The relativist and tension

"Joaquim S. Carvalho is a sadistic, melancholy author, morbid in his writing without half-words. Those who read his macabre tales identify subtle nuances of self-depreciation between the lines, a ferocious autobiography wide open in the form of main and secondary characters full of critical allegories. Considered by some to be the Brazilian Edgar Allan Poe, lovers of horror literature are unanimous: Carvalho relives all the forgotten debauchery of national terror. "

I always wanted to know what fans of the mysterious Joaquim S. Carvalho would say if they contemplated their home environment; the room in an orderly mess full of books everywhere, freshly washed women's clothes waiting on the desk for the moment to be put away, walls covered with drawings and photographs. The small vibrant flowers that punctuated the central table did not live up to the macabre fame that had been carefully constructed, nor the strong light that came from the open window. I smiled condescendingly at the notebook screen open on the bed, flattered by the wonderful lines posted on the website of the most important literature magazine in the country.

In case you are wondering, the answer is yes - Joaquim S. Carvalho is me, a girl of eighteen and a half years with unruly hair, brown eyes and thick eyebrows, the exact opposite of what anyone would expect from Joaquim S. Carvalho. I sipped my tea with a frown; the liquid had cooled after being forgotten for more than twenty minutes.

Well, any girl would forget to drink her tea while she was enjoying Internet compliments.

You may need some explanations. Let's start from the beginning.

My name is Marebel da Silva, better known as Nina. Honestly, I don't know what my parents had in mind when they decided to put that weird name on a baby; perhaps they wished to see my misfortune as payment for the hard labor my mother had gone through. This is what usually happens when you give birth in the bush. As soon as they learned that I was a healthy, plump little girl - they loved to tell this story - they were sure that the perfect treatment for that new human being was the poorly made translation of 'beautiful sea' in Italian, all together without following the logic of adjectives and nouns of the language.

To my not-so-complete disgrace, a very providential nickname appeared early in childhood. Nina. Despite knowing one or two puppies with the same name, it served me well to escape the horrible Marebel.

I am a very active reader and three years ago I decided to venture out as a story writer, focusing on the dark side of my soul that emerges when I sit in front of a computer. The original intention was just to publish them on any platform anonymously, and for a few months it seemed to work out. Until Lucas appeared in the scheme to blow it all up and take a brutal turn towards my peaceful life.

Lucas Vinícius da Silva has been my friend since that time - the identical surnames prove only that we are two more people among the thousands of Silva in Brazil. He managed to send me an enthusiastic email one day, saying he thought I was a brilliant writer who deserved to have his stories published. We talked for a while, until he convinced me to send the manuscripts to a famous horror publisher. Even though I was - very - skeptical about it, I sent the manuscripts.

We wept with joy when the answer came. It was unexpected and it was wonderful. They would publish one of my stories in an anthology of terror and accept the proposal of the novel I wanted to write. They even gave me a four-year period to finish it, since I was only fifteen and still in school.

I decided to adopt a pseudonym for writing, a decision completely supported by my editor, who approved the air of mystery around the books. In the end, Joaquim S. Carvalho proved to be a brilliant marketing ploy, sparking readers' imaginations and sparking all kinds of crazy conspiracy theory. Each reader created a unique bond with Carvalho, molding the image of the phantom author at his pleasure, which facilitated the interlocutor-work relationship.

Now, three weeks after the release of my first novel, 'The Relativist', the whole country was teeming with excitement. Everyone commented on the secret identity of the brilliant writer, while Lucas and I had a lot of fun with the situation.

The high-pitched whistle of the electric oven woke me from daydreams, calling me insistently to the tiny kitchen of the rented apartment. I ran as skillfully as I could with those fluffy socks, sliding down the hall like a disabled gymnast, ready to face yet another culinary failure. The smell from the oven was disheartening, an acrid mixture of garlic and something burned. Very carefully, I removed the gororoba from its grave, twisting my nose to appear.

of the thing that would originally be a lasagna. Merlin let out a strangled meow protesting hidden somewhere under the sink.

- Okay, this just sucks. You don't have to warn me, thank you. - I used the dish towel to uselessly shake the charred lunch that was smoking. The stench of garlic pervaded every square inch of the kitchen, threatening to choke me to death. I opened the windows wide, hoping that the polluted air in São Paulo would not react chemically with the dark smoke that spiraled towards the sky. - You know, Merlin, I think I'm contributing considerably to the formation of acid rain.

