Clementine had become a wild child. Born in America but raised abroad, she now had little regard for the expectations of high society. But her reckless ways eventually catch up with her when she is kicked out of college in New York City and forced t...
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Clementine realized that, as firm as it was, this was going to be her first outing in a while.
If it wasn't enough that she did't really talk to anyone now, she did't even talk with her parents, especially her mother.
Her mother, seemed especially distant and aloof these past few months herself. Busying herself with Brazilian soap dramas and other ways to waste away the time and simultaneously confirm the shaky, fadein ground over beliefs and identity.
Sometimes, she and her father still played tennis or discussed common topics, always sharing a deeper kind of kinship, but it still felt out of her reach.
And consequently, her parents would sit there, together, not altogether sure what to do with their grown up child. Highlighting that they were all living there together more out of necessity than voluntary consent. Or rather, preference and convenience.
This connection that she was looking for, as if gasping for air around her, was completely cut off when they broke it off. Her and Zico. Zico and her. It felt strange to think of them as ever being together.
Overall she felt isolated and alone, confused. Yearning for a love that was out of her reach. Even if she had all this love to give, she didn't know how to channel it, or where. This led to a certain somatic form of pain in her body. She would notice herself, carrying around a strange pain in her head or her back apr her shoulder, that wasn't even associated with any injuries, but that she just couldn't shake.
She went to see a doctor, but all he could do was prescribe her antidepressants, which she bought and then threw out down the toilet. Flushing them down, she watched them swirl, and figured that maybe life wasn't that different form a toilet bowl. First slow, then quicker and quicker until it disappears completely.
It freaked her out, the day of the funeral, thinning again of how she has been walking on the fringe of it all and she knew it.
She had the driver drop her off at a local cemetery where the ceremony would be.
Clementine swallowed the air apprehensively, and getting out of the car, dressed in all black, she had a hard time distinguishing the sea of the others dressed in all black.
Old ladies and old men, and a lot of young people. Knowing that Zico was somewhere here made her feel queasy. Not to mention any of the other girls. But he invited her here in the first place didn't he?
Maybe this was all a mistake, Clementine's mind racing as she lowly put one foot in front of the other to join the crowd.
It rained just before, so the air was gray and humid, and her veil was sticking to her face and lipstick.
They all were filing to walk into a stone overlap. A sort of ceremony holder.
Clementine stood through the whole thing, feeling strangely emotional about it all. Also noticing a strange vibe in the 'audience'. It felt like it was two opposing groups meeting in the middle, and maybe it was, but she had a hard time orienting herself here among all the strangeness of it.
When the words were said by the priest, it was the turn of the others to say some words. Some people said something, between whom she couldn't find any specific connection.
Clementine was starting to daydream, looking around, feeling a little tired as she couldn't distinguish totally everything that was said in Portuguese. But all it took was hearing his voice, no matter what language, to bring her back to reality.
As soon as he started speaking, Clementine's neck snapped towards the direction of the speaker and saw Zico holding the mic.
He was as beautiful as ever, but also a little bit hollow. She has never seen his eyes look like that. He seemed more like a shell of himself.
There were so many things to take in. Zico, wreathing a suit, speaking without hesitation in perfect Portuguese, and not the fun loving, care free Zico that everyone knew, but a somber one.
Clemetnie stared, hypnotized.
Zico switched to English at the end:
"Ed always thought he could have everything under his control," he said smiling, "but something this has made everyone sense is..." he looked at her then before saying it, "a sense of surrender."
Something passed between them and Clementine was struck by how vulnerable he seemed. Of course, she understood the circumstance, but it was strange, nevertheless.
Then he looked away almost as if she wasn't there, and continued: "We realize, form events like these, that life is much bigger than we realize. That it's not all up to us. Sometimes, the plans life had for us are different than the ones we have for it."
Someone cried quietly in the background, blowing their nose.
"Sometimes it is rough and senseless. Violence. Loss. Though, sometimes, it's not always all bad either. Sometimes, life acts divinely." He looked at her again, and this time it was like a confirmation of something between them. Clementine nodded gently.
That same surrender he was talking about, was exactly the feeling she was feeling in that very moment.
