I thought I noticed my neighbor’s growing discomfort from his desperation as he whisked the eggs for the omelet that night. For dinner, he always had a tuna omelet or leftover vegetables from midday. Because she and the cat hardly spoke to each other, she lived alone with a cat she named Cifú, who also lived alone. The animal inherited from his wife, who passed away last year. Widowed, she tried to get rid of him without succeeding in placing him anywhere. I gave him food and drink but they did not communicate. Aware of being an orphan, the cat tried not to bother to provide shelter and food. Sometimes he’d look out of one of my windows as I strolled on the rooftops and I’d caress him.
I’ve been listening to the sound of my neighbor’s fork whisking eggs from my kitchen for a while, so one day, a few months ago, I knocked on his door with some silly excuse and watched him perform live and direct.
-Why are you beating the eggs so furiously? -asked.
“It’s not anger, it’s euphoria,” he said.
I misread. He did everything with enthusiasm because he had discovered a light within himself.
What do you mean by light?
-What did you hear. real. Inside my chest is an incredibly powerful light that illuminates everything.
I imagined his chest empty, gutless, completely empty, like a gigantic ship in which a light bulb suddenly went on. The image also created an attack of dynamism in me. I asked him how the miracle happened and he said he had a mystical experience that he couldn’t tell me.
“They banned me,” he added, without specifying who he was.
I stayed for dinner, and he made two omelets that seemed to cheer him up, for few things he enjoyed more than mixing yolks and whites, with the others’ determination to mix gin and vermouth.
Two days later, at the warning of one of his children, the emergency room arrived and he is now in a psychiatric hospital. I stay with her cat, Cifú, and visit her on Wednesdays.