Page 154 of The Seven Sisters
‘Come on, Maia, you promised me that you’d live a little today! You dress like my mother at the moment!’ he teased me.
‘Thanks,’ I said flatly, as he insisted on paying the few reais for the dress to the vendor.
‘Right, now for the shoes,’ he said as he took my hand once more and we weaved through the streets of Ipanema, alighting in front of a tiny shop that looked similar to a cobbler’s.
Ten minutes later, I emerged with a pair of Cuban-heeled leather shoes that were held in place with a button securing the strap over the arch of my foot.
‘Now these reallyaresomething that Marina would wear,’ I said, as I pressed him to take some money from me for the shoes, which I knew had been expensive. He refused and instead stopped in front of an ice-cream kiosk, its display offering endless different flavours.
‘What do you want?’ he asked me. ‘I promise you this place sells the best in Rio.’
‘Whatever you’re having,’ I answered. Once the cones were handed over, we wandered across the main road and sat on a bench looking down on the beach, licking the delicious ice cream with relish before it melted.
‘Right,’ he said as we wiped our sticky mouths, ‘it’s past six o’clock, so why don’t you wander up to your hotel and get ready for your dancing debut tonight? I must go home to write some emails and pack for Paris tomorrow. I’ll pick you up in the hotel lobby at eight thirty.’
‘Okay, and thank you for a lovely day,’ I called as he walked away from me and I crossed the street to return to my hotel.
‘It’s not over yet, Maia,’ he shouted back at me with a smile.
As I asked for my room key from the reception desk, I was greeted by a concerned face.
‘Senhorita D’Aplièse, we were worried about you. You didn’t return home last night.’
‘No, I stayed the night with a friend.’
‘I see. Well, there was a phone call for you earlier. The operator couldn’t get hold of you, so the caller dictated a message. She said it was urgent.’ The receptionist handed an envelope over to me.
‘Thank you,’ I said as I took it from her.
‘And if possible, next time you decide to stay out overnight, perhaps you can let us know? Rio can be a dangerous city for foreigners, you see. Any longer and we would have had to call thepolícia.’
‘Of course,’ I said, faintly embarrassed as I walked to the lift, musing on the fact that Rio might well be a dangerous city for foreigners. But for a native like me, it felt completely safe.
Up in my room, I tore open the envelope, wondering who could have left me a message of urgency, and read the typed words.
Dear Senhorita Maia,
Senhora Beatriz says she would like to see you. She is growing weaker every day and it is imperative that you come as soon as you can. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock would be the best time.
Yara Canterino
Having taken a whole day out and forgotten completely for a few precious hours about my unknown pastanduncertain future, it took a while for my brain to compute what this letter meant. As I ran the shower and stepped into the warm water, letting it cascade over my body, I decided that whatever tomorrow would bring, I would think about it then, not tonight.
I put on the dress Floriano had bought me, sure that it would look dreadful, but as I donned the shoes and stepped before the mirror to take a look, I was surprised by the result. The crossover bodice accentuated my full breasts and my slim waist, and the wrap skirt that fell away in soft folds from my lower thighs gave a glimpse of my legs, their length accentuated by the dainty Cuban heels.
The time in Rio had given my skin some colour, and as I blow-dried my hair and piled it on top of my head, then added some eyeliner, mascara and a deep red lipstick I’d once bought on a whim and had never used, I chuckled at how my sisters would hardly recognise me. Floriano’s teasing comment on my style of dress had stung me, but was not, I realised, far off the mark. Everything I wore was sober, designed to help me melt into a crowd. Here in Rio I knew women celebrated the sensuousness of their bodies and their sexuality, whereas I had spent years hiding mine.
In the half hour I had before I was due to meet Floriano I wrote a burst of emails to my sisters, telling them what a wonderful time I was having and how much better I was feeling. Sipping a glass of wine from the bottle I’d taken from the mini bar, I was amazed at how I meant every word I’d written. It was as if a huge boulder-sized weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and tonight I felt as light as air. Perhaps it had been as simple as my confession to Floriano, but an inner voice told me it was more than that.
It was him too.
His energy, positivity and down-to-earth common sense, not to mention the way he handled his daughter and their domestic arrangements with such dexterity, was a life lesson I’d needed to learn. If nothing else, he had provided me with a role model, one that I realised I desperately wanted to aspire to. Next to him, my own life seemed like a dull grey facsimile and I was aware that Floriano – even if sometimes his comments had been painful – had made me realise I was simplysurviving, not living.
And somehow the combination of this city and this man had cracked the invisible protective shell that I’d been hiding in. I chuckled at the analogy, thinking that I did indeed feel like a newly hatched chick.
And yes, I admitted that I probablywasa little in love with him. As I looked at my watch and realised it was time to go downstairs, I decided that even if I never saw Floriano again, he’d given me my life back. And tonight I would celebrate my rebirth without fearing for tomorrow.
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