?

I’ve been thinking only of myself,

I should…

No, they’re gonna notice.

As if they needed more proof that I’m a coward.

VALERIA

The dumber one sticks his hand in my purse,

digs around,

feels the cellphone and the wallet.

Seemingly satisfied, he takes it all.

JONATHAN

I’m grabbing things from the purse of a homely young woman.

VALERIA

He’s finished.

He’s moved on.

Great, you idiot, at least you’re clear about what you want

and you take it quickly and without hesitation.

Not like Oscar, the bald adulterer.

Not like Lauro, my eternal petrified suitor.

JONATHAN

The Boss is always fucking with me, urging me to grope the women.

That’s not my thing.

He says I must be a faggot.

No fucking way, I tell him,

it’s just that I get distracted.

I’m here to assault, and I assault.

Anything beyond that, we’ll see.

LAURO

I hear

the collective resignation,

knowing that each one of them is where they’re supposed to be

in this miserable play.

The choir of the lumpen,

shooting each other over crumbs.

Everyone barely breathing.

Everyone obeying, as if obedience would hasten the future.

JONATHAN

Everyone following orders, that’s how I like it.

I don’t like hassles.

I do my part, they do theirs,

slow and steady.

That’s the way it should work.

LAURO

The only sound is that of the people’s belongings

as they fall into the bag held by the skinny guy.

That’s it.

That’s all.

JONATHAN

Everything.

Rings, watches, necklaces.

The belt, too.

Take off the belt.

I said take it off.

VALERIA

Let them have it all.

I feel like shouting at everyone on the bus:

Let them take it all!

All the hypocritical gifts that you’ve gotten,

the stupid things you’ve bought to make yourself look better

for someone who doesn’t deserve it,

the promises bound to fail.

Get rid of everything,

accept this cleansing!

But these two men

are gonna freak out if I open my mouth.

Their brains are obviously soaked with thinner.

I keep it to myself.

The urge is going to leave me with a cyst of mute shouts.

LAURO

Shameless scoundrels, an old woman dares to mutter.

VALERIA

Ma’am, please.

JONATHAN

Shut up!

You speak surprisingly well for someone who’s missing a tooth!

Do you want me to knock out the one next to it?

VALERIA

It’s better not to turn around or

speak to them.

It’s very simple, ma’am.

LAURO

I hear the old woman crying quietly.

I hear her tear duct emitting a dense, salty drop

that runs down her face to her jaw,

falls to the floor,

and breaks into millions of impotent, microscopic droplets.

VALERIA

We all hear it.

We can’t take it any longer, but he can take it even less.

JONATHAN

The first passenger, to the left of the Boss.

LAURO

A man,

50 or so, 90 kilos,

blue jacket, who merely says:

VALERIA

That’s enough, don’t you think? It’s all there. Take it.

What’s the point of hassling that woman?

JONATHAN

You asshole!

Bam!

The Boss punches him right in the nose.

LAURO

Son of a bitch.

All that obesity channeled into that guy’s septum.

Immediate hemorrhage.

I hear the blood spurting out.

Sir, that’s why one has to stay quiet

and put up with this shit.

It won’t make for a heroic epitaph,

but it will

let you live for another day.

VALERIA

You assholes!, shouts the guy in front.

I told you not to do anything stupid!

Who else is gonna fuck things up?

You think these guns aren’t loaded?

I told you to fucking keep quiet!

JONATHAN

And you, asshole, what’re you doing?, he asks me.

I don’t say anything, but make a face as if to say, what do you mean what am I doing?

How am I to blame if these fucking people don’t know how to keep quiet?

I lower my eyes and accept the scolding.

You’re the boss.

But you’ve humiliated me.

And it’s not the first time.

And it’s starting to get to me.

VALERIA

I shouldn’t look at him, but I keep looking at him.

His violence amazes me.

I feel something that I haven’t felt all those years locked in an office,

what I haven’t actually felt

since early childhood:

fear.

LAURO

The man’s nose is still bleeding.

That’s the only sound.

That and the frigid dawning of the day.

The winter light,

ready to fully unfold

across the dome of the atmosphere.

I don’t see it. I hear it.

Just like I hear the windows condensing,

the tires rubbing on the pavement,

the swaying of terrified bodies.

My eyelids, motionless.

I seem more asleep than I did last night.

