The Ginger Fox (Part 1)

- What is it that you see?

- They seem like eyes, gleaming in the dark.

- Maybe a cat.

- Or a fox…

- Let’s get closer.

- Oh. It’s a fox. I love foxes.

- You’re crazy. Who’d love foxes? They’re scary.

- Well, I do. They’re cute.

- Yeah, right.

I don’t like being chased. I don’t think that fox likes it either. The poor animal was busy on its hunting and trying to catch its prey and we were chasing it, out of sheer curiosity, disturbing the natural order of things.  It was our obligation to feed the poor animal, after all.

I went inside and grabbed a piece of meat from the fridge and threw it to the bush where the canid was hidden and waited. Not too long afterwards, I heard the characteristic snap and the movement of the foliage. It had probably gotten the compensation gift I offered.

I smiled, feeling kind of relieved.

- Let’s get back inside. He’ll be ok now.

***

I walked down the staircase to the hall of the building, as I used to do most of the times, every day. Working on the second floor was a good reason to avoid using the lifts and an excuse to exercise my legs.

As I opened the door and stepped outside I noticed there was a man standing at the bus stop nearby. He was busy with his phone and did not look at me straight away. He was in his mid-thirties, at least. His shaved face, pale skin and ginger hair called my attention, so I looked at him for a longer while. He probably noticed I was staring at him, so he lifted his eyes and looked at me.

His deep green eyes pierced my stare like two sharp arrows. I felt a pinch in my stomach, but I could not look away. He smiled lightly, as if he was used to cause that type of reaction, in a land where most of the people were dark haired. 

I tried to smile, but was unsuccessful. He, on the other hand, found it funny and smiled again. The bus stopped and he hopped in. To my surprise, as the vehicle moved away, he looked out of the window, as if to be certain I was still there. I was… staring at him in absolute awe and smiling foolishly.

***

I decided I had to check if he was always there to catch the bus at the same time. When I could I would go downstairs at the approximately the same time just to be sure he was there. For a long time I did the same and I never happened to see him again. I was so disappointed.

With time, I forgot almost all about it and went back to my normal life. It was an illusion; a sweet ginger illusion and I had to get over it as soon as I could… sadly…

***

- Why did you do that?

- Because I wanted to know more about the one who was always looking at me with such interest.

- You’re funny.

- Maybe I am. I don’t think you regretted my actions.

- Of course not. On the contrary.

- “I walk alone”…

- I know. I thought I was being stalked.

- Well, in a way, you were.

- You’re right. I should have called the Police. There were so many policemen around, anyway…

I looked at him. He was just waiting for my reaction. Then he burst into laughter.

I wanted to punch him, but he just held my wrists and pulled me into his arms, in a tight embrace and, when I was not fighting anymore, he smiled and kissed me… a long and zealous kiss which stopped me from doing anything but kissing him back with a passion I knew I had for a long time already, probably since the day I first saw him standing at the bus station, pretending he was busy with his cell phone, when he was really watching me staring at him.

I thought to myself: ‘was it really I who seduced him, or was it the other way around?’

- You’re so obvious, my dear. I knew what you wanted from the first time I saw you staring at me.

‘How could he know what I was thinking about?’

- I am obvious. I cannot pretend I don’t want you, when you’re the only one in my mind all the time.

- How sweet.

He smiled. It just came to my mind the recollection of when and why I fell for him. That smile was a killer then. It’s a killer still, after all this time.

***

The 600 bus just stopped in front of the building. For some strange unexplainable reason I had the impetus of jumping on, before any idea did really come to my mind. He was still at the door and did not look back. I was so close to him I could smell his perfume.

He sat on the back seat. I looked around, pretending not to see where he was, trying to find a place where I could watch the back of the bus. I wanted him to know I was there, but I did not want him to think I was there because of him, so I pretended not to notice where he was. I saw when he stood up close to the main station downtown.

