Estudo em Azul e Ruivo

Ginger Alert (Almost a Christmas Carol) - Part 2 of 2

Someone came through the door and I felt the cold air of the morning blowing in against my back. I had a shiver going up my spine. I wondered if it was because of the wind or by the man walking down the hall to my direction, gently smiling and holding an envelope in his hand. 

I thanked him and opened the small envelope with the “URGENT” stamp printed in red on the outside. He smiled and went back to his working place. 

There was only a business card as a message. 

‘How nice’, I mumbled. 

I turned the card around and read the message carefully handwritten on the back. 

“Lunch at 12:30h? Phone me.”

I smiled to myself. 

I still had no real plans set for lunch and that would be convenient. As far as I was concerned, my last full day in Dublin, as I had to leave early the next morning, would be probably and suitably thrilling. 

I picked up the phone and dialled the number underlined on the card.

***

When I walked into the restaurant, the place was almost full. There were just a few tables still unattended. I looked around and saw one hand waving at me. He smiled and stood up. I smiled back and walked on to him.

He was a handsome man. I realized it when I was coming closer to the man dressed in white shirt and dark blue jeans. Although almost informal, he was very elegant, tall and well-built. His navy blue eyes were fixed on my face and I suddenly felt blushing when mine met his. 

He politely shook my hand. His handshake was firm and strong. I took it as a good sign. A firm handshake, followed by a smile and a quick and direct eye contact is always a good sign.

We decided to have soup and a hot sandwich, instead of a heavy meal, so we would have time for a light conversation and maybe a walk, before leaving each other. He would go back to his work and I’d go back to my life. I wanted the afternoon to be well-spent and could not think of anything else to do but being there with him. 

I realized he was not only attractive and kind, but also a good talker and a wonderful listener. The conversation was easy. He talked about what he liked and I tried to follow his string of thoughts, doing the same. I like to keep some secrecy about my life, although I had no problem with sharing the things I like, so to get him to know me better.

When we got up, ready to leave the restaurant, he urged to pay the bill, under my protest, but he was incisive. I accepted the courtesy and waited. His telephone rang. He picked it up and went out. I followed him, keeping a fair distance so he could talk freely. After a couple of minutes he hung up and smiled at me.

- Come!

- Where to?

He walked through the multitude of people that crowded the streets, along Grafton Street again. At that time of the day, people were busy going shopping or getting off the restaurants, on their ways to their works or normal lives. It was Friday afternoon, so most of the people were leaving work early and going back to the busy side of Dublin for many reasons.

The sun hit his short hair when we crossed the street and I had the impression his head was on fire. I felt I was burning inside. The thought made me blush lightly. He seemed to notice it as he smiled. That grin could make my heart melt down. I wondered why those thoughts were flowing freely in my mind. He would never guess what I was thinking about anyway.

We walked into the Merrion Square park gate, side by side. He then said he took the afternoon off, so we could stay together for a time. It was my last weekend in Dublin and he wanted me to enjoy it. I was already enjoying it, but did not say anything. All I did was smile, to show how pleased I was, although I was secretly happier than he would ever imagine.

We sat at the bench by the lake, watching the ducks swimming by. He laid his hand softly on my leg, while pointing at the birds. My heart accelerated. 

- See how they seem to enjoy themselves. The weather today is really wonderful.

- It is really wonderful…

I was not really referring to the weather and I’m sure he understood me quite well. A group of seniors walked in with musical instruments in hands and started to play a Christmas carol. We smiled and hummed the words along. When they finished the first song, they started “One” by U2. He took my hand and asked me if I wanted to dance. I laughed at him. 

- No way! Not here and never in front of all these people! 

He just laughed loudly. 

- Do you think they would ever mind? 

- Well, maybe they would not, but I will certainly mind…

- OK, then. We won’t dance. But I know a place not far from here where we can spend some time. It gets quite chilly here in the middle of the afternoon, anyway. Come with me.

We walked past the Wilde House and went through the street behind it. Going down Cumberland Street S, we stopped by the Ginger Man’s door and I thought to myself that was a joke. The Universe likes playing with me, for sure. He did not mention anything, but I saw his lips curving in a very discreet smile, as if trying not to show that reaction to me.

We got in for a quick drink. The atmosphere was typical, as in most of the Irish pubs. I heard Adele playing on the background loudspeakers. He looked at me and opened his lovely grin again while humming the words along. 

“Everybody here is watching you

 Cause you feel like home,

 You’re like a dream come true”…*

The waiter, another young ginger man, greeted him with a smile and a handshake, as if knowing each other from a long date, directing us to sit at one of the small tables, away from the windows. It was pretty warm and comfortable inside. My eyes were happy and my G.A. was all in full alertness state.

He was going to start ordering, but looking at me, he decided to ask me first what I’d like to drink. I prudently chose tap beer. Traditional. He smiled and followed ordering the same for himself, as it was his initial intention.

“You move like a movie, you sound like a song”…*

- I like this place. The atmosphere here is always so lively great.

- I know. Everyone looks so at ease; so friendly.

