Oblivion (Part One: The Distant Messenger)

This strange haze of memories

That slowly fade into dust

Makes my heart pound serene

And my soul rest in a calm and quiet peace.

I lay my head on a pillow of soft white feathers

And a bed of crimson petals

To dream of angels

Soothing my pain away.

Their wings embrace me

And make me feel comfortable

Protected and heartfelt

Like a lover in the  lover’s arms.

***

- Why do you still cry over this? It happened such a long time ago. It belongs to the past.

- I think I’ve never really overcome it…

- You must. This is not good for you.

That young man, whose eyes never seem to follow his smile, smirked sadly. Why would he keep his grief for so long? That made no much sense anymore.

***

The two friends sat in the rocking chairs, on the balcony, watching the sun slowly sliding down in the horizon. Each head was so busy with their own thoughts that the interruption felt like an interference to that quiet peace, that was being violated by what was nothing more than an extension of the thoughts and that expressed the concrete weight of the words.

- I once had a brother.

- Well, you have me now. I’m almost a brother for you, anyway. Some friends are closer than brothers, did you know that?

- Never thought about that, really.

- People say friends are brothers we choose to relate with.

- Where do you get these things from?

- Well, I read a lot.

The young men wearing glasses tried to smile, but it did not work. His friend was concerned about his sanity. He seemed to be absent-minded very often lately. They have avoided talking about the past for a long time. But the ghosts do not simply vanish in the memory. They can hide away for a while, but they do not die. It seemed it was one of those occasions when they were coming back from the darkness where they were buried to expose themselves to the light, for some inexplicable reason.

- Don’t you think about what happened? Don’t you miss them, sometimes?

- Them?

- Your family…

- I do.

- I’m glad you do. I do too and lately very often.

- Why?

- I miss them so much.

- You know that past is buried, literally.

- Maybe not…

The young man looked at his friend’s face. His eyes were sadly lost in the distance. Grieve and pain were still so alive in those sad eyes, they seem to materialize in front of them.

- We’ve got to move on, like we always did.

- Yeah. Right. You talk as if that was so easy to do. I wish we could travel in time and change what happened. Then things could be so much different now.

- But we can’t.

- Are you really sure?

He smiled. It seemed some insane idea had come to his mind.

- What are you thinking about?

- I had an idea. There is someone we’ve got to see on the weekend, when nobody will raise any suspicion, if we leave our quarters.

- Oh. No!

***

- That is not possible! If it was I would have come back there.

- There? There is no there anymore! It was blown off and completely destroyed.

- Some time earlier, before the destruction… maybe.

- That world is not there anymore…

- You would not understand. I don’t know if I do either, if I think too much about it.

- There must be a way. It’s very important to me… to us…

- You do not seem to get it. I can’t help you. I’m just a clone, not a scientist. I’m the creation, not the creator.

***

- There must be a way.

- Stop being silly. You know there is no way... at least for now… in this era.

- I won’t give up.

- You should. You sound like a stubborn madman already…

***

- ‘Oumuamua’?

- Yes. It means the "first distant messenger".

- I can imagine the confusion that it is causing to the scientists, who are trying to explain that strange kind of… apparition, to say the least.

- Yes. The theories are so vain and empty still. They are so lost.

- I have one theory and I think that could be the key to what we are looking for.

- Oh. Stop that! I’ve never heard such nonsense.

- I am sure our friend will agree with me. We’ve got to visit him one more time…

- Oh, sweet Lord! Here we go again!

***

Obliviar (Parte 1: O mensageiro que veio antes)

Esta estranha bruma de lembranças

Que se desfaz lentamente,

Como se fosse poeira,

Faz meu coração bater sereno

E minha alma repousar,

Numa paz silenciosa e calma.

Deito minha cabeça numa grande almofada

De brancas plumas,

Em uma cama de pétalas rubras,

Para sonhar com anjos

A aplacar minha dor.

Suas asas me envolvem

O corpo e a alma

E me trazem o conforto,

E a protecção morna

De amantes que se abrigam

E se protegem

Num tíbio e terno abraço.

***

- Por que ainda choras por isto? Já foi há tanto tempo. Isto pertence ao passado.

- Acho que nunca ultrapassei aquilo, na verdade.

- Devias. Isso não é bom para ti.

Aquele jovem, cujos olhos nunca pareciam acompanhar o sorrir dos lábios, numa entrega por inteiro, até tentou, mas o que conseguiu foi mostrar uma careta estranha. Por qual razão ele mantinha seu coração num luto constante, depois de tanto tempo? Aquilo já não fazia sentido.

