Demon (Part 3 of 3)

I spent the day thinking about the possible meaning of that little message. My concentration got fuzzy from time to time and I could only have some flashes of memory about the previous night. Fortunately the daily tasks at work were enough to keep me busy without stopping me, however, of thinking from time to time on what could have happened.

I tried to organize, methodically, the little information that was hidden in my mind, as if trying to confuse me even more. I decided I had to make a careful trip in my memory and take some notes, so to organize the facts, but I ended up forgetting that I had taken that decision.

On my way home, I stopped at the take-away at the corner and bought myself some food. I did not want to cook. Moreover, I so much needed a good rest.

I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed the dark circles that surrounded my eyes. They seemed deeper than usual. Perhaps the exhaustion had caused me more than a simple change in my physical appearance. I thought it would be best to lie down and try to get some sleep, hoping maybe a good sleep would improve my memory and my appearance.

I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I had to try to remember how it all started. I fell asleep before even thinking of anything else.

***

I took the wrong direction, when turning around the corner in one of the corridors of the University campus. It was a mistake I used to make, so I decided to continue through the back corridors to get somewhere anyhow. My sense of direction had always been very poor. Apparently, my ability to choose lovers, too. I met many people: students, professors and general staff personnel, who did not pay much attention to me, because they were too busy with their own problems. I passed over the library and the bar, then took the direction of the restrooms, climbing a flight of few steps and going through a dark iron gate. I could only find the changing rooms with showers and went back to the hall, to try and find the loo. I went back down the same stairs and took a left and then a right exit. There was an entrance to a clearing, leading to the shady woods.

An old woman walked to me. She had dishevelled hair and walked half bent. She offered me something that I refused, but she laughed and told me that I should accept it. Then she gave me a small gift, placing it carefully in the palm of my hand.  I saw that there were some roots of very old trees, hanging down from the dark walls behind her. The sunlight came through a slot on the left, falling on her head, making her hair look whiter and her teeth darker. A worn and almost colourless woollen shawl, was wrapped around her shoulders. 

The woman smiled. She was not scary, in spite of that strange aspect she had. When she explained the reason of wanting to give me the little artefact, I felt a kind of relief.

- It is for protection. So you will never need to fear no evil. it will be useful... soon...

I thanked the woman, put the small gift in my coat pocket and left. She kept on watching me until I disappeared through one of the passageways that led me back to the classrooms. I completely forgot I needed to go to the bathroom. An insistent bell ringing in the distance caught my attention when I walked over a less sunny area in the complex of buildings of the university. 

I looked back to see if I was safe. Something in my subconscious was telling me to be careful. I put my hand in my pocket and realized I had not examined the small object with the attention I should.

The bell rang again, that time closer to me. When I turned around, I bumped into a person coming out of one of the rooms. If it was not for the arms that held me firmly, I would have crashed against his body with some violence, but the man had a quick reaction. Those green eyes then were fixed on mine and I felt a kind of unsettling dizziness. I was face to face with a man whose eyes disturbed me more than I expected. He grinned. The bell rang again. He released my arms and I felt I completely lost my balance and started to fall...

The sensation of falling, for a time longer than the expected caused me a strange discomfort in the stomach. I thought I was fainting. I tried to prevent myself from falling, using my hands, but could not. I felt my vision darken suddenly.

***

I screamed. I jumped out of the bed, in a state of complete distress, trying to protect me from the inevitable. I cursed the darkness when I realized what was happening.

- Damn! It was only a dream!

My body was sweaty and sore. The palm of my hand was sore too, probably because of the pressure of my own nails. My head was still uneasy. The alarm went on and on. I recognized that as the sound of the damn bell in my dream...

Then, as if a door had been opened, I remembered...

***

When we got to the hotel, my sobriety was still fully active. We stayed in silence almost all the time, roughly looking at each other in the elevator that looked too big for the two of us. I remember we called the reception and ordered a bottle of wine, as soon as we got in the room.

The phone rang then, and I found that sound rather unusual, but interesting at the same time. He told me it was his favourite song and sang some verses of it.

“Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь

  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть”…

(Yesli khochesh' idti, idi; yesli khochesh' zabyt', zabud'

Tol'ko znay, chto v kontse puti nikogda uzhe ne vernut...')*

He switched it off without answering it and turned all his attention to me. One thing that caused me a good impression about him, from the beginning, was that when he paid his attention, he definitely did it fully and completely. His green eyes scrutinize me from head to toe, before he touched me, making me feel as if he was undressing both my body and my soul... and it was a very strange feeling, I must confess, though not exactly uncomfortable. No one had ever been as considerate to me as he was at that moment in time.

The wine, which was delivered by the room service, was delicately dry and aromatically palatable. It quickly rose to my head, because I had an empty stomach. I could not even remember the last time I had had some meal that day. I've always had been very aware of how to control the level of alcohol in my blood, so I felt I should go easy on the booze. He noticed it and slowed down too, politely. Being drunk would definitely spoil the purpose of that meeting and we knew it.

***

My phone rang, making my concentration dissipate instantly and immediately. I got carried away by those memories and forgot completely I had a meeting at work very early in the morning.  I was already late and people got worried because I had never been late for a meeting before. I had to run. At least, things were getting clearer, though not completely... yet... in my memory...

***

The meeting went on smoothly, in spite of my delay, for which I had to apologize a million times, feeling guilty for my lack of responsibility to the commitments assumed. I must have shown a very sickly face, because it was soon pushed aside and the meeting continued to its end without further mishaps.

Early in the afternoon, when I left for lunch and needed my wallet, I came again across the little message, written with the strange and familiar handwriting, that had me intrigued so much. I had to unveil that madness, for once and for all, before I lost my already unsettled mind.

Blessed internet that offers us possibilities to research everything and to translate what we do not know, even being in a completely unknown idiom. I found a language tool and tried to reproduce the Cyrillic characters the best I could, with the ones that closer resembled those written in the little message laying on my desk. I changed it to another research tool and found out, after a few attempts, that it was part of a song, which had been very successful a few years before. Then I translated the short message, recognizing it, immediately. My curiosity sometimes goes to extremes.

The words danced in front of my eyes and then the pieces fell into their right places in my head.

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь

  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть... "*

("If you want go, go; if you want to forget, forget

  But be aware that, at the end of the road, there is no turning back... ")

***

When he undressed me the other night, the lights in the hotel room were still on. I let him explore my body, with the same attention he had shown in the car, a few minutes before. He was an expert and I gave myself in, without fear, to his touch.

He was still wearing a white cotton tank top, quite tight to his athletic body, while we were in the preliminaries. I lifted the garment and started exploring his pale torso, which was not excessively toned, but it was beautiful nonetheless. He turned the main light off and left only one of the lamps lit by the bedside. In the dim light, I stripped him of the last piece of clothing and kissed him in the chest, neck and mouth. My hands caressed his back and I had the feeling of having touched something I did not expect.

I ran my fingers, very gently, on what seemed to me to be two scars. I felt his muscles tensed. I turned his body to the side so I could see better. He tried to stop me from exploring that, using some tricks, but I insisted, forcing him to turn around and he finally gave up.

There were two scars, maybe the size of a hand, one on each side of his back, just below the shoulder height. From each of them, very detailed wings were tattooed.

The seriousness with which I looked at them, in the poorly lit room, made him react immediately.

- I did not want you to panic when seeing them...

- Should I be afraid?

- No. Do not be. This is now part of my past only....  Do not ask anything else, please...

He turned out the light and held me, kissing me with a passion that seemed to border some despair. I let myself go for it, this time, completely.

Inside, I had the feeling that a fire ignited and burned all my body up, for all time, that very night... until I fell asleep in complete exhaustion.

I had the vague impression to have seen him leaving the room, still the middle of the night, but I was not really sure.

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь...

  (If you want to go, go; if you want to forget, forget)... *

***

After remembering and understanding what had happened, I tried to contact him by telephone, for days, but without success. I always ended up in the message box, but I hung up without saying anything. I did not want to leave him messages. I wanted to talk to him; to hear his voice. Maybe he was trying to avoid me or needed some time and space. Maybe I had crossed the barrier of curiosity, when I insisted on seeing the scars on his back... I would never know...

In his absence, missing him and thinking a lot about him, many times a day, I heard that song over and over and over again, feeling extremely touched every time I heard those chords.