VALERIA

What are you looking at?

LAURO

The fat guy

asks her.

I can’t see her, but I know he’s talking to her.

VALERIA

Nothing.

What?

JONATHAN

That fucking creep is starting up.

VALERIA

I’m not looking at you.

What do you want, you little whore? This?

LAURO

I hear the swine’s fingers sliding into her blouse,

slithering below her bra,

squeezing her breast with his calloused hand.

VALERIA

I tremble.

My chest shrivels as he touches me.

Should I cry, shout at him, push him away?

Should I just stay quiet and wait for him to finish

or should I fight,

somehow try to make him…?

LAURO

Let her go, you son of a bitch!, I should say to him.

I hear her quiver all the way from the nape of her neck to her heels.

How dare you, you beast?, but I don’t say anything.

I hear her spine crackling as

a crude electrical charge surges through it.

Let her go, damn it! I don’t dare, I’m a coward.

I hear her hair bristling,

her veins contracting.

I’m a piece of shit, I don’t move an inch.

I hear the pig’s taste buds salivating.

JONATHAN

Bam!

VALERIA

A loud thud.

The guy lets go of me.

I breathe again.

LAURO

A heavy blow makes my head rock.

My brain bounces around in my cranium,

the pain burns my face

from the right side,

the skin on my temple swells,

my ear boils,

buzzes,

my eyes open with the sheer force of the blow.

JONATHAN

That takes care of the annoying old woman and the bigmouth.

LAURO

My scarf is in the way,

I want to breathe.

I just want

to inhale…,

fill my lungs,

hang on to this moment.

JONATHAN

Wake up.

Don’t pretend.

LAURO

Wake up, don’t pretend,

the guy says to me,

his bony body shaking every time he laughs.

JONATHAN

How about that?

He wanted to play dead before it was even time.

LAURO

He found out.

I have nothing.

I am nothing.

Nothing but the pistol he’s pointing at me

and the laughter coming from his rotting teeth.

VALERIA

They leave me alone, I calm down.

They’re going after someone else, I worry.

LAURO

He points his gun at me, but looks beyond me.

He doesn’t look at me, he doesn’t need to look at me.

He’s not afraid of me.

He aims his gun at me, but he’s looking at his boss.

I’m the cowardly residue of a man who never dared to exist.

He keeps his pistol aimed at me, but turns his back.

JONATHAN

Fucking fatso, he’s laughing even harder than I am,

then he’s going to tell me that I get distracted.

LAURO

I’m suffocating.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t stand it any longer.

The gun is far away,

it doesn’t get any closer,

but I feel how

I have no air left

inside.

JONATHAN

Hey, you fucking fatso, quit screwing around,

or you’ll make me laugh even harder.

VALERIA

You wanted some action?

Well, now you’ve got it.

LAURO

I feel how the laughter and the pistol

are telling me:

You’re a piece of shit.

You’re a coward.

You aren’t going to do anything.

Just like you don’t do anything in your shitty job.

Just like you haven’t done anything for yourself.

Just like you didn’t do anything when they came to tell you that your parents…

VALERIA

Are you happy, Valeria?

LAURO

I let out a yell as I leap at the son of a bitch

who’s pointing his pistol at me,

without him realizing that I’m twisting his arm behind his back

and grabbing the gun from his hand.

JONATHAN

What the hell?

No fucking way.

I’ll shoot the gun… No.

The trigger is no longer in my finger.

LAURO

I inhale.

I fill my lungs with air.

I let out a cry like a newborn

letting the world know he’s alive.

The roar of the beast

that’s awaited its prey for almost thirty years.

JONATHAN

My shoulder, fuck!

LAURO

My briefcase fell on the floor along with my glasses.

My scarf is still getting in the way.

VALERIA

What’s going on?

LAURO

I twist his left arm all the way back.

I want to tear it off.

JONATHAN

He has me…

bent over…

My arm, you assho…!

I try to kick, but he twists my arm even more.

Let go!

LAURO

Feel that, you son of a bitch.

Feel the cold barrel of your own pistol on the back of your neck.

JONATHAN

He points the gun at me.

I hang on to the canvas bag.

Boss, do something, come on.

I try to shake myself loose.

It hurts.

LAURO

Be quiet!, I shout again.

Let me think, you little shit.

I keep on breathing.

I realize I haven’t really thought.

