I pick my Margaret Laurence's novel, 'The Fire-Dwellers' from my bookshelf, and mean to read it again. I open the old yellowish paperback edition, but cannot concentrate on the words. I close the book and put it back on a pile, along with my Simone de Beauvoir that I'm still reading, and a few fitness magazines.
While sitting in fron of the computer, I mean to turn it on, but don't move a muscle. Next to my keyboard, I take a photo of a strong man on the beach. He's wearing a pair of black speedo and looks confident. His folded muscular hairy arms are impressive, and so are his legs that are splayed apart. I think Valter used to be a cop. That's what he told me the last time we chatted online.
Dear Valter, how I wish you were not just a photo of a virtual man, but real.
An unquenchable fire dwells in me as I daydream about this hot photo.
Moving towards the window, I open it to get fresh air. I smile as I touch the face of my idol printed in glossy paper. He has this black military-cut hair, a strong squared lower jaw, a dent in his chin, and pleading brown eyes.
In his chats he says he's middle-aged and quite loving. He also says he has a medium-sized belly and is very hairy. I smile to myself and ponder about his invitation to meet me in person on the coming weekend. For whatever reason I still feel hesitant about it and have promised him to give an answer soon. But I've been postponing it to the limit. Somehow, I still feel insecure about meeting this man.
What if one of us gets hurt or disappointed with the other? I also feel afraid he might not be the person on the photo. Perhaps he is, but, is he really the kind, loving, and generous man who is seeking love? Besides, how come such a hot guy like him is still single and alone? Something is really off, I think.
There's no need to say I've already had some dates with men I met online and, truth be said, most times we were both disappointed. Yet, I've still had a few good ones. Eduardo, who is now my best friend, met me at a restaurant on our first date. Even though we didn't become lovers, we became great friends. Thanks to Orkut.
My little Bank of Brazil calendar is marked red with a big question mark for this coming weekend.
This coming Saturday is going to be the 'Day of the Dead,' or 'Finados,' as we call it in Brazil. There's also going to be this cool event downtown called Zombie Walk. He said he'd love to go to see it. I know that he comes once in a while to São Paulo to visit his sister and nephews. She lives about twenty minutes away from here by subway. Downtown is also a cool place to hang out. My neighborhood is called Paraíso, and I live in a small apartment overlooking 23 de Maio Freeway, which offers me a fantastic view of the city, especially at night.
Well, I suppose he is implying that in case I say yes, we'd spend Saturday afternoon and Sunday together. Then, on Sunday evening he goes back to his hometown. As he is on probation, he needs to report to the prison authorities on Monday morning. He does that on every first week of each month.
His crime? He told me he got arrested for having punched an officer in the face. Actually, he was also an officer himself at the time of the incident. He punched his buddy and wrecked his car.
On that day, on a sunny weekend, he and a few friends were having a great time in a rented ranch. They were drunk and firing their guns. Some neighbors minded the noise and called the cops. A cop-friend came and tried to cool things down. Valter shot at the car, punched his friend on the face, and got himself immobilized by his friends. It was the end of their friendship and of his career.
He was then sentenced to jail for two years. In his last year, he was put on probation, which allowed him to stay home. He also preferred staying away from bars and his former cop friend. As he did a lot of voluntary work teaching physical education to poor kids, he was allowed trips within the state of São Paulo. In one of his trips he went to the beach with his sister and nephews. He took many photos of nature and his family. That's how I got to find his profile and this hot photo.
Back to my small cozy living room, I pace around and look again at the city lights. I close my eyes in happiness and imagine Valter here beside me enjoying this cool view. I just need to send him a message and my dreams will come true.
At times like this, a good and close friend is most needed. I bite my nails and wish to speak to someone, just anybody. I pick up the phone and mean to call mom. I dial but hang it up right away.
No! She'll ask me too many personal questions. Besides, she hates cops and thinks they're all crooks--not to mention the idea of meeting men online. The rest of the story, God forbid she hears about it. Instead, I decide to call Eduardo, my ex-boyfriend. He can be self-centered, but he can be a great listener, andhe is quite practical. He will surely lecture me against the idea of picking up guys who are outlaws. But I trust Valter and believe in his judgment and honesty.
"Oh, hi dear! At last you've called me, Ken!"
"I hope it's not too late for you, is it?" I bite my nails.
"Nope. Well, by your tone of voice, you've got a big load on you, don't you?"
"Yes," I ask him how he's keeping himself lately.
As far as I know, he's forever been working as a manager of a large clothing store. He confirms that. Then, I pour out my heart to him. He remains mute, which is bad. Then, he literally fires question after question about Valter, in particular, his character. I feel overwhelmed by this invasion of privacy. Then, he says he needs time to think about this case. He suggests we talk about it in person. So, we arrange to have coffee at a bakery near his place of work, downtown, at four P.M.
On the next day, Edu turns up at the scheduled time. He looks hot in his suit and sunglasses. He also tries to hide a medium-sized belly by untucking his shirt. I notice that he's gotten stronger too. I suppose he's been working out at the gym.
We sit and he removes his sunglasses. By the look in his eyes I can tell I'm in for a good lecture. I intimately wish I hadn't called him in the first place. I take a deep breath and get ready for whatever comes my way.
He waits for our drinks to arrive. Then he drinks his coffee with no sugar. He says he's checked on my Orkut page. By now I'm sure he must have also checked Valter's. I nod and drink my coffee. I just wonder when he's going to talk about the shots and fight incident. Edu, however, has more to disclose. I pause and bite my lips. I fold my hands on my lap and take a deep breath. I smile and pretend I'm still in full control of myself. He gently takes my cold sweaty hand and asks if I'm listening.
"Well, of course, dear!" I smile. "Go on." I pull back my hand. I feel on the verge of tears. My throat feels dry. I should have ordered some juice. My heart skips a beat and I look into his eyes. "Go on, Edu. What is it?"
I'm one hundred per cent sure that whatever he has to say, Valter will prove to the contrary. He's been so kind and sweet to me. It's not possible to fake such feelings.
Edu goes on, and I nod. In my head, words like homophobic crimes, inconclusive proofs, trials, vanished young gay men, substance abuse, orgy parties, keep echoing in my head.
"Enough, dear!" I try hard not to cry. Oh, God! I simply cannot allow Edu to do this to me. It's not fair for my sake and for Valter's sake too.
My voice comes out hoarse, and I feel hurt and deeply wounded. He must think I'm still on denial, which perhaps I am. I refuse to listen to anything more about Valter. I feel dizzy and need air.
"Forgive me, dear. But I've got to go. Bye!" He nods and just tells me to be careful. Half block away I wonder if I've paid my share of the bill.