‘Easy’, I thought.  A busy station would not be suspicious, as most of the people were also standing up to leave the bus at the same place. He came closer and got ready to leave. I stood up. He looked back and our eyes met.

In fact, our eyes locked.  I could not look away and he was staring at me, as serious as he could be. He was right. I should have known better. I was stalking him and he knew it. The bus stopped and he left. I followed, but was ashamed and stopped on the sidewalk, staring at my feet. I wanted to die.

Decided to stop that nonsense, I looked around, just to go the opposite direction, in case he was still observing me. When I turned around and started walking down to São Bento, as he was looking to the other side, I felt my chest hurt in sorrow. I was a fool.  A few steps further down the street, feeling like the worst person on Earth, someone bumped my arm, when walking down the same direction as if in a hurry. I did not pay attention to who it was. I was feeling so sad, I had tears in my eyes.

- Are you stalking me?

- Uh?

And now this. So embarrassing. What do I say?

- Uh. No. Why would I?

- You’ve been following me.

I could not look at his face, but I would not lie, either.

- I’m sorry.

- For?

I looked up at his face. He was staring at me again and he was still serious. I wanted to disappear. He moved one step further toward me. I thought he was going to punch me right there in front of all the people. I raised my head and waited.

- What are you sorry for, after all?

- For causing you the sensation of being stalked.

- You don’t seem to be the dangerous type of stalker.

- Oh. Thank you very much. That’s so very kind of you.

Sarcasm goes a long way.

- Can I compensate this awkward situation with a coffee? A coffee can mend so many things… I’m really sorry.

His bright green eyes were seriously fixed on mine. I froze.

***

The Big Rocks (Epilogue)

- Of course he knew it. We were screaming his name all along the beach line!

- But he called him Mephos.

- I’ve made a little research about it. It is Greek and means something like 'absence of light'. It is in the explanation of the origin of the name Mephistopheles, in the Faust allegory. It makes sense when we refer to the cat’s colour.

- He was a very strange man. It's a good thing that our little friend was not taken from us.

- It was not his intention. He wanted us to be scared.

- I was… I am!

- I know you are, but it makes no sense looking scary and not saying what he wanted, after all. I have the impression that we will see each other again.

- Then I hope Mephisto is around. He makes me feel safer.

- He was very restless... aggressive... and he is such a docile animal.

- That's why I want him around.

***

- I’ve found a few things about our four-legged little friend. He belonged to a very old woman and he's been in her life for a few decades now.

- Oh, really? You know they do not live that long...

- Apparently there has been several generations of the same breed of black cat. What they told me, and I do not confirm, was that when the cat got old, she would choose one of the kittens that look more like their father, from the litters of seven kittens, and give him the same name. It was like the reincarnation of the cat-father and thus keeping his job as the woman’s protector. They say that an envoy of the devil is nowadays after the puss, for some reason.

- Does that make any sense?

- I think there's a lot of myth in this story, because it was told by the fishermen and their wives. I think we should go back to Ribeirao da Ilha and find out some more about this mystery.

- Seriously? Shall we really?

- We need to investigate a few things, about a certain woman; a very old woman and her pet... and something else, maybe...

***

- You came some days too late. She passed away on the day of the storm. It was early evening when the rain began. She lay down to rest and did not wake up ever again.

- Oh! How sad. What a tragedy it is!

I looked at my daughter and she soon realized what I was not going to say out loud. The fact was that it happened about the same time and day the cat came into our house... and into our lives.

- A few days ago, a strange man came in here asking for her. He was... scary, not to say worse, but he got nothing from me, as he was too late as well.

The girl described the stranger and we realized that it was the same man we had seen on the beach. He had asked a lot of questions about the old woman and about a cat that should belong to her. A black cat.

‘What did he want from her, for heaven’s sake?’

- She left something for you. She asked me to give that only to you two. It seems she knew you would come after her once more.

