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“Exchanging bags upon arrival at the airport, Gabi.”
“Exchanging bags upon arrival at the airport,” I repeat quietly to myself. “I'm not a thief, Dez.”
“Neither am I, but we do what we have to do.”
“Not that.”
“So, I'm sorry, I hope you get the money quickly. I'll leave my number; you just need to call me, and I'll come back to turn your lights back on.”
“I don't have a cell phone, Dez,” I respond automatically, while my mind scans the entire world without leaving the place and I feel the air escape from my body without making any attempt to return.
“Dona Maria has one, ask her to call me, it can be a collect call.”
I had hopes, stupid, I had hopes. I... I thought I could convince Dez, that I could find a way. I thought... that he wouldn't gently push me aside and climb the pole, even after all my requests, but he does.
Because in the succession of failures that is my life, this will be just one more to add to the score. I couldn't guarantee my sister's health, I couldn't help Fernanda grow into a decent woman, I couldn't do anything while I watched my father destroy himself, piece by piece, until only the shell was left, because no matter what I did, it’s never enough. I never am.
The lump in my throat is just another obstacle to my disinterested breathing. My eyes don't blink, they remain open, being dried by the hot wind as I feel each of my organs being crushed once more until I open my mouth to say the words, I swore I would never say. Until, with no way out, I negotiate the last piece of myself that I was sure I would never trade away.
“I'll do it, Dez,” I say loud enough for him to hear me, even meters up the stairs. “Exchanging bags, I'll do it.”
***
Once, Gabriella. Once and never again.I repeat silently as, hidden by the parking wall, I look towards the arrivals area. Tom Jobim International Airport is such a huge world, with so many entrances and exits that it would have been impossible not to get lost. So, of course, I got lost.
The frantic beating of my heart barely lets me hear my own mocking thoughts, but I hold on to them. They are better than any of the others that now infest my head: guilt, disappointment, anxiety and, of course, the certainty that this will go wrong like everything else in my life.
Thirty minutes after I should have gotten here, I struggle not to let worry overwhelm me. My target may simply have already left, because I was in access D, instead of A. And what exactly will happen to me when I return to the bosses with the same empty suitcase, I left there with, instead of with a full of whatever they are hoping to receive?
It's a simple scheme, actually, it would be funny if it weren't tragic. If I had to imagine what selling the last piece of my soul would be like, I would definitely have guessed something more dramatic than exchanging an empty suitcase for an identical one that is carrying valuable items, according to information received from inside the airport.
And I thought that the trafficking business was limited to selling drugs and extorting innocent people. Poor Gabriella, a fool like never before.
I'm sweating in parts of my body where, until this moment, I didn't know was possible. Even though my sweat glands andI are old friends. I make an “o” with my lips and blow the air slowly, never taking my eyes off the arrivals sidewalk.
Black leather suitcase with a brushed steel emblem on the side.Black leather suitcase with a brushed steel emblem on the side.I'm looking for a black leather suitcase with a brushed steel crest on the side. I look back and forth at all the glass doors, watching them open and close again and again, allowing all kinds of people in and out, no one carrying a suitcase like the one standing next to me.
Black leather suitcase with a brushed steel crest on the side, where are you? You can't be gone already, please don't be gone! I say the prayer, I don't even know who to, with my eyes open, not giving myself the chance to miss any movement, however insignificant it may be, in the arrivals area.
Then I feel it, a wave of recognition and warmth sweeps across my entire body, raising the hairs on the back of my neck without me having any idea why, until I see it. A small army of men in black burst through the doors to my right, they walk in a perfect formation, worthy of a Hollywood action movie: four men on the right, four on the left, two in front, two behind.
And, among the huge men dressed in suits and ties, with earphones in their ears and frowning expressions, in the center of them is the most handsome man I've ever seen in my entire life.
His hair is long enough to have been combed back, his skin is a perfect tan, and his body is some kind of megalomaniacal work of art that, even from a distance and covered in an impeccable gray suit, shows the muscles of his thighs, his arms and forces anyone to wonder what it must be like to look at him without everything covering him.
Men and women observe the small entourage with open interest, but they remain unfazed. In fact, he doesn't even seem to notice or care about the looks being thrown his way. He continues walking to an empty corner of the arrivals area. The man in the center completely unfazed, like a god.
I feel every nerve in my body respond to his presence, from the hairs standing on the back of my neck to my toes, restless inside my uncomfortable sneakers, but it's not his appearance that makes me glue my eyes to him as if he were a rotisserie chicken and me, the dog on the other side of the window, is... everything.
The way he walks, the way his shoulders are perfectly straight and aligned. It's the serious expression on his face and the eyes hidden behind sunglasses that I really want to see, despite the nagging feeling in my chest telling me to run. It's an unprecedented confusion for me.
I’ve never really looked at a man, I realize. Because besides not having time for that, now I have the impression that I had never really seen a man, at least not like this, they were just male people. That doesn't make any sense, God! I'm not making any sense.
My instincts push me away, my body, however, is attracted in every cell to him. There's an invisible string stretching with every step he takes away from me, until it becomes too tight, pressing on my organs, demanding closeness, demanding that I discover things I had no idea I needed to know, until now.
What does he smell like? How does he breathe? Is his body warm?
I pant, lost in sensations that aren't mine and yet swallow every inch of me until one sensible corner of my mind, the last,reminds me why I'm here and why I need to get out as quickly as possible.
