5 - LARA
Eleven unforgettable days with the man who never told me his real name.
I came up with ways to get him to tell me, but I was so happy that I let it slide, let myself get swept up in the meals he cooked for me, in the romantic gestures and the pleasure he gave me.
I ended up hiding him from my friends because the second I mentioned the guy from that night, they'd both freak out and tell me to forget him.
So I figured if it turned into something real, then I'd tell them.
And it seemed like it could become something beautiful...
But nothing prepared me for what was coming.
“Lara, I'm sorry I can't say goodbye in person—I had to leave in a hurry. These past days were intense and wonderful. You're wonderful, but I have to get back to my life. You'll always be a beautiful memory for me. I hope this covers whatever you spent on me while I was there.
Yours, SB”
I almost fell over twice. First reading it.
Then seeing the cash inside the envelope.
It was way more than water, electricity, and whatever else he thought he owed me.
I figure talking about my family must have scared him off, so now I have this desperate urge to explain, to tell him not to worry, I'm not like them, not at all.
I call the number he gave me, the one we used to talk during my breaks at work, and send messages.
Nothing. No answer, messages won't go through.
My mind is spinning. He said he lived far away.
He barely talked about himself, changed the subject most of the time, but I thought with time...
I don't know... it would work out. We were building something.
Weren't we? It was only days, but intense days.
He practically lived here. I call again.
Send more messages. Absolutely nothing. Asshole!
Yes, now I'm melodramatically crying in the shower, again, less than a month later.
How do I keep throwing myself at jerks who just want to have fun with me?
How stupid am I! Stupid! Stupid! What was I thinking?
That a guy who won't even give his name would stick around?
That he'd fall in love with me in a few days?
He used me, plain and simple. And I fell in love.
I rip off the bedding, throw everything in the washer, dump in liquid detergent and fabric softener—I don't want even a trace of his smell left...
My knees hit the cold floor, and I cry harder.
I want to burn this whole apartment down.
I feel Bront? curling around me until she nestles in my lap.
I pet my beautiful kitty. I scoot us over, sitting down next to Heathcliff's cage.
I murmur that he's treacherous, cry even more, apologizing to my cute hamster and hugging Bront?, who rests her front paws on my shoulder. I hold her little face up to mine.
“He was really good, even you believed him, didn't you?”
She didn't even come close to Carlos.
“We'll get over this too.”
Two days later, I manage to pretend I'm okay when my friends arrive.
I have no intention of telling them anything, obviously.
Priscila always comes back refreshed, no matter how exhausting it is going from airport to airport.
Bárbara doesn't usually look this good after work trips, but this time she's glowing. I'm happy for her.
Pri notices too and tries to get something out of her, but no luck. She fidgets, pulling something from the pocket of her tight shorts.
“I almost forgot—” she holds out a somewhat crumpled envelope to me “—it was in your mailbox downstairs. I know you barely remember that thing exists...”
“Who still uses the mail for letters?” Bárbara laughs, settling into her seat.
I barely hear anything else. I run to the elevator, go down to the lobby.
He was around here. Checking one of the mailboxes for a friend who was traveling.
Who? Who is this friend? Maybe he was staying with him while I was at work.
But who? I run my fingers over the area where I think SB was standing that late afternoon.
I jot down the apartment numbers in my phone's notepad.
Before Pri and Barbs come down, I take the service elevator.
I knock on door after door. Nobody knows him.
Nobody was traveling. How is that possible?
Did I go crazy? Did I imagine everything?
I come back to my apartment breathless. Two furious and confused women are staring at me. I throw myself on the couch and tell them not to even ask. They both sit in silence.
Suddenly, a foolish hope strikes me. What if this letter is from him?
I grab the envelope, check the sender. Strange. I huff loudly. I open it. There's another envelope inside, more elaborate, elegant. I can hardly believe it.
“Is it a wedding invitation?” Bárbara leans forward to get a better look. “Wow, I take back what I said. For them to send it by mail, you must be important.”
Priscila knows me so well. She quickly realizes it's not good news.
“If you tell me it's from that bastard Carlos, I swear I'll lose my clean record. Oh wait, I already lost that. But I'll kill him—no, castrate him! Won't even leave the stump, I swear!”
