It´s All for You

by Tici Pontes

  But all that was left behind. Then, since I had lost the first battle and was being forced to move, at least I would not be irresponsible and would study.

  Just study.

  I had no intention of creating a social circle and a group of friends in the new city, to not lose the focus of returning to Fortaleza.

  I would spend a year just focusing on studies.

  At least until I got back to my home and had my life back.

  The city we were going to live in was about four hours from Fortaleza and was called Mar de Areia. As the name indicated, it was on the coast and was famous for its sand dunes that ended in the sea which allowed tourists to experience the famous Skibunda.

  I had already been there during the holidays and it was really beautiful, but to tour! Not to stay!

  I wanted car noise in the street, horns, bus smoke, an asthma attack here and there, crowds of people, crowded shopping malls, construction, the smell of a big city, you know?!

  That tasty smell of the garbage truck passing by your street, or the crowded bus — yes, I was not a rich sweetheart, I took the bus when I needed it — at six in the afternoon, when everyone was coming home.

  Ok, I think I pushed that one too far, but I think I made my point.

  But so, that's what I wanted!

  Was it too much to ask?, that's what I thought when a bump in the car pulled me out of my thoughts.

  “Do you have to aim in the holes?” I complained.

  “Respect, miss” my mother scolded. I looked back and could see she was looking at me with a very unfriendly face.

  “It's not my fault if the governor leaves the roads bumpy,” my father justified himself.

  “I think the problem is more with the driver than with the governor.” I shrugged off the laughter.

  “Oh, you better have some respect, young lady.” This time it was my father who fought, but without hiding the smile on his lips.

  I looked at him and returned the smile.

  In spite of everything, they were my parents, my family, and their company was more than special and necessary for me. At the same time, I was eighteen years old and needed to start walking my path with my own legs. My parents needed to understand that I was already beginning to enter adulthood and to create responsibilities, such as living alone — away from parents — was something natural and that they would one day have to accept.

  “What is it, honey?” asked my father, probably realizing my melancholy.

  “It's nothing, Daddy,” I lied.

  I had already spent so much energy trying to convince my parents to let me stay in Fortaleza that I was not in the mood to start another fight.

  “You'll like it there, Alice,” Daddy spoke, looking at me in a slant. “You just need to give yourself a chance.”

  I sighed deeply.

  “I don't have much choice, do I?” I mumbled.

  “No.” My father's tone of voice, once quiet, became harsh. “And you'd better stop with the face-slamming because of this relocation. How do you want us to treat you like an adult when you're acting like a spoiled child?”

  “João...” My mother tried to interfere, but my father, when he started one of his sermons, lasted longer than the midnight Mass.

  “No, Laura,” Daddy spoke in anger. “This girl needs to learn that life doesn't always happen the way we expect. That sacrifices must be made for the greater good to come later. How can I leave this girl alone in Fortaleza being a pit of immaturity?”

  I hated it when he started talking as if I wasn't there.

  I closed my face and stared out the window at the landscape that never changed.

  What made me angrier?

  My dad fighting with me?

  Actually, no. What made me more frustrated was the fact that he was right. I had acted immature several times trying to convince them to let me stay. And that's not how I was gonna succeed.

  “You're right, Daddy,” I said it quietly. “I promise I'll try to fit in there, okay?”

  He shut up and stared at me for just over a second, then turned his attention to the track and gave himself up.

  “You'll see how you'll end up liking the place,” he said, normalizing his tone of voice again.

  I was relieved that that little fuss passed and the atmosphere of peace settled in between us again. I looked back and smiled at my mother, who squeezed my shoulder slightly as a sign of complicity.

  As my younger brother was only two years old, whenever we traveled my mother would go next to him in the passenger seat and I would go next to my father in the front seat.

  Usually it would be the perfect opportunity to control the sound of the car: except it wasn't.

  A little music would certainly distract me until we reached our destination, but the sound was off, as my brother watched children's videos on the tablet he carried with him and to my total despair I didn't know where I had put my headphones.

  The tree in the mountain olêiaô...

  The music of the parrot Reginaldo invaded my ears as I paid attention on the road ahead, feeling sorry for the countless butterflies that found their end in the dashboard of my father's car.

  The front of the car already contained several gray patches, looking like dust, of the suicidal dead and my boredom had returned in an overwhelming way and only increased.

  If he killed me, I would have been in the afterlife long ago.

  “How much longer to go?” I asked in a monotonous voice.

  “In half an hour we were arriving,” my father answered. “Happy?”

  I looked at him with a unfriendly face and he laughed.

  I rolled my eyes.

  Mommy, come change my diaper cuz I peed... A new song started on little Miguel's tablet.

  What followed along the way was a gigantic repertoire of the most gummy songs that could exist.

