Wells and pendulums

While Rafael took a quick shower to clean that smear he called hair - not that mine were better - I decided to open the letters that had arrived earlier. Since I was younger I was used to dealing with household bills, so it was no problem to organize now that I lived alone. I went through the rent accounts, internet and some advertisements, reaching the heavy envelope that had caught my attention.

I frowned, reading the sender's name: Kauã. He used to write, never on behalf of the publisher, sending letters from readers - they came in droves in recent weeks -, reviews, criticisms and, occasionally, a souvenir. I tore the paper as I headed for my room. The envelope contained papers and more papers, a booklet and an ink drawing of the most iconic scene in O Relativista: the epiphany. I ran my hand gently over the smooth curves, delighted by the profound sight of the girl who had done it for me. I started reading with her letter.

"Dearest Joaquim S. Carvalho;

I'm afraid to write this letter and end up talking too much without saying anything. I don't know how to write like you and I don't know anyone who can. But, as a tattoo artist, I feel like drawing many of the things that surround me and impress me, and nothing has impressed me as recently as your book.

The drawing I'm sending is the original of my most recent tattoo. Epiphany, as my boyfriend calls it. I hope that I can impact you with the drawing, even if just a little bit, and make you see what I saw in your story.

I'm your fan.

Gabriela Damasco "

My eyes went back to the drawing, full of curiosity, this time paying more attention to the small details that appeared in abundance with each new perspective. The agonized figure mixed pointillism techniques with smoother strokes like brush strokes. The image as a whole gave a very strong, heavy and poignant impression, while it was fascinating. I wished I had that same tattoo on me.

I went on to the next letters, quickly reading the contents of each one. Later, I would analyze them one by one carefully, when Rafael was already gone. I put it all together and kept the letters in a drawer that I locked. The drawing immediately went to the desk, next to a photograph I had printed a few days ago, waiting for me to hang them somewhere on the wall.

I heard the soft creaking of the bathroom door, which revealed a Rafael with damp hair again. He was drying that dark blond volume with a towel, wearing a dark T-shirt that I had borrowed. While the shirt was wide and long on me, for Rafael it was a little small, a little shorter than it should have been. His black pants still looked like they had been washed with chlorine, but at least the rest was presentable.

I found with some disquiet that seeing him fresh out of the bath was a delightful scene. I bit the inside of my cheeks to scold myself.

- Where can I hang this? Rafael lifted the wet towel.

- There's a small clothesline in the kitchen window. - I took a deep breath, a little disappointed to notice that the bath had made his perfume a little less imminent. - Now that you look like people again, I'll do the same.

"Don't take too long, or you may end up dying of longing," he joked, winking and leaving the kitchen with the towel in his hand. I laughed.

- It's easier for me to try to drink the shampoo.

- I must confess that I felt like it. You like sweets so much that even your shampoo is chocolate, get out of here.

- I'm an open chocoholic, accept it. - Rafael returned to my room, hands tucked in his pants pockets, a smile from the corner of his mouth on his lips. I motioned for him to sit on the bed, which he promptly obeyed. - I have something for you not to die of boredom.

- The wifi password? He asked hopefully, already with his cell phone in hand.

- Ah, well, the password is written somewhere over the modem in the room. But that is not it. - I reached behind Rafael to reach the half-worn black book, which was under the pillow. - I would like you to read ... this. - I triumphantly showed the open book on the page I wanted. Rafael frowned and came closer, gluing the side of our trunks.

- And what is this?

- Put. No, don't look like that - I complained, anticipating the beautiful roll of eyes that inevitably came - I know you don't like classical literature very much, and you are absolutely right. It is quite boring, but it will be worth it. I promise!

Rafael took the book I offered with an expression of suffering, as if he were under torture, and read it out loud:

- "The Well and the Pendulum." He flipped through the book, finding the end of the story a few pages ahead. - It's not that long.

- It's just the right size to last until I shower.

Rafael sighed. Deep.

I put an arm around his back and laid my head on his shoulder. With the hand around your waist , I found the exact point at which he felt uncontrollable chills. When Rafael realized my trap, it was too late.

- And then? We have a deal? I asked, my voice so sickeningly sweet it almost made me nauseous. Rafa nodded frantically, squirming under my fingers. - Great!

I jumped out of bed, grabbed the towel and clothes I had separated, and ran to the bathroom before he had time to change his mind. Maybe I shouldn't have worried so much, because when I got out of the shower, Rafael still had the book in his hands, focused. He had been lying against the wall, one bare foot on the bed. His chin rested on his knee and he held the book open with one hand.

