by M J Dees
“I don’t mind,” she said. “However, you like it.”
He sighed.
Teresa couldn’t believe it. They were already starting to get annoyed with each other, like an old couple that has had to endure the annoying habits of their partner for years and yet somehow stayed together. Teresa and Felipe had slept together a few times and were already finding fault with each other. Or was it her imagination? Was she already looking for holes in the relationship, never satisfied with what she had. She looked at him as he cooked her meal. She found him attractive. He’d done nothing except ask her how spicy she liked her food. She got up and went over to him and kissed him on the cheek. He turned to her, smiled and kissed her on the lips.
“It’ll be ready in a moment,” he said.
“Good because I’m starving.” she smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Seven - Ways to Die - 22nd February 2015
Teresa and Felipe lay still, both staring at the ceiling. Teresa had spotted a patch of mould which had just started to force its way through the paint. Felipe wasn’t staring at the ceiling at all but at a place in the middle distance at a point in mid-air between his face and the ceiling.
They had spent almost all day in bed finding a new excuse to return there every time it looked as if they should get up and do something.
Teresa was starting to feel a little guilty for spending the entire day in bed; she liked to leave the house at least once a day, even if it were to pop to the shop for a loaf of bread. She felt doubly guilty that she did not feel confident to ask whether she could Skype Annabel.
“Let’s go out,” she said.
“OK.”
They didn’t shower, having already spent some time in the shower that morning, but pulled on the clothes which they had discarded on the floor.
“Where would you like to go?” Felipe asked.
“To the beach?”
By the time they reached the sand, a ten-minute walk from Felipe’s building. The sun was very low in the sky, and kiosks, palm trees and tall buildings threw long shadows across the sand to the sea.
They sat on the sand together, and Felipe put his arm around her shoulder.
“It’s beautiful,” Teresa said, looking out at the stillness of the Atlantic Ocean, tipping its waves onto the beach.
Felipe nodded.
“Tell me you’ll never leave me,” Teresa asked him.
He looked at her for a moment.
“I’ll never leave you,” he said.
They watched the waves crashing on the shore till the sun descended behind them, and the stars began to rise over the ocean.
“I always thought that if I was going to commit suicide.” Felipe began.
“What?” Teresa interrupted him, incredulous at the sudden shift in conversation.
“I’m just saying,” he continued. “That if I were going to commit suicide, that drowning would be the best way to do it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know it would be pretty unpleasant,” he conceded. “But it would be a lot less messy, wouldn’t it? I’ve seen a few attempted suicides in the emergency room and the effect it has on those that are left to clean up the mess. This way,” he gesticulated towards the sea. “You just become fish food.”
Teresa winced.
“If you jump in front of a bus or off a tall building then someone has to come along and clean up.”
“I see what you mean,” said Teresa.
“I’m not thinking of committing suicide,” said Felipe, observing the concern on Teresa’s face. “It’s just a hypothetical question.”
“I see,” said Teresa. “Can we talk about something a little less morbid?”
Felipe smiled and leant over to kiss her.
“Of course,” he said.
There was a long comfortable silence.
“Do you often think about suicide?” Teresa said at last.
“I thought you wanted to change the subject.”
She glared at him.
“Not often,” he answered the question. “I did when I was suffering from depression.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight - Learning to live together - 24th April 2015
It all happened very quickly. Felipe made some comment about wouldn’t it be easier if they were living in the same place and wondered if there were any jobs in São Paulo. Teresa said there might be jobs for her in Praia Grande but, before she got round to looking for anything, Felipe had already found a job in São Paulo and the next thing she knew he had rented his flat and was moving in with her.
However, Felipe wasn’t suited to life in São Paulo. He hated the commuting and Teresa’s flat was a step down from what he was used to in Praia Grande. It wasn’t long before he bought a car and they would have moved out of the flat as well were it not for the fact that Teresa still had a year to run on her contract. If anything, Teresa would have preferred to move to Praia Grande but the whole thing happened so quickly, and so she found herself with a flatmate and was getting used to the small piles of paper that had started appearing around the flat.
They hadn’t spoken to each other all day. None of the usual texts with the ‘I love you’s and all the ‘X’s. She didn’t ask him if he had finished work yet or when he would be coming home. It was late already late, and she’d expected him long ago. She wondered what he might be doing. She wondered whether there might be another woman. She wondered what they might be doing and whether he would be home at all.
“Where have you been?” Teresa asked as Felipe walked through the door.
He paused and looked at her in annoyance.
“It’s late,” she continued. “Have you eaten? I didn’t know whether to cook something, what time you would be home, whether you’d have eaten.”
“I’m OK,” he said, taking off his bag and coat and dropping them on a chair.
“Are you going to leave those there?” she asked.
He sighed, picked up the bag and coat, took them through into the living room and dropped them on top of a cardboard box that sat among many similar boxes at one end of the room.
“What are you going to do with all this?” he asked with obvious annoyance, gesticulating at the collection with his arm.
“We talked about that, did you forget?” she replied, suddenly regretting her words. “We need more storage. Are you going to buy me some more cupboards?”
