*Traslation of “El Último Respiro” by Joan Torre.

Michael woke up that day and knew that he was going to kill himself. He didn’t think about it before, so he start planning. Took a shower, shaved, put his clothes on and then prepared breakfast. After toasting his bread, he got it: He was going to wear his best clothes, peel a pineapple and after writing his name in it he was going to jump at 11:54 from the tallest building in the city. This suicide would appear nonsense, but Michael tough about every detail. He was going to wear his best clothes because he promised his girlfriend that he was going to be elegant the day of his death. Peel a pineapple, because his great grandfather once had a pineapple farm, and because his father was a plant’s lover that said to him pineapple is the most nutritive fruit. And, if we assign a number to every letter that compounds his name according to the alphabet and then add up all of them, and then add the resultant of the same operation applied to the word pineapple, and finally divide into 5, we’ll obtain his age: 22 years. Jump at 11:54 because he was born at that time. And jump from a building because he was enthusiastic with urbanism, and because, deep in his heart, he wanted to feel the rush of adrenaline. Yeah, every detail meant a lot for him. It ought to be the perfect suicide.

He had a lot of reasons, but perhaps too many that the best was making responsible a dream he had the last night. He dreamed that; before being born, inside his mother’s uterus; a man stabbed her to death and leaves her body abandoned in the street. And the fluids getting cold, slowly, not taking too long before decompose. Then, when the corpse was all rotten, he saw the light passing trough, bathing him and knew that it was a call.

He left his apartment ready, and went to the supermarket. He searched it for a long time, but finally he found it: one of those national pineapples, rough and acid. He bought a water prove marker too, and finally a penknife. Now he needed to find the building.

He knew that the tallest in the city was the civic center, but a year ago they started the construction of a new one that promises to beat it, and he needed to be sure. He was going to ask a friend. Once in his office, the secretary didn’t take her eyes from his peculiar package. When his friend got free he called him, and obviously asked about the pineapple: ‘You know how I am’ Said Michael, and after talking for a while, he find out that the uncompleted construction was already taller than the civic center. That was not god at all. There were people working even at night. ‘Do you think I can get in?’ he asked. ‘You wanna go there?’ He could suspect anything, he needed to be discrete: ‘Yeah. And I need to go tonight’ His friend look at him skeptic. ‘Are you a kind of terrorist or something?’ Michael though a second about it, if people get terrified when they see the body of a suicide, then he was. ‘We’ll find out tomorrow. ’Funny guy. You’re weird, but don’t worry Mike, I’ll tell my men that you’ll go to check the place tonight. Take your ID, OK?’ ‘That’s what I’ll do, mate. Thanks.’ He stood, but before leaving he heard his friend’s voice: ‘And don’t make a mess’ He looked back smiling. ‘I won’t’

It was getting dark. His thirst made him stop in a restaurant, and entered. It was full, and he knew that human touch could make him desist. So he drank his soda quickly, pay for it and leave. The waitress that attended him stopped him. ‘You forgot your change sir’ She was a teenager, subtle lips, so beautiful. ‘What did you say?’ The girl vocalized the same words, Michael gaze at her mouth: ‘You forgot your change sir’ -Lovely lips…- He thought. ‘Oh, keep it if you want.’ The teen smiled, perhaps misiterpretending the situation. She said: ‘Thank you, I’m Lucy.’ ‘I am…’ He preferred not to do it: ‘I was leaving already.’ The girl laughed: ‘and that pineapple?’ ‘I love pineapples. I’m going home to eat it.’ She blushed: ‘Umm… my turn finishes in ten minutes. If you wait for me, we can go to your home and eat it together.’ Michael felt unease. –Sorry, but that’s something I must do alone.’ The girl turned back and return to the restaurant.

He walked to the construction, and quite close he decided to sit in a bench. It was getting dark, and it was possible to see the first star in the sky already. He stayed still looking at the sky. His uneasiness got worse. ‘That’s not a star, its Venus’ An old man stood at his side. Disturbed, he answered: ‘Really?’ ‘Yes, it is.’ ‘Thank you. I didn’t know it.’ ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ ‘Indeed’ ‘After my wife’s death, I used to come here and sit in this bench just to see it.’ Michael tried to stop the conversation and leave, but the words escape from his mouth: ‘And you don’t do it anymore?’ ‘it’s because I understood that life goes on… look son, I don’t know what’s wrong, but don’t worry. You’ll feel better.’ ‘And how do you know that something is wrong?’ ‘Your face. You’re sad.’ It was true; his face was reflecting his feelings. But it was not sadness, it was something deeper: A nervous, nostalgia, anger and sadness cocktail. No, he couldn’t continue this conversation. So he didn’t say anything else, stood and go on.

He arrived to the construction and after showing his ID, he got in. It was full of workers. But, luckily they were focusing in the finished details, leaving deserted the last floors. He took the elevator to the roof, and when the door opened he felt the strong wind. He leaned to the border; they were at least 50 floors to the ground. He sat, left the pineapple in the floor and took out the penknife. Bu before start to peel it, he looked at his watch: he had plenty of time, and decide to peel the pineapple with his own hands.

It took him long, and left bleeding his nails, but finally he had finished. It was almost the time, so he took out the marker and wrote in the fruit. He left it in his left side, by his feet, and looked at his watched: it was 11:53. He stood, closed his eyes. The only thing he could think about was that girl’s lips. He breathed deeply, and put one of his feet in the air, and with the other impelled his body. He left apart his thoughts, and enjoyed the coldness of the air. The air, flowing through his clothes. The air, the will be the last that breathes. And hit the ground.
The people working there tried to help him. They called a doctor, but he was already dead. When the police found his pineapple and read what he wrote, it resulted that it was no his name, he had changed his mind at the last minute. He wrote: “I don’t want to die.” Now it was the perfect suicide.

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