- The Irish way… after some beers, everything is amusing and cheerful… especially on a Friday afternoon…

He laughed out loud. Incredible how I could feel so good with only a glimpse of that grin… and I was literally staring at him and feeling so comfortable with him. 

Less than a couple of hours later we left the pub and walked down to a traditional brick building right next door. He took a bunch of keys from his pocket and opened the front door, giving me way to follow in. 

As he entered the hall, he held my hand. I was totally caught in surprise. My heart almost blew up. 

Then he kissed me…

*** 

He slowly ran his fingers over my skin as if trying to memorise every line and detail. His touch was so soft I thought he had feathers in his hands. I closed my eyes and let myself go through the gates of the pleasure garden. 

He kissed my lips so gently, I thought he was afraid of breaking anything in me. He was a good kisser and a wonderful lover. His attention was so completely directed to me that I felt I was special. 

What a good feeling… knowing he was not in a hurry… I always thought lovemaking should be slow and caring, attentive and intense…

When he found out that by kissing behind my ears he would make my skin react with goose bumps, he giggled and repeated that a few times. I turned around and he took advantage of that too, lying on top of my body, rubbing his soft ginger fur on me, while kissing me from my neck to the bottom of my spine and then he stopped.

I waited.

He kissed the two dimples at my lower back and said:

- I love these back dimples… and your bum. It´s all so perfect. 

He spoke that so naturally I really believed him. I felt as if I was living a dream.

- Do you know how these are called?

- Dimples of Venus?

He laughed loudly and kissed my bum, once, twice, three times….

***

My ginger Apollo, perfect for me, in all the possible senses: his auburn fur, so soft at the touch of my fingers; his navy-blue eyes all set on my face; his sweet smile, so open and so handsomely attractive, baring me like his hands did just some minutes before; his distinctive citric-cedar perfume bringing up his manly scent, inebriating my senses and triggering my libido and my primal instincts. 

I was so happy for being there and, at the same time, so sad I had to leave him in a few minutes. 

A ray of light came though the opening in between the curtains and hit his bare torso. I could almost hear Adele’s lines repeating in my head like an earworm.

”Let me photograph you in this light

 In case it is the last time

 That we might be exactly like we were,

 Before we realized

 We were sad of getting old

 It made us restless”…*

Sadly, that meant it was morning already. That sweet dream was over. I had to get ready and leave.

I don’t like dramas, so I got up and went to the bathroom to shower. I still had to pack my things.

***

- You’ll be in my mind for a long time… Did you know that? 

He just looked me in the eyes. His face flustered at my innocent display of insanity, but he said nothing. He just held me tight and kissed me. That was a definitive good bye. 

- Save one dance for me, will you? You owe me that…

I smiled sadly and buried my head on his chest. 

“You move like a movie, you sound like a song”…*

I could smell the scent of wild cedar and orange from his skin and clothes. He held me close for a longer while and then released me. It was time for me to go. 

The display, on the large panel in front of my eyes, showed the embarking call and I heard the loudspeakers repeating the number of the flight and the gate.

I walked up the aisles and looked back. He was still there standing tall in the middle of the hall, smiling at me. I went through the security procedures and disappeared from his sight. My heart ached. 

***

His manly scent still remains in my brain when I close my eyes. His presence is still so vivid to me, every time I touch the empty pillow close to mine and I recall his touch on my skin, the taste of his kisses and the sensation of going crazy in his hands and body. 

The sun hits my face and I remind his warm body on and in mine, the light coming into the bedroom though the curtains and drawing lines on his perfect torso. I feel like crying, but I need to be strong and I try a smile.

As a ginger head crosses my path, the G.A. (Ginger Alert) reacts and I look back and around again, as if haunted by the sight of a charming and cute ghost that keeps on coming into my mind, insistently trying to keep me from forgetting - if that could ever be possible – those sweet magic hours…

The wind blows against my face and I turn my collar up and walk home. Tears roll down my face and I pretend they are from the cold wind. Adele’s voice keeps on singing in my mind… 

“Let me photograph you in this light 

 In case it is the last time

 That we might be exactly like we were 

 Before we realized”…*

* (Adele: "When We Were Young)

Ginger Alert (Almost a Christmas Carol) - Part 1 of 2

I was walking down the street, almost crossing O’Connell Bridge over the cold River Liffey. My intention was going shopping at Grafton’s many options, as we were about one week before Christmas. The streets were packed with people from all places, shopping like crazy. I was amazed by the number of redheads of all sizes, forms and ages, walking up and down the busy walkways and it felt like paradise to me. 

A young man in his early twenties looked distressed when I passed by him and was crossing the N1 at Nassau Street, right after Trinity. He stopped me and asked if I knew where he could take the bus to Dorset College. I excused myself saying I did not know. He asked another passer-by and then another one, but none of them knew. The young man was in despair and very agitated. I commented that the city was too full of tourists and it was natural that most of us would not know it. He burst out with a high pitched voice. 

- I’m not a tourist! 

I laughed at his obvious and sudden distress, but tried to keep it up and calmly responded. 

- But we are! And lots of these people are too. 

