Living with Saci

by M J Dees

  Teresa felt shit.

  “This is your pump for pain relief,” the nurse explained. “You can press this button any time you feel the pain is getting too much.”

  Teresa vaguely remembered the anaesthetist explaining something about this before the operation. Above all, Teresa felt very very tired. She did not want to talk to the nurse. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. She just wanted to rest.

  Once she was was back in the ward, the nurse told Teresa she had to get out of bed and sit in the chair. Teresa was not at all happy about it, but she did as she was told because it was something to do with her lungs working properly or something. Something to do with not getting a chest infection which she did not like the sound of so she obeyed. She was also told to start moving about, but that was a step too far for Teresa. She had their fucking stockings on, what more did they want?

  Then the injections started. Teresa hated injections at the best of times, but they said that she would have to have daily injections to stop her blood from clotting. This was her idea of purgatory.

  The next day they made her move around even more, and a physiotherapist visited to educate her all about pelvic floor exercises. This seemed to consist of sitting as comfortably as she could and then clenching her muscles, you know, the ones down there, and then holding them for 10 to 15 seconds. This was very embarrassing for Teresa, but she didn’t want to disappoint, so she tried her best.

  The nurse came and told her that she had been drinking a satisfactory quantity of fluids and removed the drip. One less tube to worry about. They also took her pain pump and started giving her suppositories. She joked that, for all the good they did her, she might as well have shoved them up her arse. After five days they removed the catheter.

  Teresa felt very down. She just wanted to cry all the time. The nurses were so matter-of-fact and business-as-usual. She missed someone to chat to. She sent a ‘hello’ text to Mariana. She got a ’hello’ text back. This was a major step forward, but then Teresa realised she didn’t know what to say to her. A few moments later she received another text: ‘how are things?’ ‘Pretty lousy,’ Teresa replied. ‘Where are you?’ Mariana asked. ‘Still, in the hospital, they’re letting me go home tomorrow.’ ‘Do you need a lift?’ Mariana offered. Teresa was taken aback by the offer. ‘That’s very kind,’ she texted. ‘But Selma is coming to collect me.’ ‘No problem,’ texted Mariana. ‘Anything you need, just let me know.’ ‘Thanks,’ Teresa replied, and that was the end of the conversation. Still, it was a step in the right direction.

  At home, Teresa continued to practise the pelvic floor exercises she had been shown. After about a week, the amount of pinkish/brown fluid that had been coming out of her vagina since the operation suddenly increased and she panicked and called the doctor. The nurse who took her call reassured her that this was normal, that it would only last a few days and that it was part of the healing process.

  Teresa had been given a detailed list of things that she could and couldn’t do at home. She couldn’t lift anything heavier than a full kettle or do any physical exercise. This was fine for her as it gave her another excuse not to go to the gym. They had prohibited her from having sex, chance would be a fine thing, or sticking anything inside her vagina but seeing as though she’d never really got into that kind of thing anyway, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t allowed to drive which made her feel less bad about selling her car. The cost of the panty liners she needed to buy to soak up the continual vaginal discharge easily outweighed any money she saved on petrol.

  After four weeks she had to return to work to face the barrage of sympathy. Teresa tried to avoid people, but that was impossible in a school. On the first day back, during the morning break, she tried to sit by herself, but Mariana came and sat opposite her.

  “I’m sorry.” Teresa began.

  “Don’t be,” said Mariana. “I heard about what happened with Felipe and all the medical stuff you’ve had to deal with. It was selfish of me; I should have never reacted in the way I did. I’m sorry.”

  Teresa forced a smile which was returned by Mariana in a way that seemed genuine.

  “How are you feeling?” asked Mariana.

  “Scared, angry, depressed, anxious, confused,” said Teresa, seeing no reason why she shouldn’t be blunt. “I’ve got no appetite. I’m constipated. I have the occasional panic attack, and I can’t sleep. Apart from that, I’m fine. How are you?”

  Mariana smiled.

  “Have you spoken to anyone about this?” she said.

  “Oh yes. My doctor. My psychologist. They all say it’s normal.’

  Teresa decided to leave out the bit about the terrible flatulence she was experiencing.

  “I feel like I’ve done a million sit-ups,” she said, trying to be nice. “I’m drinking loads of water. That seems to help.”

  “Teresa, you once told me you were trying to save up to visit your daughter in England.”

  “That’s right.”

  “Have you managed to save up anything yet?”

  “No,” Teresa laughed. “Every time I get any money in my savings account, something happens, and I have to use it.”

  “How much is a ticket?”

  “About R$4,000 but then I would need to pay accommodation and living expenses. Why? Are you going to buy me a ticket?”

  “No,” Mariana laughed. “But I might be able to help you save up.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I have some private lessons that I give after school. I have four students who I help with literacy and numeracy, and I also have some English language students I teach in nearby offices. If you want, Teresa, I’ll hand all my students over to you.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t need the money Teresa, and I could do with a break. You’d be doing me a favour. The students are straight after school, and the English language students are after, You’d be finished by 7 pm every night and I can even give you materials for the English lessons. You’d be earning an extra R$800 a week.”

