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“It's already happening,” I say finally. “Today is my luckiest day in a long time, Magda.” She tilts her head to the side, considering me, exactly as Andressa did just over two hours ago and yet in a completely different way.
“Do you have a job, girl?” My smile turns yellow.
“No, I'm looking,” I say quietly, suddenly embarrassed. But it's not like I'm to blame for that. “I have a sister with fragile health, it's difficult to find a job that understands this, I can't always keep traditional hours.”
“I would understand.”
“Sorry?”
“I need an assistant; these joints are no longer enough to go up and down stairs to clean and organize these shelves. I would understand your schedules.” The carelessness with which she puts these words, one after the other, is nerve-racking.
“Are you offering me a job?” I ask, already feeling my heart racing.
“Maybe I am. Come back tomorrow, I'll introduce you to my lazy son, because, theoretically, it's his store now. But he will agree.”
“Are you telling me I have a job?” I rearrange the question while I’m at a complete loss as to how this is happening.
“I'm the old lady, Gabriella, if you're also deaf, it's going to be a little difficult for us to work together.” She warns, and I almost throw myself over the counter to hug the little old lady who only looks sweet. Her tongue, apparently, is sharper than any knife would be. “Tomorrow, Daniel will talk to you about hours and salary and all that boring stuff.”
I blink several times and the tears don't even need two seconds to start burning my eyes.
“Thank you,” I whisper, still in disbelief. “Thanks.”
“Let's see if you'll still find the shelves beautiful when you have to clean and organize them.”
“I think that, getting paid for this, the work will only make them more beautiful,” I answer honestly and Magda laughs.
“I like you, Gabriella.”
“I don't know why but thank you for that too.” She laughs loudly.
“Do you have a phone number?”
“No, I don't have a cell phone.”
“Alright. Guess I'll see you tomorrow then.” She dismisses me in a not-so-subtle way, but I'm beginning to suspect that Magda doesn't know the meaning of that word. I nod. “Bring your documents, all the ones that matter: identity, CPF[40], workpermit and proof of residence.” I bite my lip when she gets to that last one, but I blink away the worry. I can make an excuse for it; I'll probably forget it at home or something.
“See you tomorrow, then” I agree and want to ask if I can give her a hug, but I restrain myself. Taking steps in reverse, I move away from the counter until I reach the hallway.
“Crabs are the ones who walks backwards, girl. This way you will bump into the windows,” She warns, and I agree again.
“Sorry. See you tomorrow, Magda.”
“See you tomorrow, girl.”
I leave the store feeling a million butterflies fluttering in my stomach and I think there must be a bat in my chest, because the fluttering there is violent enough to compete with my heart. I practically run to the train station, and when I arrive, I wait for it standing, patting my foot nervously on the floor, eager to get home soon and share the news with Raquel.
I get on the train as soon as the doors open, it remains stopped at the station for almost ten minutes before its departure time arrives. During each of them and all the others until I arrive at my destination station, I think about all the possibilities of that day and, when I arrive at the front door, I open it smiling, completely distracted by my own thoughts. So distracted that I don't notice anything around me, neither the unusual silence nor the absence of children, who usually play along the railway line at this time.
Not until I walked in and noticed, inside my house, the same out-of-place figures that I had absentmindedly ignored outside. Not until I heard the voice, I thought I'd never know.
“Hello, Gabriella. I was waiting for you.”
CHAPTER 12
________
Gabriella Matos