He was almost giving up, but fortunately, there was a dark haired man coming to our direction and he had the right information. The younger man felt relieved and stayed by the Bus Stop while I continued my way, laughing inside. At least he was respectful and did not swear at anyone. 

Tall and strong, the young man had a natural auburn beard covering his pale, freckled face and his rosy cheeks. His hair was a lighter shade of ginger, cut very shortly, except on top of his head. The overall look was very pleasant for a young man like that. 

I walked away, still laughing inside about what had just happened and went back on my way to Grafton Street. 

*** 

Later that afternoon, when I was coming back, holding shopping bags in both hands, my mind was absolutely distracted and my feet were sore. In spite of being soon after 5 pm only, the sensation was it was already late in the evening. If it were not for the many Christmas lights all around, the place would be as dark as the feathers of a crow. 

I crossed the bridge on my way back to the hotel I was staying in, not far away from the Garden of Remembrance. Right where the Spire was erected, I decided to turn to Henry Street, when I saw the small street market and the hats and scarves they were selling at reasonable prices. I always liked a good bargain and I decided I needed a new and trendier hat. 

I found a nice hat, plaided of dark green, grey and light brown, very discreet and which could be used with almost any piece of garment. Most important of all, it’d keep my head warm. I was happy. For what’s worth, I felt my purchase was a good one. 

I’m not used to receiving gifts, so I buy my own when I need something. Hat on head, bags in my both hands, I walked back, all happy and light. The streets were still busy and the wind was blowing fiercely from the riverside when I walked back through Henry Street. I bent my head and stepped firmly on the large brick walkway. 

I thought to myself: what a nice place to fall in love with… 

My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud crashing noise and a very strange sensation. I heard a metallic clatter and that was followed by a dizziness and the feeling I could not get hold of my grasp and my balance. The message sent to my brain that I was falling down to the ground. I felt a pain on my right leg and saw the packages I was holding all scattered around on the brownish pavement. 

I was caught in surprise. I looked around and found out there was a bicycle on the ground with its wheels still turning. Looking at me with his big green eyes, a man, dressed in competition gear, was looking as startled as I was. He seemed to be not just scared by what had just happened: he was unquestionably worried. 

- Are you well? 

He smiled. He was probably not expecting I was concerned about him, when I was the one who was just hit hard by his bicycle. 

- Are you? 

- I think so. 

I looked at myself, then around. Some people were trying to help picking up the bags and packages scattered all over the place. I thanked those kind walkers-by and tried to get up, but my right leg failed to keep me standing up. 

He was just too quick to hold my arm. 

- Try to stand now. Don’t hit it hard. Just go light and slow. 

I did what he said. The pain was bearable. I had a scratched knee and my jeans were ripped. Very fashionable, I thought. I told him I was OK. He would take me to emergency, but I refused and thanked for his concern. I just wanted to go back to my hotel, have a good hot shower and a little rest. He was not completely happy, but agreed and helped me out. 

He lifted his bike from the pavement. It was ok: just a few scratches on the painting. 

He was OK: just a few scratches on his left leg. 

I was OK, in spite of some scuffs on my leg, a painful scratched knee and a ripped pair of jeans. 

He insisted to follow me up to the hotel, helping me out with the bags, just to be sure I was really OK. How nice on him... 

As soon as we got close to the reception desk, the clerk asked me if I needed help, as he saw me walking a bit limp and being helped by that stranger. He was quick to ask if there was a nurse or doctor at hand to check if my leg needed any assistance. 

Half an hour later, after a quick meeting with the doctor in the emergency room, I was assured it was nothing more serious than a few scratches and I was free to go back to my room with my wound all cleaned and covered with a layer of ointment. 

To my surprise he was still sitting by the reception, holding his helmet in his hands. He seemed to be patiently waiting for something. I could guess his mind was elsewhere, however. I watched him from a certain distance for a little while, then walked towards him. For the first time I noticed the colour of his hair, which I did not guess before from his well shaved and pale face. 

He raised his head and looked at me. For a strange reason I had a ginger alert: I felt butterflies in my stomach and I blushed immediately. 

- Are you OK? 

- Yes. It was really just a few scratches. Nothing serious… I promise. 

- I’m really sorry. 

- Don’t be. It was an accident. I should have been more careful… 

- Me too. 

I smiled. He grinned. 

- I’m Ryan. Nice to meet you… 

‘How typical,’ thought I. He couldn’t have a more common name in Ireland… 

*** 

When I went down to the hall the morning after, so to walk off and have my breakfast at a street Café instead of the hotel, I heard someone calling me by the name. I just stopped by the revolving door and turned around, in complete surprise. 

I was not expecting for anything like that. 

***

Contradictions (Part 1 of 2)

- Are you awake?

- Mmm… no… not really, no…

He chuckled.

- That smile tells me you are…

I was awake, of course, but kept my eyes shut while enjoying the way he was touching my skin with that very light touch. I had woken up when he kissed my shoulders and neck so softly it was like the brush of feathers on my skin. Maybe he was afraid of waking me up… Maybe he was just enjoying himself… Maybe he was taking advantage of the situation… Maybe I was too…

I turned around a bit and faced him, smiling and welcoming his tender caresses. I held his hand in mine and kissed his precious fingers.

