domingo, 20 de setembro de 2015

Of Sea and Men (Epilogue)


The opened door did not seem to be a good sign to the fisherman, who was still wary by the dream he had a few weeks before. He put his coat on and ran out of the door in a desperate rush. He could not even tell if his reaction was protective or defensive; if it were either a fear of losing or at the same time, of being alone...

He could hardly feel his feet trampling the soft wet sand nor could he sense the adrenaline running fast in his body, as he hastened along the beach, feeling the anguish upsurge exponentially within. In his mind, he could only think of the worse. And the worst was inconceivable to him at the time.

It was still dawning and the cool breeze, mixed with a dense fog, quite common at that time of the year, passed almost unnoticed by the man’s troubled mind, whose eyes, more carefully than his feet, scrutinized the waterfront with extreme and meticulous attention. The visibility was precarious due to the poor daylight and fog, but he was moved by a force which led him not to give up until he found the boy.

Up ahead, he discerned the outlined silhouette of his friend, sitting on a rock by the cliff. The mixed emotions of relief and urgency blended into his chest while he ran in that direction.

- You gave me such a huge fright, young man. I thought the worst had happened.

- I’m sorry for that. I had to think a little bit about everything that happened recently. Being here gives me a sense of security and broadens the horizons. I try to think outside the box... and it's not easy... My life will take a twist very soon and I have to make the right decisions.

- I see. We were caught in surprise, were we not?

- Certainly. It's all a little too fanciful to me right now and I have to think seriously about what to do.

- That night I told you I had a strange dream, I was quite apprehensive. I dreamed you were trying to commit suicide, drowning in the sea. I could not buy that story of the witness who saw you being assaulted and thrown into a car. When I saw that the door was open and you were not lying on the couch, I could only recall my dream... or nightmare... and think that it became real somehow. I confess I was afraid...

- Not so fast, my friend... I also had a very peculiar dream that night, you know...

The boy told him, in detail, the dream he had weeks before. The fisherman found it much more credible than the "evidence" informed by the police. In a way it kind of corroborated the presence of the man dressed in black.

- Do you think my memory, by some means, brought that fact to my mind? Or was it too coincidental?

- Anything is possible, my friend. Everything is possible in this story. I wish your memory recovered to end up with this mystery, but at the same time, I am afraid of what you'll remember and what will happen next. But you have to go ahead, no matter what you'll discover.

- Don’t be afraid. We will not stop being friends, regardless of what I will remember... I will not be able to shut my life down to what happened this time I am living on this island. I may be young... much younger than you, to tell the truth, but I am not ungrateful or stupid and do not take things for granted.

- I have never thought something in this regard, my friend. You know how much I care about you.

The boy looked at the man sitting next to him, facing the sea vastness and smiled. He patted the hand of his protector and said:

- Let's go back? We have much to do. The sea awaits us...

- You do not need to help me in the sea labours anymore. You know that.

- But I want to... one more time, at least. Tomorrow I must return to the mainland, and from then on, I do not know what will happen to me. But it's necessary to go on…

***

- I'm glad you came. Are you ready? We should go soon...

The man, dressed in black and wearing a very discreet but elegant dark blue silk tie with a small logo printed, possibly of the firm where he worked at, seemed to be in his early forties. He had the body shape of whom spent many hours in the gym and weight lifting. It would not be a surprise that he was also an expert in martial arts and personal defence or carry a gun on himself. After all, he was the head of security of a company whose founder’s bastard son had mysteriously disappeared, some time before, not long after his father recognize him as such.

The Chief of Security had come to the island on the morning ferry, along with the doctor and, like the week before, with a single interest: to bring the boy to the mainland and undergo a revolutionary new treatment for memory recovery, specially developed and designed for those people who had it lost in traumatic situations.

According to him, the young man had a Q.I. well above average and an immense sensory capacity, as well as an exceptional knack for investment analysis and a flair to work with computer programs. His skills had brought much profit to the company’s entrepreneurs and investors. For these and other reasons, it was interesting for the Administration to invest in his recovery and have him return to the business world as shortly as possible.

The deal was the boy be ready in a week’s time from the first visit of the chief of Security, who had been designated responsible for identifying the "survivor", who had been recognized by pamphlets that the police had distributed across the country. He was carrying documents and a series of photographs, that supported the authentication. When the boy came in, accompanied by the fisherman, he was showing documentary evidence to the doctor, who admitted they were very well supported and evident.

- I cannot recognize myself in these photos. That's not me. Or rather... that young man has nothing to do with me whatsoever. I am thinking of studying, graduate and make my life. I want to study Oceanography and deepen my IT knowledge, which seems to be my expertise. I want to associate the two fields in a career...

- You must come back to work with us. You'll have everything you want, supported by the firm and by your father. He anxiously waits for you. The company needs your services... and the sooner the better.

- But I do not want to go back to the company this way... I want to recover the memory, yes, but I have other plans. If the company does not want to invest in me in these terms - which is understandable - no problem. My life is no longer focused in that direction. I want to decide for myself...

- And how can you support this decision? You do not have financial conditions to do so. We can provide you everything you desire. At least until you can get enough to endure a change. Until then, you need a decent job. I do not think an old fishing boat can be your source of livelihood for a long time. Your father would never forgive you...

