Page 135 of For his Surrender

“Good afternoon,” I reply, and the silence that follows is the ideal environment for my mind to start idealizing the most miraculous scenarios possible.The closeness of the two is no more alarming than the expression on my wife’s face that remains static after what feels like an eternity.

She still doesn’t say anything as I approach, and I measure the individual from head to toe.His age is probably closer to Antonella’s than mine, he wears an expensive suit, is tall, his blonde hair is combed back and there is something in his eyes that catches my attention.A familiarity I can’t understand.

The silence extends between the three of us.And it seems to me that as much as I do, the man is waiting for Antonella to do the introductions.I look at her who, unbelievably, seems to become paler by the second, giving wings to thoughts I don’t want to have, but that get harder and harder to avoid when she reacts this way to the fact that I got home earlier and found her with a man I’ve never seen in my life, but that her body posture tells me she knows very well.

“Marcos.” Antonella finally finds her own voice, and my throat closes at the prospect of her saying the infamous phraseThat’s not what you’re thinking at all. But her next words, though completely different, do nothing to help me breathe again. “Marcos, this is Danilo, Isabella’s father.”

?

I keep looking at the closed doors of the elevator even after what seems like hours since it took away Danilo Albuquerque de Holanda, Isabella’s fucking father.

“Marcos...” Antonella’s voice draws my attention to her, who seems to have lost at least eight inches in height since the last time I saw her.The face clean from makeup is frightened, and her concern about what’s about to happen is obvious by the way she lowers her head.

I support the entire weight of my body on a single leg and bring my thumb and index fingers to my lips.I watch her for minutes enough for things to become clearer, only they don’t.Everything remains as absurd now as it was more than forty minutes ago when Antonella said,This is Danilo, Isabella’s father.

I close my eyes, press my lips together, run my tongue over them, moisten them and shake my head slightly to the sides.I open my eyes and fix them on my wife, she is the image of despair.Pale face, attentive eyes, irregular breathing, hands kneading the fabric of the green dress on her body and teeth biting hard on her lower lip.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on here?” I ask, and a low laugh leaves my throat as I’m struck again and again by the reality I don’t want to acknowledge. “Because,” I point to the closed doors of the elevator, “I’m pretty sure not only did I just meet your daughter’s father, but I also just found out he had no idea he was a father until he read a story in a fucking law magazine three days ago!” The last words come out pushed between teeth as I close my eyes and clench my free hand.

“I-I,” she stutters, and now my laughter is no longer low.It’s loud to try to match my disgust and the sense of betrayal that is taking over every part of my body.

“You what, Antonella?” I say slowly, savoring the bitter taste of the words in the intention that it make things more real. “You lied to me? Again?” I shake my head and start moving, walking from side to side.I drag my hand through my hair and stop with my back to my lying wife.

I take a deep breath, trying to control myself, because if I let anger take over, I’m sure I’ll regret it later, but damn it! Fuck!

“Parental alienation, Antonella? Really?

“Marcos, you don’t understand!” she defends herself, but she should choose the words better, because the last thing I’m willing to tolerate now are accusations.

Not from her.Not now.Not when I can barely handle the fact that less than an hour ago, I was thinking about how I thought I saw love in her eyes when all that was in them were lies.Fuck — I laugh at myself — asshole. Definitely asshole.

“I don’t understand...” I repeat, seeking the unreachable. Resentful. It just doesn’t exist. “I don’t understand! So please explain it to me, Antonella? What do I not understand?” I turn to her, finding her face wet with tears, which only pisses me off, because my first instinct is to swallow my frustration, disappointment, and hurt so she doesn’t cry, but everything has a limit, and to find out another lie for sure is mine. “That you keep making me a fool over and over again? Or is it that you lie to me with the baldest face in the world? Swearing that you’re not hiding anything from me just for, in the most unbelievable moments, surprise!I find out that yes! You’re hiding! What don’t I understand, Antonella?That you don’t respect me?That of all the women in the world, I fell in love just with you?The fucking woman who can’t get enough of making a fool of me?”

I throw at her the words that should have been spoken at a very different time.Now they are just ammunition, and I hope they not only hit the target but also do good damage.

Any color that planned to return to Antonella’s face turns its back and rushes back to the place it had been hiding.Whiter than ever, she stares at me with wide eyes, and the trembling that assails her whole body is visible even relatively distant as I am.

“Y-You…” Her mouth opens, and she struggles to speak, but her voice seems to have followed the same path as the blood in her body and abandoned her.I close my eyes, squeezing them.Unable to continue witnessing her suffering even though there is a part of me that wants to cause her as much heartbreak as I am feeling.

When I open my eyes again, I find my wife’s eager for me to hear her, yet the only thing I can control at this moment is the rage pulsing in my head.

“W-what did you say?” She finally manages to ask, and I laugh without finding any fun.

“What? That I love you?” I shake my head, agreeing. “You didn’t know, right? Of course you didn’t know!” I throw my hands up dramatically and shake my head, denying it. The theatrical smile on my face is painful, but if this shit is a spectacle, let it be good! “Because you only believe me when I’m being the asshole you so eagerly expect me to be!” I accuse, Antonella swallows and denies frantically.

“You aren’t being fair! You can accuse me of many things.But you can’t accuse me of not believing something you never told me!” she replies, crying.

“I’ve never told you? Fuck, Antonella! What did you want? A banner?A fucking contract?So you would have listened, right?Because as I recall, all I’ve done is love you in every action, in every day, in every fucking moment when I looked at you, damn it!I loved you when I didn’t even know what that meant yet, and then what do you do? You lie! Manipulate, hide and run!You hide from me that…” I exhale hard, unable to continue shooting all the words I want at the speed I want, because there is no lung in the world that can store enough oxygen for that. “Oh, fuck! You know what? I can’t have this conversation with you right now, Antonella, I just can’t!” I turn my back to leave the room, but the whispering tone of her voice pulls the strands of the fucked-up puppet I am.

“I wanted to tell you…” Her intonation is yet another blow that hits me, and that’s just another reason why this conversation needs to end.

I’m too pissed off, absolutely pissed off, and yet her pain hurts me.Which is ridiculous, since the only one who has the right to feel betrayed, frustrated and disappointed here is me.

Unfortunately, for me, regardless of this certainty, seeing the strong woman I know she is, reduced to crying excuses from a frightened girl breaks me down. That’s why I don’t turn my back on her and leave her talking to herself, even though that’s exactly what I should do.

But not being able to do that, I don’t skimp on words either.If she wants to have this conversation now, then she’s going to have to deal with it.

“You wanted? Of course you wanted! When? When Isabella was thirty?” I ironize.

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