Merlin, the smart cat he was, stayed very quiet in his corner.

With a sullen sigh, I reached for the phone on the bed and sent Lucas a resigned message.

[02/18, 12:47 pm] Nina: Do you want to go out for a bite to eat?

The answer flashed on the screen almost instantly.

[18/02, 12: 47h] Lucas: AH NO MAREBEL

[18/02, 12: 48h] Lucas: DON'T TELL ME THAT YOU BURNED THE FOOD

[18/02, 12: 48h] Lucas: AGAIN

I huffed. Okay, I'm not the best cook of the century, but he could have been more subtle when he rubbed it in my face.

[02/18, 12: 48h] Nina: Fuck you

[18/02, 12: 48h] Nina: If you don't feel like it, no problem, I'll starve

[18/02, 12: 48h] Nina: Asshole

[18/02, 12: 49h] Lucas: ok

[02/18, 12: 49h] Lucas: let me go there

[02/18, 12: 49h] Nina: THEN COME SOON I'M IN HEAVY LARICA

[02/18, 12: 49h] Nina: Enjoy and bring the shirt I left at your house

[18/02, 12: 51h] Lucas: I'm not at home nina

[02/18, 12: 51h] Nina: PLEASE ***

[18/02, 12: 51h] Lucas: seriously, I'm at the center paying a ticket

[18/02, 12: 51h] Lucas: BOLETO MANO, WHO DOES YOU STILL BUY AT BOLETO?

[18/02, 12: 51h] Lucas: ONLY MY MOTHER

[18/02, 12: 53h] Lucas: I'm going to drive now and since I'm a RESPONSIBLE guy, I don't drive on my cell phone

[02/18, 12: 53h] Lucas: I'll call you when I arrive, kiss bye, don't die

I laughed at Lucas's peculiar way of communicating and walked ruefully to the kitchen. The evidence of the crime looked at me in an evil way in the sink, challenging me to find a suitable destination for all that smelly, dark mass. I turned over the bag of recyclable garbage until I found the washed pot of ice cream I had thrown away two days ago. I turned the metal shape at once, putting an end to the remains of lasagne four cheeses of yesteryear. Throwing food in the trash was not a practice that I liked; I used to scrape the last grain of rice on the plate, not because I was starving - which I really was - but because I was raised in a highly sustainable Lacto-Vegetarian hippie family.

Have I mentioned that I was literally born in the bush?

I was getting rid of the mess when the cell phone rang. Anytime I would have to copy the keys to Lucas, since a) he visited me almost every week and b) the three-story building had no intercom. I hung up on him hard, not wanting to spend his credits just to grant the gift of my voice. I put on my sneakers at an impressive speed, locked the apartment and ran down the four flights of stairs, driven by hunger. I reached the ground floor almost out of breath. The familiar dark shape was visible through the frosted glass.

"You took too long," I accused as soon as I opened the door. Lucas laughed and kissed the top of my head while I locked the entrance.

- The traffic was shit, the bank was packed, the heat is shit.

- My food, ditto. - I commented in a resigned tone. As I expected, Lucas had brought the cocked jokes.

- I know how spectacular my company is, but you don't have to burn your food every time you want to go out with me. I would accept the invitation for much less.

- There, there.

- Have you tried sending flowers? Flowers are said to be wonderful devices of seduction.

- I prefer to keep the traditional method of pitying my hungry face - I replied, sitting in the passenger seat and fastening my belt - It has been proving quite effective.

- Evidently - Lucas started, shifting the reverse to vacate the spot - since I always end up coming here to serve as a driver.

- At this point in the championship, it is already obvious that I manipulate you to give me a ride.

- Where are you going to make me go today?

- How about the mall? Cliché, but very practical.

- If we were on our first date, Nina, you would die a virgin. Nobody can seduce a sexual partner in the food court.

- You can't resist my charms.

- That's because I evolved from a brick. If I were another charming man in my place, you would be lost.

