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…

Partida

E partes…

No silêncio solitário

Da manhã de verão,

Das águas e do sol,

Entre os aromas do café

Fresco,

Do leite e do mel,

Na rotina domingueira

Dos bichos e dos homens.

Partes,

Porque partir faz parte

De um processo

Que não pode ser,

Senão e absolutamente

Natural.

Já nem olhas para trás

E teus passos já não são instáveis,

Nesta estrada ladeada por flores,

A cobrir imensos campos

De cobre e aço.

Partes…

E deixas, partidos,

Em incontáveis pedaços,

Os corações

De quem te amou,

Estilhaçando as emoções,

Que já nem sei sentir,

Nesta confusão estranha,

Que manifesta-se, talvez,

Tarde demais.

E partes,

A romper o frágil e físico fio

Que te prendia a este mundo,

Deixando as recordações

De momentos

Que, agora,

Já são apenas, doces lembranças

A flutuar nas memórias voláteis

Dos tempos.

Partes tranquilo,

Porque a tua viagem é,

Agora,

Outra…

E o caminho desse lado

Já foi trilhado.

Partes, enfim,

Porque partir é o objetivo

Final

Desta curta

E solitária jornada.

Partes sem um adeus,

Sem um aviso

E sem o peso desnecessário da bagagem.

Partes,

Porque esta partida é um novo início,

Tanto para quem vai,

Quanto para quem fica,

Porque viver é preciso,

Sempre,

Mesmo que seja,

Somente,

Na memória

De quem não vai contigo…

Stares (Final Part)

I no longer knew whether to believe in everything, anything or nothing at all, for I could not clearly distinguish when I was dreaming or when those things were really happening. For the sake of my sanity I decided to accept that there is a bit of truth in everything.

Although still somewhat clumsy by the effect of the medication, which ran in great quantity through my veins, blurring reality and confusing my perception, I read the message still open in my hand again and again.

"Don’t be afraid of what will come up for you in the future. Our minds are extremely powerful. A man who does not believe in anything, does not have many reasons to live.

You are not alone! We've always been around.

Come to the place where we met before as soon as you can. "

Although I considered the content quite intriguing and vague, that message, for some reason, seemed to bring a hidden meaning that I did not immediately understand.

*** 

For a few days I followed the diet, took my medications seriously, and committed myself to physiotherapy to speed my way out of that place. I knew it was imperative to get well soon. In those days, I was practically alone all the time and did not receive any visitors except for the nurses and the doctors, which, in a way, was a good sign.

Better left alone than...

I urgently needed to return to my quiet boring life and the less intrusion I would have during the recovery process, the better it would be. I took that lack of interference as a gift and tried to do my best to build up my strength and health as quickly as possible.

But the words, put that way in the message, would not leave my mind at ease...

***

- We had to leave you alone, so you could recover faster.

- I should have known there was something behind that apparent serenity...

- The final diagnosis was given. The doctor is on his way. We better leave you alone, now.

The doctor entered the small hospital room less than one minute after they left. I was sitting on the bed when he handed me a report and allowed me to read it before telling me anything.

***

I held the small dark wooden box in my hands, still closed, with an unusual affection. I was melancholic and that nostalgia made sense in the face of what I had just read. I sat down on the floor of the room and slid forward the thin cover, decorated with small and delicate arabesques, detaching it from the main body of the box and placing it near my leg.

My little travel souvenirs from other eras, lay dormant in the background covered with a fine burgundy velvet: a brown urchin, the fragile dried and empty flower petal shaped husk of a Physalis, a few seashells, two pebbles smoothed by the constant action of the river water, a bronze kitten, smaller than my thumb, a piece of scrolled paper given to me on the street by a stranger, where my favourite phrase was written,...

“Be careful of what you wish for, it might just come true"...

Funny that I had never noticed that there was a symbol drawn on the outside of the paper scroll, which was now familiar to me: a stylized eye. After a brief survey, I discovered that it was the symbol of knowledge. That made all sense…

On the bookshelf above my head, the mahogany shelves served as a frame for my collection of art books, where the life and work of Salvador Dalí stood out, not only because it was placed right in the centre, but because it was the most colourful and significant volume of all.

I thought of how my life fit into the few records left inside that small room, with the window facing the seaside.

So little in quantity and so much in emotional load... my living in this strange world...

