41.
DANTE FERRAZ
The doctor removed my stitches one week later.
Aurora came with me.
She did not need to.
She came.
“The healing looks excellent,” the doctor said. “You may begin light movement. No lifting weight for another two weeks.”
“May I drive?”
“Yes, as long as there is no pain and you are not using sedating medication.”
“May I pick up children?”
Aurora answered:
“No.”
The doctor laughed.
“It depends on the weight.”
“Fifteen kilograms,” I said.
“Avoid it for one week.”
“Did you hear?” Aurora asked.
“One week.”
“Not four days.”
“I know how to count.”
“Sometimes.”
Outside, Tomás was with Mrs. Lurdes.
The girls were at school.
We had three hours.
Alone.
The awareness appeared between us.
“Coffee?” I asked.
“Studio.”
“All right.”
I drove.
Aurora watched my shoulder.
“Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You are waiting for it to hurt.”
“Does it?”
“Two.”
“Truth?”
“Three.”
“Better.”
She smiled.
At the studio, the windows were open.
The press attention had diminished.
Otávio remained in custody.
The investigation advanced.
There was temporary peace.
Aurora prepared coffee.
“Cold?” I asked.
“I’ll try to drink it hot.”
We sat.
“The museum,” she began.
“Yes.”
“I want to recover it.”
“All right.”
“Not as a gift.”
“All right.”
“Or compensation.”
“All right.”
“I want the collateral transferred to an independent foundation, with a board formed by specialists, city representatives, and heritage authorities.”
“All right.”
“You may finance part of the recovery.”
“Half?”
She almost smiled.
“No. The Ferraz Group owes restitution for the damage it caused.”
“I agree.”
“But the money must come through a formal, audited agreement.”
“Yes.”
“And I want artistic and technical leadership, not personal ownership of the collection.”
“All right.”
“You will not have veto power.”
“All right.”
Aurora narrowed her eyes.
“Are you going to agree with everything?”
“So far, yes.”
“And the building?”
“The group transfers the guarantee to the foundation after the judicial settlement.”
“Without condition.”
“One.”
She stiffened.
“What?”
“A complete audit of the collection before reopening.”
“That is necessary.”
“Then we agree.”
“I thought you would ask for your name.”
“No.”
“Ferraz Wing.”
“No.”
“A plaque.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“My father used art to build reputation. I will not repeat it.”
Aurora looked at me.
“There may be acknowledgment of the restitution.”
“If the independent board decides.”
“You changed.”
The words came quietly.
My heart beat.
“A little?”
“More.”
“How much?”
She opened her arms, imitating Cecília.
A little more than before.
I smiled.
Aurora stood.
“Don’t make that face.”
“Impossible.”
She went toward the table.
I followed.
“We have one and a half hours before collecting the girls.”
“I know.”
“I only mentioned the time.”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What?”
“Kissing.”
“Also.”
She turned.
We stood close.
“My shoulder is fine,” I said.
“The doctor said light movement.”
“Kissing is light.”
“Depends.”
“I can demonstrate.”
Aurora laughed.
“Arrogant.”
“May I?”
She looked at my mouth.
“You may.”
I kissed her.
Slowly.
Without initial urgency.
Aurora placed her hands on my chest.
One away from the scar.
The other on my neck.
Her mouth opened.
The kiss deepened.
I leaned her against the table.
Stopped.
“Is this all right?”
“Yes.”
My hands moved down her waist.
Aurora pulled my shirt.
Her fingers found skin.
Desire came intensely.
“We still have time,” she whispered.
“We do.”
“The children are safe.”
“Yes.”
“The door?”
“Locked.”
Aurora looked toward the entrance.
Then at me.
“I want this.”
My entire body became still.
“What?”
“Do not make me say it like a teenager.”
“I need to hear.”
“I want you.”
“Are you certain?”
“I am certain now.”
“And afterward?”
She held my face.
“Afterward, I am an adult and I deal with it.”
“Aurora…”
“I do not want you to stop asking. But I do not want you using questions as an excuse to run away.”
The truth struck.
I was afraid too.
Not only for her.
For myself.
Sex would change things.
Even if we insisted it would not.
“I want you,” I said.
“I know.”
“Very much.”
“I know that too.”
I kissed her.
Aurora carefully opened the buttons of my shirt.
She touched the skin around the scar.
“Ugly.”
“You said it would be.”
“Even so.”
She kissed near it.
The air left me.
My hands moved beneath her blouse.
Warm skin.
The waist I remembered.
Her body had changed.
Motherhood.
Time.
More real.
More hers.
“May I remove it?” I asked.
“Yes.”
I lifted the blouse.
Aurora stood before me in her bra.
For one second, she covered her stomach.
I noticed.
“No.”
“What?”
“Do not hide.”
“My body…”
“Is yours.”
“It changed.”
“I want it now.”
Her eyes filled.
“Do not make it too beautiful.”
“It is true.”
“There are marks.”
“May I see?”
She hesitated.
Then nodded.
I touched the faint stretch marks near her stomach.
Three children.
The history I had missed written across her skin.
I knelt.
Kissed them.
Aurora held my hair.
“Dante.”
“They grew here.”
“Do not turn this into…”
“I’m not.”
I kissed again.
Desire.
Reverence.
Not guilt.
I did not want guilt in this.
I stood.
“I want you, Aurora. Not only their mother.”
The tension left her body.
She kissed me.
My hands found the clasp of her bra.
I stopped.
“You may.”