Lucas gave the arrow and turned right at the marginal. I had lived in São Paulo for almost three months, but the city still confused me with its asphalt mazes, traps for anyone with a null sense of orientation like mine. We passed a series of incredible graffiti in a square, depicting dwarf faces anonymous with impressive realism. I let my gaze wander over the details while we waited for the traffic light to open.

Seeing me thoughtful, Lucas softened his voice.

- How are you handling everything?

The affectionate tone made me smile melancholy. Although the book was a resounding success, not all reviews and comments were positive. Kauã, the editor, had warned me about the most discerning and hard-line reviewers; hardly a novice author would be well regarded by them. Even with the support of major publications, the scrutiny of some teachers and scholars had impacted me a lot. There had been criticism in relation to heavy language, described as a 'laughable attempt to mimic an imaginary realism; to the detriment of any edifying intentions, the exaggerated use of this forced colloquialism only makes a work with - already very weak - potential vulgar. ' I went over it word for word in my head.

And this review was not even the most cruel. There had been a Brazilian philosophy professor abroad who had simply detonated 'O Relativista', line by line, in a massacring YouTube video that had gone viral. He had made a point of vehemently repudiating the use of the pseudonym, declaring that hiding under a false identity, in addition to being a huge cowardice, had the sole purpose of camouflaging the bad literature and calling the public's attention to irrelevant issues.

Distinguished gentlemen, all of them.

- I'm not sure. I love the compliments, but I still have to practice resisting humiliating videos a lot. In those moments, I almost regret not being able to go public to defend myself.

- If there was something I learned in the last few years - he replied, still kindly - it is that, sometimes, silence is the best defense.

- You're right, of course. - I sighed, looking down at my twisted hands in my lap - I suppose there is more to be learned than to be fought. The teacher was right about a few excerpts. I am inexperienced and have immature writing. Undergoing negative evaluations is part of the process.

- Yes, yes, it is important. But the guy was a tremendous asshole still. He didn't say all that for you to improve your writing, quite the contrary.

- Well, you're the hater expert here. Don't you keep telling me that the secret is to ignore?

- Precisely. Ignore and know how to differentiate instructive criticisms from distilled hatred. - A convertible crossed the red light at hundred per hour, causing Lucas to brake sharply. We were thrown against the seat belts. - PASS UP, IMBECIL!

- Distilled hate, did you say?

- I can.

- OK.

- Do you know what that guy deserved?

- Losing seven points in your wallet?

- Certainly, but I was referring to the teacher. You should at least let me nudge you lightly, cause a little headache, teach you how to lower the ball.

- Lucas, no. We already talked about it.

We were silent for a while. Lucas still thought I should let him defend me, even after all the discussions we had on the subject. He had come up with several ideas for ironic skits that would use humor to counter criticism, and grudgingly I had to admit that they were all great. His quick thinking and his natural ability for humor made Lucas one of the greatest Brazilian youtubers, owner of the Inutilismo channel. If he decided to campaign for O Relativista, the results would be spectacular.

However, I did not allow him to carry out the project. That fight was mine - no one would fight it for me. In addition, the videos would end up attracting unwanted onlookers who could discover more than I would like. So, Marebel da Silva was Joaquim S. Carvalho's only defense, and that scared me a little - not that one day I would admit to anyone.

The mall was unusually empty for a holiday afternoon. Luckily for us, Lucas was approached only once on the way to the food court, by a group of boys aged about thirteen. Whenever I saw Lucas interact with other people, I was proud to be friends with such an affable and polite guy, while giving thanks for the blessing of being anonymous. I don't know what I would do if I had to deal with strangers hungry for attention everywhere I went.

Some people were comfortable with fame, and I was not one of them.

I stayed in a corner, pretending to watch clothes in a shop window while Lucas interacted with the boys. After a few minutes the boys left, the smallest of them carrying the cap Lucas wore on his head until a few moments ago.

The little boy would be a school subject for weeks, I thought with a smile.

When we arrived at the food court, I discovered with some indignation that the overwhelming midday hunger had given way to a mere polite appetite. A little irritated by that stomach insubordination, I chose a small burrito.

- I can't believe you made me have lunch just to order a tiny vegetarian burrito. - Lucas complained with his mouth full of hamburger and ketchup. I felt the blood well up on my cheeks and looked down.

- Excuse. My brain suddenly decided not to accept the mountain of food I deserve. And you love to go out to eat, Lucas.