I had decided to leave it all behind. Going away, that way, was a difficult decision, but it had to be done. I had not told anyone, and for all intents and purposes it was just another trip, like so many others… but it was not really that simple...

***

My soul was heavy, as if a very dark shadow hung over me, in spite of the warm and sunny day and the sky being almost as clear as my prospects for the future.

The piece of paper, with the most important information of my life, was still in my fingers. My gaze was lost in the horizon. The sea roared against the great rocks at the corner of the beach. It seemed to want to challenge me to face the great secret.

My mind came back in time a little to rekindle the memory of the decisive moment...

***

I read the report, with the diagnosis, in deep silence. There was not much doubt for interpretation. I looked up and saw that the doctor was staring at me very seriously, unable to hide the worry in his face.

- Any doubt?

- Only one. How long, I still have?

- It's hard to tell. In brain damages caused by clots this size, there is no way to give an accurate answer. It may be just days... Since we cannot operate, everything depends on the patient... We've had cases...

He stooped the sentence halfway. My expression told him, clearly, that I was not interested in other cases...

- Got it. Was that the reason for the hallucinations?

He smiled lightly. That sad smile made me feel completely lost and unsupported. How many times had he had to do the same procedure, knowing that the control over the lives of his patients was not in his hands, after all...

I stood up, shook his hand, and walked slowly out along the bright corridor where the morning sunlight coming in from the rectangular windows sketched obtuse geometric figures on the walls.

Inside, I felt a huge void, like nothing ever before.

***

The shrill lament of a solitary seagull brought me back immediately to the present and I broke my silence.

- We spend an entire lifetime searching for the purpose and the reason why we are here and now, without realizing that the true meaning of life is simply to live! There is no reward, no eternal life, no heaven and no hell...

- But for many, it is so much easier to "believe" in an all-powerful, over-manipulated truth and to live a big lie, which makes them happy, hopeful and lighter.

- If on the one hand it is simple, on the other hand it is extremely complicated, because we only realize that we had not enjoyed the best life can offer, when we have lost almost everything.

- Eternity is just a concept. The intensity of what we live is far more important than anything else...

The man with ginger hair and dark blue eyes, sitting next to me, faced me and stared into my eyes once more. Then, standing up, he lightly touched my shoulder, turned and left me sitting there following his walk away from me with sad eyes. Before disappearing behind the little sand dune, he turned around and waved. From afar, his eyes, although it was perhaps and only my impression, glowed with that power it did on the first time. He moved his lips and I, at that moment, fully realized what he meant.

I tore the paper into very small pieces, several times, and opened my hands, letting the wind carry away those tiny white confetti, tainted by the black fragments of the printer ink, which no longer had the same force of a few seconds ago, when the letters made words and those, brought together, composed one of the most difficult information my reason had to digest.

I got up and walked to the car which was parked next to the little restaurant. As I entered, the woman seated in the shadow of a large red and white umbrella rose and came toward me, walking steadily on top of her stiletto heels and defying the notion of balance. The elegant suit and the way she kept her hair lined up in a bun on the top of her attractive head gave me a sense that beauty, despite being a very personal concept, was a reality that always made me feel so peaceful. She opened the passenger door and said, smiling:

- Are you ready? Let's go?

I smiled, lightly, without saying anything. I just turned the key in the ignition and drove the car out of the parking lot.

In my mind, the message mumbled so many times by the redheaded man, was still evident and kept repeating in my memory, over and over again.

"You're not alone!"...

I had always believed, however, that in reality, from the beginning to the end of our lives, we had always been alone...

I adjusted the rear view mirror to check if the transport case in the back seat was securely fastened to the seat belt. The cat, an ordinary European tabby, was dozing calmly in it.

Maybe they're right, after all…

Olhares (Epílogo)

Já não sabia se devia acreditar em tudo, em algo, ou em nada, pois não conseguia distinguir claramente o que eram sonhos e o que acontecia de verdade. Por via das dúvidas, decidi aceitar que há um bocado de verdade em tudo.

Embora um tanto desajeitado, ainda, pelo efeito da medicação, que corria em grande quantidade nas minhas veias, turvando a realidade e confundindo minha percepção, reli a mensagem ainda aberta na minha mão. 

“Não tenha medo do que venha advir no futuro. A mente é extremamente poderosa. Um homem que não acredita em nada, não tem muitas razões para viver.

