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When I reach her, Antonella already has her finger on the elevator fingerprint sensor, ready to leave me here, alone, like an idiot, without even having the courtesy to tell me what’s going on.
I want to demand to know what is it, but I realize I only caught up to her, actually, because she’s frozen in place.And every moment that the voice on the other end of the line speaks, Antonella remains silent and her face becomes more serious, ceasing to look worried and beginning to look desperate.Against my own expectations, I find myself wanting to help her, even though I don’t know what exactly she needs.
In a one-second decision, I put on my shoes separated in the hall and cover her hand with mine over the sensor, as she is nervous enough not to position her finger properly, so the elevator has not yet been called.
My touch awakens her from the trance that whatever she has heard has put her on, and when her eyes meet mine, I see tears about to be shed on them.Oh no, fuck!Tears? No!What am I going to do with a crying ex-future baby bride?
“I’m on my way!” she answers firmly to the phone, despite her shaken appearance. “I’ll be there in, I don’t know, 40 minutes. I... I’ll take an Uber! Oh my God!” She puts her hand over her face as she realizes how long it will take to get where she needs to be right now. “This is gonna take a lifetime... Ok, I’m coming! I’m coming!”
I can’t help but wonder what happened.My first thought is her parents, but she told me minutes ago that they don’t care about her, so I assume they don’t have a good relationship.
A friend?A grandmother, perhaps?A grandmother would justify such despair, a close relative, fuck, I have no idea!And again, the mocking laughter of João Pedro sounds in my head, and then his voice telling me that I didn’t know anything about the girl sounding too.Damn, I hate it when he’s right!
The elevator doors open and Antonella enters it shaken and hanging up the phone, but with her gaze so lost, that I wonder if she knows what to do, where to go.I follow Antonella, walking right behind her and stopping beside her.Still, she barely notices my presence.Again, her finger on the sensor does not fulfill its role and draws my attention to the intense tremor in her hands.
Moving her hand gently, I place my finger over the reader and program the descent to the underground garage.Antonella does not say a word, but her eyes do not deviate from the luminous panel that indicates the floors through which we pass and mine do not deviate from it for a second.I want to ask her what’s wrong, but I have no doubt that right now my presence is as significant to her as a fly’s would be.I highly doubt she’ll hear anything I say right now.
So I keep my mouth shut as the machine goes lower and lower.Antonella’s hands continue to shake, and she wraps her arms around her body, hugging herself, her feet tap the ground non-stop in an anxious reflection, and her eyes, though red and irritated by shed tears, keep her face as dry as the moment I met her this morning.
The elevator doors finally open in the underground garage of the building, I exit through them, but Antonella remains in the same place, when I turn around looking for her, I find her slightly leaning, with her finger on the fingerprint reader and, to hell, this time, she presses it right.
The doors begin to close and I literally throw myself between them, preventing the closing.This makes Antonella notice my presence.Her lost gaze fixes on me, and I wonder if she only now realized that it was with me she shared the elevator, even though we had entered it together, leaving my apartment.
“I need to go and you need to release the door!” she demands, her voice the complete opposite of her shaken posture.
“I know. Come, I’ll take you...” I reach out and after the look she gives me, I think it’s good to make sure my arm hasn’t turned green since the last time I saw it.
“What? What... Why?”
Yea Marcos! Why?
I ask the question to myself and find no answer.Then I keep silent and just reach my hand out again, on a request.This time, Antonella does not hesitate to accept it and in a moment, we are already facing my car.I open the door for her, who rushes in, and I’m sure she’d be able to rush me in as well.
“Where to?” I ask, seated in the driver’s seat.
“Santa Leopoldina Hospital.”
?
“Isabella Rodrigues, please!” Antonella lets out the name at the front desk of the hospital after practically jumping out of the car as soon as I parked.
I literally had to run after her.Well, definitely, that was an interesting first time.
The surname tells me it’s a relative, probably a grandmother.And while she’s busy receiving the information, I can’t help but have my eyes peek around us.I knew Antonella was poor, but knowing and seeing are two completely different things.
The hospital is not poorly equipped, but it is far from what I would consider appropriate.Grimy walls, old furniture, no kind of comfort for the companions or visitors in sight and, looking at the receptionist, I realize that sympathy is also not something they’re good at.Guilt.The damn feeling hits me hard.
She said she had a plan and that I had no right to turn it upside down only to give up afterwards.Looking at this place, it makes a lot more sense than before.
Antonella’s hasty and obstinate steps — fuck, what a big name!I’ll call herElla... — take us to the elevator down the hall.She stops in front of the old machine and presses the button.When it doesn’t appear instantly, she presses it again, leaving her finger on the panel as if it were a doorbell.Contrary to what I expected, now that we’ve arrived, her anxiety seems to have increased rather than decreased, and her whole body makes that very clear.
Anxious feet tap non-stop against the yellowish floor, the hand that is not obsessed with pushing the elevator button inside the panel so that it will never be able to be removed alternates between giving light pats on the thigh and going through the strands of loose hair, the eyes do not fix themselves anywhere, and the tongue constantly wetting the lips, as if the previous lick had had no effect.
The elevator ring sounds loud, denouncing its arrival,Ellaenters the instant the doors open and I follow her, positioning myself right next to her in the tight space.Her hands slide through her loose hair, drawing my attention to them, they are beautiful, but for some reason that I don’t know, although they seem suitable for the personality she demonstrates, I think they look like her, like who she is.
What the fuck, Marcos?Since when are you the best people reader?
The elevator display shows the number three, Antonella shoots out the door, and I follow her until we’re standing in front of an empty counter.Ella turns her face in all directions, probably looking for the person who should be behind that counter, with the function of giving information to family members and visitors.However, all we see is few uniformed people walking from time to time, but none of them seem willing to settle down at the reception.
