‘So, when you’re with me, you’re calm and well behaved. And with your teacher – what’s her name again?’
‘Dona Cecília Paim. Did you know she has a little white spot in one of her eyes?’
He laughed.
‘You said Dona Cecília Paim wouldn’t believe the things you do outside school. You’re good with your little brother and Glória. So why do you think you change so much?’
‘I don’t know. All I know is that everything I do leads to trouble. The whole street knows what I’ve been up to. It’s as if the devil whispers things in my ear. Otherwise I wouldn’t get up to so much monkey business, as my Uncle Edmundo calls it. Do you know what I did once to Uncle Edmundo? I didn’t tell you, did I?’
‘No.’
‘Well, it was a good six months ago. He’d got a hammock from up north and was really pleased with it. He wouldn’t even let us swing in it, the son of a bitch …’
‘What did you say?’
‘Um, the miserable wretch. When he was done with his nap, he’d roll it up and carry it under his arm. As if we were going to steal a piece of it. Well, one day I went to Gran’s house and she didn’t see me come in. She must have had her glasses on the end of her nose, reading the classifieds. I went outside. I looked at the guava trees but I didn’t see anything. Then I saw Uncle Edmundo in the hammock, which he’d hung between the fence and the trunk of an orange tree. He was snoring like a pig, his mouth kind of loose and open. His newspaper had fallen on the ground. Then the devil spoke to me and I saw that there was a box of matches in his pocket. I tore off a bit of paper without making any noise. I piled up the others bits of newspaper and set fire to the wick I’d made. When the flames appeared right beneath his …’
I paused and asked earnestly, ‘Portuga, can I say “bum”?’
‘Well, it’s a bit rude and you should try to avoid it.’
‘So what should we say instead of bum?’
‘Posterior.’
‘What? That’s a new one.’
‘Posterior. POS-TER-I-OR.’
‘Well, when it started to burn under his bum’s posterior, I raced out the gate and watched through a hole in the fence to see what would happen. He bellowed. He jumped up and grabbed his hammock. Then Gran came running and gave him a right scolding. “I’m tired of telling you not to smoke in the hammock!” And when she saw the burning newspaper she grumbled that she hadn’t read that one yet.’
The Portuguese chuckled heartily and I liked seeing him cheerful like that.
‘Didn’t they catch you?’
‘They never found out. I only told Sweetie. If they caught me they’d have cut my balls off.’
‘Cut what?’
‘I mean, I’d have been in trouble.’
He chuckled again and we looked out at the road. Yellow dust rose up everywhere that the car went. But I was mulling something over.
‘Portuga, you weren’t lying, were you?’
‘About what, squirt?’
‘Well, I’ve never heard anyone say: “He was kicked in the posterior.” Have you?’
He laughed again.
‘You’re really something. I’ve never heard it either. But OK, forget “posterior” and say “behind” instead. But let’s change the subject or soon I won’t know what to say to you. Watch the landscape. You’re going to see more and more big trees. We’re getting closer to the river.’
He turned right and took a shortcut. The car went on and on and then stopped right in an empty field. There was just one big tree with enormous roots.
I clapped my hands with glee.
‘How beautiful! What a beautiful place! The next time I see Buck Jones, I’m going to tell him that his prairies and plains don’t hold a candle to our place.’
He stroked my head.
‘This is how I want to see you always. Living out good dreams, not with a head full of crazy ideas.’
We got out of the car and I helped carry the things into the shade of the tree.
‘Do you always come here alone, Portuga?’
‘Most of the time. See? I have a tree too.’
‘What’s it called, Portuga? If you have a tree this big you have to give it a name.’
He thought for a minute, smiled and thought some more.
‘It’s a secret, but I’ll tell you. Her name is Queen Carlota.’
‘And does she talk to you?’
‘Not exactly. Because a queen never speaks directly to her subjects. But I always call her “Your Majesty”.’
‘What are subjects?’
‘They’re the people who do what the queen says.’
‘Am I your subject?’
He get out such a hearty laugh that it made the grasses stir.
‘No, because I’m not a king and I don’t give orders. I will always ask you to do things.’
‘But you could be a king. You have everything to be a king. All kings are fat like you. The King of Hearts, the King of Spades, the King of Clubs and the King of Diamonds. All of the kings in the deck are handsome like you too, Portuga.’
‘C’mon. Let’s get a move on, because all this chatter isn’t going to catch us any fish.’
He got a fishing rod and a tin can full of worms, and took off his shoes and waistcoat. Without the waistcoat he looked even fatter. He pointed at the river.
‘You can play there. It’s shallow. But not on the other side, because it’s very deep. Now I’m going over there to fish. If you want to stay with me, you can’t talk. Otherwise the fish will swim away.’
I left him sitting there and went to play. To discover things. How beautiful that piece of river was. I wet my feet and saw a whole bunch of frogs darting here and there in the current. I watched sand, pebbles and leaves being pulled along by the current. I thought of Glória.
Said the flower to the river
‘Leave me, leave me be!
I was born up on the hill …
I will die down in the sea.’