- Good morning, early bird.

- Good morning, sleepy head.

He propped his head up, looking at me with a sweet smile and genuine loving eyes. I thought to myself: ‘what a lovely way to wake up’.

He encircled my body with his arms and held me closer to his chest, with his legs entwined around mine. I laid my head on his soft golden fur and closed my eyes, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat drumming softly in my ears. He kissed the top of my head and whispered.

- I love you…

I just moaned softly and nestled myself a bit more in his embrace, almost purring like a happy cat in a cosy and fluffy bed. I did not feel like opening my eyes again… Then I fell asleep.

When I woke up he was not around. I heard the sound of dishware and cutlery in the kitchen and I thought to myself he must have waited too long for me to wake up and decided to have something to eat on his own. The smell of coffee and something else was inviting.

I was afraid I was taking the kindness of that man for granted, so I got up and headed to where he was.

He was standing tall and handsome with a cup of strong coffee in his hand. Although we were not used to fancy breakfasting, he was busy with an omelette that smelled so good, my stomach immediately reacted to it. That would certainly suit for a lazy Saturday morning.

- Hey…

- Good morning again, sweet wheat field. What are you cooking?

He smiled at me. I used to call him ‘wheat field’ because of the colour of his hair and fur. He used to laugh at that, satisfied with the nick I gave him. He looked me in the eyes and lied without blushing.

- I’m cooking nothing special. Let’s sit and eat. I’m terribly hungry…

So was I. Still looking at him, I obeyed, while he poured the hot coffee in my cup and served me a portion of that perfect tomato, cheese and mushroom omelette. The taste was simply divine and reminded me of a point of time somewhere in my past.

***

It was late on a lazy Sunday morning and I was having a brunch on my own, at a Café downtown. I have always loved the smell of strong black coffee and that one was really good. I was starving, so I decided for the platter of the day, so I could have my meal delivered quicker. The taste of that Menu Special omelette was filling me in with a peculiar pleasure.

From where I was I could see the clientele crossing the front door and being directed to their tables by the serving staff. I was sitting by the window, watching people walking by and trying not to stare at anyone. 

A man, who was probably in his mid-forties, came across the door and looked around, trying to find an empty table. What called my attention was the colour of his amazing shiny blond hair and his walking posture. Taller than me, strong and handsome, that man was like a warrior coming victorious from a battle in the highlands. I felt like the place was emptied immediately and all the lights disappeared in front of my eyes, except for the one on top of his head.

As the waiter walked him in, I felt strangely interested. In my mind, I could hear a voice saying non-stop and naughtily:

‘Please sit close to me… please’…

And he did. For some reason, he chose a table very close to mine and sat right opposite to me. He checked the menu and ordered his meal very quickly.

That was a good sign. He seemed to be a man who knew very well what he wanted and he was quick to make decisions. I wondered if he would do that to all other things in his life.

While waiting, he naturally looked around, showing just a general little interest in the other customers sitting in the same room, chatting quietly and having their meals. Then he laid those lovely bright blue eyes on me.

Amazingly, the effect was absolutely unexpected. I blushed immediately and turned my attention back to my plate and cup, trying to look natural and at ease. My hands trembled however and the knife fell off to the ground with a loud noise. I am really clumsy when nervous, so I urged to pick the knife up and call the waiter to provide me with a clean one. He was already on his way, probably used to help with that kind of things many times a day. I struggled not to look at the table right in front of mine, but my eyes betrayed me.  He was looking at me again. Our eyes interlocked. My face and ears were burning like pieces of ignited coals. I tried to avoid his stare but could not.

Then he smiled and whispered a clear and distinctive ‘hi’, although no sound could be heard from where I was.

‘My goodness, what was that? This is amazingly scary. I was not expecting to feel butterflies in my stomach!’

I smiled back at him but I must have looked so awkwardly out of place that he giggled. I blushed again and felt like steaming from inside out.

I was conveniently saved by the waiter bringing the meal and placing it loudly in front of him. His attention suddenly moved to a cup of black coffee and the platter of the day: the special tomato, cheese and mushroom omelette.

I couldn’t help but laugh…

***

- Do you still remember?

- How could I ever forget? You mesmerized me…

He giggled. I simply loved the way he seemed to relax completely and look so juvenile when he laughed. He used to tease me with his lovely light blue eyes and that open grin, before anything else. I wondered how a man could be so sexy without being openly sexual or indecently mischievous. He was always so classy… so controlled… so helpful… so lovable… so nice and so kind… and yet so desirable… all in one adorable package.

My thoughts were interrupted by the irritant sound of the doorbell.

- Who could that be?

***

- What are you doing here?

- Will you invite me to come in or not?

- Yes. Sure. Sorry.

- And who would that be?

- A very good friend of mine.

He smiled and offered his handshake to my friend.

- I see. Nice meeting you.

- Likewise… but who are you?

- An old acquaintance…

It was clear to my friend that just an “old acquaintance” would not act that way, so he looked at me, to try and read me, before making any move.