  “What? Are you sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure. You get paid in cash, in advance so that if the students cancel you don’t lose any money.”

  “I couldn’t,” said Teresa.

  “You can. And you will. We’re going to get you to see your daughter in England in no time.”

  “Oh, Ma…I don’t know what to say.” Teresa was starting to cry.

  “Don’t say anything. Just say you’ll do it.”

  “OK, I’ll do it.”

  “I don’t need the money,” said Mariana. “I’ve only been doing it because I’ve been considering setting up my own language school. I get so many offers to teach that if you take my current clients, I’ll have another full set of students in a few months anyway.”

  Teresa didn’t know whether to be envious or grateful, but she was very very grateful.

  Chapter Forty-Five - A visit from Lucretia – 11th April 2016

  When Teresa arrived home, she looked in the kitchen cupboard at the bottle of cheap gin, three-quarters empty. She closed the cupboard door again, her hand resting on the handle, undecided.

  The sound of clapping snapped her out of her trance. She opened the door and was surprised to see none other than Felipe’s mother stood at the other side of the gate.

  “Lucretia!” Teresa said with surprise. “Come in.”

  She unlocked the gate, being careful not to allow her remaining cat to escape.

  “Can I offer you a drink? Coffee? Something stronger?”

  “No thank you, Teresa,” Lucretia said, clearly upset about something. Something more, Teresa suspected than the disappearance of her son. “Just some water please.”

  Teresa offered her almost-mother-in-law a kitchen chair which she accepted gratefully and then took a glass from the cupboard and filled it with filtered water.

  “What a surprise,” Teresa admitted. “Is everything OK?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry I never visited before. You must have t
hought me very rude.”

  “Not at all.” Teresa lied.

  “I expect a lot of things must have seemed very strange.” Lucretia continued. “Like our initial reaction to the news that you and Felipe had decided to get married.”

  “I expect it was a bit of a shock.”

  “Yes, it was. But not for the reasons you might expect.”

  Teresa was thinking about the gin again and wished Lucretia had accepted something stronger so she would have an excuse to pour one for herself.

  “You know Felipe had an accident?” Lucretia asked.

  “Yes, he told me.”

  “Did he tell you the consequences of his accident. I mean, the way it affected him?”

  “He said it affected his memory; he was always leaving little piles of notes around the place. I’m surprised it didn’t affect his work.”

  “Hmm, yes. There was that. Felipe seemed to have devised some kind of system which seemed to work. No, I’m not talking about that. Did you ever notice any mood swings? Anything of that kind of thing?”

  “He could be moody sometimes yes but…”

  “But never violent?”

  “Well…”

  “Did he ever hit you, Teresa?”

  “Not as such, no.”

  “What do you mean, not as such?”

  “Well, he never physically hit me, but he did throw things around and sometimes broke things.”

  “Did he ever threaten you?”

  “No, not really. I mean, Felipe would occasionally threaten to leave but never threaten me with violence.”

  “Good.”

  “Why? Why do you ask?”

  Lucretia sighed.

  “Teresa. What I am about it say is not easy for me. You weren’t the first.”

  “I didn’t think I was.”

  “I don’t mean like that. I mean you weren’t the first girl he abused.”

  “Who said he abused me?”

  “Oh come on, Teresa. I know my son better than you. I know what he’s like.”

  “Do you think he’s still alive?” Teresa asked.

  “Who knows. The point I’m trying to make is this. And you must promise me that what I am about to tell you stays between us.”

  Lucretia waited for Teresa to nod her affirmation that what she was about to hear would go no further.

  “The point is Teresa that you were not the first. This incident was not the first. After the accident, we were amazed at the speed of his recovery. As you know, my husband was a surgeon so he knows about these things and he said he’d never seen anything like it. Felipe had returned to work, and he seemed to be getting on with his life once more. His fiancé at the time had stuck with him through the whole affair, poor girl, but then we started to notice small changes. We noticed he had started to treat her differently and this had been going on for quite some time by all accounts. He was more short-tempered. Spoke in a very curt manner. It was around this time that we noticed the problems he was having with his memory. He’s been quite clever at hiding it from us. Well, to cut a long story short, we think that he was very unkind to her at home if you know what I mean.”

  Teresa gave Lucretia a puzzled look.

  “We think he was hitting her. Once I noticed she had bruises and she seemed very embarrassed to talk about them, said she had just bumped herself or something. I asked Felipe about it, but he just told me to mind my own business. We were very concerned, but there wasn’t much we could do about it because not long after, the poor girl disappeared.”

  “Disappeared?”

  “Without a trace. Of course, there was an investigation. The police were involved and were asking some very awkward questions. My husband is very influential in our little corner of the world, and he used his influence to make it all go away. Oh my goodness, if he knew I was here now.”

  Lucretia takes a sip of her water.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t like something a bit stronger?” suggests Teresa, getting up from her chair.

  “No, I’m fine thanks, dear,” said Lucretia and Teresa sat back down again.

