I can hear André’s car. He‘s back. What now? Do I go downstairs, or stay here pretending not to feel well? I'll go downstairs. I want to look at him and feel what he feels when he looks at me after he’s been with another woman. I want to look at António and thank him. I want to look at all those women downstairs who think they’re modern, especially Lu, and show them I’m not the dumb little housewife whose highlight of the day is taking a soufflé out of the oven and hoping it hasn’t collapsed. I feel powerful. Dirty, but powerful.
I get dressed, retouch my make-up without managing to look myself in the eye, and go downstairs. I still can’t look this sinful woman in the face. If I look in the mirror all I see is Mummy’s reproachful gaze, the one she threw at the second wives of friends and divorcees. André comes up to me, concerned.
“What’s the matter? I everything OK?” he asks.
“Yes, I felt a bit dizzy but I’m OK now.”
“Do you want me to send everyone away? Maybe I should, you must be tired...”
“No, of course not, everyone’s enjoying themselves so much. It was just a dizzy turn, really. I feel fine now. In fact I think I’ll have a little more petit gateaux.”
I go to the table where I put the desserts. I almost felt sorry for André there. Almost. Now I think about it, that's something quite new. When he went out to buy beers he was annoying me dreadfully. Now, though, not even the Guns N’ Roses CD he’s put on is getting on my nerves.
António’s looking at me from across the room; I’m not quite sure what to do, as I’ve never done this before. How does a person behave after having great sex on the stairs of a wine cellar while the house upstairs is full of people, including our respective spouses? Do I avoid him? Talk as if nothing had happened? Say it was good? What would Mummy have done? You stupid girl; Mummy would never get herself into a situation like this, you shameless little slut.
I decide to follow my instincts and do as I feel. I wink at him and smile. Why make a drama out of this? Now I think about it, the only drama is realizing I’ve wasted over ten years of my life thinking sex was a bore and orgasms a myth. Just thinking about it makes me want to do it again. I’m feeling frisky again already. Will I be able to do it with André? How do I explain to him what he has to do, without giving away that I’ve been with another man? I don’t know if I can be bothered. Worse still, what would he think of me if I suddenly became a vixen in bed?
Perhaps it’s better to keep seeing António. Not that I want a relationship with him, it’s nothing like that. We have our families, our lives, our reputations. But I can’t deny he drives me crazy. And a no-ties tryst every once in a while is nothing serious after all, is it? Men do it and no one judges them for it.
Joana Maria de Brito Nogueira e Silva, stop it right now with these dirty thoughts! May God forgive me as He forgave Mary Magdalene.
Filipe
I go back to the house determined to make the most of the evening and enjoy the company of my friends, with all their virtues and defects. I’m going to stop making judgements about how they’ve chosen to live and accept them as they are. I don’t have to be with them every day, or agree with all their points of view. What I have to do is appreciate the good moments, make an effort. I can always turn down certain invitations, not answer certain phone calls. It’s better to avoid contact than break it off altogether with impulsive behaviour and loutish remarks. Not everyone has the ability to sit there and soak it up like André just did, hearing me out without smashing my teeth in. And these are people I’ve known for over ten years. I can’t just make them go away, pretend nothing binds us together. The past always has some kind of hold on us, no matter how tenuous.
As I’m putting the beers in the fridge, I see André and Joana talking near the stairs. She looks surprisingly relaxed and cheerful. I was expecting her to be annoyed with us, tell us we’d taken ages and so on, and whisper to André it was time for the party to end. But no. Strange.
“At last! I was beginning to think you’d got lost,” says Pedro, bursting into the kitchen.
“Come on, we didn’t take that long,” I say, opening two bottles of beer.
“Let’s go outside. Everyone’s waiting for you to arrive to have a smoke.”
“I don’t smoke that stuff,” I explain.
“Shit, not even tonight?” he asks, making for the porch.
“Let’s go then,” says André, joining us. “You have to have a puff at least, for the baby.”
And in fact everyone really is out on the porch waiting for us, except for António and Joana. Lu’s friend who brought the weed gets up to introduce herself. She’s older than we are, but she’s very attractive. Someone mentions she owns an art gallery or something like that, but I must confess I’m not paying attention to the conversation. I’d do her without thinking twice about it. Now I think about it, I’ve never gone to bed with an older woman. Not just two three years older, I mean, that doesn’t really matter. But this woman could certainly teach me a thing or two. She’s got sex appeal. Pilar. Judging by the way she’s looking at me, she must like me too.
“Who wants to light up?” Pilar asks.
“Now Isabel’s missing,” Maria remarks.
“That’s no problem. She’s on the phone and she usually takes ages. Shall we?”
