He arrived at the beach on a Tuesday, which was weird. When the kids came home from playing and swimming in the ocean, they found their father on the veranda. “Huh,” they remarked. Moments later his wife came home and also thought it was strange that he was home on a Tuesday, especially with that look on his face. She immediately thought the worst. “Is it my mother?!” No, no, her mother was fine. Everything in the city was fine. He had missed her, got in the car and drove to the beach. That was it.
Later, away from the kids, he told her the truth.
-I heard you have a boyfriend.
The woman laughed loudly. Who could have said such a thing?
-I heard… he said, vaguely. A surfer.
-Me, dating a surfer?!
She couldn’t understand how he could believe such a thing. Her! A surfer! He became increasingly dramatic.
-I'm worried about the children.
-But this is crazy! Me, dating some boy?
-I did not mention the surfer’s age, he said, as if this undoubtedly signaled her incrimination. She tried to play it off.
-Look, they're all boys around here. Young or old.”
He did not find it amusing. He was convinced. Maybe he deserved it. Her infidelity. But he still worried about the kids. She hugged him. But what was that? After years of marriage, such mistrust? They had never mistrusted one another. Ever. She backed away and said:
-Marjory is behind this, isn’t she? I bet this is her doing.
Nope. It wasn’t Marjory. It was an anonymous phone call. He had tried so hard not to give the phone call any thought. He had made a conscious effort not to believe it. But he couldn’t resist.
-I’m sorry…
She hugged him again, teary-eyed. Made him promise one thing.
-Let’s not ever doubt each other. Promise?
-Promise.
They held each other and kissed for a long time, until one of the children came to show them the frog they had found in the bathroom.
-Are you sleeping here tonight? - the woman asked.
-No. I have an appointment in the city early tomorrow morning.
He returned to Porto Alegre late that afternoon. His appointment was actually that very night, and her name was Maitê. The whole anonymous phone call story had given him a sort of preventative habeas corpus. What the hell, he thought. The world in the shape that it’s in, this could be his last summer. But he couldn’t look the doorman in the eye.
Thursday, August 30, 2007
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