It was like the knight waiting for the pawn to make his move, so he could think of a strategy to go on. But the rook was not that eager to fly low and he had intentions to make his point, so I made the first move.

***

The air was not heavy, but not totally comfortable either. Sitting by the waterfront, I let my mind wander years before when the weight of age was so lighter and more bearable. That face used to be so dear and that man so kind.

What had happened to us? Where had we lost the sense of respect and the kindness to each other? What was the past doing back in my present?

Taking him apart and away from my life was difficult the first time, but now it seems that some ghosts have come back to haunt me. I just wanted to bring my balance back.

For the moment, I just took him away from my partner and home, so I could sort that situation out, without unnecessary involvement from all sides.

He came back from the washroom and sat right in front of me. He still loved his cold beer, while I was used to the fresh green wine in the heat of the summer. He still looked good, although his ginger hair had thinned evidently. His somewhat round face was still handsome and lovely. His smile was almost the same. I recalled the day I was attracted by those little curves on his lips, when he opened his grin to me the first time. His eyes had lines drawn around them. I watched his face carefully, studying his movements and trying to figure out what he wanted from me... this time...

- I missed you, did you know that?

- No, I didn’t. What do you want from me now?

- Don’t be such a pain. We used to be so good together. We were friends.

- Exactly. We were friends… but then you left that friendship aside for a situation you did not even left a margin to fight for.

- How do you know I did not fight for?

- We could still have kept our friendship… Do you have any idea of how difficult it was to write those things so you would have your perfect life?

- You stated we had never been real friends…

- For the sake of your relationship. What else could I say? That we used to be friends but then we would not anymore? Please! Spare me!

He held my hand. I was so pissed off I was trembling. He waited until I stopped arguing and said in a very low voice:

- I really missed you. It was so difficult…

He stopped when he realised I was blank and my eyes were moist.

- I’m sorry.

- What do you want from me? You have taken everything away and now what? You come back as if nothing had happened and say you’re sorry. Am I supposed to forgive you?

- She was pregnant. It was our baby she was going to have. I would never be able to leave her. You know me.

- No. I don’t know you. I really have no idea who you really are.

- Fair enough.

He stopped for a while and then said, as if it was the most natural thing to say.

- We are not together anymore. We have broken up like civilized people, but cannot live as a couple anymore. The boy is with her.

- He looks so much like you.

- How do you know?

I stopped. That was not supposed to happen. I blushed. He noticed it.

- You’re so surprising. I did not mean to make you suffer, but try to understand…

I got so tired suddenly. I remembered how I tried so hard to understand, to accept and forget, but I could never do so. I have tried to suffocate all the things I felt, but it was so difficult. I said nothing else.

He held my hand in his and kissed my fingers. I tried to pull myself free from his grasp but he was strong and firm. He turned my hand around and kissed the palm of my hand with apparent tenderness.

My head was going dizzy…

Pássaros Azuis

- Acho que estou apaixonada.

- A sério?

Ela corou. Para mim, era ainda a menininha que eu vi crescer, que corria pela casa e que cantava as letras das canções inventadas por ela mesma, cada vez de um modo diferente e que nos deixava atônitos e a dar risadas, diante da esperteza dela…

- Bem sério!

- Ele é bom para ti? Te respeita e faz-te sentir bem?

Ela olhou-me séria, hesitou por um milésimo de segundo e respondeu.

- Sim.

- Então só posso apoiar-te, obviamente, meu amor.

Ela sorriu e me abraçou, sussurrando um ‘obrigada’ ao pé do ouvido, como se o meu apoio fosse fazer alguma diferença no que ela sentia ou queria. Certamente aliviaria uma carga emocional enorme, pela aprovação que ela queria, mas não poderia alterar seus sentimentos.

Ela beijou-me a face e saiu correndo pela porta afora, a caminho de ‘sei-lá-para-onde’… Fiquei a olhar a forma como ela parecia radiante. Quase flutuava, de tanta felicidade. Antes de sair pelo portão, ainda voltou-se e acenou-me um adeus engraçado, com um sorriso enorme estampado na face jovial. Eu sorri e acenei-lhe de volta, dando-me conta que ela havia, definitivamente, crescido e desabrochado. A juventude é mesmo uma fase maravilhosa da vida.

Fiquei a olhar o vazio no portão, depois que ela desapareceu na distância e a pensar na minha própria vida.

Atrás de mim, as palavras de uma canção conhecida a tocar, pareceu cutucar meu coração com uma certa crueldade, quase intencional. Minhas memórias estavam sempre tão associadas à música e às muitas canções significativas, que eu mal conseguia controlar minhas emoções, cada vez que ouvia alguma que havia, de alguma forma, marcado minha vida.

… I wish you, I wish you, I wish you all the best

    I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you, I’ll miss you not the least…*

***

- Pai?

- Diz…

- Quem foi o grande amor da tua vida?

A pergunta pegou-me desprevenido. Brinquei com a resposta, para ganhar algum tempo.

- Foi Ginger.

Ela deu uma gargalhada.

- Eu já devia esperar por esta resposta, mas falo sério. Ginger foi, sem dúvida um grande amor, mas eu falava de uma pessoa, não do gatinho.

