Silvestre folded his strong arms and said:
“You know very well you’re not.”
Abel smiled.
“You’re right. Onward. For a sixteen-year-old boy who wants to set up on his own, but who knows nothing — and what I knew was as good as nothing — finding work isn’t easy, even if you’re not that choosy. And I wasn’t choosy. I just grabbed the first thing that came my way, which was an ad for an assistant in a cake shop. There were a lot of applicants, I found out later, but the owner chose me. I was lucky. Perhaps my clean suit and my good manners helped. I tested this theory out later on, when I tried to find another job. I turned up looking like a scruffy, badly brought-up kid, and as people say nowadays, enough said. They hardly looked at me. Anyway, my wages at the cake shop just about kept me from starving, and I had accumulated enough reserves from sixteen years of being well fed to survive. When those reserves were exhausted, the only thing I could do was fill up on my boss’s cakes. I can’t so much as look at a cake now without wanting to throw up. Could I have another cherry brandy?”
Silvestre filled his glass. Abel took a sip and went on:
“If I keep going into so much detail, we’ll be here all night. It’s past one o’clock already, and I’m only on my first job. I’ve had loads, which is what I meant when I said that I have no fixed profession. At the moment, I’m clerk of works on a building site over in Areeiro. Tomorrow, I don’t know what I’ll be. Unemployed possibly. It wouldn’t be the first time. I don’t know if you’ve ever been without work, without money or a place to live. I have. Once, it coincided with a medical inspection to see if I was fit enough to do my military service. I was in such a debilitated state that they rejected me outright. I was one of those men the nation did not want. I didn’t care, to be honest, although a couple of years of guaranteed bed and board does have its attractions. I managed to get a job shortly afterward, though. You’ll laugh when I tell you what it was. I was employed as a salesman, selling a marvelous tea that could cure all ills. Funny, don’t you think? You certainly would’ve found it funny if you’d heard me talking about it. I have never lied so much in my life, and I hadn’t realized how many people are prepared to believe lies. I traveled all over the country, selling my miraculous tea to whoever would believe me. I never felt guilty about it. The tea didn’t do any harm, I can assure you, and my words gave such hope to those who bought it that I reckon they might still owe me money, because hope is beyond price…”
Silvestre nodded in agreement.
“You agree, don’t you? Well, there you have it, there hardly seems any point in telling you much more about my life. I’ve been cold and starving. I’ve known excess and privation. I’ve eaten like a wolf who can’t be sure he’ll catch anything tomorrow and I’ve fasted as if determined to starve myself to death. And here I am. I’ve lived in every part of this city. I’ve slept in dormitories where you can count the fleas and the bedbugs in their millions. I’ve even set up ‘home’ with certain good ladies of whom there are hundreds in Lisbon. Apart from the cakes I stole from my first employer, I’ve only ever stolen once, and that was in the Jardim da Estrela. I was hungry, and as someone who knows what hunger is, I can safely say that I had never been that hungry before. A pretty little girl came over to me. No, it’s not what you’re thinking. She was only about four years old at most. And if I describe her as pretty, that’s perhaps to make up for having robbed her. She was carrying a slice of bread and butter, almost uneaten. Her parents or her nursemaid must have been around somewhere, but I didn’t even think about that. She didn’t scream or cry, and a few moments later I was standing behind the church eating my bread and butter…”
There was a glimmer of tears in Silvestre’s eyes.
“And I’ve always paid my rent, so you don’t need to worry about that.”
Silvestre shrugged. He wanted Abel to go on talking, because he liked listening to him and, more than that, he still didn’t know how to answer his question. There was something he wanted to ask, but he feared it might be too soon to do so. Abel preempted him:
“This is only the second time I’ve told anyone this story. The first time was to a woman. I thought she would understand, but women never understand anything. I was wrong to tell her. She wanted to settle down and thought she could hold on to me. She was wrong about that. I don’t even know why I’ve told my story to you now. Perhaps because I like your face, perhaps because I haven’t spoken about it for some years and needed to get it off my chest. Or perhaps for some other reason. I don’t know…”
“You told me so that I would stop distrusting you,” said Silvestre.
“No, it wasn’t that. Plenty of people have distrusted me, but never heard my story. It was possibly the lateness of the hour, the game of checkers, the book I would be reading if I hadn’t joined you in here. Who can say? Whatever the reason, you now know all about my life.”
Silvestre scratched his unruly head of hair with both hands. Then he filled his glass and drank it down all at once. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and asked:
“Why do you live like this? And forgive me if I’m being indiscreet…”
“No, not at all. I live like this because I want to. I live like this because I don’t want to live any other way. Life as other people understand it has no value for me. I don’t want to be trapped, and life is an octopus with many tentacles. It just takes one to trap a man. Whenever I start to feel trapped, I cut off the tentacle. Sometimes that’s painful, but there’s no other way. Do you understand?”
“I understand perfectly, but that doesn’t lead anywhere useful.”
“I’m not interested in usefulness.”
“You must have hurt a few people along the way.”
“I’ve done my best not to, but when there’s no alternative, I don’t hesitate.”
“You’re a hard man!”
“Hard? No, I’m really fragile. And it’s probably my fragility that makes me avoid any ties that bind. If I give myself, if I allow myself to be trapped, I’ll be lost.”
“But one day… Look, I’m an old man, and I have experience of life…”
“So do I.”
“Mine is the experience of many years…”