***

Os dois amigos sentaram-se nas cadeiras de balanço, que estavam instaladas na varanda, a olhar o sol a se pôr, lenta e silenciosamente, no horizonte. Cada qual estava tão absorto em seus próprios pensamentos, que a interrupção foi quase como uma interferência à aquela quietude, como se a paz tivesse sido violada, mas que, ao mesmo tempo, soava apenas como uma extensão do pensamento, que vinha a se concretizar em palavras.

- Uma vez eu tive um irmão.

- Bom, agora tens a mim. Sou quase como um irmão para ti, de todo o jeito. Alguns amigos são mais próximos que irmãos, sabias?

- Nunca pensei nisso, na realidade.

- Dizem que os amigos são os irmãos que nós escolhemos para conviver connosco.

- De onde tu tiras estas coisas, afinal?

- Eu leio muito, na verdade…

O rapaz que usava óculos tentou sorrir, mas não pareceu funcionar. Seu amigo estava preocupado com sua sanidade, já que ele parecia estar sempre tão distante, ultimamente. Eles haviam evitado falar sobre o passado, por muito tempo. Mas os fantasmas simplesmente não desaparecem da memória, por mais que se deseje isso. Eles podem se esconder por uns tempos, mas nunca morrem. Parecia que aquela era uma das ocasiões em que eles vinham das trevas, de onde se escondiam, para expor-se à luz, por alguma razão inexplicável.

- Tu não pensas no que aconteceu? Nunca sentes falta deles, às vezes?

- Deles?

- Tua família…

- Claro que sim.

- Ainda bem que sim. Ultimamente tenho pensado muito neles.

- Por qual razão?

- Sinto tanto a falta deles.

- Tu sabes que o passado está enterrado… e bem fundo… literalmente…

- Talvez não…

O rapaz olhou para o amigo. Seus olhos estavam tão perdidos na distância. A dor e a tristeza eram tão evidentes, que pareciam materializar-se ali, na frente deles.

- Temos que tocar a vida para a frente, como sempre fizemos.

- Ah. Tá. Como se fosse fácil. Eu gostaria de poder viajar no tempo e mudar o que aconteceu. As coisas podiam ser tão diferentes agora.

- É. Só que não podemos.

- Tens certeza disto?

Ele sorriu. Parecia que uma ideia completamente insana se formava em sua mente.

- No que é que estás a pensar?

- Eu tive uma ideia. Há alguém que devemos visitar no fim-de-semana, quando ninguém vai suspeitar de uma saída do quartel.

- Ah. Não!

***

- Não é possível, de jeito nenhum! Se fosse, eu já podia ter voltado lá.

- Lá? Já não existe lá. Aquilo foi explodido e completamente destruído.

- Talvez se voltasse um pouco antes da destruição…

- Aquele mundo já não está lá…

- Tu não ias entender. Nem sei se eu entendo, se pensar bem na situação.

- Tem que haver um jeito. É muito importante para mim… para nós…

- Vocês não entendem. Eu não posso ajudá-los. Eu sou apenas um clone, não um cientista. Eu sou a criatura, não o criador…

***

- Tem que haver um jeito.

- Deixa de ser bobo. Tu sabes que não há… pelo menos por agora… nesta era.

- Eu não vou desistir.

- Pois devias. Já soas como um louco.

***

- Oumuamua?

- "Um mensageiro de longe, que chega primeiro".

- Eu imagino a confusão que está a causar aos cientistas, para tentar explicar a aparição.

- Pois. Mas as teorias são muito vãs, por enquanto.

- Eu tenho uma e acho que é a chave para o que procuramos.

- Pare com isso! Nunca ouvi tamanha loucura. 

- Tenho certeza que nosso amigo vai concordar comigo. Vamos visitá-lo mais uma vez...

- Oh, meu Deus! Lá vamos nós de novo!

***

The Ginger Fox (Epilogue)

The rented house, in the outskirts of the city and close to the woods, not far from the ‘Ost Autobahn’, was especially chosen so we could have a nice week-long-staying in Vienna, with a different type of the luxury we would have at a hotel, but being intimate at the same time and free to have our privacy and our meals at any time, without any tight schedules. It was cheaper than a hotel anyway and it was a bargain I found on the internet.

- We really need to talk.

The conversation had been postponed due to the movement and noise of the crowd in and out of the Café at the station and our tourist visit agenda.

Now, that we were back home and had a light meal, he came back to the point where we had stopped some hours before.

He held both my hands in his. I looked into his green eyes. His pupils dilated as he returned the stare. I took it as a good sign.

- We cannot go on like this for much longer.

My heart missed a beat. ‘What is he talking about? I must have misread the signals. How did I…?’