That young demon, with pale skin and light eyes, had led me to temptation and won not only my body but also my soul, which then began to burn with passion for him. I had not much that was mine, really... besides the soul that was corrupted by some deadly sins and uncontrolled weakness...

In essence, he was not really a demon: he was just a fallen angel, devoid of his wings, but not disallowed from flying. And I must confess that I missed him... I missed him a lot, to be honest...

***

He'd gone over a week since we had our last meeting. I had received no sign of him since then whatsoever. With a little sadness filling my heart, I decided to give up trying to re-contact him.

On Friday night I was reading in the bedroom, when the doorbell rang.

- Who can it be, this time of the night?

I got up almost automatically and without thinking and walked to the door. I looked through the peephole and saw that there was a man standing, with his bald head slightly lowered. I opened the door and came across my fallen angel standing in front of me.

- It was not easy to find this address...

I did not know whether to laugh or cry. I simply pulled him inside and closed the door. He hugged me, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks and a funny smile.

- Why this smile and this blush?

- I've missed you...

- Oh, have you?

He smiled again, awkwardly. I laughed at the way he looked and acted like a shy boy, perhaps by pretending, perhaps by charm, or even feeling really gauche. I pressed his body against mine, with extreme tenderness. I whispered my mind and heart:

- You have no idea how much I missed you too...

He held me tighter, then ran his hand on my neck and kissed me. His fingers played with the metallic texture hanging around my neck.

- What is this?

He was referring to the hanging pendant on a silver chain, which was not there the first time we were together. The strange little silver cross, which I had found on the bedside table, remarkably, was the same the old woman had given me in the dream and I had no idea how it ended up in my room.

I had a delicate and very fine silver chain, which had been given to me, as a child, by my mother and that I kept in a box, with great care, in a drawer. I decided to use it to match with the small talisman. I did not want to reveal the true meaning of wearing a Russian Orthodox cross, hanging around my neck, so I lied both by fear and to make sure I was in no danger, being with him. I felt I should protect myself, anyway, for good or for bad.

- I think it is beautiful. It is silver.

- Yes, it's beautiful...very beautiful...

He touched the little artefact and kissed me again. I breathed relieved, being sure, then, that my apprehension was totally unfounded.

- I missed  you so much. I think I fell in love with you.

- You think? But you should not fall in love so inadvertently with a complete stranger...

- Among what I should, what I want, what I feel and what I like, there is a distance of many thousand kilometres ...

- I thought a lot before coming after you. I tried to avoid it. I also fought my own demons and insecurities, but I realized that one cannot avoid the inevitable.

- Well... If it is inevitable...

In my mind, a song repeated, endlessly, the refrain that had confused my head for days and that seemed to make much sense at that moment.

No, I neither wanted to go nor did I ever want to forget... anything... again...

"Если хочешь идти, иди; если забыть хочешь, забудь

   Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть ...”

("If you want to go, go; if you want to forget, forget it;

 Just know that, at the end of the road, there is no turning back... ") *

***

* From:  Филипп Киркоров - Снег 

                (Phillip Kirkorov - Sneg)

Demon (Parte 3 de 3)

Passei o dia a pensar no verdadeiro significado daquela pequena mensagem. Minha concentração fugia de vez em quando e eu apenas tinhas uns flashes de memória sobre a noite passada. Felizmente as atribuições do dia, no trabalho, foram suficientes para manter minha mente ocupada por bastante tempo, sem impedir-me, entretanto, de pensar, de vez em quando, no ocorrido. 

Tentei organizar, metodicamente, as poucas informações que vinham e iam, como se tentassem confundir-me ainda mais. Decidi que tinha de fazer uma cuidadosa viagem na memória e tomar alguns apontamentos, para organizar os factos, mas acabei por esquecer que havia tomado aquela decisão.

A caminho de casa, passei no Take-Away da esquina e comprei uma refeição pronta. Não tinha ânimo para cozinhar. Além do mais, precisava muito descansar.

Mirei meu rosto no espelho. Estranhei as olheiras que circundavam meus olhos. Pareciam mais profundas que o habitual. Talvez o cansaço causara-me mais do que uma simples mudança na aparência física. Achei melhor deitar-me e tratar de dormir um pouco. Quem sabe o sono fosse melhorar minha memória e minha aparência. 

