by A. C. Meyer
“But I didn’t—”
“I know you didn’t mean to! But if you had talked to me instead of accusing me, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. Damn, Cadu, my life was completely intertwined with yours and then suddenly you dumped me as if I was nothing!”
“But what about us, Mari? What about everything we’ve been through?”
“A fragile story? Based on lack of trust? I gave you all I had, Cadu: my love, my feelings; I faced people treating me like I was nobody! Your brother treated me like trash, saying I didn’t deserve to be working with you, let alone be your girlfriend . . . But I ignored everything because I thought that loving each other was enough. And you know what I see now?” she asks, and I shake my head, too crushed to say anything. “Love alone isn’t enough. I deserve more. I deserve to be loved and respected; I deserve to feel loved for who I am. I deserve the complete trust of the man I am with, because I can’t live in fear of losing the man I love every time something happens just because he would rather believe anyone else over me. I deserve to be with a guy who worships me, rather than humiliates me. I forgive you, Cadu, because I understand what you went through. But I would never forgive myself if I ignored everything I put myself through just to be with you.”
“No, Mari! Please, give me a chance. I love you! I’ll do whatever you want to get you back! If you don’t want to work with me anymore, I—” I’m desperate, and she shakes her head and interrupts me.
“No, Cadu. I am definitely not working with you again, never again. I don’t want anything from you. I never did. The only thing I wanted was your love and your trust and you denied me that. When you love someone for real, you trust them. But you took everything I felt for you and threw it away.”
“No, Mari . . . I love you.” Tears fall from my eyes and I am desperate at the thought of losing the woman of my dreams. “Please, angel, give me a chance?” I ask, begging God that she may give me the tiniest of chances, just so that I can dare to hope to have her back.
“I need space, Cadu. I need to start over. Away from you.”
“I won’t give up on you, Mari. I’ll never give up on you. Promise me you’ll let me win you back?” She’s crying and I pull her to me. We cry in each other’s arms until she slowly pushes me, moving away as she wipes her eyes and gets up.
“I can’t promise you anything, Cadu,” she says, looking me in the eyes. Then she turns and goes to her bedroom, slamming and locking the door before I have a chance to go after her. My body shakes and I feel the panic of losing her forever taking over me, until I hear Rodrigo’s voice in my head: “You’ll have to be ready to crawl back to your girl.” And that’s exactly what I am going to do.
Mari
Three weeks later . . .
It’s been three weeks since Cadu and I broke up. Since that awful day when I ended our story, he has been trying to win me back. Flowers, chocolates, music, books. He sent a different present every day, something to remind me of our story—always with a handwritten note, a poem or, mostly, the lyrics to a song.
It was very hard at first. I had to start over . . . to learn to live again. Everything I knew had been taken away from me. I started a new job; I had been called back after the interview to work with Pierre, the diplomat. I had to adapt to a new routine, new coworkers, my new life. The hardest part was staying away from him. That was what hurt me the most, especially since he wouldn’t let me forget him. He’d do everything to keep in touch. I would work hard the whole day, but at night, when I was alone, the memories overtook me full strength. Slowly, he was starting to grow on me again, with his displays of affection . . . and of love. Yeah, he hurt me deeply with his actions, but I still felt so strongly, so deeply about him, that I ended up talking to the only person who was able to understand me. My mother.
I told her everything. I opened up my heart like never before. She listened to me without interruption, and when I finished my narrative, she asked me the question I was avoiding the most.
“Do you love Cadu, Mari?” Just like that, right in the heart, straight forward, not even giving me a chance to think. And I answer in the same manner, pure instinct, not fearing I’d look a fool to my own mother.
“Yes. I love him.”
“Then why haven’t you forgiven him, baby girl? He won’t be waiting around for you his whole life. If he loves you like he seems to, and if you love him like you say you do, then you’re being foolish, punishing each other for things that happened because of other people’s manipulations,” she says, then holds my hands. “Look, sweetie, finding the right one is very rare. There are so many people out there nowadays. Was he wrong? Yes, but if you think about it, you were wrong too, when you went through so much without telling him.”
“You think so, Mom?”
“I think you have to make up your mind. You either take him back or let him go for good. Be right and just with him. And this, sweetheart, is something only you can decide.”
I went home and spent a good part of that night awake, with only my favorite singer to keep me company while he sang my life’s soundtrack.
I got to work today deciding to end our suffering. I’d wait for the “package of the day” to arrive, I’d call him to thank him and I’d ask him to come over to talk. That was probably why I was feeling all those butterflies in my stomach, that feeling that something big was about to happen.
The morning was busy, but I checked the door constantly, expecting the delivery boy to arrive. He showed up near lunch time, way later than usual. And instead of a box, which he would usually bring, I got a big envelope. As soon as I was alone again in my office, I opened the seal and took a series of papers from within the envelope; I had no idea what they were. One of them was a letter, handwritten by him. I figured I should start there.
I put the papers on my desk, feeling the tears streaming down my face. The feeling of loss is huge. He was mine, the man I loved, and I lost him. He gave me—though he knew how much I hated expensive gifts—the thing that mattered the most to him: his grandparents’ house. His refuge, the place he saw as home. I was confused, and at the same time, my heart hurt more than ever.