- I don't know the man you state as being my father. I don't know the company. I know nothing beyond the old fishing boat... which, after all, gave me all I have now... I don't want to go back to the life I had and of which I know nothing about, nor do I have any recollection whatsoever.

- I've come though this previously... Before you disappeared, you had already showed intentions to leave the company. It was a great disappointment to your father, my boss, and a problem for all of us. Let's stop this chit-chat and leave before the ferry departs without us.

The man dressed in black firmly grabbed the boy's arm, which seemed quite odd to the other two men. The boy pulled his arm off the other man’s grip, freeing himself up.

- If my father was really worried about me, he would have come himself and meet me, not just sent his body guard...

The man was livid. He knew he had a mission. The consequences of not carrying out his task, he knew very well. He stepped forward, toward the boy, who dodged. He put his hand inside his jacket and pulled a small pistol out, to the astonishment of all.

The boy looked at the man with the gun pointed in his direction and it was like a flash passed through his eyes, bringing his long-lost memories back, as if the forbidden archives had been opened in his mind and he remembered.

He was being chased through the streets and hiding in the city alleys by the river. He saw that there was a boat ready to leave the dock, at that very moment. He tried to listen carefully to the sounds close to him, to be able to take some action even if he had to risk too much. That same man, dressed in black, was carefully looking for him, armed with a pistol, probably with the sole intention of bringing him back at any cost and in any case...

At any cost, or in any way, however, it was not his intention to return to anywhere... even less to that company...

The boy kept his eyes on the gun pointed at him and said, pretending a serenity he did not really feel:

- Now I remember what happened...

***

- It was almost a miracle having my memory back, so clear, before that shocking situation. I almost froze...

- Normally, situations where there is a great rush of adrenaline trigger this sort of reaction. If he had not said that you would not escape him a second time, pointing that gun, like that, at you, we would have no reason to attack him, nor grounds for the police to arrest him. Thankfully, our reaction was quick, but I still have the mark of the bullet scraped in my arm when I and the doctor ran and jumped on him. The bad intentions of the man were clear from that moment on.

- But it could have been much worse. We could have been shot dead. After the gun was taken from his hand, it was easier. I still remember the matron hitting him hard in the back, knocking him down at once. Beating the confession out of him after that whole mess and in the middle of an angry outburst, when he could deny it if he were smarter, was a lucky treat for us... but he was completely overcome with anger by then...

- Yes. We were very lucky. It was a great team effort. He could have done anything, but he just did not count that you would survive after you've been beaten, stripped and thrown overboard. What I don’t understand, however, is the reason why he chose to hit your head, although very hard and getting rid of the body, without making sure you were really dead.

- He must have thought that the blow could be easier to explain if the body was found. He wanted it to look like an unfortunate accident. The master touch was thinking that by being naked I would be more difficult to identify... and he had a good point after all...

- Fortunately it all ended up well and I found out on the beach at the right time. I would never hesitate to defend you from any dangers that could appear. I would do it all again if I needed to. You can be sure of that.

- You know what I think? You are like the rain: sometimes falls down and refreshes; sometimes simply floods. You're a good man. It doesn't matter to me what you have done in the past or what your past has done to you. You have already lived your private hell. Your debt has been paid and has nothing to do with me. You did not know me and yet you did everything possible to help me out without even knowing who I was. You had no obligation whatsoever and you were my best mentor and protector. You were the only person who really cared for me, never thinking of ulterior intentions. You simply followed your heart and I'm very grateful to you for what you did. My debt to you is eternal.

- Nonsense. You owe me nothing!

The boy hugged his old mentor and friend with true affection and gratitude and said something he would never expect to hear.

- Yes, I do. I owe you my life!

For some inexplicable reason, that hug caused him a very peculiar effect. He felt light and full of life, with his heart warmed up with long lost emotions...

- I can hardly admit I was still able to feel these kind of emotions. I did not even know that it was possible to bring them out of my most basic needs...

- You think too much. It seems that you're afraid to show your feelings, as if they were a sign of weakness. I may be young yet but I can guarantee that only the strong live, truly, their feelings... and they’re not ashamed or afraid of that.

***

A few months later, the seaman received two envelopes by mail.

The smaller one enclosed a simple letter, coming from afar, written in a calligraphy he recognized immediately. The news were comforting. After a few tries, the boy had gotten a scholarship in the College of Oceanography. The money he had used earlier in order to pay his expenses, while going through admission tests, had been very well spent and the letter held the promise of returning the amount to his mentor and friend, within a reasonable time.

The man smiled. He had invested with his heart, in the success of his young friend and felt he had already obtained the profits of that venture. He was not worried about the money, in fact, but with the progress that his protégé had been achieving since he went back to the city. Life was ultimately good for the boy, in response to his efforts and capabilities.

He put the letter aside, still smiling and turned his attention to the brown envelope, larger than the other, where there was a well-known logo, printed on the upper-left corner. It was sent from a renowned firm in the city, whose name brought him some unusual memories.