Fechei os olhos e tentei relaxar. Precisava tentar lembrar como aquilo havia começado. Adormeci, antes mesmo de conseguir pensar em mais nada.

***

Tomei a direção errada, num dos corredores aos fundos da Universidade. Já era usual errar aquele caminho, por isso decidi continuar pelo lado de fora, para chegar a algum lugar. Meu senso de direção sempre fora muito pobre. Pelo jeito, minha habilidade para escolher amantes, também. Passei por muitas pessoas, alunos, professores, funcionários, que não prestavam muita atenção a mim, por estarem muito ocupados com seus próprios problemas. Passei pela entrada da biblioteca, pelo bar, tomei a direção das casas de banho, subindo um lance de poucos degraus, por uma entrada, que era protegida por um portão de ferro escuro. Não achei muito, além dos balneários com duches e voltei para o corredor, para tornar a procurar. Desci as mesmas escadas que havia subido e tomei uma saída à direita, depois, novamente, à esquerda. Havia uma entrada para uma clareira, que levava à uma espécie de bosque, que pareceu-me meio sombrio. 

Uma mulher veio falar comigo. Era muito velha, com cabelos desalinhados e andava meio curvada. Ofereceu-me algo, que eu não quis aceitar, mas ela riu e disse-me que eu devia receber. Deu-me o pequeno presente na palma da mão. Atrás dela, eu via que haviam as raízes de árvores muito antigas, a cair por um barranco escuro e bastante alto. Um raio de luz do sol entrava pela esquerda, caindo sobre a cabeça dela, fazendo seus cabelos brancos parecerem mais brancos e seus dentes mais escuros. Um xale de lã trançada, já gasto pelo uso e quase sem uma cor muito definida, caia-lhe pelos ombros. A mulher sorria. Não era assustadora, porém, apesar do aspeto que tinha. Quando explicou a razão de querer dar-me o dito presente, senti uma espécie de alívio.

- É uma proteção. Assim não precisas temer nenhum mal. Vai-te ser útil… em breve…

Eu agradeci à mulher, coloquei o pequeno artefacto no bolso do casaco e saí. Ela ficou a olhar-me desaparecer por um dos outros corredores. Eu já nem ao menos lembrava que precisava ir à casa de banho. Uma sineta a tocar, insistente, ao longe, chamou-me a atenção, quando passei por uma área menos ensolarada do complexo de prédios da cidade universitária. Olhei para trás, para ver se estava em segurança. Algo em meu subconsciente dizia-me que tomasse cuidado. Coloquei a mão no bolso e percebi que não havia examinado o pequeno objeto com o cuidado que devia.

A sineta voltou a tocar, agora mais perto de mim. Quando voltei-me, dei um encontrão numa pessoa que saía de uma das salas. Se não fosse pelos braços que me seguraram, firmemente, teria embatido contra o seu corpo com alguma violência, mas o homem havia sido rápido. Aqueles olhos verdes, então, fixaram-se nos meus e eu senti uma espécie de vertigem inquietante. Estava frente a frente com um homem, cujos olhos perturbavam-me mais que eu esperava. Ele sorriu largamente. A sineta tocou mais uma vez. Ele soltou meus braços completamente e eu senti que perdi o equilíbrio e comecei a cair… 

A sensação de cair, por um tempo maior que o espectado, causou-me um desconforto estranho no estômago. Pensei estar desmaiando. Tentei amenizar a queda, usando as mãos, mas não consegui. Senti minha visão escurecer, repentinamente.

***

Eu gritei. De um salto levantei-me da cama, em estado de aflição, tentando proteger-me do inevitável. Excomunguei a escuridão, ao perceber o que acontecia.

- Droga! Foi só um sonho!

Meu corpo estava suado e dolorido. A palma da minha mão também estava dolorida, provavelmente marcada pelas minhas próprias unhas. Minha cabeça ainda estava intranquila. O despertador tocava sem parar. Reconheci aquele como o som da maldita sineta, no sonho...

Então, como se uma porta tivesse sido aberta, comecei a lembrar…

***

Quando chegamos ao hotel, minha sobriedade ainda estava totalmente ativa. Subimos em quase silêncio total, quase sem nos olharmos, no elevador que parecia enorme para nós os dois. Lembro-me de termos ligado para o bar e pedido uma garrafa de vinho, assim que chegamos ao quarto.