I stopped at the door, watching him as he read. Rafael had an expression of wonder and dismay on his face, the same expression that transformed the features of every first-time reader when he found the right text. His right hand, free, drummed incessantly against the fabric of the comforter. Rafael shook his head in anguish, his eyes shining with apprehension. He reached the bottom of the page, took a deep breath and closed his eyes; then he went to the next page with the same expression of anguish as before.

After a few minutes, Rafael slowly lowered the book, resting it on the mattress. He looked up at the ceiling and stared at some fixed point on the white boards, gradually absorbing the experience he had been through. I quietly left the room, not wanting to disturb the most important moment of all reading, which is to understand the impact of the work.

Five minutes later, Rafael went to the kitchen. I looked up from the half-eaten piece of cake and masked the satisfaction in my voice, without much success.

- So! How was it like?

- You had told me about this story before, Nina, but I didn't imagine it was so…

- Heavy? - I suggested. He nodded, then denied and nodded again. His hand scratched his head.

- Immersive describes it better. I'm so used to immersion in games and visual experiences that it never crossed my mind ... - He gave up trying to explain it to me, or at least that was what I imagined until he sat at the table the same way we did earlier. - Look, do you remember what I told you about art in games?

I nodded, interested in the pace and path of his ideas.

- Yes. About games being a form of inclusive artistic expression.

- Exactly. I didn't think any other storytelling vehicle was that powerful. Sorry if I offend you, but I always thought that books are not very effective in achieving the flow of the thing, you know?

- I disagree with you, but I understand.

- Yes, now I disagree too. Not even when I read The Relativist ... - he glanced at me, then cleared his throat and started to gesture with his hands. - Not even very good books, like Sherlock Holmes, had been able to involve me as much as a game. But Poe, despite the weird talk, did it.

- Catharsis depends a lot on finding the right work.

- Well, you nailed it. I am nervous up until now with that damn torture crypt.

Rafael's last comment startled me. Damn, anxiety! The boy had literally just gone through a crisis so strong that he had sent him to the hospital, and I was in favor of stimulating strong emotions with a tale of terror.

Congratulations, genius. It will kill him so quickly that he won't even know what hit him.

Before freaking out, though, I forced myself to watch how he behaved. Rafael didn't look anxious or scared; on the contrary, the satisfaction on his face revealed how pleasant the reading had been. It was good for him, as much as I thought otherwise.

I remembered the conversation I had had with Lucas before I left his house earlier that day.

- I talked a lot with the doctor at the hospital, Nina, and he recommended that we keep an eye on Cellbit. What he needs now is support from friends and plenty of company.

Well, I was keeping company, and a very pleasant company, to be honest. Okay, all right. Rafael wasn't going to have a fit just because I'm irresponsible.

- Hey, Rafa - I called. - Do you have to come home today?

Rafael looked at me very slowly, suggestively, a dangerous gleam in his eyes. I threw the dish towel in his face and he caught it before it fell to the floor.

- I had scheduled a live for today, but I can postpone it.

- Good, because ... because ... - I choked on the words, trying to find an excuse that didn't make me look desperate or overprotective. Something told me that Rafael avoided depending on others.

- Because we still have to publish the video! He exclaimed, triumphantly pulling out a USB stick from his pocket. I narrowed my eyes. - What's it? Did you think you would escape this?

- Actually, I was hoping so.

- Well, you waited in vain. It won't be too bad, Nina. Just push a button.

- Many things would fit into that sentence and none of them ends well.

- Let go of being pessimistic.

- Realist.

- I prefer fearful.

- Which side are you on, anyway?

- On the rational side that sees in its refusal an unfounded modesty.

- Okay, explain yourself.

- You do not want to admit that you were part of the video creation process and feel that if you accept to post it, you will be taking credit for the work. And you are absolutely wrong for thinking that.

- I see no mistake in being beautiful and moral.

- Being beautiful is debatable, and its morality is even more questionable.

- Thanks for the vote of confidence.

- You're welcome.

- Okay, sir, psychologist. Let's just post the fucking video.

☽౦☾

And we ended up posting the video.

The act itself was quite symbolic - we were both well aware of it - and I had long since been forced to admit our closeness. Damn, we knew each other a little less than a month and it seemed like it had been a lifetime.

It scared me.

Lying on my bed, we watched an apocalypse movie that none of us paid attention to. I had leaned against his shoulders, as close as I could get without throwing myself at him, and I couldn't keep my thoughts from wandering. His hand ran slowly down my back, making invisible circles, but I tried not to be too startled.

After all, we were just friends watching a movie, right?

Yes, I knew we were on a tightrope. My skin tingled, breathing was difficult and all I wanted to do was taste the white skin under the shirt. I knew that, if it were up to him, we wouldn't have stopped in the kitchen or anywhere else, but Rafael respected me and would never advance if I didn't want him.