The girl then gave me an old ornamented wooden box, which she brought from the room where the old lady used to sleep. There were some very old photographs in it. In one of them, three people were standing, like in a family portrait. On the back, a date, written in permanent ink: 1916. The resemblance was incredible.

- My God! How can this be possible?

- This is a very strange coincidence!

The girl smiled at our surprise.

- The Universe conspires in a very unique and specific way, for certain purposes! Who could question the unquestionable?

I analysed the photograph better.

- Look at the feet of those three people.

- Oh, my goodness, no! It's not possible! It's the black cat!

***

- Something is not right.

- What?

- I don’t know. I feel so sad... I was really upset by the news of her death!

- I know. I was very sad too.

- I remember what she said. The amulet would protect me...

- Be careful! You're going to be too impressed by it and ending up imagining things.

- I confess that photo impressed me quite a lot. Besides the three of us being very similar to those people, there was something else. The cat at their feet was certainly our Mephisto! My heart is so small now. I feel so strangely sad.

  

- It could not be Mephisto, for obvious reasons. Do you still have the amulet with you?

- Yes, why?

- Throw it away. Throw it into the sea.

- But she said…

- You know very well that it is common to people being impressed by things like that. And you're allowing it to affect you. I no longer care about what she said. Just throw it away. That's what's making you grieving that way. It is the power of suggestion.

- We helped her and she gave it to me in return. I can’t do this.

- Then I will. It was a poisoned gift. These are coincidences, nothing else. She filled your head with bullshit and it's getting uncontrollable. That talk of protection, a happy future filled with success and love... you know these things only happen in dreams and do not come without lots of hard work.

She took the string from her neck and stared at it, regretting to throw it away.

I plucked the amulet from her hand and, walked to the water's edge and threw it out into sea, with enough energy to reach beyond the zone where the waves formed. I went back inside, with an air of satisfaction stamped on my face.

- It wasn’t fair. It was not fair...

- What?

She shook her head in a disconsolate way, looking through me, her body slightly bent forward.

- Nothing fair... nothing fair...

I raised my voice.

- Don’t you mess around with it! Ever!

- What? It's no joke.

- Do not do that again! Not even for fun!

***

The fishermen were pulling the fish out of their nets, with the cat sitting nearby, waiting for some small treat left for him. He was the amusement of the sea men, when they got back from the morning work and selected and collected the result of their fishing.

Little sardines or the like were always left over for the cat, which was already growing fat with such kind of care. As he exercised a lot, we were not worried about his weight gain.

As time went by he was getting more and more comfortable with us. We already knew a little about his manias and habits, and many of them were welcome, as they made us laugh instead of bothering us. The cat was already part of our family and we considered ourselves happy with him.

I used to watch, from afar, the affinity he had with the people of the area, without worrying to be necessarily around him all the time. He would always come back to us as the men walked back home talking animatedly. Mephisto would greet me, get a treat, and lie down on the balcony floor to sleep.

One of the older fishermen used to take more time playing with the cat, stroking his head and eventually offering him a fish, which would be accepted with joy. The man, the same who had warned me about the storm some time before, had a special affection for the little furry pet, who returned the caresses he’d get with a pseudo handshake. It was funny, for he did that with one person only: that simple man of the sea. That morning, for a reason I did not really know, I noticed he seemed to spend more time playing with Mephisto.

Something caught my attention as I watched, absently the movement on the beach.

Not far ahead, a silhouette was walking toward the group of fishermen. From a distance, I could only see that it was someone dressed in dark clothes. I was sure it was a man by the way he walked.

The cat seemed to notice the same as me, as he suddenly changed his attention from the group to the stranger approaching. Someone greeted the man, who returned the salutation and then squatted down to rub the cat’s head. The puss refused the caress, becoming untamed and bristly, in a position of attack. The stranger reached for the animal, one more time, but backed away quickly, rising and stepping back. The cat advanced. The man in black, an old acquaintance, withdrew quickly, heading toward the direction he had come from.

From where I was, I could not hear the conversation, if there was any.