He opened it with uneasy fingers. There was a message and a report from the lawyers. The letter stated that an inquiry had been opened to investigate the accident/incident and his wife’s subsequent death during the surgery procedure. A note revealed the reason for the reopening of the investigation process. They had grounds to believe that the death was not a simple and unfortunate contingency, once some witnesses had heard him arguing with his wife, about her infidelity, during the dinner at the restaurant on the night of the accident. Apparently the doctor had left the place, quite altered, emotionally. Despite the fact that he had already served time for manslaughter, he could still be convicted if deceit could be evidenced.

The man set the document back on the table. A deep sadness pressed his chest, like a straitjacket, tied with effective cruelty, hindering the movements of his soul. The wind and drizzle falling outside the grey and almost too chilly day, only intensified his melancholy and brought long time vivid memories back to his troubled mind. Two hot tears streamed down his cold face and fell on the letterhead paper lying on the table, with so unwelcome news.

***

A middle-aged man was walking along the beach, completely immersed in his thoughts. Those ghosts, who were very well concealed for so long, had decided to come back to mind and haunt him. There were days when he felt more alone than in others and that was definitely one of them. He felt sad and a sense of emptiness seemed to grow within him. At that moment, he was sensiblly charged with memories that made him emotional and somewhat frail, about to surrender to tears, but strong enough to want to stay alive.

Circumstances put people and situations in our way to assess us or to shake our balance up and get us out of our comfort zones. The Universe has its own means and plans, which life itself is unaware of. The beauty of living is exactly the surprises and unpredictability of what happens to us every day. The fisherman knew that life puts us to test, all the time, challenging our limits. It is the way to make us stronger and more tolerant, increasing our resistance to the circumstances. Living is truly a constant exercise of adaptation, endurance and strength. The good thing is that all along the road, we often find people and even animals, moments and occasions that are effectively worth it.


The autumn wind blew fresh, yet mild, against his body and his face framed by an auburn beard, misaligning his light brown hair, which has thinned on top of the head. He stopped, looked at the horizon and felt the urge to get carried away by a silent invitation. Almost instinctively, he undressed and walked into the ocean, without thinking any much. The low temperature of the waters made him feel more alive than long ago. He took a few steps ahead and dove into the chilling sea, allowing his naked body to be completely surrounded by that welcome and cooling sensation...

quarta-feira, 16 de setembro de 2015

Homens do Mar (Epílogo)


