‘No, I stayed the night with a friend.’
‘I see. Well, there was a phone call for you earlier. The operator couldn’t get hold of you, so the caller dictated a message. She said it was urgent.’ The receptionist handed an envelope over to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said as I took it from her.
‘And if possible, next time you decide to stay out overnight, perhaps you can let us know? Rio can be a dangerous city for foreigners, you see. Any longer and we would have had to call the polícia.’
‘Of course,’ I said, faintly embarrassed as I walked to the lift, musing on the fact that Rio might well be a dangerous city for foreigners. But for a native like me, it felt completely safe.
Up in my room, I tore open the envelope, wondering who could have left me a message of urgency, and read the typed words.
Dear Senhorita Maia,
Senhora Beatriz says she would like to see you. She is growing weaker every day and it is imperative that you come as soon as you can. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock would be the best time.
Yara Canterino
Having taken a whole day out and forgotten completely for a few precious hours about my unknown past and uncertain future, it took a while for my brain to compute what this letter meant. As I ran the shower and stepped into the warm water, letting it cascade over my body, I decided that whatever tomorrow would bring, I would think about it then, not tonight.
I put on the dress Floriano had bought me, sure that it would look dreadful, but as I donned the shoes and stepped before the mirror to take a look, I was surprised by the result. The crossover bodice accentuated my full breasts and my slim waist, and the wrap skirt that fell away in soft folds from my lower thighs gave a glimpse of my legs, their length accentuated by the dainty Cuban heels.
The time in Rio had given my skin some colour, and as I blow-dried my hair and piled it on top of my head, then added some eyeliner, mascara and a deep red lipstick I’d once bought on a whim and had never used, I chuckled at how my sisters would hardly recognise me. Floriano’s teasing comment on my style of dress had stung me, but was not, I realised, far off the mark. Everything I wore was sober, designed to help me melt into a crowd. Here in Rio I knew women celebrated the sensuousness of their bodies and their sexuality, whereas I had spent years hiding mine.
In the half hour I had before I was due to meet Floriano I wrote a burst of emails to my sisters, telling them what a wonderful time I was having and how much better I was feeling. Sipping a glass of wine from the bottle I’d taken from the mini bar, I was amazed at how I meant every word I’d written. It was as if a huge boulder-sized weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and tonight I felt as light as air. Perhaps it had been as simple as my confession to Floriano, but an inner voice told me it was more than that.
It was him too.
His energy, positivity and down-to-earth common sense, not to mention the way he handled his daughter and their domestic arrangements with such dexterity, was a life lesson I’d needed to learn. If nothing else, he had provided me with a role model, one that I realised I desperately wanted to aspire to. Next to him, my own life seemed like a dull grey facsimile and I was aware that Floriano – even if sometimes his comments had been painful – had made me realise I was simply surviving, not living.
And somehow the combination of this city and this man had cracked the invisible protective shell that I’d been hiding in. I chuckled at the analogy, thinking that I did indeed feel like a newly hatched chick.
And yes, I admitted that I probably was a little in love with him. As I looked at my watch and realised it was time to go downstairs, I decided that even if I never saw Floriano again, he’d given me my life back. And tonight I would celebrate my rebirth without fearing for tomorrow.
‘Wow!’ Floriano stared at me in blatant admiration as I appeared in the lobby. ‘Talk about a phoenix emerging from the ashes.’
Instead of blushing and trying to bat away his compliment, I smiled warmly at him.
‘Thank you for the dress. You were right, it does suit me.’
‘Maia, you look absolutely stunning, and believe me,’ he said as he took my arm and we walked outside, ‘all I’ve done is enhance what you seem to have been so determined to hide.’ Standing at the top of the steps, he glanced at me. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Yes.’
We hailed a cab and Floriano directed it to a district called Lapa, which he said was one of the old parts of the city where the Bohemian set used to hang out.