  I definitely couldn't stand to hear the damn Baby Shark and his whole family anymore.

  I leaned my head against the door glass and closed my eyes.

  That would be a long year.

  As promised, after about thirty minutes we reached Mar de Areia.

  A colorful sign with the words: Welcome to the city of Mar de Areia welcomed us and my father soon entered a wide street of stones that gave access to the city.

  More holes.

  I was beginning to feel sorry for the car's bumper.

  As Dad drove, slower, as we had already entered the city, reality began to knock on my door and I let out a low moan.

  The simple, paint-worn houses, the absence of large buildings and the huge amount of bicycles and motorcycles really indicated that this was a small town.

  My father drove carefully so as not to run over the countless abandoned and slimy dogs that were on the streets. It was rainy season and several mud puddles formed on the road and Dad had to pay attention not to go too fast and wet the passers-by.

  Yes.

  I said it's fucking hot in the countryside, but it rains here too. I was just being annoying.

  A few minutes later we got to the house we were going to live in. A medium wall painted with salmon — I always found that colour horrible — and an aluminium gate. That was the entrance to the house. My father pressed the remote control button and the gate opened showing a small garage and a two-story house.

  “Here, here,” Miguel was shouting, excited, as Dad parked the car. “Out, Daddy. Take Miguel.” He was unsuccessfully trying to unbuckle his seat belt.

  Unlike my little brother I was not that excited, but I remembered my father's words and decided that I would give this new stage of my life a chance, after all, that was where I would spend the next year.

  And yes. That's called maturity, and even though it doesn't sound like it, I know how to be mature when I need it.

  I got out of the car, stretched my legs, the pain was relieved and hit me after spending so many hours seated. I grabbed my purse and went straight for the bedrooms.

  As Dad had already come several
times to our house everything was ready and soon I found the room that would be mine. My eyes were filled with tears when I saw the copy of my room in Fortaleza. My father had been very careful to make me feel at home. The guilt hit me when I thought about how I had acted with them.

  I heard a knock on the door and then my mother entered the room.

  “Did you like it?” she asked, a little anxious.

  “Oh, Mama!” I ran towards her and held her tight. “I loved it,” I said honestly.

  “Your father thought of everything, I'm glad you enjoyed it.” She put her hand on my hair, which made me feel welcome.

  “I promise I'll try to adapt here,” I said without hesitation, because I was being true.

  For the first time since the change, I was willing to cooperate with my parents and work hard to adapt to this new life.

  I approached my mother and involved her again in a hug. She kissed my head and left me in the bedroom. I wiped my eyes that were still wet and threw myself into bed, letting the air out hard.

  Yes, I would make every effort to make it work.

  I took the cell phone out of my pants pocket, looked for an socket and plugged it into the charger, as the battery was low.

  Then I opened my text app.

  I just got here, the city's tiny but I hope this year goes by quickly, I already miss you.

  I pressed the send button with an shy smile on my face. Rafael was affectionate and whenever he was next to me he filled me with kisses, was attentive and used to say beautiful words full of feeling.

  When I informed him about the moving he reassured me, promising me that the year would pass fast and soon we would be together again.

  We weren't officially boyfriend and girlfriend, but I knew he would be waiting for me.

  I realized that Rafael was online, but he didn't see my message. I stared at the screen for a few moments, anxiously waiting for it, but nothing happened.

  I bit my lower lip, but decided not to worry.

  He must be doing something, stop being paranoid.

  But I was paranoid.

  I typed another message and sent it again.

  The trip was quite smooth. Everything's okay?

  Nothing.

  Lying on the bed, holding the phone with both hands above my face, I tried to control the irritation that was threatening to appear and started to change through the groups.

  My aunt Lu sent a picture of a sick boy saying that if we shared the picture, the child would get a penny every time someone did that, right after that, my cousin arrived fighting, because he didn't believe she still believe on these things.

  Then a storm of comments began, some defending my aunt, others defending my cousin and a good part of the family releasing memes and emoticons about the whole situation.

  In the group of friends Marcela put a video of a kitten being pushed affectionately — not so — by the mother cat into a box and all the friends sending faces with heart.

  That's when I entered the group of friends from the school. I started to read the accumulated messages and when I finally followed the current messages my heart squeezed and the desire to cry appeared.

  Rafael chatted animatedly with the guys about the game of Fortaleza that he had gone, although his team had taken a beating of three to zero from Ceará.

  Hadn't he seen my message?

  Rafa?

  My stubborn heart sent him another message, even though my brain said to be quiet.

  Stop humiliating yourself, girl!, my conscience said.

  Then he answered.

  The cell opened a tab with his response that made my heart pound and my hands shake to the point where I dropped the cell phone right in my face, banging my nose.

  I hate when that happens!