A porta destrancada não pareceu bom presságio ao pescador, ainda ressabiado pelo sonho que tivera algumas semanas antes. Ele vestiu o casaco e saiu correndo pela porta afora, num ímpeto desesperado, que nem conseguia distinguir se era protetor ou auto defensivo; um medo de perder ou, ao mesmo tempo, de ficar sozinho...
Quase nem sentia os pés, a pisar, ligeiros, a areia molhada, nem, ao menos, percebia a carga de adrenalina, que circulava veloz em seu corpo, enquanto corria pela praia, sentindo a angústia aumentar, exponencialmente, dentro de si. Em sua mente, só conseguia pensar no pior. E o pior era-lhe mesmo inconcebível, naquele momento.
O dia mal raiara e a brisa fresca, misturada a uma densa névoa, bastante comum naquela época do ano, passavam quase despercebidos pela mente preocupada do homem, cujo olhar, mais atento que seus pés, escrutinava a orla, com extrema e minuciosa atenção. A visibilidade estava comprometida pela pouca luz e pela neblina, mas ele era movido por uma força que o levava a não desistir, enquanto não encontrasse o rapaz.
Mais à frente, viu delinear-se a silhueta conhecida do amigo, sentado sobre o rochedo. Um alívio e uma urgência misturam-se em seu peito e ele correu naquela direção.
- Deste-me um susto enorme, rapaz. Pensei que havia acontecido o pior.
- Eu precisava refletir um pouco sobre tudo o que aconteceu recentemente. Estar aqui dá-me uma sensação de segurança e amplia-me os horizontes. Tento pensar fora da caixa… e não é fácil... Minha vida vai tomar um novo rumo, muito em breve e eu tenho que tomar as decisões mais acertadas.
- Eu percebo. Fomos surpreendidos, não fomos?
- Com certeza. É tudo um pouco fantasioso demais para mim, neste momento e eu tenho que pensar bem no que fazer.
- Sabe? Naquela noite em que tive um sonho estranho, fiquei bastante apreensivo. Sonhei que tentavas cometer suicídio, afogando-te no mar. Não consegui engolir a seco aquela história da testemunha, que viu-te ser assaltado e jogado num carro. Quando vi que a porta estava aberta e não estavas deitado no sofá, só consegui lembrar do meu sonho… ou pesadelo… e pensar que ele tornava-se real. Confesso que tive medo…
- Não tão rápido, amigo... Eu também tive um sonho muito peculiar, naquela mesma noite, como sabes…
O rapaz contou, com detalhes, o sonho que tivera, semanas antes. O pescador achou aquilo bem mais credível que as "evidências" informadas pela Polícia. De uma certa forma, corroborava a presença do homem de fato escuro.
- Será que, de alguma forma, minha memória trouxe de volta aquele facto? Ou foi mesmo muita coincidência?
- Tudo é possível, meu amigo. Tudo é muito possível nessa história. Gostaria que tua memória recuperasse, para acabarmos com este mistério, mas, ao mesmo tempo, tenho receio do que vais lembrar e do que vai acontecer em seguida. Mas tens que ir adiante, não importa o que vais descobrir.
- Não temas. Não vamos deixar de ser amigos, não importa o que eu lembre... Não vou poder desligar minha vida do que aconteceu neste tempo em que estive a conviver nesta ilha. Eu posso ser jovem... bem mais jovem que tu, para dizer a verdade, mas não serei ingrato, nem estúpido.
- Jamais pensaria algo neste sentido. Gosto muito de ti, meu amigo.
O rapaz olhou o homem sentado ao seu lado, no rochedo de frente ao mar e sorriu. Deu uma palmadinha na mão de seu protetor e disse:
- Vamos voltar? Temos muito o que fazer. O mar nos espera...
- Já não precisas ajudar-me nas lides do mar. Sabes disso.
- Mas eu quero… uma vez mais, pelo menos. Amanhã devo voltar ao continente e, a partir de então, não sei o que pode acontecer comigo. Mas é necessário…
***
- Ainda bem que chegaste. Estás pronto? Devemos ir logo...
O homem, vestido de preto e usando uma gravata de seda azul-escura, muito discreta, com um pequeno logotipo impresso, possivelmente da firma onde trabalhava, aparentava estar na casa dos quarenta anos. Era alto e claro, com o corpo de quem passava muitas horas no ginásio, a fazer musculação. Provavelmente também era perito em defesa pessoal ou artes marciais. Não seria surpresa nenhuma que também tivesse uma arma, afinal era o chefe da segurança de uma empresa, cujo filho bastardo do fundador desaparecera misteriosamente, havia já algum tempo, não muito depois de o pai reconhecê-lo como tal.
O Chefe da Segurança havia chegado à ilha, junto com o doutor, no ferry da manhã e, como na semana anterior, viera com um interesse único: levar o rapaz consigo para o continente, para ser submetido a um novo e revolucionário tratamento de recuperação da memória, especialmente criado e desenvolvido para aqueles sujeitos que tiveram-na perdida em estados traumáticos.
Segundo constava, o jovem tinha um Q.I. muito acima da média e uma capacidade sensitiva muito grande, além de um tino excecional para análise de investimentos e imensa habilidade com computadores. Suas aptidões haviam trazido muito lucro aos empresários e investidores. Por essas e outras razões, era interesse da firma investir na recuperação dele e na volta ao mundo dos negócios.
O combinado era o rapaz estar pronto ao fim de uma semana da primeira visita do Segurança.
Ele fora encarregado de identificar o "náufrago", que havia sido reconhecido pelos panfletos que a polícia distribuíra pelo país afora. Trazia documentos e uma série de fotografias, que suportavam a autenticação. Quando o rapaz entrou, acompanhado pelo pescador, ele estava a mostrar as evidências documentais ao médico, que admitia serem muito bem suportadas e incontestáveis.
- Não consigo reconhecer-me nestas fotos. Aquele não sou eu. Ou melhor… já não tem nada a ver comigo. Estive pensando em estudar, formar-me e fazer minha vida. Quero aprender Oceanografia e aprofundar meus conhecimentos de Informática, que parece ser minha expertise. Quero associar os dois campos em uma carreira...
- Deves voltar a trabalhar connosco. Terás tudo o que quiseres, suportado pela firma e pelo teu pai. Ele te espera, ansiosamente. A empresa precisa dos teus serviços... e, o quanto antes, melhor.
- Mas eu não quero voltar à empresa, desta forma... Quero recuperar a memória, sim, mas tenho outros planos. Se a empresa não quiser investir em mim, nestes termos - o que é compreensível - não há problema. Minha vida já não está voltada naquela direção. Eu quero decidir por mim...
- E como vais sustentar esta decisão? Não tens condições financeiras para tal. Nós podemos prover-te de tudo que desejares. Pelo menos até que possas ter o suficiente para suportares uma mudança. Até lá, tens que ter um emprego decente. Não creio que um velho barco de pesca possa ser a tua fonte de sustento. Teu pai jamais te perdoaria...
- Eu não conheço o homem que dizem ser meu pai. Não conheço a empresa. Não conheço nada além do velho barco de pesca... que, afinal, deu-me o que eu tenho agora...  Eu não quero voltar para a vida que eu tinha e da qual nada conheço, nem tenho qualquer lembrança.
- Eu já vi este filme... Antes do teu desaparecimento, já andavas com intenções de deixar a firma. Foi uma decepção muito grande ao teu pai, meu patrão, e um problema para todos nós. Vamos deixar de conversas e vamos embora, antes que o ferry parta e nos deixe aqui.
O homem de preto segurou o braço do rapaz, com firmeza, o que causou uma distinta estranheza aos outros dois homens. O rapaz puxou o braço, com força, libertando-se da mão do outro.
- Não. Se meu pai estivesse, mesmo, preocupado comigo, teria vindo, ele próprio, buscar-me. Não teria mandado um segurança...
O homem ficou lívido. Sabia que tinha uma missão a executar. As consequências do não cumprimento da sua tarefa, ele conhecia muito bem. Adiantou-se, de encontro ao rapaz, que esquivou-se. Ele pôs a mão dentro do paletó e puxou uma pequena pistola, para assombro de todos. 
O rapaz olhou o homem com a arma apontada em sua direção e foi como se um flash passasse pelos seus olhos, trazendo-lhe memórias há muito perdidas.