Suddenly, my cell phone rings, taking me out of that catatonic state. I check the screen and answer, without giving her a chance to speak.
“He’s gone, Lais. I lost him.”
Cadu
London
The day starts out cloudy in London. The weather, colder than what I am used to, invades my body, making me shiver. I pull my black coat a little tighter, trying to get warm. I look around and the gray day seems sad. Well, actually, I think I’m the one who’s sad and the day is just matching my feeling.
I take a deep breath and walk to a café near my hotel. I watch people around me, thinking just how different my last visit to London was. In fact, it makes me think of how much I’ve changed over the last year.
I walk into the café and take a table in the corner. A waitress is quick to notice me and while I order a macchiato, my cell phone vibrates with a text notification.
Thank goodness the London Eye is close by. I could use a walk. I have decided to take a gap year, to decide what I want to do with my life. The losses, the disappointment I had with my brother, and breaking up with Mari have taken a toll on me way too deep and I need time to think, to get stronger, to get over it. Though I suspect I could never get over losing the woman I love.
The waitress brings me back the coffee, and while I sip the hot beverage, my thoughts go back to what happened a couple of days ago.
I had left to grab lunch and decided to take a walk on the beach. It was a beautiful day; the sky was blue, and the smell of the ocean in the breeze brought some comfort to my sorrowful soul. I was a bit poetic, I know, but at the same time, I was so confident it would work. I walked, thinking optimistically about the future, until I looked across the street and I saw her. Mari was beautiful, wearing one of
those dresses which enhanced her curves and seduced me. The green of her clothes contrasted beautifully with her pale skin, and her hair was loose, falling like a curtain down her back. And then, I looked at the person walking next to her. A tall man, with black hair and dressed as if he was heading to a party, talked to her and made her laugh. Then he touched her face, pushing away the strands of hair that had been blown around by the wind and placed them behind her ear, and moved closer, as if he intended to kiss her. It hit me like a slap in the face. There, in that moment, my world fell apart and I realized I had lost her forever, and that everything I’d been doing to get her back wasn’t fair to her at all. I had a chance to make her happy and I threw it away. Now, I was getting in the way of her being happy with someone else.
I went back to the office quickly, thinking all this through. Sitting in my office, staring at the window, my mind wandered to thoughts of what the past few months with her had been like. Mari made me see the world differently, where the price of things didn’t matter, and the worthwhile moments in our life did. Every smile, conversation, caress, nights holding her, laughter, and looks we exchanged were worth the world to me, and even though I was in pain now, I wouldn’t change what I had lived with her for the world.
Then, looking at the immense blue ocean beneath me, I made up my mind, and went to the top floor to talk to my dad, who had been reinstated as CEO of the group. We talked for almost two hours about my feelings, my plans for the future, the company, and so much more. My dad suggested I pull back from work, so I could think things through, get over my problems; maybe study, get another degree. I decided to take his advice and planned a trip, but before that, I made Rodrigo start the paperwork to transfer the house in Itaipava. Since the contract would take a while to get ready, he drew up forms gifting the house to Mari and we signed and registered it. He called me crazy, but I wanted her to have a part of me. That house was my refuge, the place I saw as my true home, but I knew I’d never be able to return there without her. I wished from the bottom of my heart that she was truly happy, even if it crushed me to know she wouldn’t be happy with me. And if the house in Itaipava could bring a little joy to her and if it could become her true home, I’d be happy to give it to her so she could always carry a piece of me. Rodrigo said I was growing soft, but I was just in love.
I check the clock and am shocked when I see the time. I’ve been sitting there, thinking about life, for almost an hour and a half. It was almost a quarter to two, and I still had to pick up that document for Rodrigo.
That’s all I needed! Meeting someone I didn’t even know. I walked to the London Eye, listening to romantic music playing on my iPod, which just made me miss her more.
I stop near the ticket booth. I lean against a wall, close my eyes, and let the music fill me. I run my hand over my face, feeling the roughness from the beard I decided to grow, and take a deep breath. Then I feel a presence, and when I open my eyes, I’m shocked. I think I’m hallucinating.
“Hey,” she says. Mari is right there, in front of me, her face flushed. She is wrapped in a white coat and her hair is loose. My whole body warms at her presence, and I’m completely speechless.
After a few seconds, I manage to utter something. “Mari? What . . . What are you doing here?” I ask, baffled.
“I came here to give this back.” She hands me an envelope, which I recognize as the one I sent her, and I feel an even sharper pain taking over my body when I realize she’s refusing my gift. I lower my head. I can’t control the sorrow and I let out my tears.
After getting Cadu’s letter, I didn’t know what do with myself, I was desperate. Lais helped me see it was time to make a change, to push away the bad feeling and bring the man I love back home.
I talked to Pierre, my boss, who gave me a few days off work so that I could go to London to meet Cadu. He said something like, “We French can’t resist when l’amour calls.” And I could only thank him for his generosity.
Lais and Rodrigo helped me prepare for the trip and with the document I’d taken with me.