Tu não estás sozinho! Nós sempre estivemos por perto.

Venha ao local de antes, assim que puder.”

Apesar de considerar o conteúdo bastante intrigante e vago, por algum motivo, aquela mensagem parecia trazer um significado oculto, que eu não percebia de imediato.

***

Por alguns dias a fio, segui a dieta, tomei os medicamentos com seriedade e empenhei-me na fisioterapia, para acelerar minha saída daquele lugar. Eu sabia que era imprescindível ficar bom logo. Naqueles dias, estive praticamente sozinho o tempo todo. Não recebi nenhuma visita, a não ser das enfermeiras e dos médicos, o que, de certa forma, era um bom sinal.

Antes só…

Eu precisava, urgentemente, voltar à minha pacata vidinha e quanto menos intromissão eu tivesse, durante o processo de recuperação, melhor seria. Tomei aquela falta de interferência como uma dádiva e tratei de fazer meu melhor para recobrar a saúde da maneira mais pronta possível.

Mas as palavras, colocadas daquela maneira na mensagem, não me saíam do pensamento…

***

- Nós precisávamos deixar-te em paz, para a recuperação ser mais rápida.

- Eu devia saber que havia algo por trás daquela aparente tranquilidade…

- O diagnóstico final foi dado. O médico vem a caminho. Vamos deixar-te a sós, agora.

O médico entrou, menos de um minuto depois que eles saíram. Eu estava sentado na cama, quando ele estendeu a mão e entregou-me um relatório e deixou que eu lesse, antes de dizer-me qualquer coisa.

***

Eu segurava a pequena caixa de madeira escura em minhas mãos, ainda fechada, com um carinho fora do comum. Estava melancólico e aquela nostalgia fazia todo sentido, diante do que acabara de saber. Sentei-me no chão do quarto e deslizei a fina tampa, decorada com pequenos e delicados arabescos, para a frente, destacando-a do corpo principal da caixa e depositando-a perto da minha perna.

Meus pequenos souvenirs de viagem, lembranças de outras épocas, quase de outras eras, jaziam quietos no fundo coberto de um fino veludo bordô: um ouriço de castanha, a frágil palha externa, em forma de pétalas de flor, de uma Physalis, umas conchinhas do mar, duas pedrinhas lapidadas pela água do rio, um gatinho de bronze, menor que meu polegar, um papelinho enrolado com a minha frase favorita, que me havia sido dado na rua, por um desconhecido…

“Cuidado com o que desejas, pois pode-se tornar realidade” …

Engraçado que eu nunca havia notado que havia um símbolo desenhado do lado de fora do rolinho de papel, que me era, agora, familiar: um olho estilizado. Após uma breve pesquisa, descobri que era o símbolo do conhecimento.

Na estante, acima da minha cabeça, as prateleiras de mogno serviam de moldura à minha colecção de livros de artes, onde a vida e obra de Salvador Dalí destacava-se, não somente por estar bem ao centro, mas por ser o volume mais vistoso e significativo de todos.

Pensei em como minha vida cabia toda nos poucos registos deixados dentro daquele quarto pequeno, com a janela aberta para o mar.

Tão pouco em quantidade e tanto em carga emocional… minha caminhada neste mundo estranho…

Eu, então, decidira deixar aquilo tudo para trás. Ir-me embora, daquela forma, era uma decisão difícil, mas tinha que ser feita. Não anunciara a ninguém e, para todos os efeitos, era somente mais uma viagem, como tantas outras…, mas, na verdade, não era tão simples assim…

***

Minha alma estava pesada, como se uma sombra pairasse sobre ela, apesar do dia morno de sol e do céu quase tão límpido, quanto minhas perspectivas de futuro.

O pedaço de papel, com a informação mais importante da minha vida, ainda estava entre meus dedos. Meu olhar perdia-se na direcção do horizonte. O mar rugia contra as grandes rochas no canto da praia. Parecia querer desafiar-me a enfrentar o grande segredo.

Minha mente voltou um pouco no tempo, a reavivar a memória do momento decisivo…

***

Eu li o relatório, com o diagnóstico, em silêncio. Não havia muita dúvida para interpretação. Levantei os olhos e vi que o médico me olhava, muito sério, sem conseguir esconder a preocupação em seu semblante.