  I sat down on the bed and quickly opened his message.

  Ah, hi, Alice!

  U arrived?

  Nice.

  Everything's fine here.

  Xoxo

  I kept looking at the answer he had given me. Without really understanding what was happening. My fingers began to type quickly and trembling.

  I saw in the group you went to the game. Who did you go with? Your dick?

  Shit!

  Fucking spell checker!!

  I meant dick.

  No!

  Dad. I meant dad.

  I couldn't be more nervous. The answer Rafael gave me seemed distant and the impression I had was that he had become a complete stranger. My cheeks were burning and before I could have time to erase the messages he answered:

  My dick went with me, yes.

  But my dad stayed home.

  I went with the guys.

  Baby, I'm a little busy right now, can we talk later?

  Baby? He called me a baby?

  Rafael never spoke to me like that. As if... like I was some kind of a flirt.

  I noticed that while his "busy" meant keeping a lively chat in the group of friends about the game and the plans for next weekend.

  He knew I was in the group.

  He knew I'd read everything in there and... and from what it looked like, he didn't care at all.

  It was like... like I was really some kind of a flirt. He just didn't have the guts to say it to my face.

  Oh, shit.

  Why did I imagine he' d possibly be in mine hands?

  He clearly wasn't. Well, he might have been, but this moving screwed everything up.

  I fought the urge to cry my eyes out.

  I wasn't gonna give him that taste. His indifferent behavior affected me, but not enough. No! I wasn't a woman to be threshed by a man.

  So I focused my thoughts on the promise I'd made to my parents. And it was at that moment that I definitely accepted Mar de Areia as my new home.

  The next morning I got up early and after breakfast I left home for a walk in town. I was determined not to think about Rafael anymore and certainly not to send him any messages. If he wanted coldness, I would be the very iceberg that sank the Titanic.

  As I walked away from home I was paying attention to everything around me. Most of the streets were made of stone, as were the sidewalks that were crowded with street vendors, selling the most diverse items. Fruits, shoes, cell phone accessories, in other words, a huge diversity of items.

  It was the face of the countryside.

  While I was deviating from the street vendors and the people who were walking slowly, I planned what I would do during the year so that, who knows, I could get back to Fortaleza.

  Once in the rain, I would get wet.

  But no, unfortunately it wasn't raining and right after the first steps my head started to heat up.

  Ah, the Northeast!

  Is it wonderful to live here? Yes, it is, but there are times when it's a splintering sun.

  Ignoring my boiling neurons due to the heat, I went towards the main square of the city — every town in the interior has one — and I admired the little church in baroque style, with the painting aged due to the weather, and the small tower that kept a bronze bell, and for the first time since I had moved I admired the landscape.

  The city was filled with old buildings that referred to the period of ancient Brazil and witnessing our still alive history was one of the few things that kept me in a good mood.

  Across the street there was another old building that caught my attention. It was a two-story, square building with the painting of a light salmon — why do people like this color so much? — The windows were long and made of white wood and a small wall separated the building from the street.

  “What building is that?” I asked a gentleman who was sitting on the bench of the church square feeding the pigeons there.

  “The Municipal Library, miss,” he answered nicely.

  “Is it open?”

  “I don't know, I never really went in.” The man with white hair and sunburned skin shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention to his pigeons.

  I crossed the whole length of the square dod
ging kittens playing with each other and crossed the stone street towards the library.

  I loved books.

  I breathed books.

  And if I could, I'd eat them too, but then I'd have nothing to read.

  Yeah, besides the party girl I could also be considered a bit of a nerd — judge me!

  Bullshit! I'm neither a nerd nor a party girl. I'm just... Alice.

  I even liked parties, I went whenever I could and whenever my friends called me, but I also knew how to balance recreation and study responsibilities.

  I opened the little iron gate that squealed against me and climbed three small steps that gave access to the wooden door.

  Inside, the atmosphere was cozy. Pictures were hung on the wall showing old pictures of the city, on the opposite side of the entrance you could see long shelves filled with books and a ladder on the right side that gave access to the second floor, where I suspected it had more shelves and more books.

  On the right side, near the stairs, there was a large space where several tables and chairs were arranged, as well as some couches for reading. The floor was polished wood, with several faded and scratched points, due to the drag of the chairs. The walls were painted in a light tone, giving an airy look to the place. There were two windows, huge, fenced and open, which provided much of the lighting to the place and, hanging from the ceiling, two large blowers aired the environment. On the left side of the entrance there was a counter with two receptionists who were distracted by their smartphones.

  So much book here and they stay on their phones.

  “Good morning,” I said to the women who stared at me with impatient eyes. “I'd like to know how to register here at the library.”

  “Just fill out this form here.” One of them answered without looking at me and pushed a piece of paper full of items to answer.