The pastor asks us to sit, and the religious ceremony begins.
“I’d like to start by saying to everyone: do not delay happiness.” I raise an eyebrow at the pastor’s speech. “Some people think happiness is only attainable once they achieve something, like a promotion, a better job, a house, kids… but no. Happiness doesn’t happen because of achievements. Happiness is built and lived every single day of our lives when we are with the ones we love and cherish. So don’t be afraid to love, my dear friends. And do not be afraid to be happy.”
I didn’t expect the words of the pastor to be so deep and to resonate so much with me, and apparently with the rest of the guests.
I look around at the very muted crowd. Claudia’s drying her tears, while Miguel’s holding her hand tightly. I smile, letting out a sigh. Deep inside, I wish Alex were sitting beside me and doing the same.
After the ceremony and a very long dinner, Mr. and Mrs. Marques finally reach the dance floor to have their very first dance to the beautiful song “Can’t Help Falling in Love” by Elvis Presley. They walk excitedly together hand in hand to the patio. We follow closely behind, surrounding them.
The newlyweds start slowly swaying together and singing the lyrics to each other. Everyone keeps staring with eyes full of spark and emotion. I love this song, a true classic. They couldn’t have chosen better. I’m in the front of the line watching them and instinctively smile—Alex is standing right behind me. I can recognize his scent from miles away.
“Do you believe in this?” I ask.
“In what?” He bends down slightly to get closer to my face.
“This, like marriage and stuff…” I reply, looking at the couple.
Alex wasn’t expecting such a question; he looks again at Paulo and Anabela, pondering for a while. “Don’t let the divorce of your parents prevent you from believing in it.”
But his answer doesn’t satisfy me. After all, he didn’t really answer my question. “What about you, then? Why didn’t you marry Amanda? You were together ten years.”
I hear nothing but a suppressed laugh. With a smile on his lips, he leans closer to my ear and whispers, “Because my goddaughter forbade me to marry anyone but her.”
We try hard not to burst into laughter.
My face beams with joy as I look him in the eye. I can’t help but wrap my arms around his neck. “So, are you gonna propose to her, then?” I ask, still teasing—or not.
“Ms. Van Gatt,” he murmurs quite close to my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. My eyes dart down to his lips. Imploring to have them. Just kiss me now, Alex. He does kiss me. But on my forehead. I close my eyes, reveling in his touch. To my surprise, his kiss is long, laced with feelings that squeeze my heart even more. Then I look at him with parted lips, but in pain from the harsh reality—I might never have more than this. And as if he could feel it, he hugs me tight. So tight that my pulse bounces intensely as I nuzzle his neck. “Don’t ask questions you might not like the answer to,” he finally replies in a low voice.
What does that even mean? Does he know my feelings? Does he know I would have said yes? Oh, Alex, if you knew…
When he releases me, I can’t help but sigh, displeased with his answer. Meanwhile, his attention shifts back to the dance floor.
Nevertheless, I try to find another plausible subject. “I heard you’ve got a nice view from your villa…” I dare to mention, hoping he’ll somehow invite me there.
“It’s nice, yes. But I’m sure you have a similar one.”
I feel a punch in my heart at his rejection and shame to have had such futile hopes. After all, it’s our last night here in Rio. How stupid you are, girl. He’s with Rafaela, not you.
At the end of the dance, everyone claps and whistles while the couple moves away to let the guests enjoy the next song. The DJ changes to a more inviting and sensual Brazilian vibe and puts on some kizomba.
Luiz grabs my hand abruptly. “Let’s dance!”
“I don’t know kizomba, Luiz!” I contest nervously, still troubled by having been dragged down to the dance floor so fast. Luiz has been drinking quite a lot over dinner, along his brother. No wonder he feels so comfortable and confident enough to dance kizomba.
“It’s alright. Just let the music play, feel my movements, and let me guide you.”
My heart keeps racing. I’ve never danced kizomba before. Everyone around me is dancing, pinned to their partners. I don’t want to do such sensual moves with Luiz, but I know Alex will be staring—or at least I hope so. I nestle my body against his and follow his rhythm. I blush as he brings my body even closer to his.
