Page 147 of The Seven Sisters
I knew that the meeting was at an end and she would say no more.
‘Goodbye, Yara,’ I said as I reluctantly made my way down the steps. ‘Please send my best wishes to Senhora Beatriz.’
She did not reply as I began to walk away, and it was only as I was passing by the crumbling stone fountain that she spoke again.
‘I will speak to her, senhorita. Goodbye.’
I heard the front door being shut and rebolted as I continued down the drive. My hands touched the hot iron of the rusting metal gate and as I opened then closed it behind me and crossed the road, I looked up at the heavy sky and saw there was a storm brewing.
‘How was it?’ Floriano had resorted to sitting on a grass verge in the shade. I could see a pile of cigarette butts next to him.
‘I learnt a lot,’ I said, as he stood up and unlocked the car.
‘Good,’ he said as we both climbed inside and he started the engine. He didn’t question me further as we drove back towards Ipanema, perhaps sensing that I needed some time to come back into the present from the past. I was silent for the rest of the journey, mulling over the story I’d been told. When we arrived on the forecourt of my hotel, Floriano turned to me. ‘I’m sure you feel exhausted and need some time alone. You know where I’ll be if you want some food and company later. And I promise it’ll be me, not my daughter, who’s the chef tonight,’ he assured me with a wink.
‘Thank you,’ I said, climbing out of the car. ‘For everything,’ I added as he nodded at me and reversed out onto the street. As I walked into the hotel, I didn’t understand why my legs felt as though they were two deeply rooted tree trunks that I had to drag out of the earth every time I asked them to take a step forward. I crossed the lobby slowly, took the lift upstairs and walked almost drunkenly to my suite. Expending my last burst of energy on unlocking my door, I entered the room, staggered to the bed and slept where I lay.
*
I awoke two hours later, feeling as though I was experiencing a giant hangover, and took an ibuprofen and a large slug of water for my aching head. Lying on my bed, I could hear the approaching storm rumbling ominously overhead in the grey-blue sky, and watched the clouds gathering in preparation. Too exhausted to move, I slept again and awoke an hour later to see it beginning in earnest. Jagged bolts of lightning split the dusky sky above the now frantic waves, and claps of thunder – the likes of which I’d never heard – boomed in my ears.
As the first pattering of raindrops began to land on the narrow windowsill outside, I looked at my watch and saw it was almost seven in the evening. I pulled up a chair right in front of the window and sat down in wonder to watch the storm take hold. The slanting rain was so heavy it bounced off every solid surface at right angles, the roads and pavements becoming streams of boiling, bubbling water below me. Sliding the window open, I stuck my head out and felt the cool, clear drops pelting on to my hair and drenching my shoulders.
I laughed out loud suddenly, almost euphoric at the magnificence of the sheer force of nature on display. In that moment, I felt as if I too were part of the maelstrom, intrinsically attached to both the heavens and the earth, unable to comprehend the miracle that created it, just exhilarated knowing I belonged to it.
Realising I was about to be drowned if I didn’t close the window and pull my upper half back inside, I ran to the bathroom, scattering drops across the carpet, and took a shower. I emerged, headache gone and feeling as refreshed as the storm-cleansed air around me. Lying on the bed, I looked at the letters that Yara had given me and tried to make sense of all she had told me earlier. But my thoughts kept spinning back to Floriano, to the patient way he had waited for me all afternoon and the sensitivity he’d shown afterwards. And I realised that whatever these envelopes contained, I wanted –reallywanted – to share the contents with him. I picked up my mobile and scrolled down to find his number.
‘Olá, Floriano, it’s Maia here,’ I said when he answered.
‘Maia, how are you?’
‘Watching the storm. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before.’
‘It’s certainly one of the things that wecariocascan say we do spectacularly well,’ he agreed. ‘Do you want to come round and have some supper? It’s pretty basic, I’m afraid, but you’re very welcome.’
‘If the rain stops, then yes, I’d like to.’
‘I’d give it another nine minutes or so, looking at the sky. So I’ll see you in twenty, okay?’
‘Yes, thank you, Floriano.’
‘Enjoy the puddles.’ I heard the smile in his voice. ‘Tchau.’
Exactly nine minutes later, I ventured downstairs and outside, my Havaianas and ankles submerged in the deluge of water that was still flowing off the pavements and down into the inadequate drains. There was a wonderful freshness to the air and as I walked, I saw more and more locals emerging back onto the streets.
‘Come up,’ Floriano said when I rang his intercom.
Arriving at the top of the stairs, he met me with his finger to his lips. ‘I’ve just got Valentina to bed. She’ll be up immediately if she thinks you’re here,’ he whispered.
Nodding silently, I followed him upstairs to the roof terrace, which was miraculously snug and dry beneath the sloped roof.
‘Help yourself to some wine and I’ll go downstairs and organise supper.’
I poured myself a small glass of red, feeling guilty I had come without an offering and promising myself I’d take Floriano out for dinner the next time we met to repay him for his hospitality. He’d already lit candles on the table, for darkness had fallen in earnest now, and there was the sound of soft jazz music playing from hidden speakers in the eaves above me. The atmosphere was tranquil, which was surprising, placed as it was in the centre of such a throbbing city.
‘Enchiladas with all the trimmings,’ he said as he appeared with a tray. ‘I went to Mexico a few years ago and fell in love with their cuisine.’
I stood up and helped him unload the steaming dish of enchiladas and bowls of guacamole, sour cream and salsa, wondering if he ate like this every night.