- Your apology will only be accepted if you compensate me with a big milkshake.

I smiled with the burrito halfway to my mouth.

- My stomach always finds room for sweets.

Lucas armed himself with his cell phone to record stories on Instagram. That routine had always seemed exhausting; Lucas's work required him to be constantly documenting his life, practically a voluntary abdication of his own privacy. I hid behind an orange tray that some rude man had left on the table while Lucas recorded the food in half.

- What is to be a vegetarian - narrated, zooming in on the burrito almost at the end - And what is to be a sensible person - he focused on his huge sandwich, ridiculously more structured than mine.

- That was cheating! - I muttered indignantly - I already ate almost all my snack!

- In food and war, my love, anything goes.

Lucas loved to take one with me whenever he got the chance, which resulted in an eternal fight of vegetarianism versus genocide - as I had dubbed the act of eating meat. She had never been a staunch moralist who judged other people's eating habits, but with Lucas the whole thing was a big joke.

I finished the rest of the sauce and took a sip of water.

- Lucas, tell me you're going with me to the party tomorrow. He shrugged his shoulders uncertainly. I decided to appeal - Please! I don't want to go alone, I won't know what to do!

- The party is in your honor, Nina. There will be a lot to be done there.

- But nobody knows that I am the author of the book. I will be completely lost.

- Do not know…

- If you're not, it doesn't even make sense for me to go.

- You can't miss the launch party for your own book, Nina! He sounded incredulous, but his tone was amused. I shrugged as he did earlier.

- I can and I will. You know how I hate parties.

Lucas looked at me with folded arms and blew out a breath.

- OK. You won. - I started doing a victory dance and he rolled his eyes - But I'm going to call a friend, ok?

- Feel free - I smiled, grabbing my bag to buy the milkshakes.

☽౦☾

The worst part of going to gala parties for sure was having to wear heels. Kauã had sent clothes on behalf of the publisher, a baby blue dress with a knee-length circle skirt with a marked waist, round neckline and straight sleeves. The dress matched the dark blue heels with nude soles that looked risky yet comfortable. I walked a little uncertainly around the apartment, testing them.

I looked at myself in the mirror again, not really enjoying what I saw. I rarely dressed that way; he felt as if he lived in the skin of a stranger. My short, loose hair formed thick dark brown curls, lightly brushing bare shoulders. Around my neck was a black satin choker that highlighted the white skin of the collarbone. I decided to wear little makeup, just mascara and eyeliner. My naturally thick, dark eyebrows contrasted with honey-colored eyes.

I felt ridiculously exposed.

I hadn't even left the house and was already sorry to go. Parties crowded with unknown people had always terrified me; when she got stuck in an event like that, she could only think of getting out of there as soon as possible.

But Lucas was right. I couldn't miss the launch of my own book. In addition, the party would be the perfect occasion to take advantage of the altered moods and know exactly what people thought of the book. With his tongue loose alcohol, it is difficult to keep secrets.

Lucas called me at that moment and I left the apartment more carefully than the day before, balancing precariously on my blue shoes. My complete lack of ability to jump down stairs made it easier for me to get down several minutes later than I would have done had I been wearing sneakers. Lucas waited at the door dressed in his perfect-fitting tuxedo that clung elegantly to his slim figure.

When I left the building, he gave a slight nod, indicating that he liked my appearance.

- This time, it took you a while.

- I don't like heels. A horror for the column.

- At least you won't have a hard time climbing the curb. There! - He grunted with the elbow he took in the arm.

- My height is quite respectable, okay?

From the height of his six feet, he laughed.

- Of course. You almost reach the bathroom sink.

- You're not that tall, handsome. Fifteen inches of difference shouldn't even count.

The sexual connotation was so unintentional that when I noticed Lucas's malevolent look, I blushed before bursting out laughing.

- In that case, should I worry about my twenty-two centimeters?

Lucas opened the taxi door for me, like a real gentleman. There was a boy in the front seat, probably another youtuber that Lucas had invited. I got in the backseat and Lucas sat next to me.

- Rafa, this is Nina.

The guy turned awkwardly on the bench, struggling with his belt, and cracked a half smile.

- Hi.

- Hi.