Ele lembrou-se de estar sendo perseguido pelas ruas da cidade e de esconder-se nas vielas da ribeira. Viu que havia um barco preparando-se para sair do cais, naquele exato momento. Procurou ouvir atentamente os sons próximos de si, para poder tomar uma ação, mesmo tendo que arriscar-se demais. Aquele mesmo homem, vestido de preto, procurava por ele, atentamente e armado com uma pistola, provavelmente, com a intenção única de trazê-lo de volta a qualquer custo e de qualquer forma...
A qualquer custo, ou de qualquer forma, porém, não era sua intenção voltar para qualquer lugar... menos ainda para aquela empresa...
O rapaz manteve os olhos fixos na pistola apontada para si e disse, fingindo uma serenidade que não sentia:
- Agora eu lembro o que aconteceu...
***
- Foi praticamente um milagre minha memória voltar, tão nítida, diante daquela situação de choque. Eu quase paralisei…
- Normalmente, situações em que há uma grande descarga de adrenalina despoletam este tipo de reação. Se ele não tivesse dito que tu não escapavas dele uma segunda vez, apontando aquela arma, daquele jeito, para ti, não teríamos razão para atacá-lo, nem bases para a polícia prendê-lo. Ainda bem que a nossa reação foi rápida, mas ainda tenho a marca da bala que raspou meu braço, quando eu e o doutor corremos e pulamos nele. As más intenções do homem ficaram claras a partir daquele momento.
- Mas podia ter sido muito pior. Vocês podiam ter sido mortos a tiros. Depois que a arma foi tirada da mão dele, foi mais fácil. Ainda lembro das fortes cadeiradas que a matrona deu nas costas do homem, derrubando-o de vez. Arrancar a confissão, depois daquela confusão toda, no meio de um rompante de raiva, quando ele podia negar tudo, se fosse mais esperto, foi sorte nossa... mas estava completamente tomado pela cólera....
- Sim. Tivemos muita sorte. Foi um grande trabalho de equipa. Ele seria capaz de fazer qualquer coisa. Só não contava que tu fosses sobreviver, depois de teres sido golpeado, despido e jogado ao mar. Só não entendi porque ele preferiu bater na tua cabeça e livrar-se do corpo, sem certificar-se que estavas mesmo morto.
- Ele deve ter pensado que a pancada poderia ser mais fácil de explicar, caso o corpo fosse encontrado. Queria que parecesse um infeliz acidente. O toque de mestre foi achar que por estar sem roupas eu seria mais difícil de ser identificado… e tinha certa razão, afinal...
- Felizmente tudo terminou bem, principalmente porque eu te achei na praia, no momento certo. Jamais hesitaria em defender-te de quaisquer perigos que aparecessem. Eu faria tudo outra vez, se precisasse. Podes ter certeza disso.
- Sabes o que penso? Tu és como a chuva: às vezes cai e refresca; às vezes, simplesmente, inunda. Tu és um homem bom. Não me interessa o que fizeste no passado ou o que o teu passado fez contigo. Já viveste teu inferno particular. Tua dívida já foi paga e não tem nada a ver comigo. Não me conhecias e fizeste o impossível para ajudar-me, mesmo sem saber quem eu era. Não tinhas obrigação nenhuma e foste meu melhor mentor e protetor. Foste a única pessoa que realmente importou-se comigo, sem jamais pensar em segundas intenções. Seguiste tão-somente o teu coração e eu sou-te muito grato pelo que fizeste. Minha dívida contigo é eterna.
- Bobagem. Não me deves nada!
O rapaz abraçou o velho mentor e amigo, com verdadeiro afeto e gratidão e falou-lhe, ao ouvido.
- Devo, sim. Devo-te a minha vida!
Por alguma razão inexplicável, aquele abraço causou-lhe um efeito muito peculiar. Sentiu-se leve e cheio de vida, com o coração a pulsar de emoção, como há muito não acontecia...
- Eu já não lembrava que era capaz de sentir este tipo de emoções. Nem sabia que era possível, ainda, sentir, além das minhas necessidades mais básicas, alguma emoção deste género...
- Tu pensas demais. Parece que tens medo de demonstrar sentimentos, como se fosse um sinal de fraqueza. Eu posso ser jovem, ainda, mas posso garantir que só os fortes vivem, verdadeiramente, os seus sentimentos… e não têm vergonha, nem medo disso.
***
Alguns meses depois, o homem do mar recebeu, pelo correio, dois envelopes.
No menor havia uma carta simples, vindo de longe, escrita em uma caligrafia que ele reconheceu logo. As notícias eram confortantes. O rapaz havia conseguido uma bolsa de estudos, depois de algumas tentativas, no curso de Oceanografia. O dinheiro que usara no início, para poder sustentar-se, enquanto fazia os testes de admissão, havia sido muito bem empregado e a carta trazia a promessa da devolução do mesmo ao seu mentor e amigo, num prazo razoável.
O homem sorriu. Havia investido, com o coração, na certeza do sucesso de seu jovem amigo e sentia que já obtivera os lucros de seu empreendimento. Não estava preocupado com o seu dinheiro, na realidade, mas com o progresso que seu protegido vinha alcançando desde que voltara à cidade. A vida havia sido, finalmente, boa para o rapaz, em resposta aos seus esforços e às suas capacidades. 
Ele colocou a carta de lado, ainda sorrindo e direcionou sua atenção ao envelope pardo, maior que o outro, onde havia um logotipo conhecido, impresso no canto esquerdo. Vinha de uma firma conhecida na cidade, cujo nome trazia-lhe algumas lembranças.
Dentro daquele, havia uma mensagem e um relatório de uma firma de advocacia da cidade. Pelo que constava, um inquérito havia sido aberto, para investigar o acidente/incidente da cirurgia da mulher e sua consequente morte, durante o procedimento. Uma nota, no rodapé, revelava a razão da reabertura do processo investigatório. Haviam motivos para crer-se que a morte não fora uma simples e infeliz contingência, visto que algumas testemunhas haviam-no ouvido a discutir com a esposa, no restaurante, durante o jantar, na noite do acidente, a respeito da infidelidade dela. Aparentemente o médico havia saído do local, bastante alterado, emocionalmente. Apesar de já haver cumprido pena por homicídio culposo, ele ainda podia ser condenado, se fosse confirmado o dolo.
O homem pousou o documento na mesa. Uma tristeza profunda comprimiu-lhe o peito, como se fosse uma camisa de força, amarrada com eficaz crueldade, tolhendo-lhe os movimentos da alma. A ventania e a chuva fina a cair lá fora, naquele dia tão cinzento e quase friorento demais, só aumentaram sua melancolia e trouxeram vívidas lembranças, adormecidas há bastante tempo. Duas lágrimas quentes escorreram-lhe pela face fria e caíram sobre o papel timbrado que jazia sobre a mesa, com notícias tão pouco bem-vindas.
***
Um homem de meia-idade caminhava pela praia, completamente absorto em seus pensamentos. Aqueles fantasmas, que estavam muito bem escondidos, resolviam, vez em quando, manifestar-se e atormentá-lo. Havia dias em que sentia-se mais só que nos outros e aquele era, definitivamente, um deles. Sentia-se triste e uma sensação de vazio parecia aumentar dentro de si. Naquele momento, ele era, apenas, uma carga emocional de lembranças, que faziam-no sentimental e um tanto fragilizado, a ponto de render-se ao choro, mas forte o suficiente para querer manter-se vivo. 
As circunstâncias colocam pessoas e situações em nossos caminhos, para testar-nos, às vezes, ou para chacoalhar nossos equilíbrios e tirar-nos de nossas zonas de conforto. O Universo tem seus próprios meios e seus planos, que a própria vida desconhece. A beleza do viver está, exatamente, nas surpresas e na imprevisibilidade do que nos acontece dia após dia. O pescador sabia que a vida nos põe à prova, todo o tempo, testando nossos limites. É a forma de tornar-nos mais fortes e tolerantes, aumentando nossa resistência às circunstâncias. Viver é, verdadeiramente, uma prova constante de adaptação e resistência. A parte boa é que, muitas vezes, no percorrer do longo caminho, encontra-se pessoas, animais, momentos e ocasiões que, real e efetivamente valem toda a pena.