But the river, quick and cold,
With its mocking song,
Raced over sand and stone,
And swept the flower along.
‘Rocking in my cradle,
Rocking in my treetop;
From the sky so blue
Falls the clearest dewdrop!’
Glória was right. The poem was the most beautiful thing in the world. It was a shame I couldn’t tell her I’d seen the poem come to life. Not with a flower, but with a bunch of little leaves that had fallen from trees and been carried away to the sea. I wondered if the river, this river, also went to the sea. I could ask the Portuguese. No, it would disturb his fishing.
But he only caught two little fish, which I felt a bit sorry for.
The sun was high in the sky. My face was flushed from so much playing and chattering with the world. That was when Portuga came and called me. I skipped over to him like a kid goat.
‘Why, you’re covered in dirt, squirt.’
‘I’ve been playing a lot. I lay on the ground. I splashed in the water …’
‘Let’s eat. But you can’t eat covered in filth like that. Take your clothes off and go have a wash in that shallow spot over there.’
I hesitated, unsure whether to obey or not.
‘I don’t know how to swim.’
‘But you don’t have to. Go ahead, I’ll stay nearby.’
I stayed where I was. I didn’t want him to see the marks, welts and scars from my beatings.
‘Don’t tell me you’re ashamed to undress in front of me.’
‘No. It’s not that.’
I had no choice. I turned around and began to take off my clothes. First my shirt, then my trousers with the cloth brace.
I threw them all on the ground and turned to face him, pleading. He said nothing, but his eyes reflected his indignation and horror.
He just mumbled, ‘If it hurts, don’t get in the water.’
‘It doesn’t hurt any more.’
* * *
/> We ate eggs, bananas, salami, bread and candied guava, which only I liked. We went to drink water from the river and then returned to the shade of Queen Carlota.
He was about to sit down, but I made a sign for him to stop.
I placed a hand on my chest and addressed the tree.
‘Your Majesty, your subject, Sir Manuel Valadares, and the greatest warrior of the Apinajé Nation … We are going to sit at Your Majesty’s feet.’
We laughed and sat.
The Portuguese lay down on the ground, covered a root of the tree with his waistcoat and said, ‘Now it’s time for a nap.’
‘But I’m not tired.’
‘It doesn’t matter. I can’t let you run loose, mischievous thing that you are.’
He placed his hand on my chest and trapped me. We lay there a long while, watching the clouds slip through the branches of the tree. The moment had arrived. If I didn’t say it now, I never would.
‘Portuga!’
‘Yes?’
‘Are you asleep?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Is it true what you said to Seu Ladislau at the pastry shop?’
‘I’ve said a lot of things to Seu Ladislau at the pastry shop.’
‘About me. I heard you. I heard you from the car.’
‘And what did you hear?’
‘That you really like me?’
‘Of course I like you. Why do you ask?’
I turned over, without freeing myself from his arms. I stared into his half-closed eyes. His face looked even fatter like that and even more kingly.
‘No, but I want to know if you like me lots and lots?’
‘Of course, silly.’
And he hugged me tighter as proof of what he said.
‘I’ve been doing some serious thinking. You only have that daughter in Encantado, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You live alone in that house with your two bird cages, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You said you have no grandchildren, right?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you like me, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why don’t you go to my place and ask Father to give me to you?’
He was so moved that he sat up and held my face with both hands.
‘Would you like to be my son?’
‘We don’t get to choose our father before we’re born. But if I could, I’d choose you.’
‘Really, squirt?’
‘I could even swear it. I’d be one less mouth for them to feed. I promise I’ll never say swear words again, not even “bum”. I’ll polish your shoes, look after the birds in the cage. I’ll be really well behaved. There won’t be a better pupil in the school. I’ll be very good.’
He didn’t even know what to say.
‘Everyone will be so happy if I’m given away. It’ll be a relief. I have a sister between Glória and Totoca who was given away to a family in the north. She went to live with a rich cousin to study and have a proper upbringing.’
The silence continued and his eyes were full of tears.
‘If they don’t want to give me away, you can buy me. Father doesn’t have a penny. I’m sure he’ll sell me. If he charges a lot, you can buy me in instalments, just like people pay Jacob the money lender …’
Because he didn’t answer, I resumed my old position and so did he.
‘You know, Portuga, if you don’t want me, it’s OK. I didn’t mean to make you cry …’
He stroked my hair for a long time.
‘That’s not it, son. That’s not it. We can’t solve our problems just like that, with a snap of the fingers. But I have a suggestion. Much as I’d like to, I can’t take you away from your parents or your home. It isn’t right. But from now on, even though I already thought of you as a son, I’m going to treat you as if you really were my own.
I sat up, elated.
‘Really, Portuga?’
‘I could even swear it, as you always say.’
I did something that I rarely did or wanted to do with the members of my family. I kissed him on his fat, kind face.
Chapter Six
LITTLE BY LITTLE, TENDERNESS IS BORN
‘“None of them could speak, and you couldn’t go horseback riding on them either, Portuga?”
‘“None of them.”
‘“But you weren’t a child, then?”
‘“I was. But not all children are lucky enough to understand trees like you do. And it isn’t every tree that likes to talk.”