‘Not safe alone, mind you,’ he warned me as we emerged into a cobbled street, lined with old brick buildings. ‘But tonight you have me to protect you,’ he said, as I held on to him in my unfamiliar heels, stepping carefully over the uneven surface. Pavement cafés were packed with drinkers and diners, but we turned off from the main street and eventually he led me down a staircase and into a basement.
‘This is the oldest samba club in Rio. No tourists here; it’s for the real cariocas who just want to dance to the best samba music in town.’
A waitress smiled at him, kissed him on both cheeks, then led us to a battered leather booth in a corner. He ordered two beers, announcing that the wine was undrinkable as the waitress proffered us menus.
‘Please, Floriano, tonight is on me,’ I said, glancing at the dance floor, where the musicians were already gathered, setting up their instruments.
‘Thank you.’ He nodded graciously in acceptance. ‘And by the way, anything you want to say, Maia, say it in the next hour. After that, neither of us will be able to hear a word.’
Once we had ordered the house speciality, which Floriano had recommended, our beers arrived and he toasted his bottle to mine.
‘Maia, it’s been a pleasure to spend time with you. And I’m only sorry that it has to be cut short by me flying to Paris tomorrow.’
‘And I want to say thank you to you too. You’ve been wonderful to me, Floriano, really.’
‘So, you’ll agree to do my next translation?’ he joked.
‘I’d be insulted if you didn’t ask me. By the way,’ I said as some kind of bean stew arrived in front of both of us, ‘Yara had left a message for me when I arrived back at the hotel this evening. Apparently, Senhora Beatriz wishes to see me tomorrow morning,’ I announced as casually as I could.
‘Really?’ said Floriano between mouthfuls. ‘And how do you feel about that?’
‘You told me today was for fun,’ I reminded him playfully. ‘So I haven’t thought about how I feel.’
‘Good. But I can’t help wishing I could be there with you. Or at least to act as your chauffeur. It’s quite a journey we’ve been on in the last few days. And I’ve enjoyed being your passenger. Do you promise to tell me what she says?’
‘I’ll send you an email, of course.’
There was a sudden tense atmosphere between us, which we both filled with finishing the delicious stew in front of us. Floriano ordered another beer from the attentive waitress, but I refrained, settling for a glass of ‘undrinkable’ wine instead. In the background, the band began to play the sensuous music of the hills, and two couples took to the floor. I focused on them as they began to dance, their careful movements mirroring the exquisite tension that hung between Floriano and me.
‘So,’ I said, as more couples began to take to the floor, ‘will you teach me how to dance the samba?’ I offered my hand across the table to him, and he nodded. Without speaking, we rose and joined the crowd.
Putting one arm around my waist and using his other hand to encircle my fingers with his own, he whispered in my ear. ‘Just feel the rhythm running through you, Maia, that is all you need to do.’
I did as he suggested, and the pulse began to move through my body. My hips started to sway in time with his and our feet began to move, mine clumsily at first as I studied his and the other dancers’ around me. But soon, something instinctive took over and I relaxed and let my body move with his to the rhythm.
I’m not sure h
ow long we danced together that night. As the floor became more crowded, I felt that we had all become a single homogenous mass; moving as one, a group of human beings simply celebrating the joy of being alive. I’m sure that to any professional outsider, my samba was amateurish and imperfect, but for the first time in my life, I didn’t care what anyone thought. Floriano steered and twirled me and held me close until I was laughing out loud with the sheer exhilaration of the moment.
Eventually, with both of us sweating profusely, he led me from the dance floor, grabbed the water from our table and drew me up the steps into the street for some fresh air, immediately polluting it by lighting a cigarette.
‘Meu Deus, Maia! For a beginner, that was incredible! You are a true carioca.’
‘Tonight I feel it, thanks to you.’ I moved my fingers towards him to take the cigarette and a puff of it. I felt him watch me as I did so.
‘Do you know how beautiful you look at this moment?’ he murmured. ‘Far more beautiful than your great-grandmother. Tonight, you have a light burning inside you.’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘and it’s thanks to you, Floriano.’
‘Maia, I’ve done nothing. It’s you who has decided to live again.’