O telefone dele tocou, em seguida, e eu achei o toque bastante inusitado, mas interessante, ao mesmo tempo. Ele disse-me que era sua canção favorita e cantarolou um pouquinho.

“Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь
  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть”…

(Yesli khochesh' idti, idi; yesli khochesh' zabyt', zabud'
Tol'ko znay, chto v kontse puti nikogda uzhe ne vernut...')*

Desligou o fone, sem atender e voltou sua atenção a mim. Uma coisa que me causou uma boa impressão a seu respeito, desde o começo, foi que quando dava-me atenção, ele, definitivamente, o fazia por inteiro. Seus olhos verdes escrutinavam-me na totalidade, fazendo-me sentir como se ele desnudasse não somente meu corpo, mas também minha alma… e era uma sensação muito estranha, devo confessar, embora não fosse exatamente desconfortável. Que eu lembrasse, nunca alguém havia sido tão presente como ele estava sendo naquele momento.

O vinho, que foi-nos trazido pelo serviço de quarto, era delicadamente seco e aromaticamente palatável. Subiu rápido à minha cabeça, porque eu estava com o estômago vazio. Nem lembrava há quanto tempo eu havia-me alimentado naquele dia. Eu sempre tive muita consciência de como controlar o nível de álcool no corpo, por isso senti que devia ir devagar com a bebida. Ele percebeu meu cuidado e manteve a linha, educadamente. Não devíamos deixar que o efeito esperado fosse o contrário da verdadeira intenção. Uma embriaguez ia estragar, definitivamente, o intuito daquele encontro.

***

Meu telefone tocou, fazendo com a minha concentração dissipasse instantânea e imediatamente. Havia perdido a hora do trabalho e tinha uma reunião cedo, que já havia começado. Como não costumava atrasar-me ou perder a hora, ligaram-me preocupados. Tinha que correr. Pelo menos, as coisas começavam a ficar mais nítidas, embora não completamente… ainda… na minha memória…

***

A reunião transcorreu normalmente, apesar do meu atraso, pelo qual tive que desculpar-me um milhão de vezes e que encheu-me de culpa, pela falta de responsabilidade da minha parte, com os compromissos assumidos. Devo ter mostrado um semblante muito doentio, porque o assunto foi logo deixado de lado e a reunião continuou sem mais percalços até seu fim.

Ao fim da manhã, quando saí para o almoço e precisei da carteira, deparei, novamente, com a pequena mensagem, que havia-me intrigado, escrita com a caligrafia estranha e conhecida. Precisava resolver aquela pendência, com urgência, ou enlouqueceria.

Bendita internet que nos oferece possibilidades de pesquisar tudo e até traduzir aquilo que não conhecemos, mesmo estando em línguas completamente desconhecidas. Encontrei uma ferramenta de idiomas, com os caracteres cirílicos e tentei copiá-los, com os que mais se pareciam com aqueles do papel desdobrado ali, à minha frente, na escrivaninha de trabalho. Converti para uma outra ferramenta de pesquisa e descobri, depois de algumas tentativas, quando fui mais a fundo, que aquela era parte de uma canção, que havia feito muito sucesso há alguns atrás. Traduzi, então, a pequena mensagem, que soou-me conhecida, quando sonorizada. Minha curiosidade, às vezes, vai a extremos.

As palavras dançaram à minha frente e então as peças encaixaram-se todas, na minha cabeça.

“Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь

 Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть...”*

("Se quiseres ir, vá; se quiseres esquecer, esqueça

 Mas fique sabendo que, no fim da estrada, não há como voltar atrás...")

***

Quando ele despiu-me, na outra noite, as luzes ainda estavam acesas. Deixei-o explorar meu corpo, com o cuidado que ele demonstrara dentro do carro, alguns minutos antes. Ele era exímio e eu entreguei-me, sem medo, às suas carícias.