The old fisherman took off his hat and scratched his head. He called out the cat, but he did not come until he saw that the man in black was out of his sight. Then he turned around and rubbed his body on his friend’s leg, who, stooping down, took the cat in his lap and came towards me.

I was already descending the stairs, walking lightly towards them. The man greeted me.

- What happened?

- I don’t know if I got it right. The man talked to the cat, calling him Mephos, but the animal didn’t seem to like the conversation.

- I noticed that he was aggressive.

- It was when the man said he wanted to take him but eventually could not touch him...

- What?

- Yes. And I do not know why he left like that, because the cat did not attack him. He only threatened, but something left the man with a look of terror on his face and he left, quick and without looking back.

- That's weird.

- No doubt. Well…

The simple sea man shrugged his shoulders and handed me the cat, which passed from his arms to mine, without protest. He said goodbye fondling our Mephisto’s head and left.

I petted the little animal, which was already purring in satisfaction. That was when I noticed a strange peculiarity: the cat had a well-known artefact, hanging from a black string around his neck, next to the red collar. I knew it was the same as I had thrown into the sea, so angry, a few days before.

Had it been that little object that had scared the outsider away, in that strange, terrified way?

My daughter walked off the door at that moment and approached us, picking up the cat from my arms and hugging it with affection. As she ran her hand over the loving animal's head, she noticed the string curled around his neck. She frowned and looked at me, her expression odd, as if wondering where that came from.

- Well, after all, the amulet was good for something...

I shrugged my shoulders and walked inside the house. There are things I cannot explain, nor will I try to understand.

***

As Pedras Grandes (Final)

- Claro que ele sabia o nome. Nós vínhamos gritando o nome do bicho pela praia afora!

- Mas ele o chamou de Mefós.

- Pesquisei sobre isso. Segunda consta, é grego e significa ‘ausência de luz’. Está na explicação da origem do nome Mefistófeles, na história do Fausto. Faz sentido, quando fazemos referência à cor do bichano.

- Ele era um homem muito estranho. Ainda bem que não nos levou nosso amiguinho.

- Não era a intenção. Ele queria que ficássemos assustados.

- Eu fiquei!

- Sei que sim, mas não adianta nada parecer assustador, sem dizer a que veio. Tenho a impressão que ainda nos vamos ver uma outra vez.

- Tomara que Mefisto esteja por perto. Ele me dá tranquilidade.

- Ele estava bastante agitado… agressivo… E é um animal tão dócil.

- Por isso eu o quero por perto.

***

- Descobri umas coisas sobre nosso amiguinho de quatro patas. Ele pertencia à uma mulher, muito velha. Já está na vida dela há algumas décadas.

- Como assim? Eles não vivem tanto…

- São várias gerações. O que me disseram, e eu não confirmo, foi que quando o gato ficava velho, ela escolhia um dos filhotes mais parecido com o pai, das ninhadas de sete gatinhos e dava-lhe o mesmo nome. Era como a reencarnação do gato-pai e era o protector da mulher. Dizem que um enviado do diabo anda atrás do bichano…

- Será que isso faz sentido?

- Acho que há bastante de lenda nesta história, pois foi contada pelos pescadores e pelas mulheres deles. Vamos voltar ao Ribeirão da Ilha.

- A sério? Vamos mesmo?

- Precisamos investigar umas coisas, sobre uma certa mulher, muito velha e seu animal de estimação… e, mais alguma coisa , talvez…

***

- Vocês chegaram tarde demais. Ela faleceu no dia da tempestade. Foi logo ao entardecer, quando a chuva começou. Deitou-se para descansar e não acordou mais.

- Oh! Que pena!

Eu olhei para minha filha e ela logo percebeu o que eu não ia querer dizer em voz alta. Foi aproximadamente na mesma hora que o gato entrou em nossa casa… e em nossas vidas.