Alexander Van Dieren
Despite being with Rafaela and Roy on a sofa in front of the dance floor, the talk with Petra hasn’t left my mind. Her question either. So, are you gonna propose to her, then?
Wake up, Alex. She was just joking. But damn. What if she really does want to marry me? She’s turning eighteen in less than two months, after all. A smile escapes as I think about an alternative reply to her question. What if I do? Do you think she will say yes? Fuck. I should feel disgusted at the thought of it, and yet I feel the contrary.
“Looks like your goddaughter is having fun,” murmurs Rafaela in my ear. “We should do the same.”
I choke on my whiskey as I glance at the dance floor. I blink, my jaw dropping in shock. I softly tap Roy’s shoulder. “Don’t you think she is dancing way too close to him?”
“Relax. That’s how young folks dance nowadays,” Rafaela insists.
Roy can’t stop laughing. “You’ve become even more protective than me, my dear friend.” He gives me a soft clap on the back. “Take it easy.”
I take another sip from my glass, but I can’t relax or take it easy, no.
“Do you want to dance?” asks Rafaela. I don’t pay attention. “Or maybe we could go somewhere quieter…” she whispers. But I’m too busy staring attentively at Luiz caressing Petra’s leg while she’s going down with him, following the sensual rhythm of kizomba. Her cheeks are flushed, and her lips twitch into a smile. Luiz holds her tightly by the waist, his mouth dangerously close to hers. Damn, is she feeling pleasure dancing so close to him? I realize at that moment the most terrifying thing ever, something that scares the hell out of me: one day or another, Petra will do it with someone—she’ll give herself to a man and find pleasure with him, a man that she might even marry. Fuck. A man other than me. I let out a sigh, my heart bleeding, and take another sip. You’re pathetic, man. But the whiskey is not strong enough. As I look once more at the dance floor, trying to get used to the cruel reality, I can’t help but feel revolted by it.
“I’m glad to see she’s enjoying Luiz’s company,” adds Rafaela before taking a sip of her champagne.
“Pfff. She’s way out of his league,” I rebuke.
“Hey, I know Luiz. I don’t agree. I think he’s a fine young man.”
“I don’t like his intentions…” I mumble, emptying my glass.
“Oh, c’mon, she’s nearly eighteen. She also has the same intentions with him.”
“You don’t know her.” And I hope the conversation ends here.
“Well, I know women. We have desires just like—”
“Can we move on?”
“Okay, fine, I’m sorry…” Rafaela sighs and crosses her arms, leaning back on the sofa.
“Ah, finally! You guys are here,” exclaims Paulo, staring at us. “Look, Globo TV would like to interview us. Are you guys available? It’s just for ten minutes.”
“Sure.” Thank you, Paulo. I’m glad to leave this infernal view of the dance floor, barely tolerable.
Petra Van Gatt
Following our very sensual dance, Luiz seems as confident as ever. Or is it because of the many drinks during dinner, followed by the cachaça shots at the bar with his brother? Nevertheless, he takes my hand, and we go outside to join Miguel, who’s already throwing his own private party with his friends and Claudia near the fountain. They’ve stolen a
couple of bottles from the bar and are enjoying some Brazilian R&B far from the media and the older guests.
I observe the beautiful gardens and the park surrounding me. Then I look at the facade of the palazzo and the giant cliff behind. “It’s so beautiful outside. And the view of Christ the Redeemer is incredible.”
“Have you ever been there?” asks Luiz.
I shake my head.
“Would you like to go now?”
“Now? Isn’t it dangerous? Don’t you have to go up a steep road through the jungle to reach the top?”
“It’s alright. We’ll bring Miguel, Claudia, Norberto, and his girlfriend. It’ll be fun. At this time, it’ll be empty.”
I swallow hard. After all, the road is in the middle of the wild Tijuca National Park up in the mountains, probably with little to no lights or guardrails to protect us from falling off. I look around, but don’t see Dad, Alex, or Rafaela. They are probably inside. And Alex will be spending the rest of the evening—and night—with her anyway. I shouldn’t have had high hopes. Tonight he will be with her, not me. “Sure, let’s go. Why not?”