Ele havia mantido uma singlet branca vestida, bastante ajustada ao corpo, enquanto estávamos nas preliminares. Eu comecei a levantar o tecido, para explorar o torso atlético, que não era exatamente tonificado, mas era bonito mesmo assim. Ele apagou a luz principal e deixou-nos, apenas, com um dos abajures da cabeceira aceso. Na penumbra, eu livrei-o da última peça de roupa e beijei-o no peito, no pescoço e na boca. Minhas mãos acariciaram suas costas e eu tive a sensação de haver tocado algo, que não esperava. Passei os dedos, muito suavemente, pelo que me pareceram ser duas cicatrizes. Senti que seus músculos ficaram tensos. Forcei seu corpo para o lado, para que pudesse ver melhor. Ele tentou impedir-me de ver, usando alguns artifícios, mas eu insisti, forçando-o a virar-se e ele, por fim, cedeu. 

Haviam duas cicatrizes, talvez do tamanho de um palmo, sendo que cada uma estava posicionada de um lado das costas, um pouco abaixo da altura dos ombros. Partindo de cada uma delas, haviam duas pequenas asas, com desenhos muito bem definidos, tatuadas ao lado de cada uma das cicatrizes.

A seriedade com que eu olhei para aquilo, examinando cuidadosamente, na penumbra do quarto, fê-lo reagir.

- Eu não queria que visses e te assustasses…

- Devo ter medo?

- Não. Não tenhas. Isto já está resolvido… há muito tempo.

Apagou a luz e puxou-me para si, beijando-me com uma paixão que pareceu-me beirar o desespero e eu deixei-me levar por ele, desta vez, completamente.

Por dentro, eu tinha a sensação que um fogo inflamava-se e queimava-me o corpo todo, por todo o tempo, naquela noite… até que eu adormeci, em completa exaustão.

Tive a vaga impressão de havê-lo ver sair, pela porta, ainda a meio da madrugada, mas não tinha certeza.

“Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь... (Se quiseres ir, vá; se quiseres esquecer, esqueça)…*

***

Após lembrar e compreender o que havia-se passado, tentei contactá-lo, por telefone, por dias, mas sem sucesso. A ligação ia sempre para a caixa de mensagens, mas eu desligava, sem dizer nada. Não queria deixar-lhe mensagens. Queria falar com ele; ouvir sua voz. Mas, ao invés disso, ou ele tentava evitar-me, ou precisava de tempo e espaço. Teria eu ultrapassado a barreira da curiosidade, quando insisti em ver as cicatrizes em suas costas? Talvez…

Na sua ausência, com saudades e a pensar nele, muitas vezes ao dia, eu ouvia aquela canção vezes e vezes, repetidamente, emocionando-me, cada vez que a ouvia.

Aquele jovem demônio, de pele pálida e olhos claros, havia-me levado à tentação e ganhara não só meu corpo, como também a minha alma, que, então passou a arder de paixão por ele. Eu já não tinha muito que fosse meu, de verdade… além da alma corrompida por alguns pecados capitais e pela fraqueza incontrolada…

No fundo, ele não era, realmente, um demónio: era apenas um anjo caído, desprovido de suas asas, mas não impedido de voar. E eu devo confessar que sentia falta dele… muita falta dele, para falar a verdade…

***

Havia-se passado mais de uma semana, desde que nos encontráramos e não havia recebido nenhum sinal dele. Acabei pior desistir de tentar voltar a contatá-lo, com um pouco de tristeza. Na sexta-feira, à noite, estava a ler, no quarto, quando a campainha tocou.

- Quem poderá ser, à esta hora?

Levantei-me, meio sem pensar e fui até a porta. Espiei pelo olho mágico e vi que havia um homem parado, com a cabeça calva levemente abaixada. Abri, num ímpeto e deparei com meu anjo caído, parado, de pé, na minha frente.

- Não foi fácil descobrir este endereço…

Eu não sabia se ria ou se chorava. Simplesmente puxei-o para dentro. Ele abraçou-me, tentando esconder o rubor nas faces e um sorriso, que eu não consegui distinguir bem do que se tratava.

- Por que este sorriso e este rubor?

- Tive saudades…

Eu achei engraçada aquela forma de pronunciar a palavra ‘saudade’. Soava-me como ‘sôdade’, que era uma forma muito regional de falar.

- Ah, foi?

Ele sorriu, novamente, tão ou mais desajeitado que antes. Eu ri da forma como ele pareceu-me um menino tímido, talvez por fingimento, talvez por charme, ou até mesmo por sentir-se mesmo desajeitado. Apertei seu corpo contra o meu, com ternura extrema. Levei a boca perto do ouvido dele e sussurrei:

- Estás há muito tempo neste país. Já falas com sotaque nativo.