- Há uns dias, um homem estranho apareceu aqui perguntando por ela. Ele era… assustador, para não dizer pior, mas não conseguiu nada de mim.

A moça descreveu o estranho e nós percebemos que era o mesmo homem que havíamos visto na praia. Fizera muitas perguntas sobre a velha mulher e sobre um gato, que deveria pertencer à ela. O que ele poderia querer, afinal?

- Ela deixou uma coisa para vocês. Pediu-me que entregasse somente a vocês dois. Parece que sabia que viriam atrás dela, uma vez mais.

A moça, então, deu-me uma caixinha de madeira, que trouxe do quarto onde a velha senhora costumava dormir. Nela havia umas fotografias muito antigas. Numa delas, apareciam três pessoas. No verso, uma data, escrita a tinta permanente: 1916. A semelhança era incrível.

- Meu Deus! Como é que pode?

- Isso é uma coincidência muito grande!

A moça sorriu, ante a nossa surpresa.

- O Universo conspira de uma maneira muito única e específica, para determinados fins! Quem poderia questionar o inquestionável?

Eu observei melhor a fotografia.

- Olhe ao pé dos três. 

- Não é possível! É um gato preto! 

***

- Algo não está certo.

- O quê?

- Não sei. Sinto uma tristeza tão grande… Fiquei mesmo chateada com a notícia da morte!

- Eu sei. Eu também fiquei muito triste.

- Fico pensando no que ela disse. O amuleto vai-me proteger…

- Cuidado! Ainda vais ficar impressionada com isso e ficar imaginando coisas. 

- Aquela foto impressionou-me muito. Além de sermos muito parecidos com aquelas pessoas, havia mais algo. O gato aos pés deles era, certamente, o nosso Mefisto! Fiquei com um aperto no peito...

-Não podia ser, por razões óbvias. Ainda tens o amuleto contigo?

- Sim. Por quê?

- Joga fora. Atira-o ao mar.

- Mas ela disse…

- Sabes muito bem que as pessoas são impressionáveis. E tu te estás deixando afectar. Já não me interessa o que ela disse. Joga-o fora. É isso que te está deixando assim. É o poder da sugestão.

- Nós a ajudamos e ela deu-mo de presente, em retribuição. Não posso fazer isso.

- Então faço eu. Foi um presente que revelou-se envenenado, isso sim. São apensas coincidências. Ela te encheu a cabeça com sandices e isso está a ficar incontrolável. Aquela conversa de protecção, de um futuro muito cheio de sucesso e amor… tu sabes que só acontece em sonhos e não se realiza sem muito trabalho.

Ela tirou o cordão do pescoço e ficou a olhar, com pena de separar-se dele.

Arranquei-lhe o amuleto da mão e, indo até a beira d’água, atirei-o mar adentro, com força suficiente para além da zona de formação das ondas. Voltei para dentro, com um ar de satisfação estampado no rosto.

- Não foi justo. Não foi nada justo…

- O quê?

Olhou-me de uma maneira estranha e balançou a cabeça de forma desconsolada, olhando através de mim, com o corpo levemente encurvado para a frente.

- Nada justo… nada justo…

Eu levantei o tom da voz.

- Não brinques com isso! Nunca!

- O quê? Não é brincadeira.

- Não voltes a fazer isso! Nem de brincadeira!

***

Os pescadores estavam a retirar os peixes das redes, com o gato sentado por perto, a espera que sobrasse algum para si. Ele era a diversão dos homens do mar, quando chegavam da lida matutina e recolhiam o produto da pesca de suas pequenas embarcações.

Umas pequenas sardinhas sempre sobravam para o gato, que já estava a ficar arredondado com tanto mimo. Como ele se exercitava bastante, não nos preocupava o aumento de peso.

O tempo havia passado e ele estava cada vez mais confortável connosco. Já conhecíamos um pouco de suas manias e seus hábitos e muitos deles eram bem-vindos, pois mais nos divertiam que incomodavam. O gato já era parte da nossa família e nós nos considerávamos felizes.