‘He gave an affectionate laugh and went on.
‘“They weren’t exactly trees, but trellised vines, and before you ask: trellised vines are what grapes grow on. They’re just thick vines. It was pretty to see the harvests and the grape-stomping.”
‘He explained what that was. He seemed to know a lot. As much as Uncle Edmundo.
‘“Tell me more.”
‘“You’re enjoying it?”
‘“Very much. I wish I could talk with you non-stop for 852 miles.”
‘“What about the petrol for all that?”
‘“It’s make-believe petrol.”
‘Then he told me about the grass that turns into hay in winter and about cheese-making. He says ‘cheese’ differently to us. He changes the music of the words a lot, but I think they sound even more musical.
‘He stopped talking and gave a long sigh.
‘“I’d like to go back there very soon. Perhaps to spend my twilight years in a peaceful, enchanted place. Folhadela, near Monreal, in my beautiful Trás-os-Montes.”
‘It was only then that I really noticed that Portuga was older than Father, although his plump face was always shiny, with fewer wrinkles. A strange feeling ran through me.
‘“Are you serious?”
‘Only then did he notice my disappointment.
‘“Don’t worry, silly, it’s a long way off. It might never even happen.”
‘“What about me? It took so long for you to be like this, the way I like you.”
‘My eyes filled with cowardly tears.
‘“But surely I’m allowed to dream too.”
‘“It’s just that you didn’t put me in your dream.”
‘He smiled dotingly.
‘“I put you in all my dreams, Portuga. When I head out over the green prairies with Tom Mix and Fred Thompson, I’ve already hired a stagecoach for you to travel in so you don’t get tired. You’re everywhere I go. Sometimes at school I look up and imagine you’ve come to wave at me from the door.”
‘“Goodness me! I’ve never seen a soul as starved for affection as you. But you shouldn’t be so attached to me, you know?”’
I was telling all this to Pinkie. Pinkie liked to talk more than I did.
‘But the truth is, after he became my father, Sweetie, he’s been all doting. He thinks everything I do is cute. But a different cute. He’s not like other people who say, “That boy’ll go far. He’ll go far, but he’ll never leave Bangu.”’
I gave Pinkie a tender look. Now that I’d discovered what tenderness was, I lavished it on everything that I liked.
‘You see, Pinkie, I want to have twelve children and then twelve more. Do you understand? The first lot will all be children and no one will ever lay a finger on them. The other twelve will grow into men. And I’ll go and ask each of them, “What do you most want to be, son? A woodcutter? Right, then. Here’s an axe and a chequered shirt. You want to be a lion tamer? Well, here’s a whip and a uniform.”’
‘What about at Christmas? What are you going to do with so many children?’
Pinkie was really something! Interrupting at a time like that.
‘At Christmas I’m going to have lots of money. I’ll buy a truckload of nuts and chestnuts and hazelnuts. Walnuts, figs and raisins. So many toys that they’ll give or lend them to our poor neighbours … And I’m going to have lots of money, because from now on I want to be rich, really rich, and I’m going to
win the lottery too …’
I looked at Pinkie defiantly, to show that I wasn’t happy about his interruption.
‘Let me finish telling you the rest ’cause there are lots of children to go. “So, son, you want to be a cowboy? Here’s your saddle and lasso. You want to drive the Mangaratiba? Here’s your cap and whistle …”’
‘Why a whistle, Zezé? You talk to yourself so much, you’ll end up going crazy.’
Totoca had come over to sit by me. With a friendly smile, he studied my orange tree, covered in string and beer caps. He wanted something.
‘Zezé, do you want to lend me four tostões?’
‘No.’
‘But you have it, don’t you?’
‘Yep.’
‘And you don’t want to lend it to me even though you don’t know what it’s for?’
‘I’m going to become very rich so I can travel to Trás-os-Montes.’
‘What’s all this about?’
‘Not telling.’
‘Well, keep it to yourself, then.’
‘I will but I’m not lending you four tostões.’
‘You’re good at marbles. You’re a good shot. Tomorrow you’ll play and win more marbles to sell. You’ll get your four tostões back in no time.’
‘It doesn’t matter, I won’t lend it to you and don’t come here to pick a fight with me, ’cause I’m behaving myself and not up to any mischief.’
‘I’m not here to pick a fight. It’s just that you’re my favourite brother, and now all of a sudden you’re becoming a heartless monster.’
‘I’m not becoming a heartless monster. I’m a heartless troglodyte.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Troglodyte. Uncle Edmundo showed me a picture in a magazine. They were big, hairy monkeys with clubs. Troglodytes were people at the beginning of the world who lived in the caves of Nean … Ne-an … I don’t know. I can’t remember the name because it was foreign and too difficult.’
‘Uncle Edmundo shouldn’t fill your head with so many ideas. But will you lend it to me?’
‘I don’t even know if I have it …’
‘C’mon, Zezé, how many times have we gone out to shine shoes and you didn’t make a thing and I shared what I made with you? How many times have I carried your box when you were tired …?’
My Sweet Orange Tree Page 12