Luiz beams with joy, yelling and waving at his squad. “Hey, folks! We’re going to Corcovado to show Petra the view. Let’s take the bottles.”
They all respond by whistling and cheering.
“Looks like everyone’s keen to join.”
“Are we all going in the same car?” I ask.
“Yep, you don’t mind squeezing in a bit, right? Here, this bottle is for us.” He gives me a Yaguara Branca.
I open it. The smell of the fermented spirit is so strong, but I take a sip anyway. I frown. Yuck! It burns as I swallow.
“Let’s move on, people,” yells Miguel excitedly, arms up in the air with a bottle in each hand. “Let’s visit our dear buddy up there! Oh yeah! Now we are talking. We’re gonna throw a hell of a party with Christ!”
Everyone bursts into laughter while Miguel continues shaking his hips and spinning around.
“Cool down, Miguel,” snaps Claudia, dragging him to the car.
“Don’t tell me he’s gonna drive?” I’m nervous, but Luiz seems quite amused with his brother’s behavior.
“Miguel knows the road very well. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.”
“Don’t you think we should at least let your father know we are leaving? It’s his own wedding, after all.”
“Hey, garçon,” shouts Luiz, seeing a waiter nearby. “Tell Rafaela we are leaving for Corcovado. She’s at my table.”
I gasp in horror. “Why Rafaela?”
“I like her; she’s cool. She always got my back. Don’t worry. C’mon, let’s go.”
Alexander Van Dieren
I glance at the dance floor, but she’s not there anymore. Luiz isn’t either. I look at our table—empty. Only Rafaela is there chatting with a friend. My heart tightens, picturing Petra and Luiz somewhere doing God knows what.
“Where’s Petra?”
Rafaela sighs and takes a sip from her glass. “She left with Luiz and his friends.”
My heart skips a beat. “Left? What do you mean ‘left’?”
“I think they went to Corcovado Mountain. Luiz wants to show her the view from Christ the Redeemer. How romantic, right?”
“What? Are you kidding? That road is perilous! There are no lights, and it’s in the middle of nowhere. Those guys are totally wasted! Why did you let them go?”
“Luiz and Miguel are adults,” she snaps.
“Not Petra.”
“Relax. She’ll be alright.”
“Who is driving?”
“Miguel, I think.”
“Oh shit!” I know the narrow, steep road to Christ the Redeemer requires maximum concentration. Not only does the road twist and curve with the altitude, but there are no lights whatsoever and no guardrails. A simple distraction could be fatal.
“It’s alright, don’t worry. They know the road.”
“Rafaela, Miguel is drunk! I could hear him yelling from the gardens. He’s been drinking nonstop since dinner. The road to reach the top is dangerous. How can you ask me not to worry?”
Rafaela shakes her head, exhaling loudly. “You’re way too protective of her. Those guys know how to handle alcohol. Let her have some fun. She and Luiz seem to be very—”
“Can you shut up?” I snarl. “I told you how much she means to me. If something happens, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I go outside to the terrace, and call Petra on her WhatsApp, but she rejects it. I decide to text. Petra, please get out of the car. Those guys are drunk and not trustworthy. The road is dangerous. Please stop. I’m picking you up.
I see her typing, and in a few seconds, she replies back. Why do you even care? Aren’t you busy? Just leave me alone.
I feel dazed by her hostility. I can’t understand why she’s so aggressive toward me. Why would she put herself in such a dangerous situation? I try to call her once more. But she again declines my call. I sigh, nervous. I should go talk to Roy, but he’s still giving an interview with the TV channel and flirting with female reporters. Unbelievable! He’s too busy to even notice his own daughter left the wedding. I see only two options: either I stay here and leave her alone with those guys, or I hit the road. My head says option number one; my heart, option number two…
Fuck it. I head to the parking lot, get my car, and leave for Corcovado Mountain, hoping I’ll convince her to stop.
