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By Bruno Monnerat Alves
WAITING
Widow of a happy marriage. Tall. Pretty.
Sixty.
Without kids, comfortable financial
situation.
Maybe because of the fact that she had
lived a joyful relationship, now she missed living a couple’s life. She missed
her husband. But her loneliness was even bigger.
A certain day, she answered the phone. It
was a man. It was a mistaken call.
She was going to hang up…
However, some chemistry had been
established by the two of them, trough the sound of their voices and so, they
started talking about trivial subjects. Without any further consequences, and
they became friends…
The time passed. Shared interests, never
before imagined infiltrated hopelessly.
The pleasure of hearing his voice made the
day longer, boring: they spoke at night. In the beginning, every weekend.
Afterwards, every day.
The anguish of the waiting...the clock that
refused to go any faster…(would it be a batteries problem?)
Then, she started to live on behalf of
those moments.
If by any chance, she went out and got just
a little late, she got furious!
And when, around the magical hour someone
called? And when it was a mistaken call?
Oh my God, what was that about? After all,
she wasn’t a teenager anymore… But seemed to be!
That love doesn’t choose addresses, the
elderly had already warned…
From diligent house-keeping, she set free.
Constant thoughts, the morning walk on the
beach became and automatic procedure.
Him, only him…
How did he looked like? And what about the
age? Was he really 62? And the eye color? Married, single or widower as he had
told her?
And other inquiries kept coming. The mind
once peaceful, became a snare questions without any answer!
Suddenly, a business trip. Would he be
lying?
Fifteen days.
Or were it fifteen years?
Fiiffffteeenn days (She thought she
wouldn’t make it)
The comeback day was the most painful.
She couldn’t think, she couldn’t eat, she
couldn’t watch her favorite soap opera.
Nothing!
At a
quarter
to eight, she was already seating by the phone.
Perfumed, groomed, just as if she was going to meet him.
nine o’clock no call…
At eleven, weeping, she went to bed…
The next day, she didn’t went out of the
house, and there stayed for the following couple of days.
So. He phoned her...
Kind, apologizing himself for not having kept
his word. Several matters kept him in São Paulo…
Should she believe him or not? The second
option required a drastic action. And it wasn’t what her heart told her to do.
Who cares her reasoning told her the opposite….
Then, once again, he propose her a date. In
the Colombo Bakery, just for them to get to know each other better.
After struggling a lot, pressured by the
suffocating absence, she accepted it.
They scheduled the time and the place, as
well a type and color of clothes for them to identify each other.
In the scheduled day, she woke up
frightened, before six. Apprehensive, she realized: How could she have accepted
it?
(She felt as if she was cheating on her
husband)
At the same time, her heart, uneasy,
started beating faster just by imaging him.
And so, she went.
Dressed with diligence, favorite perfume,
her hair done, black woolen dress.
There she went.
When she arrived at the restaurant, she saw
him, reflected in the magnificent mirror. Charming, gray, tweed blazer, light
colored eyes, slightly wavy hair. A perfect description of the arrangement.
He was facing the door, in a table for two,
with a glass of water in his hands, waiting…
He seemed
anxious with the perspective of the arrival of that woman in a turquoise-blue dress, “to match her eyes”, as
she said, short hair, smiling to him …
She looked at him, from a distance, once
again.
And then, absolute, she continued to walk
on the sidewalk, protecting herself from that cold autumn afternoon.
The simple fact of knowing that she was
desired was enough…
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