I’m blindly following a fury that I never knew I had.

Calm down! What’re you doing, shouts the fat guy.

The tone of his voice makes it clear

that he’s so scared he shit his pants.

VALERIA

It’s Lauro.

What are you doing?

No…

Let him go, run,

whatever, but don’t…

LAURO

What the fuck, Lauro?

What are you doing?

The fat man’s question rattled me.

Do you know how to shoot? Do you even know how to release the safety?

Never in your miserable life have you held a gun.

You’re gonna do something stupid.

What do you want?

JONATHAN

Let go already!

Or pull the trigger.

But do it now.

What do you want?

LAURO

I don’t respond. What is it that I want?

What am I doing,

subduing a guy and pointing a pistol at him?

I twist his arm even harder,

I need to think.

VALERIA

The guy being restrained by Lauro is howling.

What are you doing, Lauro?

You’re nearly a child.

LAURO

Get off the bus, I say to them quietly,

but as firmly as I can.

Drop the bag.

JONATHAN

No fucking way, that’s ours.

I’m not gonna let go of it.

Help me, you fat piece of shit!

He’s an idiot, he doesn’t know a fucking thing!

Pull the trigger, scare him!

LAURO

I don’t know anything about pistols.

Nothing.

But I find a lever under my thumb.

I breathe.

I’m not struggling to breathe.

You’re under my control, you scumbag.

I’ve got you, you’re mine.

You’re not going anywhere.

I’m gonna put this bullet in the back of your neck if you move,

and you’ll spend all of eternity begging for mercy.

VALERIA

He’s like a wild animal,

but it’s clear that he’s absolutely calm.

Serious, tranquil,

as if he’s done this dozens of times.

I don’t know what to think.

I don’t want to move.

I feel like any false move

could work against him.

I’d like to tell everyone not to do anything,

not to move, not to breathe.

I think they all hear me,

because no one moves.

LAURO

If I’m only going to do one thing in this life, it will be this:

I squeeze the safety. 

VALERIA

We hear a click.

The fat guy turns pale.

The skinny guy pleads with his eyes, but Lauro doesn’t see them.

LAURO

Calm down, calm down right now!,

the fat guy shouts, desperate.

I feel the guy I’ve got in my hands trembling.

JONATHAN

Stop trembling, Jonathan.

He’s gonna pull the trigger if you move.

Calm down, Jonathan, calm down.

Slowly, you calm down, and this idiot will calm down.

Let’s see if you do something, Fatso, for fuck’s sake.

I put the bag on the floor, very slowly.

LAURO

Everyone on the bus is looking at me.

Twenty pairs of eyes are glued to my eyes

as if they were watching someone on a tightrope.

She is watching me, too.

VALERIA

I look at him.

I feel him finding support in my eyes.

I’m not going anywhere.

Breathe.

You did it, he’s putting the bag down.

Everything’s going to be fine.

LAURO

We’re all breathing at the same rate.

I cling to her eyes as if I were on the edge of a cliff.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

Why did I leap like that?

I just cling to her, praying

that her eyes are the sign

that some way it’s going to work out.

VALERIA

There are your things, now let him go, shouts the fat guy.

LAURO

You get off first, I respond.

The driver slows the bus down.

VALERIA

What are you doing? Don’t slow down, you idiot, until I say so.

JONATHAN

Get off the bus, Boss.

That’s it, let’s go,

he’s going to kill me.

LAURO

I said, get off the bus.

VALERIA

No fucking way, the fat guy says to his accomplice.

You aren’t going to tell me what to do, you fucking little faggot!

If he shoots you, he shoots you, but hold on for now.

Fuck it all!

LAURO

He aims the gun

at her head.

Because she’s the closest to him.

VALERIA

I see the pistol pointed just centimeters from my face.

I remember when I sat down here,

in this empty seat,

twenty blocks ago.

I remember when Lauro was about to sit down next to me.

Everything’s going to be fine,

I try to tell him with my eyes.

His eyes see me,

but he’s no longer there.

LAURO

Leave her alone!

Don’t you get near her!

What are you doing?

VALERIA

You’re going to keep quiet, says the man who is aiming at me,

and it’s not an order.

It’s a death sentence.

LAURO

I fall apart.

What have I done?

Leave her alone, shoot me, this is about me.

VALERIA

Now you’re fucked,

and all because you wanted to play macho!