Ele fez um muxoxo e apertou-me mais contra si. Passou a mão no meu pescoço, quando beijou-me. Seus dedos brincaram com a textura metálica à volta do meu pescoço.

- O que é isso?

Ele referia-se ao pingente pendurado em um fio de prata, que não estava ali, na primeira vez em que estivemos juntos. A pequena e estranha cruz de prata, que eu havia encontrado sobre a mesinha de cabeceira, extraordinariamente, era a mesma que a velha mulher havia-me dado no sonho e eu não tinha ideia de como fora parar no meu quarto.

Eu tinha um fiozinho delicado e muito fino, que havia-me sido dado pela minha mãe, em criança e que eu guardava numa caixinha, com muito carinho, dentro de uma gaveta. Achei conveniente usá-la por combinar com o pequeno amuleto. Não quis revelar o verdadeiro intuito de estar a usar uma cruz ortodoxa russa, pendurada ao pescoço, por isso, menti, por receio e para ter certeza que não corria nenhum perigo, estando com ele. Pelo sim, pelo não, senti que devia proteger-me, mesmo assim.

- Achei bonito. É de prata.

- Sim, é bonito… muito bonito…

Ele tocou o pequeno berloque e eu respirei, com um grande alívio, sabendo que minha apreensão era totalmente descabida.

- Senti tanto a tua falta. Acho que apaixonei-me por ti.

- Achas? Mas não deves apaixonar-te assim, inadvertidamente, por um estranho…

- Entre o que devo, o que eu quero, o que sinto e o que eu gosto, existe uma distância de muitos mil quilómetros…

- Pensei muito antes de vir atrás de ti. Tentei evitar. Também lutei contra meus próprios demónios e inseguranças, mas percebi que não se pode evitar o inevitável.

- Shh… Se é inevitável…

Na minha cabeça, uma canção repetia, sem parar, o estribilho que havia confundido-me, por dias e que, agora, parecia fazer muito sentido. Não, eu não queria ir; nem queria, jamais, esquecer…

“Если хочешь идти, иди; если хочешь забыть, забудь

  Только знай, что в конце пути никогда уже не вернуть...”

("Se quiseres ir, vá; se quiseres esquecer, esqueça;

 Mas fique sabendo que, no fim da estrada, não há como voltar atrás...")*

***

* De:  Филипп Киркоров - Снег (Phillip Kirkorov - Sneg)

Demon (Part 2 of 3)

- Are you afraid?

- I am.

- Of what? Of me?

- I will not answer that. It's not very fair...

He looked at me with an almost irresistible pleading expression. I felt I had to tell him what was going on in my mind...

- Sometimes I'm afraid of my own demons ... I must not be doomed for that, however, must I?

- There’s no need for fear. Relax and let yourself go. I have no intention of causing you any harm.

- I wish it was that easy...

He chuckled. It was not sarcasm, however. It seemed to be more for complacency than anything else. Maybe he wanted me to feel more comfortable anyway. I knew, however, how hard it was to make myself at ease.

- Close your eyes.

- No way...

- Do not be afraid. I will not hurt you. I just want you to relax a bit. Come on.

I obeyed, in spite of the apprehension I felt. He touched my face, very lightly. I opened my eyes. He touched my eyelids very softly and made me close them again.

- Shh... Calm down. Do not think of anything bad. I will not do anything you do not want.

(‘That was the problem. What if I wanted it all? What if I wanted nothing at all? What if I lose control? Oh, God!’)

He touched my cheeks, then rubbed his warm fingertips on my earlobes, up my neck, and with the fingers through my hair, he slowly massaged my scalp. Then he pulled my head a little backwards. I felt the heat of his soft lips on my forehead, my eyes, my face and finally on the corner of my mouth, brushing my lips, very lightly. I moaned. He kissed me very softly, almost not touching my lips, which moved to respond to his touch.

- Shh... just let me kiss you.. Do not do anything... yet...