André lights up, and in a few seconds the aroma of weed is crowding out the jasmine. Who’s Isabel? Were we out for so long they’ve made new friends in the meantime? I could swear we didn’t take longer than twenty minutes. I move close to where Maria is. The weed is circulating. All these years later and I still don’t enjoy this. I’ve only tried it twice, but both times the result was the same. I get lethargic and sleepy, start having really strange thoughts. I don’t like the sensation. By the look of it I’m the only one, as everyone else seems to be really enjoying it. They’re giggling over nothing already. I could always go and sit on the sofa and talk to Joana and António. Only kidding. I’d rather have my prostate examined than endure those two bores with their talk about resorts in the Maldives and the places where they have their names on the guest list. The talk out here on the porch may be semi-articulate nonsense, but at least it’s fun.
“All right, I’ll have a couple of puffs,” I give in, grabbing the joint being passed in front of me.
“Nice one, man! That’s the stuff,” says André, beaming.
“But it’s only because of the baby.”
Maria leans her head on my shoulder. I put my arm around her and smooth her hair. She closes her eyes and snuggles in closer. Her hair smells of apples and I can feel how firm her body is, even through her clothes. I don’t know what I’m doing right now. Taking advantage of a friend when she’s at her most vulnerable. I ought to be ashamed of myself. But she’s so cute and intelligent. It wouldn’t exactly be taking advantage. It would be more like helping her out; just a fuck to boost her self-esteem. The problem is, I run the old risk of her seeing more in it than there really is. Falling in love with me, for instance. Or even worse, wanting to have children with me! How could I tell her it was just sex? It’s drastic enough telling a woman you don’t like her hairdo or the clothes she’s wearing, let alone telling her you don’t want a relationship with her. The disappointment, the hateful looks, and worst of all, the tears. Tears are more than I can handle. All things I don’t want to go through with Maria, who on top of it all is a close friend. No. Better to let things be. She deserves a decent guy, someone who really likes her and wants a serious relationship. Not some guy who doesn’t know what he wants from life and who’d only let her down her sooner or later. And anyway, Pilar is here, and the consequences would be much less tragic with her I bet, a mature, experienced, discerning woman. Maybe I should go over and talk to her. Maria seems to have read my mind.
“Ah, I forgot to tell you. You know that Lu was going out with Pilar before she met Pedro?” she mumbles in my ear.
“What?”
This stuff’s got to be giving me hallucinations.
“You heard right. And Pedro loses it when he sees them together. Don’t you see how intimidated he looks, all territorial?”
“So you’re saying Pilar’s a lesbian or something?” I ask, deflated.
“And not at all bothered about showing it. And the funniest thing is, they tried to get Pedro involved in a threesome and he’s the one who backed out!” she tells me, giggling uncontrollably.
“Pedro? The bastard, he never told me about that...”
“Of course he didn’t! He backed out of it, what do you want him to tell you?”
“Just so I could tease him to death about it.”
That’s that then. I could tell it was too good to be true. A hot babe like that and she’s a lesbian. Why? Why? Maybe because she's met guys like me over the course of her life, guys that treat women as something temporary and run away from anything remotely resembling commitment.
“I’m really enjoying myself tonight. And I didn’t even want to come,” Maria says, putting her hand in mine.
“Just as well you came then,” I answer, nervously.
“I’m really enjoying being with you.”
Right then. I better go and get another beer before this gets out of control. I go to the fridge and yank the door open so the cold air pours out. I run the beer bottle over my forehead to cool down my thoughts and help me to focus. I’m not going to bed with Maria. I’m not going to bed with Maria. It’s difficult though, seeing as she clearly wants to go to bed with me. But I’m not going to bed with Maria.
When I get back to the porch, determined to resist Maria’s advances, Pilar’s friend who was on the phone has joined the peace pipe fraternity. With the luck I’m having tonight they’re probably a couple, which is a shame, because she looks very cute from the back, dark complexion, nice figure, great legs.
“Ah, Filipe!” shouts Pedro. “You’ll finally get to meet the wonderful Isabel.”
I wouldn’t mind. But not yet it seems, because I can hear Kati shouting from the bathroom. She’s locked herself in. Either that or she’s so baked she can’t manage to turn the key. Up comes Joana, with that look of affliction she wears when something in her party isn’t going well, and behind her comes António, who’s heaving sighs as if to say “What has that half-wit wife of mine gone and done now?”
António begins to give her instructions as if she were retarded; Joana’s calling for André – as if he could be any help, the state he’s in – and off I go to the garage to get the toolbox to unscrew the lock. This stuff only happens to me.
Maria
Damn. Just when I was plucking up the courage to throw myself at Filipe, he gets up. Maybe I should change strategy. All this insinuation and beating about the bush as if we were fifteen clearly isn’t working. Is it some kind of sign, I wonder?
But then I have this obsession with basing my decisions on signs I think have a divine origin. Stuff like, “If he looks at me now, I’ll go over and strike up a conversation” or “If I can peel this orange in a single strip without it breaking I’ll text him”. It’s a ‘problem’ I’ve had since I was a kid and at one point I thought it was serious until the day I saw A Very Long Engagement by Jean-Pierre Jeunet, where the main character does exactly the same thing. I was so happy to see that! As if a film by Jeunet was the proof I wasn’t mad.