“How much is that going to cost?” He complained.
“I sent you some websites. Did you not look at them?”
“I yes,” he said, remembering. “I haven’t had time. I can’t sit around looking at websites at work and when do I ever look at them here? I get up at the crack of dawn and don’t get back till late.”
Teresa observed him for a moment and then relented.
“Are you hungry?” she said at last.
“I’m OK,” he said.
“Shall I make you a sandwich?”
“Don’t worry.”
“I’ll make you one. What would you like? Ham and cheese?”
“It’s OK, don’t worry.”
“Ham and cheese,” she said. “And would you like a beer?”
At this, he turned and looked at her. The corners of his mouth were already turning upwards. She perceived his change in mood and smiled herself.
“A beer and a ham and cheese sandwich it is then.”
She opened the fridge and took out a bottle of Stella Artois. She remembered how, when she’d lived in England they’d called it wife beater because it seemed to be the drink of choice for many of the men caught up in domestic violence cases. Here in Brazil, it was considered trendy, and Teresa had to admit it did taste better. She took the bottle to Felipe.
“Thank you,” he said and kissed her. “I love you.”
“You love me when I’m giving you a beer,” she said.
“I love you even when you’re not bringing me a beer,” he corrected. “I just love you more when you are bringing me a beer.”
She
snorted her disapproval and assembled the ingredients for his sandwich.
“Be careful I have a knife,” she warned.
“And I have a bottle,” he said.
“Well I have two cats, and I’m not afraid to set them on you.”
“Ooh, I’m scared.” it was Felipe’s turn with the sarcasm.
“Go get him!” She ordered the cats who sat staring at the ham in her hand moving their heads from side to side in a synchronised dance with the meat
Chapter Twenty-Nine - The Family – 2nd May 2015
Teresa didn’t want to visit her brother any more than Felipe, but it was her brother’s birthday, so she felt an obligation. It wasn’t her brother she minded so much as her brother’s wife, Selma. Teresa had always considered her brother to be a little androgynous, but when he married Selma, big butch Selma, Teresa thought they looked like a couple of lesbians. Selma was a police officer and spoke with everyone she met as if she was commanding them to put their hands in the air and step away from the weapon.
“So this is Felipe then,” Selma said ushering Teresa past her and into the flat so that she could give Felipe a handshake so firm that it cemented his opinion that she was just as much a man as he.
“Pleased to meet you,” Felipe said.
“Selma,” she informed him, inviting him to join Teresa inside the flat.
“This is my husband, Geraldo,” Selma announced, gesturing to a soggy lump of flesh in the kitchen, acknowledging his own existence. “Offer them a beer.”
Geraldo pulled two bottles out of the fridge, opened them, passed one to Teresa and the other to Felipe. Selma already had one on the go and raised it in the air.
“Good health,” she toasted and downed the remainder of the bottle. “He doesn’t drink.” she gestured to Geraldo as if this fact was further evidence of his inadequacy.
Geraldo grinned an embarrassed grin and offered Felipe a bowl of wasabi nuts.
“So what do you do then?” Felipe made conversation.
“I’m a lawyer,” Geraldo said.
Felipe raised his eyebrows to feign interest but couldn’t think of anything else to say, and that was the end of the conversation.
“Teresa tells me you’re a police officer.” Felipe turned his efforts to Selma.
“For my sins. Who’s hungry?”
Everyone nodded except Geraldo who watched Selma in the manner a dog watches his master when he is anticipating a beating.
“We have some news,” Teresa announced. “Felipe has asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, that’s fantastic,” exclaimed Selma.
“Congratulations sis,” said Geraldo, pleased.
“So what’s the date?” asked Selma. “Sit, sit. The food’s going to get cold.”
“Oh, we haven’t got a date yet. Felipe has just started his new job so he needs to find out when he can get time off for our honeymoon.”
“Where are you working now then?” Selma asked Felipe.
“Hospital Assuncão.”
“Hmm, very handy.”
“So it won’t be for at least a year because we have to wait for Felipe’s holiday.”
“Well if you need us to be witnesses.” Selma offered when Teresa felt she should have waited to be asked.
“Of course,” said Teresa sitting at the table, “We still need to tell Felipe’s family.
“Shall we pray?” asked Selma.
Felipe rolled his eyes.
Chapter Thirty - The in-laws – 9th May 2015
“Aren’t you hungry Carlos?” Felipe’s sister-in-law asked of Felipe’s nephew who was sat opposite at the large glass dining table, ignoring a full plate of meat and instead focusing on a game he was playing on his IPhone. “Get him to eat something, Horacio.”
Horacio, her husband, Felipe’s brother, sighed. He knew full well he had long ago lost the battle between food and Carlos’ IPhone.
“Come on Carlos, put that down and eat your food.” But Horacio was just going through the motions. He had no intention of attempting to separate Carlos from his phone. Not when they had guests.
Felipe’s sister-in-law, Izadora, had the habit of closing her eyes as she spoke which gave the impression that she viewed everyone with disdain. This was convenient because, in reality, she did consider almost everyone she met with disdain.
