domingo, dezembro 21, 2008



“If almost everybody can have as many as they want, why can’t we have one? Just one…” – I think. That’s what we’d been telling each other. At first I think it worked like some kind of excuse, some effort in trying to convince ourselves that it was not that wrong. But, as time went by, and the plan evolved, I really started believing… understanding, and realizing that it made perfect sense.

How many times had we tried?... So many frustrations… It seems as if it was God, my sacred God, that so many times had punished me, but that suddenly gave us an opportunity. By coincidence, we knew about someone that was going to have one. As soon as we knew about the pregnancy, and after we thought over and over again about reality… (we deserved one)… we started planning everything. The first step was letting our family and friends know.

- Dad, I’m pregnant! – The happiness they shared with us seemed even greater than our would be, and because of that I told myself that we were doing the right thing. Since that moment we started to disguise the belly, very gently and progressively. Being extra careful and clever, we managed to escape from events such as going to the beach, the pool… everything that could expose our secret. Unluckily, the person that was having the baby, either didn’t want to know the sex, or we hadn’t had the opportunity to find out, and because of that we told everybody we preferred not to know. My husband, dedicated as he always had been, around the fifth month of pregnancy had already figured out all the habits of that gigantic family, as well as the fragilities and lack of carefulness of their house. Of course we were careful enough not to risk the plan with someone we knew…

- I’m pregnant! – I heard her, that day, saying to her friends at the café. I couldn’t describe the deep envy I felt, and the overwhelming feeling that told me that was just not fair, since she had said she already had four kids! And one more… one more! I constantly thought about it, I couldn’t help feeling as the most forgotten being. Forgotten by God… I had to share my feelings of hatred and rage with someone, and so I did, letting my husband know what was going on inside me.

My surprise was enormous, but it gave place to hope.

- You don’t understand this opportunity!! – he told me me. He had just shared with me an idea that seemed absurd! – Don’t you understand? It’s perfect, my love! They have four kids! If they want, they have sex and have another one in less than a year! What about us? Do we have to accept this shit LIFE, to grow old without having anyone to take care of? – ideas started to dance in my mind, but quickly they stopped, and started to settle down, as I started to realize that it made sense, and that my husband, after all, was not that wrong. It was simple, easy, and above all, it was fair!

- Honey… – he told me, one day. I was sitting in my living room, having a cup of tea as I stroked my rubber belly. – The baby has been born! – I felt dizzy. I had to grab something so as not to fall. It had been a while since I felt such adrenalin.
- Now what?
- Now we wait. Tuesday I go in! – he told me, with such conviction that he almost made me find it strange. Tuesday would be within four days. Needless to say that those four days seemed like four years… The strange thing was that, in those four days, we made love more than ten times! The excitement of what we were about to do, of what we were about to have, got mixed up with the excitement we gave each other, and we lived to each other… The day was coming…

- Stay here. Everything will be ok.


Everything will be ok, I’m sure. It can only go well. It’s four in the morning; I’ve been on the street since two. I send a text to her mobile letting her know that everything is ok and that I’m going in. I get to the house, go around it, crack the lock. I knew there wouldn’t be an alarm. I go through the kitchen, through the hall and I see the stairs. I feel joy when I listen to the husband snoring. I climb the stairs, turn right, and I see the bedroom door. Written on it I can see “Inês and Beatriz”. Now the most difficult and risky part, to get in without the oldest daughter waking up, and without making the baby cry. I’m nervous, very nervous. I take a deep breath and open the door. I see the cradle. I walk towards it and, being as careful as I possibly can, I grab the baby. She is in my arms. I slowly turn and start walking towards the door. The baby opens her eyes. I ask God for her not to cry. Instead, she looks at me. Her eyes gaze deeply into mine, and in my madness I imagine she’s calling me “dad” with that look. I shed a tear. I keep walking, I’m in the hall, I look at the child. I raise my eyes, surprise! I see her mother, standing right in front of me, staring, not saying one word.

- What are you doing here? That’s not what we had arranged! – I tell her, in the quietest tone I can use. She comes to me.
- I’m sorry, but ever since you sent me the text to open the door… I haven’t been able to sleep. I wanted to say goodbye for the last time – tears roll down her face. I understand her, but I want to leave as soon as I can. Adriana had been my first girlfriend, while we were in university. Fate decided that we would take separate paths. My passion died, and I found Isabel, whom I love deeply. However, I knew that, to Adriana, I had been her true love. So, acting, I suppose, as everything but a human being, I asked her, once, what no one should ever ask anyone. Manipulating her love, I slept with her once more, and I asked her… what you don’t ask anyone. How I remember... Lying in bed, tears dripping on the sheets, she said yes, without actually saying one word…

I take a step, getting closer to her. With her lips, Adriana touches mine, and we give our last kiss. The child, in my arms, can see, for the first and last time, her true parents kissing.

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