by M J Dees
She went to the kitchen and made herself a drink and sent Mariana another futile text. Mariana texted that she would be going to work the next day and Teresa dreaded the inevitable confrontation over the fact that Teresa had stolen her object of desire.
Teresa resolved not to think about it and made her drink a large one to make sure. She soon nodded off and awoke to find a documentary about rescued cats and dogs on Animal Planet still fizzing away on the TV. She fumbled for the remote, turned it off and wandered to bed, waking again when the cats began prodding her a minute before her alarm was due to go off.
Teresa felt very tired, and perhaps just a little hung over as she dragged herself out of bed, fed the cats and trundled into the bathroom. The cats followed her in sometime later and sat on the side of the sink while she finished her shower.
She felt a certain amount of guilt enjoying herself with Felipe when she felt she should be focussed on her daughter and getting back to England to see her.
It was starting to get cold and, without, and heating or closing windows Teresa dressed in a hurry, drank her not quite cooled enough coffee and left the house into the morning.
As she walked down the street, she admired the beauty the dawn was painting on the few clouds which dotted the sky and tried to ignore the ugliness of São Bernardo silhouetted against it.
She walked through the back streets to catch the 152 to Sacoma and was surprised to find the bus arrive almost as soon as she reached the stop. She managed to get a seat on the bus and, once at Sacoma, took the metro two stops in the opposite direction to ensure she got a seat. By the time the train returned to Sacoma, it was full with standing passengers occupying all the space in the corridor between the seats and the doors and yet three more passengers managed to squeeze in. At the next stop, Alto do Ipiranga; another four somehow managed to force their way into what Teresa had imagined was a full carriage. In the seats next to and in front of Teresa, Women read 50 Shades of Grey. The woman in front had tried to disguise the fact by inserting her book into an attractive fabric book cover. The popularity of these reading accessories had grown in parallel with the popularity of 50 Shades of Grey and the parallel rise in embarrassment that woman experienced reading the volume in public. Teresa remembered going to see the film with Mariana. Giggling women packed the cinema. Two or three men had accompanied their partners and suffered the roars of laughter, and occasional heckles which punctuated the film. A cheer and a round of applause greeted the end titles. Teresa had never had such a strange cinema experience.
The reminiscence had brought her mind back to Mariana and the dreadful encounter that would occur sooner or later. Teresa wondered whether to avoid Mariana and delay the inevitable or seek her out and get it over with. As it happened, Teresa’s quandary was soon resolved because no sooner had Teresa taken ten paces through the school reception than she bumped into Mariana coming the other way.
“Mariana,” Teresa said in surprise. “How are you feeling? How’s the …er… head?”
“I’d rather not talk to you at the moment if you don’t mind,” Mariana replied
“Look, Mariana, I didn’t mean to…”
“No, but you did though didn’t you?” Mariana interrupted.
Teresa couldn’t deny it. She had. She stood there looking at Mariana, helpless as to what to say.
“Excuse me,” said Mariana and pushed past her. Teresa watched her go for a moment, then turned and headed to the classroom.
The rest of the day she found it very difficult to focus on her duties. Even the occasional message from Felipe did little to cheer her up. Felipe was now in the habit of sending her filthy texts describing all the things he would like to do with her in bed. Under normal circumstances she would be thrilled at these and pour over the details, becoming moist as she imagined them in her head and asking him what more he would like to do? But today his texts just made her feel even more guilty, and so she explained to him, by text, what had taken place that morning between Mariana and herself. Felipe’s suggestion was ‘screw Mariana’, but Teresa said it was not her place to do such a thing and, in any case, he should know that Mariana would much rather be screwed by him. He just texted a laugh.
The day dragged, and she was glad when it ended, and she could stop trying to avoid Mariana, go home and read Felipe’s texts again.
The week dragged more and more as it progressed and she wasted no time after school on Friday but headed straight for the bus station at Jabaquara where she got on the next bus to Praia Grande.
It was already dark by the time the bus pulled away from the terminal and, as it was already starting to turn cold, there weren’t as many people, as usual, going to the beach, and the road was much quieter
The bus itself wasn’t full, and Teresa had a double seat to herself. She sent a text to Felipe to let him know she was on her way. She felt guilty that she should be skyping her daughter this weekend. She hadn’t spoken to her for a while, and she was a bit nervous about asking Felipe if he minded her Skyping Annabel when she was in his flat.
At the bus station in Praia Grande, Teresa descended the steps of the bus together with the other alighting passengers and filed through the crowd of people waiting to board the bus into the waiting area where Felipe was waiting with a broad smile. They hugged.
“How was your week?” Felipe asked.
“Oh, you know,” said Teresa. “I’ve had better. Just glad it’s over, and I’m here with you.”
They hugged again and kissed, the kiss of freshly reunited new lovers, a kiss which neither wanted to end.
“Come on,” said Felipe, when the kiss ended. He took her bag and led her away from the bus station. “It’s just a short walk from here. Are you hungry?”