During the brief moment when I could see his face in the car's gloom, I noticed that it was Rafael Lange, the Cellbit. I watched your channel since the series of riddles, which had captured my attention. Rafael brought information and entertainment in the right measure, combining his creations with an irresistible nuance of mystery. From the backseat it was difficult to get a detailed look at his face, but I did catch a glimpse of his impressively blue eyes.

- Ma oeee - Lucas did his best version of Silvio Santos, addressing the driver - Please, dear, we are going to the most absurdly expensive hotel on the east side.

- Rutledge? - I wanted to know the guy, already putting the car in motion. Lucas laughed like Silvio Santos, confirming.

- So - I started, looking forward with curiosity - do you like horror?

Rafael shook his head a few times.

- Terror and mystery are my favorite literary genres. In fact, I rarely read anything outside of that sphere.

- I gave 'O Relativista' to Rafael as a birthday present - Lucas commented helpfully.

"It's a nice book," I shrugged. I hoped I could keep a straight face and not spoil the secret. - I was quite surprised when I heard that Lucas got invitations to the launch party.

"A very strange launch party, to tell you the truth," Rafael commented. I felt a stone of ice in my stomach.

- Why strange? - I asked with the utmost caution. Beside me, Lucas stiffened, his hand slightly clenched. Rafael didn't seem to notice the tension that had befallen the car, so he shrugged nonchalantly.

- The official launch was three weeks ago; bookstores have been selling the book for two. It is a strange situation to say the least.

- Well, the guy is all full of mysteries - Lucas said - Maybe he is simply an eccentric writer choosing this date to mislead.

- Trick what? - Rafael narrowed his eyes, looking at Lucas in the rearview mirror - By the way, how did you get the tickets, Lucas? You don't even know the author.

- I know Kauã, the editor-in-chief, and he thought it would be a good idea to have one or two youtubers to cover the event - Lucas countered with a neutral expression. The voice, carefully calculated to sound calm, did not give nervousness. I rubbed my hands discreetly, trying to contain my impatience.

Going to that party had been a bad idea. I would never be able to keep up appearances, with all those people commenting and gossiping about Joaquim S. Carvalho, plainclothes journalists asking questions and many suspicious looks sweeping the room.

- Well, I'm just going to taste the food - I tried to make a pathetic joke - The book is cool and everything, but nothing can compete with the sweets of these great parties.

- 'Are you kidding? - Rafael rolled his eyes in irritation - This is the best national horror work I've ever read! There's nothing cool about it.

- I thought that the author put too much into detailing the environment in the second part of the book. In addition to spoiling the aura of dark terror, it left the reading dull for a good thirty pages. And, honestly, that absurd amount of profanity that doesn't even exist has been misplaced.

Lucas opened his eyes wide in my direction, surprised to see me repeating exactly the criticisms that most affected me. And they had affected me in that way precisely because I agree with them.

However, I paid no attention to him. I was too focused on my irritation with Rafael, who had smirked and made some scornful noises.

- I see that I found a literary critic who likes to watch the videos of an imbecile who calls himself a philosopher - I gasped. Was that son of a bitch really suggesting that I was an asshole lover? - If you didn't like the book, why do you insist on going to the release?

- Rafael… - Lucas spoke in a warning tone. I ignored him, of course.

- I didn't say I hated the work, but no book is perfect. Especially the books by Joaquim S. Carvalho - I added in a low voice.

Rafael sighed, scratching his head. When he spoke again, his tone reflected regret, like an offer of truce.

- I agree.

There was silence. My scalp tingled, probably from the state of hyperconsciousness I was in. From the way Lucas and Rafael behaved - squirming in their seats, with hair standing on end - I knew they were both as uncomfortable as I was. Get three people completely averse to conflict in a car, plant the seed of discord and watch them panic.

We looked like three cats trapped in a box.

The driver slowed down and parked in front of a huge, luxurious, well-lit hotel. We got out of the car after splitting the taxi bill. Lucas sat on the stairs and took off his right shoe, saying that there was a pebble bothering him. I avoided looking in Rafael's direction, but I couldn't help the question that was stuck in my throat.

- Is that you? Why did you come to the launch?

He laughed, a low, intense laugh that caught my betrayal. The blue eyes caught me with my guard open, and a spark of amusement shone in them.

- I'll find out who Joaquim S. Carvalho is.