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“I’m really sorry I asked you, Senhor Morais. I realize now that I had no right to.”

“You had more right than you might think. We’re good friends, and there can be no secrets between friends.”

“But…”

“Naturally I’m not going to ask you to tell me yours. We men confide much more in women than they do in us, which is why I told you the whole story. I trust you, trust you completely.” He leaned forward, smiling. “So now we share a secret, and secrets bring people closer, don’t they?”

Maria Cláudia merely smiled, as all women do when they don’t know what to say. The person at whom the smile is directed can interpret it as he or she wishes.

“It’s good to see you smile. At my age, it’s always good to see young people smile. And you’re very young indeed.”

Another smile from Maria Cláudia. Encouraged, Paulino went on:

“And not just young, but pretty too.”

“Thank you, Senhor Morais.”

This time the smile did not come unaccompanied, and her voice quavered slightly.

“There’s no need to blush, Claudinha. I’m only saying what’s true. I don’t know anyone as pretty as you.”

In order to say something, since a smile was no longer enough, Claudinha said what she should not have said:

“Dona Lídia was much prettier than me!”

Yes, “was”! As if Lídia had died, as if she were no longer relevant to the conversation except as a point of comparison.

“Not at all. I’m speaking as a man now, and you’re quite different. You’re young and pretty and there’s something about you that I find really… touching.”

Paulino was very polite, so polite that he even said “May I?” before reaching out a hand to remove a stray hair that had fallen onto Claudinha’s shoulder. However, the hand did not follow the same trajectory on the way back. It brushed Claudinha’s face, so slowly it resembled a caress, so lingeringly it appeared not to want to move away. Claudinha sprang to her feet. Paulino’s voice, grown suddenly husky, said:

“What’s wrong, Claudinha?”

“Nothing, Senhor Morais. I have to go. It’s late.”

“But it’s not even seven o’clock yet.”

“Yes, but I have to go.”

She made as if to leave, but Paulino blocked the way. She looked at him, tremulous and frightened. He reassured her. He touched her cheek as an affectionate grandfather might do and murmured:

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t hurt you. I only want what’s best for you.”

Exactly what her parents used to say to her: “We only want what’s best for you.”

“Did you hear? I only want what’s best for you.”

“I have to go, Senhor Morais.”

“But you do believe what I just said, don’t you?”

“Of course I do, Senhor Morais.”

“And we’re friends?”

“Yes, Senhor Morais.”

“And we always will be?”

“I hope so, Senhor Morais.”

“Excellent!”

He stroked her cheek again, saying:

“What I told you is strictly between you and me. It’s a secret. You can tell your parents if you like, but if you do, be sure to say that I only left that woman because she proved unworthy of me. I could never leave someone I truly cared about, not without some pressing reason. It’s true that, for some time now, I haven’t felt entirely comfortable with her. I think my feelings for her were already beginning to fade. There’s someone else, someone I’ve only known for a few weeks. And I’ve found it very hard having that other person so close to me and not being able to talk to her. Do you understand, Claudinha? It was you I was thinking of!”

Arms outstretched, he approached Claudinha and gripped her shoulders. Claudinha felt his lips brush her face in search of her lips. She smelled his cigar breath, felt his greedy mouth devouring hers. She didn’t have the strength to push him away. When he released her, she sat down on the armchair, exhausted. Then, without looking at him, she murmured:

“Please let me go now, Senhor Morais.”

Paulino took a deep breath, as if he could at last breathe freely, his lungs unconstricted. He said:

“I’m going to make you very happy, Claudinha!”

Then he opened his office door and summoned the office boy, telling him to fetch Claudinha’s coat. The office boy was his trusted inside man, so trusted that he did not appear to notice Maria Cláudia’s agitated state or express surprise when the boss helped her on with her coat.

And that was it. That was what Maria Cláudia did not tell her parents. Her head still throbbing, sleep continued to elude her. She lay on her back, hands behind her head, thinking. It was impossible not to understand what Paulino wanted. Impossible to close her eyes to the evidence. She was still on the slippery slope of “seeming,” but as close to “being” as one hour is to the next. She knew she had not reacted as she should have, not just during that last conversation, but since the very first day, from the moment when, left alone with Paulino in Lídia’s apartment, she had felt his insatiable eyes undressing her. She had not written that letter, but she knew nonetheless that she had been responsible for his breakup with Lídia. She knew that she had reached this point not because of what she had done, but because of what she had not done. She knew all this. The only thing she did not know was whether she wanted to take Lídia’s place, because that was what it came down to now, wanting or not wanting. If she had told her parents everything, she would not be going back to the office in the morning. But she preferred not to tell them. Why? Was it a desire to deal with things in her own way? But “her own way” had gotten her into this situation. Was it the reserved silence of someone who wants to be independent? But at what price?

A few seconds before, Maria Cláudia had heard the click-clack of high heels in the apartment below. She took no notice at first, but the sound continued and finally penetrated her thoughts. She was intrigued. Then she heard the door of the downstairs apartment opening, the key turning in the lock and, after a brief silence, someone going down the stairs. It was Lídia. Maria Cláudia glanced at the luminous face of the clock on her bedside table. A quarter to eleven. What was Lídia doing out and about at that hour? Barely had she formulated this question than she found the answer. She gave a wry smile, but realized at once how monstrous that smile was. She felt a sudden impulse to weep. She drew the bedclothes up over her head to muffle her sobs. And there, almost suffocating from the lack of air and from her tears, she determined that the next day she would tell her parents everything.

33

When, after much bureaucratic toing and froing and at vast expense, Emílio finally came home bearing all the documents that his wife and son needed in order to leave, Carmen almost jumped up and down with delight. The days of waiting had seemed to her like years. She had feared that some obstacle would force her to postpone the journey for longer than her impatience could bear. Now, though, there was nothing to fear. She kept leafing through her passport with childlike curiosity. She read it from cover to cover. Everything was in order, she just had to decide on a date and forewarn her parents. Had it been up to her, she would have left the very next day and sent a telegram, but there were still the suitcases to be packed. Emílio helped her, and the evenings taken up with this task were some of the happiest they had spent together as a family. Henrique, quite unwittingly, cast a pall over the general mood of contentment when he expressed his regret that his father would not be coming with them. However, once Carmen and Emílio’s combined efforts and combined goodwill had convinced him that this was a matter of no importance, he soon forgot about that minor cloud. If his parents were happy, then he should be too. If his parents did not weep as they apportioned clothes and other personal items, it would be absurd for him to cry. After just three of these evening sessions, everything was ready. The suitcases already bore the wooden labels with Carmen’s name and destination on them. Emílio bought the tickets and told his wife that they would sort out these matters on her return, for, since her parents had promised to pay for the tickets and Emílio had been obliged to borrow money in order to buy them, there would have to be a settling of accounts. Carmen assured him that she would send him the money as soon as she arrived, so that he would not get into any financial difficulties. Both husband and wife took great pains to be as considerate to each other as possible, and so Henrique had the joy of spending those last few hours with his parents reconciled and more communicative than he had ever seen them before.