O vento de outono soprava, ainda ameno, contra seu corpo e seu rosto arredondado, emoldurado pela barba castanho-avermelhada, desalinhando mais ainda os cabelos castanho-claros, que já rareavam no topo da cabeça. Apesar de não estar frio, ele sentia que o inverno estava próximo. Olhou o mar e sentiu o ímpeto de deixar-se levar por um convite silencioso. Despiu-se e entrou na água fria, sem pensar muito. A baixa temperatura da água fê-lo sentir-se mais vivo que há muito tempo atrás. Olhou para o horizonte, deu mais uns passos e mergulhou, sentindo a água fresca a envolver-lhe, completamente, o corpo nu…

sábado, 29 de agosto de 2015

Of Sea and Men (Part 3)


Lying silently on the couch and staring at a non-existent spot on the ceiling, the young man tried to organize his thoughts, after all he had seen, heard and, of course, read. Despite the stillness of the night, his mind was working boisterously, like the teeth of dry and rusty gears, grinding against each other, in a fertile field of conflicting ideas. It was quite late, but he could not sleep, try as he might.

According to what was written in the police report, a witness had seen him being assaulted and thrown into the back seat of a car, which took off at high speed, many hundreds of kilometres away from that place. What happened after then was still unknown.

He was trying hard to remember something, once that Police Report and the information contained in it did not ring any bell in his tired head. In fact, it all seemed very surreal to be true. Despite having the thoughts so uneasy and restless, he kept on trying to rescue anything that he could from his long-term memory. All he could do, however, was to imagine alternative possibilities of what had happened, but without any real basis. The thin, fragile thread of memory was inexplicably broken at some point and he could not find the parts to tie them together again.