I opened it.
Her body was revealed.
Memory and the present collided.
I touched with my healthy hand.
Aurora arched.
I kissed her neck.
Her breasts.
She held my shoulders, careful with the injured one.
“Table?” I asked.
“No.”
“Sofa?”
“No.”
“Where?”
She took my hand.
Led me into the small room at the back, used for resting during long jobs.
There was a sofa bed.
Aurora closed the door.
“Here.”
We kissed along the way.
Clumsy.
My shirt fell.
So did hers.
When I attempted to open the sofa, it became stuck.
Aurora began laughing.
“No.”
“What?”
“You manage hotels and cannot open a sofa.”
“It is jammed.”
“Pull upward.”
I pulled.
It opened abruptly.
Almost struck my shoulder.
“Careful!”
“I’m fine.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“Very.”
The lightness helped.
We lay down.
Slowly because of the injury.
Aurora touched my face.
“Final question.”
“What?”
“Are you certain?”
She smiled.
“I am.”
I kissed her.
The remaining clothing disappeared gradually.
No hurry.
I wanted to learn her again.
What had changed.
What remained.
Aurora guided me.
Said more.
Before, sometimes she had waited for me to know.
Now she demanded.
“Here.”
“Slower.”
“Don’t stop.”
Every word was trust.
When my mouth moved lower, she clutched the sheet.
“Dante.”
I stopped.
“Everything all right?”
“Yes. Continue.”
I obeyed.
Her body responded.
Tense.
Then open.
The sound she made nearly destroyed my control.
Aurora came apart with my hand over her stomach.
Then remained still, breathing hard.
I moved closer.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
“Regret it?”
“Not yet.”
“Aurora.”
“I’m joking.”
“It did not sound like it.”
She touched my mouth.
“I want you here.”
She guided me.
I entered slowly.
Four years disappeared and remained simultaneously.
Familiar.
New.
Aurora closed her eyes.
“Look at me,” I asked.
She opened them.
I moved.
Slowly.
My shoulder limited me.
It did not matter.
Her body adjusted.
Her legs wrapped around my waist.
“More,” she asked.
I increased the pace.
No violence.
No excessive haste.
Aurora said my name.
Not like at the altar.
Not from fear.
From desire.
My control ended.
I kissed her.
Moved until she lost herself again.
Then I did.
The world became silent.
I remained supported by my healthy arm.
“Too heavy?” I asked.
“A little.”
I withdrew and lay beside her.
Aurora stared at the ceiling.
My fear returned.
“Speak.”
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“I don’t know.”
“Regret?”
“No.”
I released the air.
“But it changes things.”
“Yes.”
“I said it wouldn’t.”
“You lied.”
She turned her face.
“Not intentionally.”
“I know.”
“It was good.”
“Very.”
“Arrogant.”
“You said it.”
“You didn’t need to agree.”
I smiled.
Aurora touched the scar on my shoulder.
“It didn’t hurt?”
“A little.”
“Idiot.”
“Worth it.”
“Do not say that. It makes it sound as though I would place sex above your recovery.”
“I did.”
“That doesn’t help.”
“I’m sorry.”
We remained silent.
“I still do not know whether we are a couple,” she said.
“All right.”
“I will not tell the children.”
“All right.”
“I do not want you appearing tomorrow with a ring.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Or a house.”
“I already have one.”
“For me.”
“No.”
“Or a proposed trip.”
“No.”
“Are you disappointed?”
“No.”
“You want more.”
“I want everything.”
She stiffened.
“But I accept what you choose to give.”
She relaxed.
“That is too beautiful.”
“I can say something ugly.”
“No.”
I moved closer.
Kissed her shoulder.
“We have twenty-eight minutes before we need to leave.”
Aurora looked at me.
“How do you know?”
“Clock.”
“And?”
“We can sleep for twenty.”
“Sleep?”
“I’m injured.”
She laughed.
She lay against my healthy side.
Closed her eyes.
We slept for twelve minutes.
Then rushed to dress.
Aurora found my sock beneath the table.
I buttoned my shirt incorrectly.
She put her blouse on inside out.
We laughed.
At school, we arrived two minutes before dismissal.
Elisa ran toward us.
“Your hair bad.”
Aurora touched her own.
“We worked.”
“Together?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
True.
Tomás pointed at my shirt.
“Button wrong.”
I looked.
Still wrong.
Aurora turned red.
Cecília observed.
“You kiss.”
The air stopped.
“Why do you think that?” Aurora asked.
“Mommy has red mouth.”
Elisa’s eyes widened.
“You kissed!”
The children began shouting.
Teachers looked over.
Aurora closed her eyes.
“Let’s go to the car.”
“You get married now?” Elisa asked.
“No,” Aurora answered.
“Why?”
“Because kissing does not mean marriage.”
“Then what does it mean?”
I looked at Aurora.
She needed to answer.
“That Mommy and Daddy are discovering whether we can be together.”
The children became silent.
Tomás asked:
“Like puzzle?”
“Like a puzzle,” I said.
“If doesn’t fit, push.”
“No,” we answered at once.
Aurora looked at me.
“Do not force it,” she explained. “You find another way.”
Cecília held our hands.
“Fits.”
My heart tightened.
Aurora did not promise.
Neither did I.
We returned home with three children arguing about marriage, cake, and bicycles.
What had happened at the studio belonged to us.
But the possibility could no longer remain completely hidden.
We were trying to fit together.
Without force.
Without erasing the broken parts.