Story dedicated to Andy Bell
(Erasure band's singer)
The white seagulls make mournful noises. They fly overhead and drop with the wind with an amazing speed and grace. I like to watch them flying aimlessly. They're not searching for food nor mating, I think. They appear to be just 'strolling' for a change of 'air.'
Suddenly I feel alive again. I stand up and feel the tiny round pebbles under my feet. Though they make walking harder, I enjoy my intense foot massage under my soles. I rush back to where I'd left my things, and gather everything in my canvas bag. Just then I see the bus coming from the short distance. I wave and run, for I can't afford to miss it--after all, they don't come here often. It stops, I climb on it, pay my fare to the sleepy and sweaty bus conductor--he's chewing on a toothpick. I suppose he's just had his late lunch. He looks at me from head to toe. Just then I realize I'm still on my bare feet and shirtless.
"Oh, sorry about that!" I drop my sandals and put them on, as well as my red cotton T-shirt, and catch my breath. My feet still hurt, but at least I feel relieved to be seated.
Just then I notice this man sitting beside me. I quickly glance at his bulgy small shorts, strong hairy legs, and medium belly. He is wearing a white shirt open at his chest; it reveals his forest of hair. Nice!
"Look how breathless I am from just running a bit! I guess I should take up jogging before summer is over." I smile.
"If you're feeling breathless from running such a short distance, just imagine me at my old age!" He gives me a handsome and welcoming smile. He doesn't look old to me. "Besides, bus drivers hate retired people when they see us!" He emphasizes his last line and stares at the bus conductor and the driver. They in turn smile back to him.
"You're right. I'm terribly out of shape. I need to exercise more." I look out the dirty window and see people still swimming and fishing at the distance.
"Do you come often to Guarapiranga Dam?" He asks.
"Not really. I've just learned about this lovely place recently. And you? By the way, I'm Ken."
"I'm Mauro." We shake hands. "I usually come here on Sundays in the afternoon. I prefer to come here by bus instead of driving." He says while wiping his sweaty forehead.
We reach the main avenue and about ten minutes later, the driver slams on the brakes and stops abruptly, followed by the loud crashing noise.
"Oh, dear! What happened?" Mauro stands up. "I think we've just ran over a motor-biker."
"That's terrible! I hope he's all right. The ambulance should be here soon." People gather around the fallen man. I look back and notice another bus. "Hey, we can take that bus, which goes the same way. Let's go!" I turn to the driver. "Hey, driver! Open this door! I'm not going to spend the rest of the afternoon watching accidents on the road!" The door opens. "Good, let's get that bus!" I turn to the driver. "Thanks, sir!" We get off and board the other bus.
"Looks like your bus ran over a biker, uh?" The bus conductor of the other bus says.
"It had to happen. We were at such high speed and those bikers just ride quite recklessly. Anyway, the ambulance should have arrived. I wonder what's keeping them." This time I turn around to look for an ambulance. "Have you seen any ambulances around?"
"No. Only the police. And lots of passersby surrounding the victim." Mauro answers. He's perspiring a lot. No wonder, this bus has no air-conditioning.
"Boy, it's surely hot in here." I simply remove my T-shirt and dry my head and neck with it. "If the bus was moving, we'd get some ventilation. Man, look at the traffic!"
"It's going to be a long bus ride, eh?" Mauro says, while wiping his bald head with a small handkerchief.
"With this traffic, all we've got to do is wait. And it's just a Saturday afternoon!" I try to open the window but it won't go. Mauro tries it too but it won't move an inch either--here I have to say that Mauro is a strong man. He sits back and also removes his white shirt. I gasp as I see his hairy body.
"This is all we need now. Hey, driver! This window is jammed!" The bus conductor comes and tries to open it.
"It won't go. I'm sorry. Otherwise you'll break it." He turns his back to us.
"Look, they're selling bottled water on the street!" I shout at the street vendor and the boy who is carrying a large Styrofoam box comes. "Boy, here! I want two bottles, please!" I offer him the money and take the water bottles from a neighbor's window. "Here, this is for you." I hand Mauro a bottle.
"Oh, thanks, Ken. I really needed that!" He smiles. Lovely cute smile!
"You're welcome. Now we can bear this heat better. Here, to our safe return home." We toast. Suddenly the bus begins to move again.
During our bus ride, Mauro is quite reticent and says little. I guess older guys are like that. They like to hear what younger guys say. In any case, he's a good listener and a hot "daddy." He's single and is about to retire from university, where he teaches business. I tell him I work part-time at a make-shift studio, where we make copies of books, print-outs, banners, develop photos for weddings, etc. In the evening, I try to earn some extras teaching English to private students. By the end of the month, after handing most of my earnings to my aunt, I barely have enough to eat a burger on the street.
The bus finally arrives at the subway station, where we get off and take the subway. Mauro has to go the opposite way so we shake hands. I watch this handsome hairy daddy disappear among the crowd. I really hope to meet him again tomorrow at the dam, if possible.
On the following day, in the middle of the afternoon I get off the bus in the same spot that I was yesterday. I walk over the pebbles and find a nice spot. I spread my towel and put my bag of stuff on. I drink some coke and stare at the blue horizon. Nice!
Barely have I started to put some sunscreen on my arms and legs, I spot Mauro at the distance. My heart skips a beat and I smile. It's got to be him. I would recognize his baldhead a mile away! I wave to him. He's wearing an Adidas red Speedo with two white stripes on the side. I admire his built: tall, hairy, medium belly, strong arms and legs, fat cheeks, blue eyes--my typical 'daddy.' He brings his stuff in a canvas bag with a fading logo; it's probably the university he teaches at.
"Hi, so you've decided to come here again, uh?" He says, while we shake hands. He spreads his stuff on the ground.
"You can put your beach towel next to mine. Here, let me help you." I place his towel next to mine so we can talk. He sits and looks at the distance.
"Have you just arrived?" He asks.
"Yes. My aunt always cooks a late lunch on Sunday. Then she watches those terrible variety shows on TV. I had nothing better to do, so I came here."