Suddenly, he pulled me into his arms, and before I knew it, he was kissing me. And I was responding with equal fervour.
‘Please,’ he whispered as we pulled away to take a breath, ‘come home with me tonight.’
We left the club and barely made it up the stairs to his apartment before he pulled my dress from my shoulders and took me then and there in the narrow hall, with the music of the hills still ringing in my ears. Eventually we climbed into his bed, and made love again, this time more slowly, but with equal passion.
Afterwards, he propped himself up on his elbow and stared down at me with his familiar, intense gaze. ‘How you have changed,’ he said. ‘When I first met you, I acknowledged your beauty, as any man would, but you were so closed, so tense. And look at you now,’ he said as he kissed the hollow at the base of my neck and moved to caress my breasts. ‘You are . . . delicious. And after months of wishing that tomorrow was the day I was flying to Paris, tonight, with only hours to go, all I want to do is to stay right here with you. Maia, I adore you.’ He moved on top of me suddenly, pushing his nakedness against mine and gazing down at me. ‘Come to Paris with me,’ he urged.
‘Floriano, tonight is our night,’ I whispered. ‘You are the one who has taught me to take each moment as it arrives. Besides, you know I can’t.’
‘No, not tomorrow, but please, once you have spoken to the old lady, get on a plane and join me there. We could have a few wonderful days together. A moment in time,’ he encouraged me.
I didn’t answer him, not even wanting to contemplate tomorrow just now. Eventually, he fell asleep next to me, and I watched him, bathed in the moonlight that was shining through the window. I reached out to touch his cheek gently with my fingers.
‘Thank you,’ I whispered. ‘Thank you.’
48
Surprisingly, given that I hadn’t slept in the same bed as anyone else for over fourteen years, I didn’t stir until I felt a gentle nudge on my shoulder and opened my eyes to see Floriano looking down at me, already dressed.
‘I brought you some coffee,’ he said, indicating the mug perched on the bedside table beside me.
‘Thank you,’ I replied sleepily. ‘What time is it?’
‘Eight thirty. Maia, I have to leave for the airport now. My flight departs for Paris in three hours’ time.’
‘And I have to run back to my hotel and change,’ I said, making to climb out of the bed immediately. ‘I have to be up at the convent at ten.’
Floriano put a hand on my arm to stop me. ‘Listen, I don’t know what your plans are once you’ve seen Beatriz, but I wanted to reiterate what I said last night. Come to Paris, querida. I’d love you to be with me. Promise me you’ll think about it?’
‘Yes,’ I agreed. ‘I promise I will.’
‘Good.’ Floriano scratched his nose as a wry smile spread across his lips. ‘I hate to say it, but I can’t help feeling there are shades of Bel and Laurent in this conversation. I’d like to think that we could pursue a happier ending than they had.’ He reached out a hand and smoothed some stray hair from my forehead, then bent and kissed me gently upon it. ‘A bientôt, and good luck this morning. Now, I really must go.’
‘Have a safe journey,’ I said as I watched him walk to the door.
‘Thank you. Just pull the door closed behind you when you leave. Petra will be back in the next couple of days. Goodbye, querida.’
I heard the front door click a few seconds later and I jumped out of bed to dress. I left the apartment and walked fast through the streets of Ipanema to my hotel. I strode through the lobby with my head held high and asked for my key at the desk, ignoring the sweep of the receptionist’s eyes as she took in my dishevelled appearance, and asked her if Pietro was available in twenty minutes to drive me up to the convent.
Upstairs in my suite, I took a hasty shower, part of me not wishing to remove the scent of Floriano from my body, dressed quickly in something more appropriate and was back down in the lobby fifteen minutes later. I could see Pietro waiting for me outside and he smiled at me as I climbed into the car.
‘Senhorita D‘Apliése, how are you? I haven‘t seen you for a few days. We‘re going up to the convent hospital, yes?’ he confirmed.
‘Yes,’ I said as we drove off, before turning my attention to clearing my jumbled brain for the meeting ahead.
When we arrived, Yara was already waiting for me nervously outside.