- Alguma dúvida?

- Só uma. Quanto tempo, ainda tenho?

- É difícil assegurar. Em danos cerebrais causados por coágulos deste tamanho, não há como dar uma resposta precisa. Podem ser apenas dias… Como não podemos operar, tudo depende do paciente… Já tivemos casos…

Ele interrompeu a frase ao meio. Minha expressão dizia-lhe, claramente, que eu não estava interessado em outros casos…

- Entendi. Era essa a razão dos delírios?

Ele riu, levemente. Aquele sorriso triste fez-me sentir completamente perdido e sem suporte. Quantas vezes ele teve que fazer aquele mesmo procedimento, sabendo que o controle sobre as vidas de seus pacientes não estava em suas mãos…

Eu levantei-me, apertei-lhe a mão e saí, devagar, ao longo daquele corredor tão iluminado pelos raios do sol da manhã, que atravessavam as longas janelas rectangulares e que desenhavam obtusas figuras geométricas nas paredes dos quartos.

Por dentro, eu sentia um enorme vazio, como nunca havia sentido antes.

***

O lamento merencório e estridente de uma gaivota solitária trouxe-me imediatamente de volta ao presente e eu quebrei meu silêncio.

- Passamos uma existência inteira a procurar o objectivo e a razão pela qual estamos aqui e agora, sem perceber que o verdadeiro sentido da vida é, simplesmente, viver! Não há recompensa, nem vida eterna, nem céu e nem inferno…

- Mas para muitos é mais fácil “acreditar” numa verdade todo-poderosa, manipulada ao extremo, e viver com base numa grande mentira, mas que os faz felizes e esperançosos, tornando o peso do dia-a-dia mais leve.

- Se por um lado é simples, por outro é extremamente complicado, porque só nos damos conta que não usufruímos do melhor que vida pode oferecer, quando já perdemos praticamente tudo.

- A eternidade é só um conceito. A intensidade do que vivemos é bem mais importante que todo o resto…

O homem de cabelos ruivos e olhos azuis, sentado ao meu lado, encarou-me e olhou-me fixamente nos olhos, mais uma vez. Depois, levantando, tocou meu ombro levemente, virou-se e deixou-me ali sentado a acompanhar seu caminhar para longe de mim. Antes de desaparecer por trás da pequena duna, ainda voltou-se e fez um pequeno aceno com a mão. De longe, seus olhos, embora fosse, talvez e apenas, minha impressão, reluziam com aquela força da primeira vez. Ele moveu os lábios e eu, naquele momento, percebi completamente o que ele queria dizer.

Rasguei o papel em pedaços pequenos, várias vezes, e abri as mãos, deixando o vento levar aqueles minúsculos confetes brancos, maculados pelos fragmentos negros da tinta da impressora, que agora já não tinham a mesma força de alguns segundos atrás, quando as letras formavam palavras e, estas produziam uma das informações mais difíceis para a minha razão digerir.

Levantei-me e fui até o carro, estacionado ao lado do pequeno restaurante. Quando entrei, a mulher sentada à sombra de um grande para-sol vermelho e branco levantou-se e veio na minha direcção, caminhando firmemente e contradizendo a noção de equilíbrio, do alto de seus saltos ‘stiletto’. O tailleur elegante e a forma como ela mantinha os cabelos alinhados naquele coque no alto da cabeça atraente, davam-me uma sensação de que a beleza, apesar de ser um conceito muito pessoal, era uma realidade que me deixava sempre tão tranquilo. Abriu a porta dos passageiros e disse, sorrindo:

- Estás preparado? Vamos embora?

Eu sorri, levemente, sem dizer nada. Apenas girei a chave na ignição e conduzi o carro para fora dali.

Na minha cabeça, ainda estava evidente a mensagem balbuciada tantas vezes pelo homem ruivo, que ficava a repetir, sem parar, na minha memória.

“Tu não estás sozinho!” …

Eu sempre acreditei, porém, que na realidade, desde o começo até o fim de nossas vidas, nós sempre estivemos sozinhos…

Ajustei o espelho retrovisor, de modo a verificar se a caixa de transporte, no banco de trás, estava bem afivelada ao cinto de segurança. O gato, um ‘tabby’ europeu comum, deitado dentro dela, dormitava tranquilamente.

Talvez eles tenham razão, afinal…