I took my very first international trip on my own. Yes, I was panicking. I was lucky enough to sit next to an old lady, who wanted to hear my story. When I got to the part where I explained why I was going to London, she was teary and there was a group of passengers around us, listening as well.
When we landed at Heathrow Airport, the old lady offered me a ride to the hotel and gave me instructions on how to reach the London Eye. I look around and see him near the entrance. He’s beautiful, all in black, with a wool overcoat and leather gloves to protect him from the cold. His face looks beaten, his beard grown to a considerable length, but just looking at him warms my heart. His eyes are closed and I approach him, stopping a few inches away. As if he could feel my presence, he opens his eyes and looks shocked. I think Rodrigo really was able to hide the fact that I was coming.
“Hey,” I say, and he looks so intensely at me that I feel my face blushing. He doesn’t answer, and just stands there, looking at me for a few seconds until his voice comes out in almost a murmur.
“Mari? What . . . What are you doing here?” He really is surprised.
“I came here to give this back.” I give him the envelope he had sent me, with the house documents. There’s a flash of recognition in his eyes, and then he lowers his head and tears fall from his eyes, showing just how sad he felt. I take a deep breath, controlling my urge to pull him to me, then go on. “I’m sorry, but I can’t take it.” He raises his head and looks me in the eye.
“Ma—”
“I can’t take it like this, Cadu,” I say, and he looks at me, trying to figure out what I mean. I push the envelope to him, so that he takes it. He looks at it and then back at me. I nod for him to go on and take the envelope. He raises his hand and I can see it shaking. I do my best to keep a blank face. “Open it, please.”
His eyes are curious. He nods in agreement and opens the envelope, pulling the document out. Cadu watches me and I gesture to him to read what’s in it. At first, he doesn’t look very interested, as if he knew exactly what he would find. But then, magic happens. He opens his eyes in surprise; his mouth falls open and his breath is uneven. Bingo!
“But . . . Mari . . . What?” His eyes turn to me, trying to understand what’s going on.
The document was just like the one he had left me, except that it now carries his name alongside mine. I crack my best smile and say, trying to keep the confidence in my voice, “I can only take this gift if you’re with me, Cadu. Because it makes no sense having a family house if the man I love isn’t with me.”
“Oh, my God!” He sighs, laughing and pulling me into a very tight hug, which warms up my body and gives me, finally, a sense of belonging. “Will you forgive me, love? Forgive me. I love you so much!” he says, running his fingers through my hair and kissing my face while I laugh, glad to be with him again.
“What happened that made you decide to go to London like that, Cadu? I was ready to talk to you when you sent me that last letter.”
“Oh, Mari . . .” He caresses my face, his eyes alight with warmth and love, then starts to explain. “The day before I sent you the letter, I was walking on the beach at lunchtime, thinking about you.” He smiles, but it’s sad. “I saw you across the street. You were with a good-looking man. You were standing there, talking, and he pushed away your hair and leaned down to kiss you. I went back to the office thinking I had missed out on my chance, that you deserved to move on and be happy. Even if it killed me.”
“Oh, Cadu.” I hold his face in my hands, feeling the beard scratching my skin. “That was Silvio, an old schoolmate. We met at the restaurant and stopped to talk. He did kiss me, but on my cheek.” His eyes grow wide and he puts a hand on his forehead and shakes his head. I start laughing and tease him. “Were you jealous?” He looks me in the eye and nods. We keep quiet for a few seconds, looking at each other, until he runs his fi
ngers once again through my hair and pulls me into a tight hug.
“I was a fool, wasn’t I? I got it all wrong! Will you forgive me, Mari? Will you give me one more chance at making you happy? I love you so much I don’t know if I can take watching you leave again.” I pull away from his arms just a little and look into his eyes.
“Of course, I forgive you. But you have to forgive me too. I wasn’t truthful with you. I should’ve told you what was going on. I should’ve trusted you.” He pulls me into a tight hug again, leaving a trail of kisses on my face, my hair, my neck.
“I can’t believe you’re here!” His face, a sad shadow before, is now changing into the face of a truly happy man.
“And I can’t believe you made me cross an ocean—my first flight on a plane—by myself!” I say, laughing, and he lifts me in his arms, laughing as well.
“I promise you, Mari, you’ll never be alone again. From now on, we’ll be together forever.”
He puts me down and, holding my face tenderly, puts his lips on mine and kisses me. His kiss is intense and full of silent promises. As softly as it began, he pulls away and looks me in the eye. We smile at each other and, before I realize what he’s doing, he’s kneeling on the ground, holding my hand.
“Mariana, I promise to never doubt anything you say ever again. Whether it’s serious, connected to our jobs, or if it’s just about you stealing my sheets during the night. I promise to love you, respect you, and do everything in my power to make you happy. I promise to fill our house in the mountains with kids and to be the best father I can be. I promise to love you every day and every night, always, and never let you out of my sight again. I promise to make you my home and to make myself your home, so that we can never be apart again. I don’t have a ring, but I promise to make it up to you if you say you’ll marry me,” he says, smiling. His eyes sparkle like a boy at Christmas, and I see the man I love back again. He’s quiet, waiting for my answer, and I let out a happy laugh.