- Ginger foi mais que um gatinho. Foi um grande companheiro, meu amor…

- Pai?

Eu sorri. Sabia que ela não ia desistir, sem receber uma resposta aceitável. Seus olhos pareciam duas grandes bolas de vidro escuro. Fingi que não percebi…

- Diz.

- Quem foi? De verdade, mesmo!

- Não sei se houve ‘o grande amor’ da minha vida…

- Oh! Mesmo? E a mãe?

Eu olhei a face séria da minha menina e respondi com sinceridade.

- Ela foi uma grande paixão, é verdade e deu-me a ti, que és o meu maior presente de vida. É certo que tive muitas outras paixões, mas para ser o grande amor, não pode ser uma coisa unilateral, não é mesmo?

- Não necessariamente. Se te fez sentir amado; se foi intenso; se te fez sonhar; se te fez sentir especial e, de alguma forma, uma pessoa melhor… Se soube trazer à tona o melhor de ti...

- Quanta sabedoria em uma criatura tão jovem…

Ela riu, meio sem jeito, com as faces enrubescendo ligeiramente. Eu reconheci que o tempo havia transformado aquela menininha em uma jovem e sábia mulher e agradeci aos céus por aquilo. Ela estava radiante e aquela felicidade fazia-a refulgir e contagiava a mim também.

Mas ela estava certa. Quem, além de nós mesmos, pode-nos fazer felizes, mesmo que por uns breves momentos? Não é este a verdadeiro sentido do amor: brotar e desabrochar de dentro para fora?

Havia aprendido, contudo, que nem os pequenos, nem os grandes amores sobrevivem à distância, ou à falta de reciprocidade, ou à mentira. Mais cedo ou mais tarde estas coisas vêm à tona e destroem o que de bom os sentimentos ainda possuem. As máscaras caem, as verdades aparecem, o tempo e a distância esfriam as ligações e os afetos vão-se desvanecendo, até o ponto em que o fio da ternura parte-se, para sempre e aquilo, que era tudo, passa a ser, apenas, mais uma ilusão destruída e convertida em dura e triste realidade e em uma quebra nas expectativas…

Pior ainda é quando o tal amor transforma-se em ódio ou desprezo, ou outro sentimento tão negativo quanto estes. Ao invés de nos sentirmos felizes pelo que foi, nos sentimos mal pelo que deixou de ser.

 

Como eu ia dizer à ela que meu coração teve muitas paixões muito intensas, mas que eu jamais poderia revelar que alguma vez existiram? Para todos os efeitos, foram ‘affairs’ que nunca aconteceram. Para todos os efeitos, foram paixões que só disseram respeito a mim e a mais ninguém… assim unilateralmente. Sad but true…

- Pois eu acho que este é o grande amor da minha vida.

- Fico feliz por ti, meu amor. Tenho certeza que só pode fazer-te bem. Parece até que viste um passarinho azul!

- É verde, pai! Passarinho verde!

Eu ri. Ela também. Aquela era uma piadinha que nós fazíamos. Uma ‘private joke’ só nossa.

- Meu amorzinho, nunca deixes as pessoas, que não sabem a tua história, interferirem na tua vida amorosa. A vossa vida só interessa a vocês e a mais ninguém…

- Eu sei, pai.

- E tenha cuidado para não te machucar. O coração vê através de óculos que a razão não usa.

Mesmo sabendo melhor que ninguém que uma pessoa apaixonada não ouve conselhos daqueles, por mais coerentes que possam ser, eu não pude furtar-me de dá-los.

Sabia que o que importava, realmente, era ouvir a voz do coração e viver intensamente… “Que seja eterno enquanto dure”, como dizia o poeta…

E como eu poderia saber se ela estava certa ou não, em definir aquele como “o” amor da sua vida, se não estava vivendo o que ela sentia? No fundo eu só queria que ela fosse feliz.

***

- Estás nervoso?

- Não! Tu?

- Um pouco preocupada.

- Eu compreendo. Mas não te preocupes. Ninguém vai notar se alguma coisa sair fora do teu plano. Faz parte do processo.

Ela pareceu absorver aquelas palavras com tranquilidade. O que acontecesse, não ia estragar o brilho daquele dia. Apenas as pessoas mais íntimas estavam presentes e não havia motivos para apreensões. A simplicidade e o carisma dela eram suficientes para fazê-la brilhar, mas ela talvez tivesse menos consciência daquilo, que eu mesmo tinha.

- Vai lá. Agora é encarar e ir em frente!

Ela ia, por assim dizer, marcar o dia de seu aniversário com uma decisão bastante importante e muito corajosa.

Quando ela voltou, vestida como se fosse para a ocasião mais marcante de sua vida, até então, parecia deslumbrante e nervosa, ao mesmo tempo. Tinha um brilho no olhar que não deixava dúvidas sobre o propósito daquela decisão.

Ao seu lado, o amor de sua vida sorria, com os dedos entrelaçados nos dela, tão deslumbrante quanto a minha menina.

As duas formavam um par excepcionalmente suave, belo e, ao mesmo tempo, forte e destemido.

