Moldy Strawberries by Caio Fernando Abreu

Author:Caio Fernando Abreu [Abreu, Caio]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Steerforth Press
Published: 2022-05-30T00:00:00+00:00

3

I wished I could stop, but I couldn’t control my legs, my head turning in all directions, as I walked up the hill behind him, you know how it is, he said, there’s always people minding other people’s business, it’s better if I go first, wait by the blue gate, you come slowly, making like you’ve never seen me before. As if I’d never seen him before, I followed that green trail, my hands in my pockets, the cigarette between my lips, suddenly disappearing into the gate with a quick look back, a hook pulling me in. I dove into the shadow behind him. I climbed the cement steps, pushed the door open, old wood, cracked glass, entered the dark living room, which smelled of mold and stale cigarettes, wilted flowers resting in slimy water.

“The usual, then?” she asked, looking more closely I corrected myself in my head, he, in a colorful robe, quilted and covered in red stains, from tomatoes, lipstick, nail polish, or blood. “I see what you’re up to, huh, Sergeant,” she winked, playfully, at the sergeant and me.

“Is this your latest victim?”

“You know Isadora?”

Her damp hand, covered in rings, her long red nails, the polish chipping, like the door. I shook it. She laughed.

“Isadora, darling. You’ve never heard of her? Isadora Duncan, the dancer. Such an elegant woman, mar-velous, my idol, I like her so much I took her name. Can you imagine if I called myself Valdemir, the name my dear mother gave me? Poor thing, she meant well. But that name, oh, that name. So tacky. So I changed it. God willing, one day I’ll die strangled by my own scarf. Is there anything fancier?

“Cool,” I said.

The sergeant laughed, rubbing his hands.

“Don’t mind him, Isadora. He’s a bit embarrassed, says this is his first time.”

“Goodness. Such a big boy. And you’ve never done it, my dear? Never ever, really?” Her hand on my shoulder, a stone from a ring lightly scratching my neck. She rolled her eyes. “Tell Auntie Isadora the truth, the whole truth, nothing but the truth. You’ve really never done it, kid?” I tried to smile. The corner of my mouth quivered. She kept talking, her little eyes somewhat crossed, shadowed with blue. “Look, everything’s going to be fine, you can relax. There’s a first time for everything, right, it’s a historic moment, darling. It even deserves a celebration. A little drink, Sergeant? I have some of that wonderful cachaça you like.”

“The boy is in a hurry.”

Isadora winked, mischievous, her eyelashes stiff with mascara, little black flakes sprinkled across her cheeks.

“In a hurry, huh? I see. It’s not every day we have fresh meat on the table. Premium quality, right, Sergeant?” He laughed. She twirled the key in her hands and for a moment I thought of a baton twirler leading an Independence Day parade, tossing her baton with multicolored ribbons in the air. “All right, all right. I’ll take you lovebirds to the bridal suite. How about room 7? Lucky number, right? After all, you only have one shot at your first time.

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