  “You see the thing is,” Lucretia continued. “That we suspected foul play. You know. That Felipe was involved somehow in the disappearance of the poor girl. Of course, we had no proof, and Felipe would not be drawn on the subject but I know my son, and I know that something happened. And….well…you see, the thing is that when you arrived on the scene, we were a bit weary but when you announced that you were getting married. I’m sure you must have thought we were very rude it was just that the memories of what had happened before were still very fresh in our minds and after what has happened. It might seem a terrible thing to say because he is my son after all, but the thing is dear that, in a way, I’m glad that he disappeared this time because I don’t know what we would do if another girl went missing.”

  Teresa wasn’t sure how to react.

  “Look, Teresa,” Lucretia continued. “I just came to say that well…”

  Teresa realised how difficult this was for the woman she had thought little of until today.

  “What is it?” Teresa asked.

  “If he comes back,” Lucretia seemed uncomfortable with what she was forcing herself to say. “If he comes back, Teresa. Don’t have anything to do with him.”

  Teresa was taken aback.

  “He’s unpredictable,” Lucretia continued. “If he comes back, don’t let him in. Call me. No, better still. Call the police.”

  Chapter Forty-Six - The Detective Returns – 11th April 2016

  Teresa was sitting on the bed, watching TV and peeling an orange with a knife when the doorbell rang again. She turned off the TV and dragged herself off the bed and to the front door. She straightened when she saw the detective at the other side of the security gate. She invited him in, offered him a coffee or water. He declined both. He accepted the seat she offered; then he waited until she was settled before he spoke.

  “Teresa,” he said. “I have some news. About the incident at the dentist.”

  Teresa sat up.

  “We finally got the CCTV footage,” he continued. “The computer was fire damaged, but we finally managed to get some footage, and there’s something you should know.”

  Teresa leant forward.

  “We managed to get quite a clear view of the who broke into the practice. His head was covered with a mask, and the footage is low resolution but, we’ve been looking at it in some detail, and there is something about him that we are fairly sure about but might come as a bit of a surprise. I’ve got a still here to show you.”

  The detective pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket, unfolded it and handed it to Teresa. It was a colour image of a man dressed in black, wearing a mask. Teresa recognised him as the man who had punched her in the face.

  “Is there anything familiar about him?” the detective asked.

  “He’s the man who robbed me,” said Teresa.

  “Anything else?” asked the detective.

  Teresa looked at the picture again, then shrugged and shook her head. The detective seemed to be scrutinising her. She looked at the picture again.

  “What?” she asked.

  “There’s nothing familiar about the photo?” the detective asked again.

  Teresa shook her head.

  “When we were analysing the video,” the detective began to explain. “There was something strange about the way he moves. I didn’t think anything about it myself, but I have a colleague, João. João is mad about motorcycles. He has a Harley Davidson. You know, one of those big bikes?”

  Teresa nodded.

  “João watched the video only once, and he spotted something straight away. Something none of us would have spotted. You see, the thing is that João has a cousin who is also mad about motorcycles. They used to drive down to the beach together for the day on a Sunday. You know, get up early, drive down to the beach, go for a swim, have something to eat and come back the same day. The thing is that they used to have a few beer
s too. João used to have a couple, but his cousin was a big drinker, and João warned him that something was going to happen, but his cousin wouldn’t listen. Anyway, one day, they’d been to the beach, and late in the afternoon, it started to rain. They had dinner in a bar, as usual, João had a few beers, and his cousin had a few beers more. On the way back, in the rain, João and his cousin were riding between the traffic when some idiot decided to change lanes without looking in their mirrors and slammed straight into João’s cousin. The crushed his leg into his bike and the bone was shattered. He was rushed to the hospital, and the leg was pinned. The problem was that João’s cousin, who was a pretty heavy drinker, as I think I’ve explained…the thing was that unbeknown to him he had developed diabetes, and that affected his circulation. The leg didn’t heal properly, and in the end, they had to amputate it just above the knee.”

  “This is all very fascinating,” interrupted Teresa. “But what has it got to do with me?”

  “The thing is that João is very observant. He’s probably the most observant person I know. I mean he can walk in and out of a room in a few seconds and describe the entire contents in real detail. I think he might be a bit autistic, but I can’t be sure.”

  Teresa gives the detective an impatient stare.

  “Yes, well, the thing is that as soon as João watched this video, it reminded him of his cousin. I asked him why but he couldn’t place it at first, but then it came to him. He said that this guy in the video walked the same way as his cousin. You see, the thing is that he has noticed that amputees have a certain way of walking and apparently the guy in this video walks in this way, the same as his cousin.”

  Teresa stared at the photo again.

  “We think the guy in this video was an amputee. Felipe was an amputee wasn’t he?”

  Teresa nodded slowly.

  “Teresa,” the detective spoke with gravity. “Do you think the man in the photo is Felipe?”

  “I don’t know,” said Teresa. “It’s possible. It could be. But why?”

  “Good question. Speaking to Felipe’s family, it does sound like he’s a bit volatile. Worst case scenario, if this man is Felipe, then it means that he is probably still alive and, what’s worse, he’s a murderer. My advice to you Teresa would be not to answer the door to anyone unless you are sure you know who they are. Until we can locate Felipe.”