The failures

Marco Denevi

A poor house. The woman vigorously sweeps the floor with a half-bald broom. The man enters the
Man. He seems very dejected. He sits down without saying a word. She has stopped sweeping and looks at him.
Question:

And well? Don't you have anything to say?

What do I have to say?

Look at the response. Three days you've been away from home and you have nothing to say? Husband, you
prevents you from coming back empty-handed.

I already know. If I have returned, it's because I followed your orders.

—My orders. My advice, I would say. And then why are you like this, all scruffy?

Should I be happy?

It seems to me.

Well, you see. I'm not happy. I'm regretful.

Wow. The courage didn't last long.

What value? I did it because you forced me.

—Because I forced him. Listen to the tone. Anyone would think I forced him to commit a crime. And
What did I force you to do, let's see? To give you your place. To show that you are a man, not a puppet. But
you are regretful. You would prefer to continue as before. The last in line. The one who collects the
bones that others throw away. The one who is called to clean up when everyone else has gone.
the tables and I turned off the lights. You will always be the same mediocre. You ignore what it is to have ideals,
some noble ambition. Failure is your atmosphere. And I, your victim. Look at the women of your
friends: covered in jewels, with a maid, with a car and a box at the theater. Now look at me:
a mop dedicated day and night to household chores. Instead of jewels, calluses. I am not going
to the theater, I go to the market. And because I intend for my husband to get back on his feet and I give him good
advice, listen to him, he throws it in my face.

I have always had bad luck.

Now also, bad luck?

A feeling tells me yes.

A premonition. You call premonitions the contractions of your cowardice.

Nothing good will come out of all this.

That's it. Revel in your pessimism. You would be able to see me pregnant and believe that I am.
hydropic. Finding a gold coin on the street and confusing it with the spit of a consumptive. Hearing
the voice of God calling you and making you run in fear that it is the voice of a creditor. How
that nothing good will come of all this. And the reward? I can imagine it: you rejected it. And, like
always, the prize went to someone else.
What were you expecting? Millions?

A position. That is what I aspire for you. A position in the government, well-paid and that will allow us
let them attend the military parades from the official box. They should. After all, they
you provided a good service. More than one would have wanted to do it, but you did it. And to them, you
a small action will bring them enormous benefits. You will come back and demand that they give you a job.
a job where you don't have to kill yourself working but that allows you to earn a good salary, right
social prestige and some additional advantages. I am not talking about bribes. I am talking about an official car.
If it came with a driver included, even better. I've always wanted to ride around in one of those huge ones.
black cars driven by a chauffeur in a blue uniform and cap.

They won't even give me the position of orderly.

Why? Don't they know it was you who did them that favor?

How could they not know? You see that they paid me.

The big ones, I mean. Those who sign the appointments and handle the secret phones. Not it
You know. You dealt with some subordinate who got you out of the way with these little coins to
he pretended to be the author and managed to get promoted.

Everyone knows it. From the first to the last.

What else do you want? And then why do you say that they won't even name you as an attendant?

Nothing pleases them less than showing gratitude.

They are envious.

Moreover, they don't want to appear as my instigators. They want it to be believed that I did it on my own.
own initiative.

Envious and cowards.

But everyone already knows. They were pointing at me in the street.

Don't tell me. Were they pointing with their finger? In the street? The people? That's great. That means that
You shouldn't care about the ingratitude of those above. The people recognize your merits. Do they think that the
Did you do it on your own initiative? Better. You will be—famous,—you will go far.

Don't scare me.

—Scared, silly? I see: glory terrifies you.

Used to the darkness, the light burns your eyes. Thankfully I am by your side.
I will support you, I will guide you. Lean on me and move forward.

Outside, the sound of a crowd can be heard. The man trembles.

What are those screams?

I told you: the people. They come to congratulate you, to bring you gifts. They will want you to be their leader. But for
Now you don't go out. Great men should not be seen by the crowd. Wrapped in the
mystery, always distant, always inaccessible, seem like gods. Seen up close, they disappoint greatly.
You, don't even talk. Besides, you're lacking experience. You still don't master your role as a famous character.
I'm afraid that if you receive them, you'll treat them as equals. Leave it to me. I've been doing it for a while now.
I prepare for these things. I will go out. I know how to handle them.
They are shouting louder and louder! They are getting impatient!

It is scheduled.

Hurry up!

Do I look presentable? Shouldn't I wear another dress?

—They're going to break down the door!

And I without putting on makeup!

—Don't tell them that I'm here.

I will tell them that you are with the foreign ambassadors. And if they wish for an audience, they should request it.
in writing with ten days' notice. Think that you owe me all of this.

The woman leaves. The man, motionless and terrified, waits. After a few minutes, she reappears, she
He sits down. He looks at her. Outside, silence has fallen. He asks her:

What did they want?

Shut up. You are a failure. We are both failures.

Why? What happened?

The woman jumps to her feet and starts shouting:

And still you ask? What happened? What happened was that you let yourself be beaten again.

I did what you asked me.

And what did I ask you for, you idiot? To do something like a person. Something that would save us from the
poverty. And you have chosen well, you. You have shone. But it's over. Enough. Get out of here! Get away from
my sight! I don't want to see you anymore!

The man begins to leave. Upon reaching the door, he turns around and looks at the woman. The woman is crying. He
question:

Will you at least tell me what happened?

She stops crying. She lifts her head. And finally, after a silence, she says dryly:

He/She has risen.

Then Judas Iscariot leaves his house and goes to hang himself from the fig tree.

Invalid URL. Please provide text for translation.