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I shake my head and stretch my arm to reach it.When I open the pot, I find a measuring spoon inside, using it, I pour the fine powder on the countertop and understand that this is probably what Isabella has on her face and clothes.She immediately uses her little hands to spread the sweet flour over the counter until it is almost completely taken, I just watch.
“Okay, Chef Bella. What now?” What now? ” Her childish chuckle rings in my ears again, telling me that she is enjoying this situation very much, at the very least. And, as if attracted by the words, the image of two men is drawn in my head.The first one, my father, he is smiling, satisfied, which is worrying, since he and I have very different ideas about how my marriage will work.
If he’s satisfied, I’m probably doing something wrong.The second is João Pedro.On his face there is also a smile.But it’s not satisfaction, it’s mockery. I can understand why.After all, I’m sprinkling sugar on a counter and about to stick my hand in a pot full of goo with no purpose at all.Just to please a child with whom my interactions should be nothing more than objective greetings.
I would also laugh at the situation if I didn’t experience it myself.
“Now you take some slime without painting on the pot...” Obeying, I remove the lid and raise my hand.I do not contain the grimace of displeasure as I approach the gooey white cloud. My hand touches it, God!This is horrible!
“Holy shit!” I curse softly and only realize it when Isabella’s horrified gasp hits my ears. Oh!Fuck me! I’m screwed!
“You said a bad word!” she accuses, and I look at her, static, still with my hand sunk in the goo pot.
“Uh... Uhm...” I stutter, but what should I do? “Bella... I… Uh…” what can I offer her so she won’t tell her mother? “Your birthday’s coming up, isn’t it?” I remember and I say the words trampled, desperate for it to work.Bella tilts her head and nods up and down.
“I’ll be four years old,” she repeats, as whenever the word birthday is said near her, and raises her small hand, leaving four fingers raised. “Like this.”
“Hmm… And what do you want to get for birthday present?” I ask, hoping that it distracts her enough and she forgets what she heard.Damn it, please let her forget what she heard.
I don’t have to be a genius or a child-education expert to know that Antonella is going to kill me if she knows that I let Isabella hear a bad word out of my mouth.
In the last four days, since the wedding, I’ve heard Antonella curse more than in the last whole month.I thought she would be able, however, never within earshot of Isabella.
“I want a party! On the school!” I frown.Isabella doesn’t go to school anymore.
“Why on the school, Bella?”
“Because my little friends are there... Julia, Lala, Felipe, Mauricio, Leticia and the other Isabella…” explains, and I smile.Enjoying the ease in expressing herself and giving thanks to God because my strategy seems to have worked. Isabella forgot the bad word.
“But you don’t go to school anymore, Bella...” I immediately regret when her face is taken by a sad expression and she lowers her head, “But what if we had a party outside of school and invited all my friends?” She raises her head quickly with bright eyes.
“Can we?” She questions, admiring.
“We can,” I say, regardless of the consequences. She looked as if she was about to cry. Antonella won’t be able to blame me for this... I stopped her from crying, after all...
“In a park?” Ok, now things are getting a little more complicated.
“Uh...” I try to buy time, but Isabella’s eyes go back down, predicting my denial, and I don’t see any other way. “Yes! In a park!”
“Yay, Marcos!” she celebrates, excited, and claps her hands on the counter, making the fine sugar fly directly to my face.I raise my hand to avoid the cloud of white dust only to be reminded that I still have it sunk in the gooey, fuck!
Antonella chooses this moment to show up, and her eyes scour the scene that seems to have come out of a 1990s comedy series with attention. Isabella turns back, acknowledging her presence and shouts:
“Mommy! Marcos said I’m having a birthday party in the park with my friends from school!” My wife’s eyes widen and look for me immediately.I nod my head in a silent apology and she looks at me, seeming to try to understand how it happened.Good luck,Ella, I’d like to know too. “And, Mommy! Marcos said a bad word!” denouncing me.
What an opportunist!She made me promise to do what she wanted and yet she screwed me! Isabella would definitely be a good lawyer in the future!But that doesn’t stop me from complaining.
“Oh, fuck!” I swear again before I realize what I’m doing.Antonella’s mouth opens and her eyes narrow.She shakes her head, refusing to believe I don’t know what.If I had actually cursed twice in front of her daughter, or if I recognized that promising the moon to the child was an attempt to keep her quiet.
The fact is that the disgust on her face is obvious.I open my mouth to say something, but just her look silences me, she scolds me without even saying a word, just as I’ve seen her do to Isabella a few times, and although that sounds and seems ridiculous, her look is so definitive, I dare not say anything else.
“Bella, Mommy’s going to talk to Marcos. He did not know that cursing is ugly” she says to her daughter, but looks at me ugly. I can only think that if that look makes me feel like shit, I don’t even want to imagine what it doesn’t do to the poor little three-year-old.
“And as for your birthday, Mommy said she still didn’t know if your little friends could come, didn’t she?” Hearing the denial, Isabella makes a teary face.
“But Marcos said, Mommy...” I get another intimidating look and, shamefully, I shrink in my chair.
“Marcos didn’t know that your friends’ mothers work all day and maybe they can’t take them to the party.But Mommy’s gonna try, okay?” Isabella shakes her head, nodding sadly.