Go ahead, you idiot!

You wanna see what little machos can make happen?

Is that what you want?

JONATHAN

That was it, fucking slob,

that was his weak spot.

LAURO

Let her go or I really will…

I give his accomplice another yank on the arm.

The fat man laughs.

JONATHAN

I don’t give a fuck.

That’s what the Boss says to him.

He doesn’t give a fuck.

LAURO

The fat slob doesn’t care about his friend.

That was obvious.

Now I have nothing to negotiate with.

I loosen my grip, perhaps.

I barely understand that I’ve loosened my grip on his arm

when I’m already doubled over

from the elbow that he rammed into my stomach.

JONATHAN

There, you faggot, now you’re fucked.

Punching is like fucking:

it’s a question of timing.

I’ve realized that I’m on my own.

VALERIA

Lauro is writhing from the blow.

He looks like a little boy.

You’re a puppy, Lauro, how did you imagine…?

I’m crying.

I don’t know how long I’ve been crying.

I barely realize that I’m crying.

I confirm it by licking the salt of my tears.

Tell me, tears, tell me.

Whatever it may be, tell me that this is going to end.

Tell me, because I don’t dare look to see

if he’s still pointing a gun at my head.

LAURO

I try to hang onto the gun.

Whatever I do, I know I can’t let go of the gun.

I cough, I heave, I can’t breathe,

I get dizzy.

I remain bent over,

I just need to inhale.

Where did he go?

He yanks me.

JONATHAN

Who told you to wear that gay scarf?

LAURO

His knee… my face…

VALERIA

No!

LAURO

I don’t understand any…

My hand, empty.

Shit.

VALERIA

Lauro is looking for the gun.

He doesn’t have it anymore.

Is he bleeding from his nose or his mouth?

LAURO

Did he already get the gun?

I think that… I’m still… standing.

JONATHAN

I stick the gun in his ribs.

That’s it, the party’s over.

That’s the end of Jonathan the nice guy.

That’s the end of the idiot apprentice.

The one running the show here has my face.

LAURO

I can see her.

Barely.

Is it my eyes that hurt or my eyelids?

There’s no longer a pistol aimed at her head.

VALERIA

I didn’t stop looking at the pistol.

I saw his relief.

He’s no longer aiming at me.

LAURO

That’s it.

The fat guy’s pistol

is now

aimed

at me.

VALERIA

Both guns are pointed at him,

but he’s breathing again.

Is he calm?

Or is he in shock and no longer feeling any pain?

LAURO

My nose is bleeding.

I can’t feel my face,

I think,

but I see

ahead of me

the pistol that belongs to the guy up in front,

the pistol that’s no longer aimed at her.

It’s now aimed right between my eyes.

I can rest my eyes on its chamber.

That’s fine.

JONATHAN

Jonathan, you fucking idiot,

you can’t do anything right,

that fat slob says to me.

LAURO

My rib is getting a break.

Is that what the gunshot was,

a break?

JONATHAN

Kill’em.

Pull the trigger,

he orders me.

VALERIA

The idiot withdraws the pistol from Lauro’s ribs.

He opens his eyes a little wider.

He thinks.

JONATHAN

And then he says:

Are you afraid to do it, you little wuss?

Fucking faggot,

you can’t even collect their things,

because some asshole pretends to be asleep and jumps you.

And now you can’t pull the trigger?

What do you want?

You want me to pull it?

I have to do that, too?

LAURO

That’s what it will be: a relief.

But I’m still standing.

I still see the pistol in front of me,

the bullet destined for my brain in the chamber,

the fat guy shouting and waving

his gun in the air.

VALERIA

Jonathan lowers his head.

He angrily bites his lip and makes it bleed.

JONATHAN

That’s why you’re never gonna be in control, he tells me.

You can’t even control yourself, Jonathan,

how do you expect to do it here?

VALERIA

Jonathan extends his arm.

Then he raises his hand.

He aims his pistol at the fat guy.

JONATHAN

Laughing himself shitless at me:

You should have that kind of balls!

You don’t dare, you skinny little shit.

When I took you in off the street,

you couldn’t even suck my dick without squealing.

VALERIA

Jonathan’s voice becomes deeper.

JONATHAN

You didn’t fucking care.

VALERIA

What?, the fat guy asks.