“For you,” she said and gripped his hand.
They walked hand in hand with an elated bounce in their step which is unique to new lovers. They passed an old couple coming the other way, dragging their heels in the way that people weary of a constant battle with life’s assault.
“Do you think that’ll be us in twenty years?” Teresa asked.
“I feel like that now.” Felipe laughed.
It was a ten-minute brisk walk from the bus terminal to Felipe’s flat during which time Felipe quizzed Teresa as to the kinds of things she would like to do over the weekend, and Teresa’s answers involved staying in the bedroom.
They arrived at Felipe’s apartment building. It was a small block. Not large enough for a security guard but large enough to have a tiny cabin next to the entrance gate which could house a security guard if the residents clubbed together to pay for one, which they didn’t.
Felipe led Teresa through the entrance gate, across a small and badly maintained communal area and into the lobby of the building which contained not much more than a tatty staircase and an old looking lift.
“Let’s take the stairs,” Felipe suggested. “I don’t trust the lift, and it’s one flight.”
Teresa assented, and they ascended the staircase to a grubby looking corridor on the first floor. Felipe’s front door looked as grubby as the corridor, but she was relieved to discover, when he opened his door, that the flat itself was cleaner than the rest of the building
Felipe shut the door behind them, and they fell into an embrace, kissing. Felipe began unbuttoning her blouse, and she began unbuttoning his shirt. Felipe then tackled the fastening of her bra but, as he was struggling, Teresa decided to lend a hand. Felipe knelt down in front of her and, unfastening her trousers pulled both the trousers and knickers round her ankles to leave her naked.
They made love. Or rather, he fucked her. Teresa liked a bit of rough stuff sometimes, but Felipe seemed aggressive. He held her arms, and when she said he was hurting her, he continued grabbing her hair to pull her head back. He waited for her to come. She came. But when it was over she couldn’t dismiss the feeling she had. It was uncomfortable.
Chapter Twenty-Six - The First Disagreement - 20th February 2015
The
y lay in bed, catching their breath.
“Are you hungry?” Felipe said at last.
“I could eat something,” Teresa admitted.
“Pasta?”
“Sure.”
Felipe leant over and kissed her then slipped out of bed, attached his artificial leg and pulled on his boxer shorts and a T-shirt. Teresa followed him, slipping on her knickers and half buttoning her blouse. She followed him into the kitchen which appeared to be quite new as it was of the type which boasted a breakfast bar and stools. She sat on one of the stools and mused as to whether Felipe would turn out to be her long-lost soul mate or whether their encounter would end in disaster like all her other relationships and that if it were to be the latter, what would be the nature of the disaster.
“You’re quiet,” Felipe commented.
“Sorry,” said Teresa. “I was daydreaming.”
“Centavo for your thoughts?” he asked.
“Oh, I was just wondering what it might be that is going to go wrong and ruin everything.”
“My goodness,” Felipe said in surprise. “You’re optimistic aren’t you?”
“Sorry. It’s just that it always seems to start out so perfect like this and then something always appears to ruin everything.”
“Can’t you just enjoy the moment?” he asked.
“Sorry.”
“Would you like a drink? Red wine? Beer?”
“A red wine would be nice,” Teresa said, feeling a little bit chastised for not enjoying the moment.
“Are you OK?” Felipe asked sensing a change in her tone.
“Yes fine.”
She guessed Felipe knew this was a lie, but she knew there was little he could do to pursue it if she did not want to open up. He poured her drink and handed it to her with a kiss.
“Are you happy?” he asked as she took her first sip.
Teresa took far too long to respond.
“I’m happy here, with you, now,” she said.
“And?”
“And what?”
“You don’t seem very convinced about your happiness,” Felipe observed.
Teresa thought about this for a moment.
“I have a lot of baggage,” she said at last.
“Don’t we all?” Felipe laughed.
Teresa didn’t join him in the joke but just smiled. Felipe kissed her again.
“Why don’t you tell me all about it?” he said. “While I prepare the dinner.”
So Teresa began her tale.
“I have a daughter.” she began.
Felipe raised his eyebrows as he prepared to chop an onion.
“She lives in England with her father and his new wife.”
“How old is she?”
“Seven. But I haven’t seen her since she was three,” Teresa said, looking down into her glass. “Apart from Skyping her.”
“Does she speak Portuguese?” Felipe asked.
“No. But I speak English; I lived there for eight years.”
Felipe’s eyebrows raised a second time.
“I was married to her father, but when the marriage broke down, he sued for custody and won. And I decided to come back to Brazil, and now I don’t have the money to go back and see her.”
Felipe stopped chopping. There was too much information in one go for him to assimilate it all.
“Hold on a minute,” he raised a palm. ” You were married to this English guy and decided to split up, and he got custody?”
Teresa nodded.
“Why?”
She knew this was a question she would have to answer sooner or later, so she bit the bullet
“I had a problem with alcohol when I was in England.”
Felipe looked at her glass.
