The Veríssimo Project

When she heard the apartment door open, the woman sat up in bed and said:
-My God! My husband!
Her lover also sat up, spooked, less by the husband than by the phrase.
-What did you say?
-I said, "My God! My husband!"
-That's what I thought, I just didn't want to believe it.
-He told me he was going to Sao Paulo!
-Maybe it's not him. Maybe it's a burglar.
-We should be so lucky. It's him. He's coming to the room. Quick, hide in the closet!
-What? No. Anywhere but the closet!
-Then get under the bed.
-Ok, the closet.
Her lover jumped off the bed, grabbed his clothes off the chair and got in the closet thinking, "this cannot be happening." He started laughing uncontrollably. That is, until he remembered that he'd left his shoes by the bed. He heard the bedroom door open. The husband's voice:
-Who were you talking to?
-Me? No one. It was the TV. And I thought you were going to Sao Paulo?
-Wait. There's no TV in the bedroom.
-Don't change the subject. What are you doing home?
The lover started laughing. He couldn't contain himself, the closet was shaking. He put his hand over his mouth. He heard the husband ask:
-What's that noise?
-Doesn't matter. Why are you not in Sao Paulo?
-I didn't end up going, period. These shoes...
The lover froze. But the husband was referring to his own shoes, which were tight. He was probably taking them off. Silence. Then the bathroom door opening and closing. Husband in the bathroom. The lover was about to start laughing again when the closet door suddenly flew open. It was the woman, handing him the shoes. She closed the closet door and flung herself on the bed before he could tell her that those weren't his shoes, but her husband's. Crazy!
The bathroom door opening. Husband back in the room. Long silence. Husband's voice:
-These shoes...
-What about 'em?
-Whose are they?
-What do you mean, whose are they? They're yours. You just took them off.
-These shoes have never been mine.
Silence. The woman obviously examining the shoes and realizing her mistake. The lover, by the way, was running out of air. The woman's voice, aggressive:
-Where did you get these shoes?
-Those shoes aren't mine, I told you!
-Exactly. And whose are they? How do you leave the house in one pair of shoes and come back in another?
-Hold on...
-Where've you been? C'mon, answer!
-I came home wearing the same shoes I left in. These shoes aren't mine.
-They are the shoes you took off. You even said they were tight. Therefore, they weren't yours. I want an explanation.
-Just one second! Hold on one second!
Silence. The husband trying to think of something to say. Finally, the wife's voice, triumphant:
-I'm waiting...
The husband regrouping. Moving on the offensive.
-I am ABSOLUTELY sure I did not walk in here wearing these shoes. And look, they couldn't have been tight because they are bigger than my foot!
More silence. The woman, coldly:
-Then there is only one explanation.
The husband:
-What?
-I had another man in here when you came in. He jumped in the closet and forgot his shoes.
A terrible silence. The lover tried to hold his breath. The woman continued:
-If that's the case, where are your shoes?
The husband, lacking conviction:
-You could've given the man in the closet my shoes, by mistake.
-Fair enough. So now, besides an adulterer, you are saying I'm stupid. Thanks a lot.
-I dunno, I dunno... I heard voices in here.
-Tell you what. Then go to the closet and open the door.
The lover felt the closet shaking. But this time it wasn't his laughter. It was his heart. He heard the husband's bare feet walking toward the closet. He visualized his escape: jumping out of the closet, running out of the room and apartment before the husband could react. He would knock the husband over on his way out. After all, he had bigger feet. But the woman said:
-You are aware, of course, that the very moment you open that door, our marriage is over. If there is no one in there, we could never live with the fact that you thought there was. It will be the end.
-And if there is someone in there?
-Worse. If there is some lover of mine standing in there in his underwear, our marriage will become a farce. Like cheap theatre. Vaudeville. We won't be able to live with the ridiculousness of it. It will also be the end.
After a few minutes, the husband said:
-Well, I have to open the closet door to put my clothes away, anyways...
-Open it. But think of what I said.

Slowly, the husband opened the door. Husband and lover were face to face. No one said anything. After three or four minutes the husband said, "Excuse me" and started hanging his clothes. The lover got our slowly and walked toward the door. He stoppend when he heard a "hey." He said:
-You talkin' to me?
-Yes, said the husband. My shoes.
The lover realized he still had the wrong shoes in his hand, along with the rest of his clothes. He put the husband's shoes on the floor, and grabbed his. He walked out the door and that was that.

Labels: adultery, Brazil, closet, lover, Marriage, Sao Paulo