“So how did you two meet?” asked Felipe’s mother, Lucretia, passing Teresa a plastic plate loaded with meat that her husband, Jose, had just filled from the barbeque.
“Through a friend.” Teresa tried to be diplomatic.
“That’s not true,” Felipe corrected. “I met her in the emergency room when I was sewing up her head.”
“Ooh,” said Felipe’s sister, Patricia, leaning forward to get a good look at the sizable scar on Teresa’s forehead. “How unfortunate. I can give you some makeup that will hide that.”
Patricia ran a beauty salon in the centre of São Paulo and had a makeup tip for every occasion.
“How did that happen?” asked Lucretia.
“Somebody threw a rock at my head.”
The faces of Lucretia and Patricia winced in unison.
“Whatever for?” asked Lucretia.
“I think they were trying to rob us,” Teresa explained. “But my friend had the prescience of mind to keep driving so they didn’t have the chance to rob us.”
“How awful,” said Lucretia while a contorted wince still adorned Patricia’s face.
“I asked Teresa to marry me,” Felipe announced.
A lump of meat fell from the plastic fork Izadora was just about to put in her mouth. The chins of Lucretia and Patricia descended as one, even Jose turned from his barbeque to observe the reaction, and Horacio stopped opening the beer in his hand. Carlos continued tapping away with his thumbs, oblivious to the hush that had descended on the gathering.
Nine eyes turned to examine Teresa, Jose’s glass eye being the only dissenter.
“Marriage?” said Lucretia, observing Teresa and letting the news sink in.
Patricia watched her mother, waiting for a sign.
Izadora and Horacio observed Lucretia and Patricia. It was Jose who broke the silence.
“Well, congratulations my boy,” he said offering Felipe his hand and ignoring the stares of Lucretia and Patricia.
“Thank you Dad.”
“Well,” Lucretia exhaled. “There will be lots to prepare.”
“Yes,” chipped in Patricia, never one to turn down the opportunity to organise the wedding of someone else without being asked or wanted.
“Teresa already has some ideas about what she would like.” Felipe tried to interject.
“I’m sure she does,” said Lucretia. “Tell us all about them, Teresa.”
Lucretia pretended to listen for a moment before continuing with her own ideas punctuated by interjections from Izadora who, almost closing her eyes, recounted the ‘only way’ to arrange a wedding.
As Lucretia and Izadora listed the best ways to organise a wedding, Patricia chipped in at regular intervals with suggestions of how she could be involved, most of which included ideas for decorations or food which horrified Teresa.
Horacio, feeling off the hook with this distraction, sidled over to Jose and started talking about football. Felipe apologised to Teresa, told her not to worry, and then joined Horacio in their discussion about a sport in which he had no interest but which still seemed preferable to discussions of wedding preparations.
When they got home, Felipe apologised again while Teresa made a large gin.
“You know, the latest research indicates that drinking gin may cause depression.” Felipe pointed out, opening a beer.
“I don’t care,” said Teresa as she dropped ice into the glass.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I suffered from depression, so I know how terrible it is.”
Teresa paused her drink making ritual and looked at Felipe.
“I know you did,” she said. “I’m sorry about that, but I’ve h
ad a difficult afternoon listening to your family try to plan my wedding. Can’t I have at least one drink?”
“Of course.”
She turned back to her drink but then paused and thought for a moment.
“Would you like one?” she asked.
“Yes please.”
Teresa rolled her eyes and started making a second gin and tonic while Felipe pressed the on-button on the stereo. Simple Minds Promised you a Miracle filled the room and Felipe slumped on the makeshift sofa.
“Are you going to promise me a miracle?” Teresa asked as she handed him his drink.
“What sort of miracle?” he asked.
“The kind that is going to pluck me from this life, make me a doctor’s wife, transport me to a nice house with a nice car and nice holidays in England where we can visit my daughter and maybe bring her over to Brazil on holiday.”
“I don’t see why not,” said Felipe emboldened by his first mouthful of alcohol.
Teresa smiled and hugged him.
Chapter Thirty-One - Settling into a routine – 18th May 2015
When Felipe came out of the bathroom, she took his place and looked at the words he had just written in the steam on the mirror. Good. He remembered. Some days he forgot.
“Where’s my message?” She would say if there were no words etched in the steam.
“Messages of affection should be an act of spontaneity, not an obligation, a chore which is expected and appraised,” Felipe would complain. “My life is now scattered with these routines. Acts of affection should not be demanded as a matter of course.”
But today he was a good boy. He kissed her before he left for work and then, a short time later she received a text message which he must have typed as he walked to work. She read the message; it had a sufficient number of ‘X’s. If there are too few, she worries he is neglecting her. Over the course of their relationship, he has steadily added more Xs to the end of his messages. If the number of Xs reduced she worried his love for her was also on the decline. The night before Felipe had drunk what must have been a quarter of a bottle of vodka while they discussed the wedding and the honeymoon. He said he needed to do it to get himself through it all. Teresa’s head was a little thick, and the odds were even that a full-blown headache would ensue unless she were able to get some liquid into herself.