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“Marcos!” Her voice pulls me out of my daydreams and effortlessly draws my attention to her face.The short hair, half-tied, half-loose, crowned with a fine tiara of pearls, the well-done makeup, the tasty lips, dancing is a terrible idea. A bad idea. A very, very, bad idea
She already has her fingers intertwined with mine, I get up, she does the same, and we start walking.Smiles spread our way, reaching us together with subtle greetings, until we are alone, or as lonely as it is possible to be in a full hall, in the middle of the dance floor.
“Don’t let me fall,” she asks, and I remember her saying she wasn’t good at it weeks ago.
“Never”The word runs out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop it.
The music echoes around us, it’s slow, sensual, whoever chose it knew what they were doing.I take another step, holding Antonella’s body close to mine and wrap my arms around her waist, she does the same with hers around my neck and we start moving slowly.The sensations that always accompany the proximity of her hit me like waves, knocking me down successively, again and again, before I have a chance to protect myself.
“Marcos...” she whispers, and only then do I realize how close our mouths are.
“All you have to do is say no, Antonella. One word.” Her warm breath on my lips tests my heart, anxious at the possibility of receiving what it has been waiting for days, since the last time.It’s been too long since I’ve tasted her lips, her tongue, her taste.Far too long… The subtle touch of lips during the ceremony served nothing but rubbing in my face what I don’t have.
I look forward to the silence between us to extend.And it does, Antonella doesn’t deny me, and I forget the world around us when my lips touch hers.It’s not slow, it’s not subtle, and it shouldn’t even be done in public, but I really don’t care, and neither does my wife seem to care.
My tongue enters her mouth and dances around hers, adoring her, begging for any attention she’s willing to give me, and is rewarded with lips, teeth, and saliva, being sucked, massaged, savored in a way that forces me to stop the kiss, because although I really want to forget anyone around us, I can’t parade through my own marriage with the erection that once took over my pants and now struggles with the tight fabric.
When my mouth leaves hers, sounds of clapping, screaming and whistling explode in my ears, it’s fifth grade again.We both smiled at each other at a time that shouldn’t be as good as it seems, after all, it’s my wedding.Why does everything seem so right?
“Ahem...” a throat clearing sounds right beside me, just proving my total unawareness to anything other than my wife, and when I turn in the direction of the sound, I frown, not understanding.
“Your Honor?” I ask, when I come across Judge Mario Machado before me.
“Could I have a dance with my daughter?” he asks, and I’m ready to ask him what he’s talking about when my eyes focus on Antonella and find her completely pale, paper-white, looking like she’s seen a ghost.
I tilt my head, not being able to fit the pieces inside her, because they don’t seem to make any sense, but I decide to focus on Antonella, worrying that she may faint at any second.
“Ella... are you okay?Perhaps it is better to sit down” I speak to her, but her eyes seem to see nothing but the man standing beside us, and my conclusions, though absurd, become less and less cloudy.But that wouldn’t be possible, would it?Antonella was a cleaner in my house, that wouldn’t make any sense.
And as if she were finally coming back from wherever her mind has gone, her eyes move, blink, and she pulls deep breaths.
“You can’t be serious!” he spits out the words with so much disgust, that three certainties hit me hard.
The first, in some world, makes sense that Antonella, the former cleaner of my house and my now wife, is the daughter of one of the most important federal judges in Brazil.The second one, somehow, I didn’t know that.The third, there is something very wrong with all of this, by the tone of contempt in his words.
And now, my marriage looks exactly as I always thought it should.Like something completely and absolutely wrong.
Five years. Five years of silence, disinterest and abandonment, and now he shows up like this, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to ask me for a dance.I shake my head in disbelief, but I should have known better, shouldn’t I?Marcos’ family is one of the most traditional when it comes to Brazilian law, it was stupid of me to consider that because they did not know me, they would not know my parents.
I take a few steps back, making it clear that I don’t intend to let myself be touched by him, and his eyes sparkle, just as I remember they did in my childhood.
“You’re not going to do this here, in front of all these people, Antonella! It is enough the shame of having entered the ceremony alone!” he demands, as if he had some right to do so.I only notice the tear when it runs down my cheek and drips over my chest.It’s not pain, sadness or hurt, it’s anger! Yes, anger! Damn, I can imagine so many things I’d like to say to him, starting with a resoundingFuck you!Instead, I raise my face with an air of disdain.
“You have a lot of guts, Your Honor Judge Mário Machado Rodrigues...” I continue to look at him with shock and disgust to the same extent.
“Antonella, pull yourself together!You won’t embarrass me like that!”
A sound of derision leaves my throat as a sad, bitter smile takes hold of my lips.
“Watch me!” Without thinking about anything other than leaving that place, picking up my daughter and disappearing before I am forced to deal with the other ghost from my past, the one I once called mother, I reach out to an astonished Marcos and turn my back on the man who raised me.Just like one day he did to me.
I don’t look back, but I don’t need to, to know that my father isn’t following me.Leaving him alone in the middle of the dance floor has already hurt him more than his fragile ego can take, he would never run after me.The risk I’m under now is that of being cornered by his wife in some corner out of sight of the other guests.
I walk in moderate steps, even if I want to run.But I won’t give them that satisfaction. Not anymore. Marcos walks beside me, welcoming my hand inside his, and I dare not look for his gaze, because I know he will ask me a thousand questions that I simply do not have the emotional conditions to answer right now.
We got to the table, and I don’t even greet anyone.I ignore the interrogative expressions and ask myself the only question whose answer interests me.
“Where’s Isabella?”
