quarta-feira, outubro 15, 2008

A Moebius Trip, revisitando em homenagem à Clarisse

Five years. There she was, alone again. After five years of a solid (?) relationship, Valentina was – not-naturally – alone. And she didn’t know what to do. She was totally lost. When she looked back, she didn’t find the reasons that lead to that break-up. She knows that she had something to learn with that so fool-end, but what? And much worse than this was to look ahead and not knowing what to do and how to re-start. Why now, if everything seemed to be ok?

During that time she spent with Peter, she passed through moments of hapiness, but also, through moments of a completely loneliness, even when they were together. It was always too uncomfortable, but now, time has changed and she was feeling actually abandoned. In those moments with Peter, she felt that he didn’t know her and also what she wanted. Now alone, she was in a more terrible situation: it was like she didn’t know herself.

Maybe it was just a case of therapy. She should ask for a meeting with her therapist, talk about her feelings, fears and any sort of silly stuffs she could think about that email. Yes, my dear, it’s true: he broke up by sending me an email. Few words, but a lot of poverty. She knows that the best medicine to this kind of problem was talking about, speak with someone who could listen and help to understand all the whys involved. However she feels a kind of inactivity; she didn’t manage even to hang up the phone.

Her life was not simple and she spent a lot of years to understand that things would not come easy to her. Some of the most important men of her life gone away in an un-waited unwanted way, without any signs. Some times, she felt like being in a Moebius strip, with no beginning and no ending, like a curved road. The fact was that she was not prepared to that separation.

She had made a lot of plans for their future, she had talked about all of them in details to him, she had reserved money to implement them, and he did not say anything. In what moment he had changed his mind? She couldn't had noticed his change… she couldn’t had noticed anything.

She knows that Peter was important to her for a lot of reasons, for being her best friend, for being her support in the most difficult moments, even contributing with money when she needed, helping her to pay for the apartment she was living now. Peter was a good man, polite, fair, honest, but a little selfish and self-centered. Sometimes, she could feel that he didn’t need anyone else to be happy, just himself, his CDs, his DVDs and books. He was so material! He was not a person who enjoyed going out in a Saturday night to see and be seen. And she feels like he wouldn’t ever change his behavior. Most of those times, Valentina feels like having stolen moments.

What am I to him?, Is he ashamed to go out with me?, she asked herself a lot of times. She loved him a lot, exactly the way he was, with all those qualities and faults. But it has been a hard job to stand by all those strong characteristics, without complaining, and having to say yes to some unacceptable things. She used to imagine him looking at her like a mother or a courtesan, even like a sister, but never as a lover, as his lover. Why it was so hard to him to love me in the way I wanted? Why it was so difficult to him to look after me, to show me that he was concerned about me? Why is so important to me to find an answer to all these questions?

Valentina was now a 35 year-old woman, with no marriage, no babies, and no expectations for her future. It was time to be an easy rider, time to be free, to meet a lot of new people, to see a lot of new movies and plays, to find new places to go, to look for new friends and also for the oldest ones, to take care of herself, to spend her now big earnings. She knows everything about the magic formula to forget a man, but it seemed to be impossible. Not that man, my man.

Each time Valentina started to think about the whys and all that stuff, Peter seemed to be even more special to her. With a little detail: he was the man that broke up with me by email. He has been coward since then. He didn't give her a single call. He didn't appear to talk, to explain his decision, to tell her his reasons. He made nothing.

She tried to be with any sort of people, she also tried the new way of meeting: the blind date. And it was terrible. Even though she knew that she had to be patient, as long as the time was going by, Valentina felt that hers was ending. Just five years have passed, how can things change so much? What are the new codes? How can I see a man and notice that he is interested on me? How can I establish contact?

One day, when she didn’t expect anything else from Peter, he appeared in her front door. It was another silly situation she wasn’t prepared to face. Knoc knoc knoc. Valentina, are you there?, he asked loudly. Valentina couldn’t answer, she didn’t know anymore if her feelings were the same they were before. Valentina, will you not open this door? , Peter seemed to know everything he wanted now. Valentina opened the door and gave her back to him, walking toward the window in the wall in front. She was not prepared to that, but she could listen to him.

Valentina, I thought a lot about us… I'd like you to forgive me… I want to come back home; I need to be with you, in your life. Is it possible to think about my proposal? May I come back? Are you hearing? You’ve to remember our love, our good moments. I know you must be sad about the way I left, but I was afraid of not being as good as you wanted me to. Can you forgive me?

What seemed improbable finally happened. He was there, asking, needing, begging. Valentina didn’t have any reaction, didn’t say any word, didn’t look at his face. Peter left in the same way he arrived: fast. Valentina felt reborn. She had learned. She forgot him.


Escrevi esta história e a postei neste blog em agosto de 2007. Não fazia previsões. Ao contrário, quisera eu que ela fosse só ficção e que nenhuma mulher do mundo precisasse passar por isso. Mas, nossas histórias só fazem retratar a vida, que às vezes é bonita, mas que também pode ser bem feia.

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