Eu ficava a observar, de longe, a afinidade que ele tinha com o pessoal da região, sem me incomodar em estar, necessariamente, por perto. Ele sempre voltava para nós, quando os homens caminhavam de volta para casa a conversar animadamente. Mefisto saudava-me, ganhava um mimo, deitava na varanda e ficava a dormitar.

Um dos pescadores sempre levava mais tempo a brincar com o gato, afagava-lhe a cabeça e oferecia um peixe, que era aceite com alegria. O homem, o mesmo que me havia alertado sobre a tempestade há algum tempo atrás, tinha um carinho especial pelo animalzinho, que retribuía as festinhas que recebia com um pseudo aperto de mãos. Era engraçado, pois ele fazia aquilo com uma pessoa somente: aquele homem simples do mar. Naquela manhã, pareceu ocupar-se mais tempo com Mefisto.

Algo chamou-me a atenção, enquanto observava, distraidamente o movimento na praia.

Não muito adiante, uma silhueta vinha caminhando, na direção do agrupamento de pescadores. De longe, eu só via que era alguém vestido com roupas escuras. Pelo porte e caminhar, eu tinha certeza que era um homem.

O gato pareceu perceber o mesmo que eu e mudou sua atenção do grupo, para o estranho que se aproximava. Alguém saudou aquele homem, que retribuiu o cumprimento e, em seguida, abaixou-se para afagar o gato. Este recusou a carícia, ficando teso e com os pelos eriçados, em posição de ataque. O estranho levou a mão até o animal, mas recuou rapidamente, levantando-se e dando um passo atrás. O gato avançou. O homem vestido de negro, um velho conhecido, retirou-se rapidamente, caminhando na direção de onde havia vindo.

De onde eu estava, não conseguia ouvir a conversa, se é que houve alguma.

O velho pescador tirou o chapéu e coçou a cabeça. Chamou o bichano, mas ele não veio, até ver que o homem de negro estava fora de seu campo de visão. Depois voltou-se e esfregou-se na perna do amigo, que abaixando-se, pegou o gato no colo e veio na minha direcção.

Eu já estava descendo a escada, caminhando ligeiro até eles. O homem saudou-me.

- O que foi que aconteceu?

- Não sei se entendi direito. O homem quis conversar com o gato, chamando-o de Mefós, mas o bichinho parece que não gostou da conversa.

- Eu vi que ele ficou agressivo.

-Foi quando o homem disse que queria levá-lo, mas não conseguiu tocá-lo…

- O quê?

- Pois foi. E nem sei porque saiu daquele jeito, pois o gato não o atacou. Só ameaçou, mas algo deixou o homem com uma expressão de pavor estampada na cara e ele foi embora, ligeiro e sem olhar para trás.

- Que estranho.

- Sem dúvida.

O homem simples do mar entregou-me o gato, que passou de seus braços aos meus, sem protestar. Despediu-se com um afago na cabeça do nosso Mefisto e saiu.

Eu acariciei o bichinho, que já ronronava com tranquilidade. Foi quando eu notei uma estranha peculiaridade: o gato trazia um artefacto bastante conhecido, pendurado num cordão negro em volta do pescoço, junto à coleira vermelha. Eu sabia que era o mesmo que eu havia atirado ao mar, com tanta raiva, uns dias antes.

Teria sido aquele pequeno objecto que afastara o forasteiro, daquele jeito estranho e com tanto pavor?

Minha filha chegou naquele momento e aproximou-se, apanhando o gato de meus braços e abraçando-o com carinho. Ao passar a mão pela cabeça do bichinho notou o cordão enrolado no pescoço dele. Ela franziu o cenho e olhou-me, com uma expressão esquisita, como se a perguntar de onde viera aquilo.

- Afinal isso serviu para alguma coisa...

Dei de ombros. Existem coisas que eu não sei explicar, nem vou tentar entender.

***