His voice was a whisper and I hardly discerned the words, but understood the intention behind them. He kissed my chin, neck and chest, then unbuttoned my shirt and pulled the fabric slightly to the side. Goose bumps covered all the extension of my skin. He sought one of the most sensitive parts of my body, which was already waiting for the heat of his mouth and, not surprisingly, the tip of his tongue. He played there for a short while. He then opened a few more buttons and kissed me a bit further down, turned a little in the exploration and kissed me above and below the navel, moving down slowly, rubbing my skin with his soft beard and causing me some strange sensations. Every inch of my body was on alert, waiting for him to come further down, but instead, he started do come up, kissing me through an imaginary line drawn to the centre of my body, all the way up to my mouth, in what seemed to me a time lag so hard to know whether it had been too long or too short.

His mouth was warm and his extremely soft lips were pressing onto mine and, that time, allowing me to respond to their tepid contact. He did not force more than that superficial touch and then he moved his mouth up to my ear, whispering the words I already knew I was going to hear.

- Are you still afraid?

- I am...

He embraced me tenderly, allowing me to feel the warmth of his body and waited until I wrapped my arms around his body and relaxed. He then spoke again, very kindly.

- Do not be...

He looked me in the eyes as his hands buttoned back the shirt he had opened a few minutes before. He kissed my eyes and then my hands.

- Shall we go?

- Yes, please.

He turned the engine on and drove in silence along the seaside avenue. The ocean was like a huge black cloak, shouting at me in a language I did not understand, words I could not tell whether they were of alertness or of incentive. My mind was a complete mess, in a whirlwind of feelings, doubts and questions. He said no more than a few words all the way. Me neither.

When he left the avenue and took the direction of a region that was not where we started, initially, I did not question anything, did not make any comment, nor protested whatsoever. I pressed my hands against each other in a kind of discomfort and looked out.

He put his hand over mine and smiled, saying nothing. I tried to smile. Fortunately there was just a little light in the car except when we passed by the street lighting, which would gradually and constantly, give flashes of the strange faint expression, still stamped on my face.

***

A ray of sunlight coming in through a gap between the drapes hit hard my face and eyes. I tried to concentrate on what was around me. My head was spinning and I was not really sure where I was. Although my head hurt, I tried to focus my eyes on the surroundings. It was then that I realized where I was and could recognize the room and the bed in which I was.

A knock on the door woke me up completely and at once. I got up hastily and went to the door, opening it widely straightaway. The maid looked at me with a funny expression, trying to look away from my naked body.

- May I arrange the room?

- Um... Sure... Come in.

I hurried into the first door and locked it. I urgently needed a shower. I still could not think of last night's details. I opened the tap and went into the warm water, trying to rescue pieces of myself while soaping my body with energy.

('Good God,' I thought. 'What have I done?')

- Will you need more towels?

- Huh? No, thank you. I'm already leaving.

When I opened the door I had the towel wrapped around my body. I hurried into the bedroom, while the maid entered the bathroom to finish her chores. I hastened to dress and leave, before having another meeting with the cleaning woman, who was whispering a song while she changed towels, toiletries and mopped the floor. I slammed the door behind me and went to the reception. The bill was already paid. The breakfast was still being served, on the side of the reception hall, but I decided to leave without eating.

My stomach was not well and my head still hurt quite a lot. At the door, I called a taxi to take me back home, trying to concentrate in recovering the very fuzzy details in my memory, despite having passed only a few hours since we had come to that place.

(‘Concentrate! What have you done?’)

I closed my eyes. I needed to remember. I could not recall having had any kind of blackout like that ever before in my life.

‘What was preventing me to remember?’ I asked myself over and over, but could not find any answer.

We arrived at my destination, without my noticing the way we had come through. The taxi driver told me the fare and I rushed to reach the wallet from my pocket to pay him. Along with the few notes in the front compartment, I noticed there was a folded piece of paper with the hotel's letterhead, which I was absolutely sure not to have placed it there. I paid the man and crossed the wide sidewalk.

My hand was tucked in my coat pocket, holding firmly the folded parchment. My anxiety was preventing me to think logically. The damn elevator was probably stuck in some floor and took forever to come down, as if to make fun of my despair and confusion. I tried hard not to show any apprehension to the other people standing in front of the metallic sliding doors.

When I finally entered the apartment, I urged to take my hand out of the pocket and unfold the paper. There was a small message written in a calligraphy that I already knew. My eyes fell on the letters and the words, which did not seem to make much sense at first glance.

- What the hell...!?