In fact, he did not even know who he was. He could be either good or bad. He could have been a victim or he could have had a very bad luck and been on the wrong place at the wrong time. He could have clashed with someone stronger than him. He could have been really assaulted by robbers. Or he could not be any of that, as bizarre as it might be...

The fatigue and fruitless effort made him finally fall asleep and dream...

***
In the only room of the small and modest house, built on the beachfront, the fisherman rolled from one side to the other in its simple, old dark and tough wooden bed, unable to fall asleep. His mind was also distressed, especially after the more informal conversation they had with the doctor. The investigation continued, based on the report issued by the police, but he had a feeling that something was not right. By default, he did not use to trust his intuition, but that time he felt something very strong and could not help but hear that voice in his head telling him to sift through the facts more thoroughly and not rely firmly on all he had read so far.

Of course a possible witness was better than nothing, but he preferred to rely on what his guest could remember in his own time, to make sure they were not mistaken. That situation was increasingly harrowing.

He had developed a wholehearted affection for the boy and find out the truth and regaining his memory, once and for all, become his priorities. He felt that the most likely to happen, once it was recovered, was that the young man would go back to his own life and leave the island, perhaps forever, and that almost certainty also afflicted him.

But he had to think with his reason and not with his heart. As silly as it seemed, however, assess the heart was exactly what he had been doing lately, every time he was alone with his own thoughts. From an elusive fisherman with only the almost imperceptible company of his old silent feline friend, he now had a welcome partner, either to chat with or to help him at work and it seemed fun to both. Although he liked the boy's assistance, he could not be selfish and think about what he liked or wanted for himself only. He felt he would lose his buddy, sooner or later, as soon as things would go back to normal. But he could not help wishing they would keep the friendship, at least for a while.

Like everything else in life, the distance would invariably cool that relationship down and ward off gradually until their contacts disappear for once and for good. He admitted he would really miss the guy, who would probably go back to his previous life, as soon as he recovered his memory. Perhaps he had a girlfriend, a family and possibly a dog or two.

He, on the other hand, had only his hut, his cat and his old fishing boat... and absolutely no other life to go back to. He decided his fate and was living with it. He had learned to survive with very little and did not need more, living just one day after another, without thinking of a very distant future.

He, however, was no longer so sure if that simple and dull life was enough for him anymore. He knew only that before knowing the tenant who was fast asleep on the sofa, he had given up many ambitions and did not crave more than what he presently owned.

But now he wanted to know more about the other man, maybe see him succeed in life, witness his success and perhaps meet his girlfriend, witness his getting married and having children with funny and unruly hair like their father. Perhaps he could even be a dear and welcome friend to that new family...

What a stupid nonsense! He was just an old and thick fisherman with almost nothing to do with the boy’s life. What would be the use of deceiving himself and thinking he could be, in the future, part of his life?

Had he changed so much in those last days? An incident like that should not tinker that much with his routine and his life. He had better face the harsh reality: he would soon go back to his lonely, sullen and distant man’s life with almost no expectations regarding his own future.

The man mocked himself. He was getting old and corny. That withered and hardened heart should not have softened so much, in just a few weeks. He had been so used to his old solitude that he had forgotten the pleasures of a good company. Now, he felt - or rather resented – he would have to go back to being alone when the other's presence, although so recent in his routine, brought more colour to his existence...

He suddenly felt sad. He was tired of thinking. Actually, he was tired of so many things... He closed his eyes, which were getting, for what he considered a silly reason, as damp as the delicate petals of the flowers, which become moist with dew in the autumn mornings. He fell asleep... and soon began to dream...

***
- The water is so good and fresh... Come swim to me.

- You’re crazy! It is too cold!

- It is not cold at all. It is good... Come to me.

The boy was calmly swimming around the boat, challenging his girlfriend to dive and swim with him in that immense and quiet ocean. Although the sun was high, he knew that the water temperature was too cool for her. For him, however, it was perfect. She did not believe him, anyway. She just waved, threw him an inflatable mattress and his sunglasses and lay on a towel on the deck, to sunbathe. He took the mattress and lay down on it, floating serenely between the intensity of the almost cobalt blue sky and the emerald-green ocean, letting himself be pleasantly rocked by the waves and with his thoughts wandering far away. He felt drowsy and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost immediately.

Suddenly, that comfy swaying of his sleep seemed to change to a more agitated and violent state. The boy turned involuntarily around, lost his balance and fell overboard. The clash with the water made him fully awake and in a complete state of confusion. He felt he was sinking in the cold, salty waters and that his breath escaped him quickly. He tried to swim, but the movement of the waves was very violent. He swallowed water and felt weak. A pain in the back of his head caused him some discomfort and when he ran his fingers over it, he saw that he was bleeding. He tried to stay on the surface, but the effort was too much. He knew that if he stayed with his face in the water he would drown, so he tried to float on his back. The cold water would help ease the pain in the head. He closed his eyes and let himself go for a few minutes, struggling to swim, but the waves were cruel. One of them splashed over him and, swallowing water, he felt he was sinking. He struggled, but it seemed to be in vain. His lungs were flooded and he felt he was too tired to hold on. He felt his forces were waning. He had finally accepted his fate and let himself sink slowly...