“It's from my sister,” I mumble, reading the standard wedding invitation text, the letters done in gold.
“Girl, that's great!” Barbs gets excited. “I can still see a little cloud of sadness hanging over you—this party could be a good distraction, and who knows, you might meet a catch. These events are great for that. And if you catch the bouquet...”
“Oooh, Barbs, bite your tongue—nobody here wants to get married.”
“Speak for yourself, Pri. I do, and so does Lara.”
“Yeah, but that takes planning, and God forbid I meet someone at their crazy wedding.”
“Yeah, your brother Nat, when he was here with Tatiana, kept saying you hadn't even given them a gift,” Bárbara bursts out laughing.
“Look, if my mother didn't deliver it to them, that's not my problem. I sent it, and you guys are witnesses. I sent gifts to both weddings. Natanael's and Nicolas's. I even wrote cards.”
“Pre-made ones, and you wrote 'Have a great life,'” Pri practically rolls off the couch laughing.
“It was from the heart. Go ahead, keep laughing, but did you forget you almost got detained with him at the airport when that drug-sniffing dog started barking?”
“Nothing came of it,” she waves her hand dismissively, finishing her laugh.
“Because his crazy wife swallowed the baggie.”
The three of us burst out laughing. It had been a tense moment at the time, but looking back, it was pure comedy.
“Alright, girl,” Priscila holds my hand, “I know your family is a hot mess, but honestly, it could be good for you. I’d even go with you, but the timing makes it impossible.”
“Oh, yeah, now that I’m looking at the date, I can’t make it either.”
“See? Last minute. Less than a week. No way. They only sent it to check a box,” I conclude with some relief.
“Hmm, not exactly,” Priscila shows me the envelope. “From the postmarks, it must have gotten held up somewhere along the way—who knows where—because the first postmark is from over two months ago.”
Crap!
“Nat’s came by email, Nic’s by WhatsApp. Why all this pomp for Laura’s? They’re so clueless.”
I can read in their faces what they’re not saying. The same thing running through my head. They don’t expect to marry off another daughter. I disappeared, and Laura became the only one. Well, they already called her their little princess anyway. Yeah, this kind of invitation makes perfect sense.
“Larinha, she’s the last of your siblings to get married—do you really want to miss it?
Look,” Barbs encourages with that soft, loving tone, “we have an important project at the company, but I can handle the civil part, and then when you get back, we’ll work on it together.
I’ll help with everything. You don’t need to worry about that.
” She rubs my shoulder. “I really think it could be good to visit your family. Small-town air, without all this pollution…”
I almost laugh, because the city might be small-town, but the air in the house I remember is more toxic than any Brazilian capital.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take care of Heathcliff and Bront?,” Pri says, referring to my hamster and my mutt cat, who immediately appears at the sound of her name, jumping into my friend’s lap to be petted.
Bárbara gets up and takes Heathcliff from his little house, carrying him over to the couch. He gets all cuddly in her palm. I’m sure he recognizes the lavender scent.
“They must think I’m still with Carlos. Nat met him here.” I show them the little cards clipped together. “There are two invitations.”
“Lara Alcantara de Bourbon, stop making excuses,” Priscila says in her authoritative tone. “Go show them what a badass woman you are! Unless you actually want to bring a date—then Xande will go. I’ll send him, he’ll go.”
Bárbara and I burst out laughing. Xande has saved us from some tight spots, it’s true. But no, not this time. I need to face my past and show I don’t need them, that I made it on my own.
In the blink of an eye, I’m at the airport counter.
Two gates to go before the plane. Above the clouds, my hands tremble slightly on the armrest. I see my old room, where I lived until I was seventeen.
The only livable room in the house. All the others were total chaos, just like every member of that dysfunctional family.
I doze off a little, just enough to slip into the memories—the music so loud it bled through the walls, through the door, keeping me awake.
The uncontrolled laughter. The sounds of sex.
Of snorting. Of bottles clinking, rolling across the floor.
I glimpse the remains of lines that would still be there at dawn, scattered across the furniture, between half-naked bodies.
I had to step around them just to get to the street and go to school.