I tried to understand.

- Like what?

- Like this… (He hesitated…) situation… relationship... whatever you would call it.

‘Oh, my sweet Lord. What is this now? Is he trying to say he is leaving me? Why?’

I felt a punch in my stomach.

- What are you trying to say? You’re scaring me.

- Don’t be scared. I’m trying to be as clear as possible.

- Well, you’re not succeeding and I’m more than just scared to death now. What is it?

- Calm down, please.

I took a deep breath. That was not supposed to be happening… He kept on holding my hands firmly, although I tried to escape from his grip a couple of times.

A strange sound on the outside interrupted that very awkward moment. I pulled my hands out of his and went off the back door, feeling relieved for a moment. My head was aching. I needed to breathe…

***

- It seems we are always being led to meet foxes in our ways, for some strange reason.

He was trying to catch up. I was not comfortable yet and small talk was not my thing at that moment.

- Yes. The poor animal was just trying to eat. Funny it was a ginger fox…

He missed that hint.

- Well, now it’s going to enjoy your gift, anyway. It was very sensible of you to give it a piece of meat…

- It was the least I could do…

I was not facing him. I wanted everything to be OK. I was afraid of what that serious conversation was going to be lead to and was not sure I wanted to hear what he was going to say. I had a demon on my back, whispering in my ear, telling me I was going to be seriously hurt.

‘For how long can one pretend not to listen to the obvious?’

- We really need to conclude this talk.

‘Oh, man… it is now!’

- I’ll try to be as clear and brief as possible.

- I hope you can.

- I thought a lot about us and our situation and I think we need to change it. We should not go on like this anymore…

- What’s wrong with this situation, anyway? We are happy.

- Yes, we are, but…

- There’s no but… if we are happy, why do we need to change it?

He gave up. He knew me and he knew I would not listen to his arguments, once I was in a very unsettled state of mind.

- OK, then. You’re not being reasonable. We talk later.

***

I smiled when he lit the match and then the little candle, having both hands around the tiny flame that progressed from diffident to stronger in a few seconds, painting his face with an amber tint. I was watching him closely. Then he blew the  flame out of the match and looked at me in awe.

- Now, what?

I sang the song.

“Anyone can light a candle

But not the way that you do

For if we look too close

Pure magic we would see

Pure magic we will be” (*The Candle Song – Jon Anderson & Vangelis)

He laughed at me.

- You’re funny. Sometimes you’re practical and sometimes so romantically silly. It’s just a candle. How can one light it another way? Now, let’s dine.

My time to give up. He was still smiling… that lovely grin of his. I was still worried.

- Ok. It’s just a candle, but I love the way you light it. It’s so unique, as if you were protecting it from extinguishing with such care. That makes my heart warm up.

- Yeah. Right. Will you pour me some wine now, please?

He was, in general, so adorably and sharply shy, especially when he pretended to be nothing but practical. I knew that was a defensive behaviour, only, so I let it go softly, took the bottle of dense red and poured him some, pretending I was saying, just casually:

- Of course.

He looked at me very serious and fired:

- You did not want to listen to my talk, but I need to tell you, anyway. I had a formal phone call not long ago and I was offered a very good opportunity, coincidentally here in Vienna and I am prone to accept it, so good it is to my life and career.

- Oh...

Caught in surprise, I was speechless. I kind of knew it was a very serious thing and I was right.

- But the reason I told you we cannot go on like this anymore is that I don’t want to be here without you. I know you can move as well, if you organize some things the right way.

- Yes, but it’s not that easy…

- I know, but I want you to consider marrying me. That can make things easier.

- What? What are you talking about?

- Don’t you want to?

- No. I mean, I don’t know. I never thought about it that way.

‘Oh, man… I was so awfully wrong’…

- Then don’t give me a definite answer now. Think about it…. For a while, at least.

***

- I’m so sleepy. I think that wine got me knocked out. I can hardly stay awake.

He giggled. Then he kissed me.

- It was a very good wine, my dear. Not like back home but very good anyway. Now you have some rest. Or maybe don’t… even… bother… to…

I did not open my eyes. He started unbuttoning my shirt and kissing my body… slowly and tenderly, finding his way all over my naked skin, front and back.

I surrendered to him… completely, feeling the heat coming up and down my body, my mind absolutely disconnected from everything else but his gentle caresses and his warm kisses.

He found the spot behind my ear and rubbed his ginger beard up and down, kissing it provocatively, covering my skin with uncontrolled goose bumps. Then he whispered in my ear.

- Think about the proposal I made, will you?

- The answer is yes…

- You’re drunk.

I giggled.

- I am.

***