The problem is ... I wanted to. I wanted it, and a lot, but the shadow of that shit secret hung over me and left me with a foot in the back. Not for the first time, I wondered what Rafael would say if - when he learned the truth. Would you be disappointed? Astonished? Annoyed that I cheated you?

"If anyone knows that you are the author, you can say goodbye to the second book."

I shivered under Rafael's steady hand. This caught your attention.

- What's it?

- Me?, nothing. A shiver. - He nodded, then put a gentle pressure on my back while arranging our bed positions better. The credits were already going up on the screen and I realized, with some surprise, that I wouldn't even remember half the film if someone asked me.

Rafael stretched.

- A delicious waste of time. Bad film, huh?

- Certainly. I think I must have slept somewhere.

- Slept.

- And why didn't you wake me up? Sleeping in the middle of the film is impolite.

He shrugged.

- I didn't have the courage. It was really funny to hear you mumble.

Oh no.

- And what, exactly, did I mumble so much?

- Ah, you know. Unimportant things. Something about the Statue of Liberty needing new panties ...? He raised his eyebrows suggestively. A chuckle escaped before I could contain it.

- Oh really?

- Yes, yes - he continued, excited by my amusement. - And also swore that the Statue of Liberty was too old to drive a camel. He even asked me if I didn't agree. As I am too much of a gentleman to disagree with a sleepwalker, I ended up considering that you are quite sensible when you are sleeping. It would be really strange to find the Statue of Liberty riding a camel.

"Stop, please," I pleaded, barely holding on with laughter. - Fuck, I'm very weird sleeping.

- I even thought it was very smart of you to comment on the camels.

- It was not the strangest statements I ever made while sleeping.

- Oh yes? What kind of statements do you make while sleeping?

- My mother says that I already asked the Croatian ambassador for money to save Bolivian lettuce from extinction.

"Sensible and ecological," he commented, pretending to be serious.

- And I also fought with my father because he set my jeep on fire. I was annoyed that the jeep could end up breaking into an orphanage and causing a fire.

- Do your dreams always defend social causes?

- Only on Wednesdays.

- And for the rest of the week?

- For the rest of the week - I repeated, delighting myself with his arm behind my back - I dream of hydrogen bombs destroying humanity, leaving this planet for the little animals. They deserve it more than we do.

- Here we go again ... you and this eternal mania of being vegetarian.

- To start with, it's not 'mania'. I was born that way. And then, humanity is rotten and always has been, right? What is morality if not a pure and simple illusion?

- Do you really think that the value attributed to a human being equals the value of an animal?

- Perhaps not in practice, but certainly in theory.

- The mere fact that you think about morality already raises you above a certain irrational level. Being able to decide on the best actions to take makes, consequently, the most noble and dignified actions. To think of the collective good is to attribute values ​​to certain things.

- You're right, of course. I was not referring to the side philosophical of the thing, nor to the rational side. I was just thinking in a fatalistic way, remembering that one hour everything will explode and our passage here will be relevant as a grain of sand in the sea.

- Don't you believe in the afterlife? Resurrection?

- You believe?

- I asked first.

- Do not know. Is that you?

- I think not. I don't usually spend a lot of time thinking about death.

- Ah, I think. I think it's kind of a relief to know that nothing we've done in this life will be relevant. One day everything just goes away.

- It seems depressing to think like that. Don't you feel the need to be eternal? Make your legacy last ... leave a mark?

- No. That, yes, it seems depressing. But you've already managed to make your mark, Rafa. He made a career in art that will last for a long time.

- Funny to hear you talk like that. - He raised an eyebrow while I made a 'han?' Face. Rafael shook his head - No, I want to leave more than just a pretty face solving other people's puzzles.

- Does that mean you're planning something?

- I always am. But this time, I think of an enigma. A big puzzle.

"I wonder what it is," I murmured. I was already sleepy again and started to feel my brain turning off the lights and turning off. Rafael had started to caress my hair, which only made me feel more sleepy.

- If I told you, Nina, I would no longer be a mystery.

- Mysteries are what move your mind, Rafa. You don't know how to live without them, do you? Maybe that's why you're here with me. - My speech was slow, slurred. I yawned and Rafael laughed, the vibration in his chest making a nice ripple.

- Not everything that is essential to me is a mystery, Nina. As much as you wanted to be an enigma, there are no more secrets that I don't know about. Not with you.

- That sounds ... depressing ... doesn't it? Where's the emotion in a girl with no mysteries?

- You're right. You remain an unknown, but I have Ariadne's thread. I won't get lost. The key is in my hands.

- And who gave you that?

"You," he replied simply. I snuggled up in his arms and fell asleep.