‘Hello, Senhorita Maia. Thank you for coming.’
‘Thank you for arranging it.’
‘As a matter of fact, it had nothing to do with me. It was Senhora Beatriz who asked without prompting if I could contact you. She knows she only has a short time left. Are you ready?’ I read sympathy in Yara‘s eyes.
I said I was and she led me along wide, dark corridors towards the hospital wing. As she pushed open the double doors and we walked through, I smelt disinfectant mixed with another, indefinable aroma that seemed to pervade all the hospitals I‘d ever visited. The last time I‘d been in one was when I‘d given birth to my baby boy.
‘Senhora Beatriz is in here.’ Yara indicated a door at the end of the corridor. ‘I will just go and see if she is prepared.’
I sat on the bench outside, thinking that no matter what Beatriz told me today, it would not bring me down. The past was the past, and yesterday I‘d finally begun to have a future.
The door to Beatriz‘s room opened and Yara beckoned me in. ‘She‘s very alert this morning. She told the nurse she didn‘t want any drugs until she‘d spoken with you so that her mind would be clear. You‘ll have about an hour until the pain will be too much for her.’ She ushered me into the room, which was bright and airy with a beautiful view of the mountains and the sea below. Even though Beatriz‘s bed was of hospital design, everything else resembled an ordinary bedroom.
‘Good morning, Maia.’
Beatriz, who was sitting in a chair by the window, greeted me with surprising warmth. ‘Thank you for coming to see me. Please, sit down.’ She indicated a wooden chair opposite her. ‘Yara, you can leave us now.’
‘Yes, senhora. Press the bell if you need anything,’ Yara said as she left the room.
While mistress and maid had been conversing, I‘d taken the opportunity to study Beatriz. And after what Yara had said about her, I attempted to see her in a new light. Certainly physically, she didn‘t resemble Izabela, her mother, without doubt leaning more towards the paler, European features of her father. I also noticed for the first time the still vivid green of her eyes, huge in her emaciated face.
‘Firstly, Maia, I want to apologise to you. Seeing you walk into my garden, looking as you do – the living image of my mother – was a shock. And of course, the necklace you wear . . . I, like Yara, recognised it immediately. It w
as left to me by my mother, Izabela, and is the same one I gave to my own daughter on her eighteenth birthday.’ Beatriz‘s eyes clouded suddenly with pain or emotion – I wasn‘t sure which. ‘Forgive me, Maia, but I had to take some time to decide what was best to do about your sudden arrival, so close to my own . . . departure.’
‘Senhora Beatriz, as I said to you before, I‘m not here for money or an inheritance or—’
Beatriz held up a shaking hand to silence me. ‘Firstly, please call me Beatriz. I think, sadly, that it‘s a little late for “grandmother”, don‘t you? And secondly, although I was aware that the timing of your visit seemed rather too convenient to be a coincidence, that did not worry me unduly. If necessary, it is possible these days to take tests to prove a genetic link. Besides, your heritage shines out of every feature. No,’ she sighed, ‘it was something else that made me hesitate.’
‘And what was that?’
‘Maia, every child who is either adopted or loses a parent young is able to place their biological creator on a pedestal. I know I did with my own mother. In my imagination, Izabela became a madonna, a perfect woman. Although I‘m sure that in reality, she had many faults, as we all do,’ Beatriz admitted.
‘Yes, I suppose you‘re right,’ I agreed.
She paused for a moment, studying my face thoughtfully. ‘So, when I saw your understandable desperation to know of your own mother and the reasons why she had put you up for adoption, I knew that I wouldn‘t be able to lie to you if I agreed to answer your questions. And that if I told you the truth, then I would sadly destroy any image you had naturally built up about her in your mind.’
‘I‘m beginning to see what a dilemma it must have been for you,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘But perhaps I should tell you that up until my adoptive father died, I‘d rarely thought about who my real mother was. Or my father, for that matter. I had a very happy upbringing. I adored my father, and Marina, the woman who brought me and my sisters up, could not have been more caring. And still is,’ I added.
The Seven Sisters Page 46