Eu sorri, abri os braços e as duas encaixaram-se no meu abraço. Ao pé dos ouvidos delas, eu disse, baixinho:

- Vocês são duas deusas guerreiras! Sejam muito, muito felizes!

As duas me abraçaram e beijaram-me as faces. Estavam abençoadas.

O que viesse, dali, para frente, eram batalhas para as duas travarem juntas...

*( Benjamin Clementine's "The Movies Never Lie")

Acerca de Ana Maria (Parte 1 de 2)

- Ana Maria?

- É.

- É um bonito nome. Como ela é?

- Tem olhos esverdeados e cabelos castanho-claros, que lhe caem como uma cascata pelas costas. É tão cheia de vida, que me faz sentir que eu posso tudo, quando estou com ela.

- E podes… se quiseres…

- Só de pensar nela, eu me sinto tão bem… Ela é música e dança ao mesmo tempo.

- Estás mesmo apaixonado!

- Acho que sim. Eu penso nela o dia inteiro… o tempo todo…

- Estás irremediavelmente infectado. Não há vacina contra isso e a cura é difícil…

Ele riu. Eu também.

Era bom ver que havia crescido, tornando-se um homem responsável e bom e, agora, apaixonado pela menina Ana Maria. Só agora dei-me conta que o tempo passou tão rápido, que eu mal percebi. Há tão pouco tempo era apenas um menino a brincar com blocos de legos e bonecos de super-heróis com poderes sobre-humanos e a fazer-me perguntas sobre tudo. Agora, devo admitir, já é um ‘homem feito’, como dizia meu pai.

A imagem que me vinha à cabeça, quando o ouvia falar daquela forma, sobre o objeto de sua afeição, era de um passarinho que aprendera a voar e agora já podia abandonar o ninho e fazer seus voos solo.

Era engraçado, mas assustador, ao mesmo tempo.

Quando nasceu, confesso que senti uma emoção que não conseguia descrever. Parecia tão frágil e tão desprotegido, que comoveu-me completamente. Eu só queria ser o melhor provedor e o melhor exemplo para ele. Queria que ele sentisse orgulho de mim, num futuro, para o qual eu nem sabia como prepará-lo para enfrentar. Ao mesmo tempo, senti um amor tão grande, que minha vida deixou de ter importância, a não ser por ele. Quanta coisa eu poderia ensiná-lo e quanta coisa eu iria aprender com ele, no decorrer da sua história… da nossa história.

Tive um lampejo e uma dúvida que nunca ia conseguir responder: será que eu estava preparado?

Não estava. Sabia que não estava. O simples facto de olhar para ele, enquanto brincava, dormia, sorria ou chorava, já me enchia de emoções, que eu nunca iria saber como explicar. Com o tempo, deixei de tentar entender aquelas emoções… contentei-me com senti-las e deixá-las encher meu coração até transbordar…

Eu sabia que a vida não ia ser justa, às vezes, nem as pessoas, mas eu queria que ele tivesse, sempre, a oportunidade e o discernimento para tomar suas próprias decisões e que ele nunca tivesse motivos para arrependimento.

É claro que, por mais que desejasse, jamais iria conseguir protegê-lo de tudo. Ele ia ter que enfrentar muita coisa sozinho e eu devia prepará-lo, da melhor forma possível, mas não era um super-herói, nem um deus todo-poderoso... Era somente seu pai. Quando pensava naquilo, sentia-me tão pequeno e impotente, que doía-me a alma e meus olhos enchiam-se de lágrimas.

Ele cresceu saudável e deu-me muito poucos motivos para preocupações. Não foi o tipo de filho que eu fui. Não era rebelde, nem revoltado. Era uma criança tranquila e centrada, um menino sempre curioso e estudioso, perguntador e interessado em quase tudo que lhe passava à frente de seus olhos. Era, ao mesmo tempo, tímido e aventureiro, mas nunca demonstrava medos.  Assim como eu, ele adorava os animais e respeitava-os, como parte de nossas vidas. Passava tempos a observar o comportamento dos nossos gatos, de modo a compreender suas formas de comunicar suas necessidades e suas demonstrações de afeto. Era um rapaz muito perspicaz e atencioso e tinha um coração enorme, compassivo e muito generoso.

A tal menina Ana Maria tinha muita sorte e, se soubesse estimulá-lo a mostrar, sempre, o melhor lado dele, tinha tudo para ser muito feliz.

***

- Pai, essa é a Ana Maria.

Eu olhei para aquela criaturinha de pé, à minha frente, ao lado do meu filho tão cheio de si e visivelmente apaixonado e apreensivo. Via-se ambas as emoções contraditórias estampadas em sua face e olhos. Ele era tão transparente quanto eu.

A menina tinha olhos grandes, de uma tonalidade interessante de verde e longos cabelos a cair-lhe em cachos pelas costas. Bem como ele havia descrito e, talvez, muito mais agradável aos olhos que eu houvera imaginado, não sei por que motivo. Talvez por puro instinto de proteção à minha cria, havia avaliado mal a descrição que ele fizera da moça.