“I know,” she said, observing his glance. “I’m OK now. But at the time I was under a lot of pressure, and things didn’t work out very well.”
“I’m not judging,” he said. But Teresa knew that he was, even if just in a small way. She didn’t mind. If he wanted to judge her and stopped liking her because of it, then that was his problem. She didn’t want to be with someone who looked down on her. But if he knew all her horrible history and still wanted to be with her then he was someone she might want to be with too.
“Anyway, my husband,” she stopped herself. “My ex-husband decided to divorce me and decided to claim custody. Of course, I didn’t have money to get myself a good lawyer, and he shafted me. I came here, and now I can’t afford to go back.”
Emotion had started to creep into her voice, and she decided to stop there before she broke down altogether.
“And it’s been how many?”
“Four years.”
“And you haven’t been back?” Filipe scraped the onions off the wooden chopping board into a stainless steel pan where they crackled in the oil that was heating at the bottom. “How much is a flight to England? Could you not save enough?”
“It’s not just that,” explained Teresa. “I’ve had other expenses, and then I’ll need somewhere to stay, and the Real is so weak at the moment. It’s ridiculous.”
Felipe paused in thought for a moment and then continued stirring the pan.
Teresa let the silence hang in the air and took a sip of wine.
“Would you like some music,” asked Felipe becoming uncomfortable. “Turn the iPod on there.”
He pointed to an IPod nestled in a docking station which she turned on.
“Play anything you like.”
She spooled through the artists.
“You have Belle and Sebastian,” she said.
“Yeah, their new album is on there. Have you heard it?”
Teresa nodded.
“Shall I put it on now?” she asked.
“If you want,” he said.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“I want whatever you want,” he said, evading the question.
Teresa sighed and selected the first track of ‘Girls in Peacetime’, Nobody’s Empire letting it wash over her for a while.
“So what about you then,” she said at last. “Don’t you have any skeletons in the closet?”
“Plenty,” he admitted.
“Come on then, spill the beans.”
Felipe frowned.
“Let’s talk about nice things today,” he said. “I’ll tell you all the horrible stuff later. I promise.”
He took a large gulp from his glass of wine. Teresa sipped hers and watched him cook.
“Do you like working at the school?” he broke the silence.
“You’ve already asked me that.”
“Have I? Well, what did you say?”
“You mean you weren’t listening?”
“Of course I was,” Felipe protested. “I just forgot what the answer was.”
“Typical,” Teresa muttered to herself.
“What’s that?” Felipe asked.
“I said typical. You’re just like all the other men. You never listen.”
“No it’s not that,” he said. “I do listen. It’s just that I have a terrible memory. You have to tell me something two or three times before it sinks in. I have to write everything down.”
She looked around the apartment. Every flat surface did appear to contain small piles of pieces of paper.
“How do you keep track of everything?” She asked.
“With great difficulty,” he admitted. “But I get by.”
“Doesn’t it affect your work?”
“No,” he said. “I just make sure I write everything down.”
She was lost in the rhythm of The Book of You for a moment.
Felipe seemed busy cooking the dinner.
Teresa snapped out of her daydream.
“How long have you lived here then?” she asked, trying to make small talk.
“Oh, I don’t know,” he thought. “A few years now. Four, I think.”
“What did you do before that?” she probed.
“I used to live with my parents. I moved out
when I bought this place.”
“In Praia Grande?”
“In Praia Grande.”
“What are your parents like?”
He rolled his eyes.
“They’re a lot like me,” he said. “Just older.”
Teresa wasn’t happy with this and gave him a look which said as much.
“Well, I don’t know. What do you want to know about them? They’re old now. My father was a doctor and always insisted I follow him into the medical profession. My mum was a housewife until they retired and we moved out. Now she’s a shopper.”
“We?” said Teresa.
“My sister,” he said. “She left home when she married some poor sod who was prepared to keep her in the manner to which she wanted to be accustomed.”
“I see,” Teresa pondered his story. “And you don’t see them much?”
“No,” he said. “I’ve got my own place now. It’s nice not to be watched over all the time. I can have you over for the weekend for example.”
“Are you going to introduce me to your parents?”
“If you want. But there’s plenty of time for that. Let’s just enjoy ourselves for now.”
“Of course,” said Teresa. She was always trying to rush into things.
There was a pause during which time Teresa found her mind straying back to her two kittens which she’d left home alone with piles of food and trays of water.
“I wonder how my cats are doing,” she said, breaking the silence.
“Would you rather be with them than me?” Felipe joked, but Teresa sensed there was an element of truth in his humour.
“Of course not,” she said, a little annoyed that she should even have to answer such a question and glad that she didn’t mention the fact that all she wants to do is call her daughter.
“Do you like pepper?” Felipe asked, holding the mill over the pan.
Teresa nodded, and he twisted the wooden cylinder sending flakes of pepper cascading into the pot.
“How spicy?” He asked.
“Up to you.”
“No, up to you.” he persisted.