He thought, as he sank, he was too young to die... The air failed him. It was death encircling him in a cold embrace, with more affection than he expected. The boy still thought before fainting, that the idea he had of death was of a much harder agony than that...

A flash of light lit up above him, in a sudden and his only thought was that the popular legend that there was a very bright light when passing from life to death, was true. That light, so intense and very strong, hit his eyes in full. At that moment he felt an unexpected peace and a comfortable warmth...

He opened his eyes and saw, through the sun rays coming through the living room window, the familiar silhouette of the tabby, sitting quietly on the faded moss-green window frame. The cat looked out, enjoying the morning sun that was rising above the horizon, on a very clean and intense blue, as only the winter sky could be. That would be a beautiful day after all... and also quite cold.

The young man realized that he had had only a very vivid and detailed dream after all. He smiled, got up, dressed quickly and went to the kitchen, followed by the cat, who rubbed into his legs, almost making him lose his balance and trying to get some cuddling or food.

***
The man got up as usual and passing through the room, he did not see the boy lying on the couch. Surprised and intrigued that the balcony door was unlocked, he put on a coat and went out. The boy was walking slowly, a few meters from the shore, more and more into the ocean. He watched, for a moment, to see what would happen. Despite the temperature of the water, he went on as if it were high summer. He never looked back or hesitate. He seemed intent on something that the other man did not notice at first. He went as far as the water hit him over his chest, took a few more steps and submerged in silence.

A bad feeling went through the fisherman's spine. His instinct shouted, louder than his reason. He got rid of his jacket, took off his shirt and shoes and ran into the icy sea waters. The adrenaline that ran intensely through his body did not allow to feel the cold tensing his muscles. Unable to spot the boy, he dipped into the freezing waters of the ocean. He saw a shadow ahead, looking like the body sinking slowly and swam in that direction, emerging for breath and diving again in order to rescue his protégé.

The man did not think at all. He just acted, moved by despair and the fear of losing his friend to an enemy whose weapons he was unable to fight against. He approached and tried to reach the other's arms, which were stretched upward, already unresponsive. He clutched his fingers around the other's wrists and pulled him up with energy, so that the body would emerge and enable the rescue and also to allow some air get into his lungs. He pushed the boy upwards so he reached the water's surface.

Emerging himself, he put his arm around the unconscious young man's chest, keeping his mouth and nose above the water line. He straightened up and began to swim, taking his friend along back to the beach, almost without difficulty. He laid the man on his back and started the cardiopulmonary resuscitation, immediately, in a desperate attempt to bring him back to life.

- Why did you do that? Where were you thinking?

The man did not understand the reason for such mindless action... And now he could not bring him back to life. He held his nose, opened his mouth and blew some air into, going back to massage the boy’s chest.

- Come on! Come on! Wake up, man. Don’t you die on me! Please!

He repeated the procedure, this time blowing harder in. By pushing his chest with both hands, he noticed a sort of convulsion and the boy coughed, expelling the water he had swallowed. The man shook him and saw that he opened his eyes, confused, as if unsure of what had just happened.

The fisherman raised him, hugging him and, without saying anything, just cried, feeling a mixture of relief and joy. Just below the breast line, a strange twinge of pain indicated that something was wrong.

He closed his eyes and loosened his embrace, feeling a kind of a faint. The effort could have been perhaps too much for him to bear. The twinge became more piercing and seemed to move with a pressure up his chest.

A cold sensation on his nose and a slight and continuous snoring, made him open his eyes and notice the deep green eyes of the cat staring at his eyes and pressing a nail at his chest. He laughed and stood up, realizing he had just had an absolutely unusual dream.

***

 - I had a very strange and detailed dream.

- Is that the reason why you are up so early?

- It's not so early. It's almost time to get out to sea. I have made some coffee...

- I also had an unusual dream. I think we were impressed by the report that the doctor brought us...

- Most likely…

- Do you want to talk about it?

- No, not yet...

***

When they came back from the morning chores at the sea, on a sunny Thursday, a few weeks later, they noticed a different movement on the pier routine. There was a greater buzz than in normal days. The matron was coming by with heavy steps on the wooden pier. Her flushed rosy face, severely hit by the sun and wind of winter, showed evident signs of anxiety. As she approached the two, she said, half breathless:

- I'm glad you came. The doctor wants to see you both immediately.

- What happened?

- The doctor told me to bring you two urgently. Do not ask me more than I know...

But they knew her well and realized that she avoided looking at them directly. She was hiding something, for sure, but she had been instructed not to tell them anything other than the absolutely necessary. The two men nodded at each other and quickened their pace behind the panting woman toward the office in the small health centre of the island.

When they arrived, they were received by the doctor, who was accompanied by an unknown man, dressed in a very formal way for the island routine. The visitor greeted them with a handshake and by turning his attention to the boy, asked him:

- Do you know who I am?

- Nope. I do NOT know you. Should I?

The man smiled, in a weird way. The boy and the fisherman tried to hide the concern that had passed down their faces, when they looked at each other.

The stranger cleared his throat and spoke up...

***