JONATHAN

You didn’t fucking care that he put the gun to my head.

You want to feel so fucking macho,

you want to make me feel stupid,

no problem.

But this asshole was gonna pull the trigger,

and you didn’t fucking care.

VALERIA

Hey, Jonathan, hold on.

JONATHAN

Go to fucking hell.

VALERIA

He shoots.

LAURO

That bullet is an unstoppable eagle.

It compresses its full magnitude

and in that pause secures its power.

Its silvery feathers blind me:

light that fills caverns,

heat that melts the chest.

I go beyond that splendor and see his eyes.

I see the world reflected in his pupils:

the bus, passengers, assailants,

streets, offices, mountains,

molecules, storms, galaxies,

present futures and pasts.

Perceptions, images,

glimmers of glimmers.

Everything is futile, unreal, nonexistent.

The only certainty is this light that creates and destroys,

unshakeable, veritable.

And I am that light. This moment.

VALERIA

The bus brakes.

I lurch.

A second shot.

LAURO

The shot reverberates in my body.

JONATHAN

Can’t you do anything right,

you sack of shit?, you said.

Die, you fat slob!

VALERIA

Lauro isn’t moving.

He doesn’t fall.

My face is wet.

Are those tears?

Blood splatters my clothes.

JONATHAN

Fuck, I shot him. What have I done?

LAURO

The fat guy’s eyes go dead

and his one hundred and fifty kilos hit

the floor of the bus.

It wasn’t an echo; there were two shots.

One for him, but what about the one for me?

JONATHAN

You messed up, Fatso.

What happened to your three rules?

Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.

Or wasn’t that the case?

Or was this the last lesson?

VALERIA

Lauro’s okay, I think.

The blood from his nose is drying up.

He’s crying.

He doesn’t know it.

Only tears run down his cheeks.

JONATHAN

I did it.

I killed him.

There is someone controlling this street, Fatso,

and it’s me.

VALERIA

Jonathan lets him go.

I’d like to hug him.

I’d like to run and tell him that it’s all over.

LAURO

I haven’t fallen over yet.

The bus has stopped.

Jonathan leaves the bag full of things on the floor,

goes over to the other man’s body,

bends over next to him,

and whispers something in his ear.

VALERIA

The man’s blood forms a puddle

and wets Jonathan’s tennis shoes,

which leave his footprints on the floor

as he walks off the bus.

It’s the same blood that’s on my face.

LAURO

She sees my crying eyes,

through her own crying eyes.

She’s the one who hasn’t let me fall apart.

I still cling to her eyes.

My hands tremble.

VALERIA

Everyone on the bus lets out a sigh of relief.

There is crying, shouting, a laugh.

LAURO

Some of the passengers start to move,

get off the bus,

ask pedestrians for help.

VALERIA

The old woman who spoke up is the first to go

retrieve her things from the bag.

She repeats her word: shameless.

LAURO

The man they beat up sees me and nods,

I think it’s his way of telling me

that we now share something:

a broken nose.

VALERIA

The driver is in the street talking on his cellphone.

He shouts.

His hands emphasize his words.

LAURO

No one approaches the body.

Why aren’t I on the floor like him?

Why didn’t the bullet hit me?

VALERIA

I get up,

I’d like to squeeze Lauro’s hands so that they stop shaking.

Or let them shake, if he wants,

let him do whatever he wants.

I’m here.

Everything is fine.

But I don’t approach him.

LAURO

I feel the sun on my face.

She is facing me and looking at me,

I feel calm.

We’ve lived through it all.

The two of us are weepy, splattered with blood,

seeing the light after the most violent birth.

Everything is new and real: everything is about to begin.

VALERIA

Who is this standing in front of me?

I never thought that Lauro,

the shy guy I see every morning,

had that in him…

But then again, he’s not the same man as a few moments ago.

And what about me?

Who am I now?

I don’t know.

I don’t know if it matters.

I stop thinking.

I stay here.

Meeting his eyes,

in which everything is invented all over again.

LAURO

She’s coming toward me, very slowly.

The last moment of my only life just passed, for the first time.

I’m ready now.

I’m ready for blood to irrigate veins that I didn’t know I had.

Ready to leave behind the life I invented to paralyze myself.

Ready to awaken: to create everything anew.

VALERIA

My name is Valeria.

LAURO

I’m Lauro.