Petra Van Gatt
Our car sounds like a Brazilian nightclub, blasting the soundtrack of “Banana” by Anitta, an R&B singer. Everyone’s euphorically dancing in their seats, drinking, and singing along with the song. Miguel’s no exception. He turns up the volume and puts his arms up to follow the rhythm. Claudia, seated beside him, is as excited as ever, screaming the lyrics like she owns the place and gorging herself on the cachaça. Miguel whistles the refrain and claps on the steering wheel like a drum. Luiz is laughing and enjoying the playful atmosphere, while I’m nestled against him, my own bottle in hand, half empty.
Miguel has decided to reach the top as fast as possible, and he speeds up. He knows the road well—and hopefully all the curves coming up.
“Man! Take it easy!” says Luiz, seeing his brother getting excited on the curves.
I’m definitely not used to these types of roads, to such speed, and to being squeezed into the back seat with four people. I drink a bit more to chill, but my heart skips a beat at each tight curve, wondering if I’ll make it to the next one. Oh, boy. Here comes another one.
The road is so winding. More than I ever thought. I look down at my iPhone. Send me your live location, he’s texted. He wants to track me down. I think twice. But for the sake of my own life, I decide to share it.
Luiz notices I’m worried. He smiles and gives me a long, wet kiss on the cheek. “It’s alright, don’t worry,” he says. “We are nearly there. Ten more minutes.”
“Seu vagabundo! Você quer comer a filha do chefe do nosso pai, huh?” teases Miguel, staring at us from the rearview mirror.
Everyone bursts into laughter except me, as I don’t understand Portuguese. I feel they are making fun of me somehow. “What did Miguel say?”
“Nothing interesting,” replies Luiz. But his smile is not reassuring. I feel like it’s a lie. “He’s just saying we’ll enjoy the view.” I notice how Claudia’s shaking her head with amusement. I know he’s lying. If it was something “not interesting,” they would’ve said it in English. Miguel only spoke in Portuguese because he didn’t want me to know.
“Miguel!”
He abruptly turns right, slamming on his brakes. But it’s too late. The left front fender crashes against the granite hill, instantly stopping our car. The impact violently propels me forward. I hit my head against the front seat, before being pulled back against mine.
“Ahh!” I yell in shock, frightened, my heart racing.
The music stops too.
Everyone’s taking quick, short breaths. Fuck! Enough is enough!
I look around, taking in my surroundings. I’ve got to get out of here. And fast. I glance at the rearview mirror and see headlights coming in the distance. By the noise, it sounds like a sports car.
“I need to get out.” Without thinking twice, I open my door and exit.
Luiz tries to reach my hand. “Petra, wait!”
The car approaches and stops behind us, at a safe distance from Miguel’s.
I can’t help but cry at the sight of Alex and run in his direction.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he shouts, hugging me tight.
Oh God, it feels so good to finally be in his arms.
“Damn, Petra! You could’ve died!” He grips my shoulders and glares straight into my eyes. “You knew those guys were totally wasted! Why did you go with them? Why?”
“To hurt you!” I scream back. “So you can feel my pain seeing you with that woman! I know you don’t want her! I know it!”
“What’s up, Petra? Let’s go! It was just a small crash; it’s all good,” yells Luiz, getting out of the car quite unsteadily.
Alex lets out a sigh, angry at being interrupted. “Petra isn’t going anywhere. She’s staying here with me.”
Luiz starts walking aggressively toward us, as if ready to take me by force if needed. “No way, dude! This chick is mine!”
I feel Alex losing his temper with Luiz’s vulgarity, but he tries to remain calm. Nevertheless, he puts me behind him. “I don’t think so. You guys are drunk. You should go home.”
But Luiz is not in the mood to be scolded. “You don’t give me orders! Who you think you are, huh?” snaps Luiz, trying to shove him, but Alex does it first.
“Her husband!” WHAT? We gasp in shock at Alex’s reply. “And you, Luiz? Who you think you are, huh?”
“What?” Luiz looks instantly at me, as confused as I am. “Petra, is it true? Are you really married to him?” I nod, affecting a smile but totally speechless. “Damn! Man, um, I’m… I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that,” Luiz stutters. He walks back to the car, humiliated, his ego smashed, and we watch them finally drive away.
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