I know it’s stupid, and the recent years of my life prove that if I’ve followed the signs my head concocted; they’ve obviously been the wrong ones. Yet I feel I’m getting the right signs this time. I’m not supposed to get involved with Filipe; no matter how sexy and attractive he’s looking to me tonight. And get him now with his toolbox, saving a damsel in distress. Oh shit... How can I stop myself? I haven’t had a decent fuck for months, one of those fucks that leaves you happy and panting for breath. It’s a crying shame.
Nuno comes and sits down beside me.
“What were you doing there?” he asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Just there, throwing yourself all over Filipe.”
“Me?” I stammer.
I feel like asking what’s it got to do with him, but then I realize his tone of voice is almost brotherly, not critical.
“Yes. You think I don’t know you?”
"Oh, it was just a flirt; I’d never get involved with him. Not emotionally, at least.”
“So, you have a few drinks, smoke a few spiffs and grab the first male friend you see to get in the sack with him, is that it?”
“No. I dunno, I was in the mood. And he’s not ‘the first male friend I see’. He’s cute and he’s available. I think we’d be great fuck buddies. We’re both free and we know each other well enough to define the rules of the game,” I say, candidly.
“And you really think you’d manage not to fall in love with Filipe?”
“Of course, why should I?”
“Because you always fall in love, because you only see the good side of people. And Filipe’s a fine guy with a sense of humour, and he’s very fond of you, therefore, he would treat you well, therefore, you would fall hopelessly in love with him, even knowing it was against the rules. And the day you admit to it, he would take you in his arms and say no, he’s not ready, he doesn’t want commitment, he’d avoid you so as not to be confronted with your love and everything would end up worse than before. So much unnecessary suffering.”
I interrupt him, “All right, all right, I understand. Christ, that’s all I need.”
“Sorry, but you don’t deserve to shed a single tear for the sake of love again. Go ahead and find the man of your life and be very happy with him, but please, don’t look for the prince in every frog that comes your way. I was enough where that was concerned.”
“But you were a lovely little frog,” I smile.
“You think so?” he asks, blinking over and over.
“Yes, I think so...”
Suddenly I have a laughing fit.
“What is it now?” he asks.
“I was thinking about the story of the princess and the frog, except the frog turns into a gay prince after he’s kissed.”
“Exactly. And then, instead of wanting to marry her he just wants to wear her clothes! Good one!”
My stomach hurts from laughing so much. Pedro wants to know what’s so funny, but we can’t stop laughing long enough to share the joke. A joke that isn’t even all that funny. He laughs at the sight of us, and draws everyone’s attention to our giggling fit. Seconds later we’re all laughing like children, high as kites. Wow, I’d forgotten how good this feels. And I haven’t laughed like this for ages. It’s so liberating to have a belly laugh. I feel like I’ve just come out of a yoga class.
Filipe
I finally manage to get that bimbo Kati out of the bathroom. She’s scarcely set a foot outside the door when António grabs her by the arm and mutters something unpleasant in her ear. She seems not to hear and keeps smiling, unsteady on her feet. For the first time in her life, Joana thanks me sincerely, which leaves me surprised. I wasn’t aware she was capable of being sincere.
I go back to the party. Everyone’s having great fun and apparently no one noticed the episode with Kati, who’s joining the group as if it was nothing to do with her. I go up to Pilar’s friend that I still haven’t had the chance to meet after all this time. She’s sitting on the floor, with her back to the door I’m coming through.
“Sorry not to have introduced myself sooner, but I was sorting out a domestic problem,” I say, winking in Kati’s direction.
“That’s all right,” she answers, as she puts the joint out.
“I’m Filipe.”
She gets slowly to her feet, lightly shakes her head to move the hair from her face and looks at me with an enormous smile. At that moment my heart starts galloping. My legs are shaking. I swallow with difficulty and try to force my brain to get sober so I can decide whether this is real or just some emanation of the night’s excesses. Her smile vanishes. She looks at me very earnestly and her breath
ing seems laboured. Now I feel everyone looking at us, trying to understand what’s going on, but at that very instant those looks are no longer important, those people are no longer important. I can’t move. I don’t have the strength even to utter a single word. For the second time in my life, the world has stopped and all I see is her pink lips moving gently.
“Filipe…” she whispers.
“Bé...”
Joana
After the unfortunate scene in the bathroom, everyone went to the porch to smoke joints, except António. I confess I’d like to try one right now. Seriously. If I weren’t pregnant I’d try one. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I feel different. As if all this time I’d been living in a soap bubble that’s just exploded, letting me experience real life. As if I’d had a revelation with my orgasm. The first thing revealed to me is that sex isn’t ugly, or dirty, or a sin, as they taught me when I was a little girl. Likewise, smoking a joint doesn't mean getting addicted or turning into a petty criminal. And they seem to be having a great time, to judge by the laughter I can hear from here, at least. But I can’t just now. Next time or next life. Oh my goodness, if Mummy could hear me now... I don’t know what’s the matter with me.
Thirty Something (Nothing's How We Dreamed It Would Be) Page 10