Ashkenazi ... BY ORLANDO VICENTE ...

 

THE BEAUTIFUL REDHEAD JEWISH DOCTOR

 THE BEAUTIFUL REDHEAD JEWISH  DOCTOR.

When I was director of a private clinic there in Montevideo, I gave small lectures on techniques against chronic pain.Neurologists, internists and physiotherapists attended.

   Among them I was fascinated by a redhead woman, with very white skin and many freckles on her face that she did not try to hide with makeup.

  In my dissertation I looked at her more than others unconsciously. God knows how I liked natural redheads and if they were freckles, I would fall at her feet.

  Another day she came alone. Was presented. Her name was unpronounceable, I think of Polish origin or something like that. Then the owner of the clinic that was periodically absent from Montevideo, told me that the woman was a specialist in Internal Medicine and that she would be my collaborator in the consultations, since I just could not cope.

  With the days we made good working relationships. She told me that she was an Ashkenazi Jew - a descendant of Central and Eastern Europe - and that her deceased mother was a survivor of a Nazi concentration camp. Her mother did not know anything about his father.

  Behind her, the secretaries called her "The polish" because she could not say her last name.She had a daughter from a marriage with another Jew who put a check for a million dollars on the table to keep the baby as sole custodian, which the doctor rejected outright.

  One day I met the daughter. A teenager white as milk, with blue eyes and no freckles. I took my breath away with her blond beauty. We conversed alone in the consultation. She told me that she was going to enter the University and I gained her trust with my "enough culture" of which I boasted so that he would speak well of me to her mother.The girl was delighted.

  The doctor with an unpronounceable name sat on my left at the consultation table and we saw the patients together.Tired of the verbal nonsense that she uttered at every moment, I tipped her with my left leg and she stopped her uncontrollable verbiage. After the consultation ended, she limped or limped from my leg because of my blows. But I did it with affection.

  One day the daughter introduced me to her boyfriend.- Another Jewish but Sephardi of those who expelled from Spain centuries ago-. Both were practitioners of his creed and the boy remained silent as if afraid to speak in public. He was tall, almost dark and stocky.

  The Doctor did not know how to enter her with my charms, although I gave her hints all the time, she remained as if nothing understood. Only the fingers of her right hand trembled, as if a nervous tic were attacking her.

  On TV and Radio when we gave propaganda programs of our treatments she had to hide her hand somewhere, under the table or somewhere else.

  Then came the economic crisis and the dollar - which was the ticket that our patients paid for - went through the roof. And we almost closed.

  But the doctor had money saved and bought the clinic. They did not come more than a little patients. Already ruined, she had to sell the numerous appliances, articles and even ceiling lamps in a auction.And she had to pay me the unemployment insurance.

  I never got anything with her. I think that if I gave her a kiss she would start to tremble all over her body in a convulsive catalepsy.

  Then she told me:

  - The truth is that the best years of my life were spent in the clinic, especially when I was the owner. It was the first time I had something of my own, mine, without having to give an account to anyone. I was ruined.

  I stared at her as if to insinuate that I was still available, but she started the nervous Tic on the fingers of her hand, turned around and walked away from me.

   I was not a man for her, I was not a Jew, I did not treasure a million dollars.