Era fácil ver a razão pela qual ele estava apaixonado. Além da beleza natural, ela emanava uma tranquilidade enorme. Senti uma ponta de ciúmes, mas também um alívio, ao perceber que os dois davam-se bem e, pelo jeito, estavam felizes.

Ao olhar para eles, assim, tão jovens e tão bem, eu não pude impedir de pensar em mim também e no meu futuro. Ainda tinha muita vida pela frente e tinha muitos planos e projetos, mas não contava com sua partida, ainda. Embora não fosse o que eles tivessem sequer mencionado, meu instinto de pai já fazia os filmes todos na minha cabeça. Já via-me a viver sozinho, com dois gatos a correr de um lado para o outro e um estúdio cheio de pinturas espalhadas por todo canto.

Será que me dariam netos, logo? Será que eu seria um bom avô? Eu tinha tanto receio de não corresponder às suas expectativas…

Alguns anos depois, eu, provavelmente, lembraria sorrindo dos dias em que temia o futuro deles e avaliaria que havia sido tão tolo quanto ingénuo. Assim como nós sobrevivemos, nossos filhos e netos também sobreviverão aos reveses que colocam-se em nossos caminhos. A vida é uma grande e eficiente mestra. Só nos dá aquilo que sabe que teremos força para suportar. Apesar de todos os receios, também não podia negar que as alegrias que eu recebera compensaram todas as noites em claro e os dias de vigília. Eu podia considerar-me um verdadeiro afortunado.

***

Respirar o ar da noite e o cheiro do mar era uma coisa que fazia-me bem, desde que eu era uma criança. Ficar um tempo sozinho a olhar o mar, mesmo sem ver direito o que se passava na escuridão à minha frente, ajudava-me a pensar e manter a sanidade. Era minha rotina, pouco antes de deitar... um tempo todo meu, para recarregar as baterias e centrar meus pensamentos e rever os acontecimentos do dia.

- Eu amo o mar. Dá-me uma tranquilidade tão grande!

- Eu também…

Eu virei-me e observei a moça que estava de pé na areia, com o olhar perdido em algum ponto muito longe, naquela imensidão escura e não tão silenciosa à nossa frente. A monotonia das ondas a baterem na praia era como um mantra hipnotizante e tranquilizador. Ela tinha razão e eu tinha que reconhecer. Aquela vasta massa de água a mover-se no seu incessante vai-e-vem, realmente, dava uma serenidade muito grande na gente…

Ao olhá-la, não sei por qual razão, imaginei-a como o próprio mar… mas desconfiava que havia mais mistério nela que podia-se ver a olho nu. O reflexo na superfície nunca mostra a profundidade do oceano, nem o que se esconde por baixo daquele manto de água em perpétuo movimento… 

- O que vocês estão fazendo aí, parados? Não me diga que tu também tens a mania de ficar na praia a olhar o mar, antes de ir deitar. Essa eu não sabia…

Ela riu. Eu também. Meu filho passou o braço pela cintura da moça e beijou-lhe a face. Ela recostou a cabeça no ombro dele e eu vi que era hora de deixar os dois a sós. Pedi licença, usando a desculpa de ser bastante tarde e estar cansado e deixei-os ali fora.

A casa ficava muito próxima à uma área da praia limitada por um agrupamento de rochas de cada lado e um pequeno caminho abria-se dos fundos do quintal até a areia fofa e branca, dando uma sensação de que aquele pedaço da praia era todo nosso.

Não demorou muito para os dois entrarem também, mas eu já havia-me retirado para o quarto e deitado, embora não tivesse conseguido adormecer imediatamente. Fiquei a olhar o teto, por uns tempos, ainda, com uma sensação estranha a inquietar-me a mente. Por alguma razão que eu não conseguia explicar, ficara com a impressão que havia alguma coisa nela que eu deveria conhecer melhor, mas não conseguia descobrir o que poderia ser…

O cansaço venceu-me, finalmente, depois de muito tempo, sem consolar-me o espírito…

***

- Tu estás vestido como ele, mas não és ele…

O grande animal não retrucou, mas tentou sorrir. Apesar de perceber que eu não era enganado facilmente, virou-se e continuou a caminhar nas duas pernas traseiras, como um humano, sem dar importância ao que eu havia falado. Era mais ou menos da minha altura e bem mais gordo que eu. Segui-o de perto, da praia até a porta da casa, observando como teve cuidado em parecer-se com Ginger, o gato, incluindo a cauda, que arrastava pelo chão coberto de velhos tijolos, dispostos em um mosaico simples, mas harmonioso. O pelo parecia haver sido costurado, muito justo, à volta do corpo, de modo a não parecer falso, mas eu sabia que não era natural, porque não havia brilho, nem vida, como numa cobertura original.

Quando chegou ao topo do lance de três estreitos degraus, ele virou-se, olhou-me e sorriu. Era um sorriso estranho, meio malicioso, que me intrigou, por parecer esconder uma má intenção ou algo que eu não sabia o que era, mas que não me deixava confortável.

Ele empurrou a porta e entrou.

Eu arregalei os olhos… e acordei…

- Sabia que havia alguma coisa errada!

***