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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Dinner was served late that night, even by Brazilian standard. Which is to say, barely anyone ate anything. Her mother was chain smoking at the table, the lawyer was somewhere in the background making phone calls. Ernesto and Latricia sat with them, but were surely occupied by the disturbing thoughts of what was to become of their own fate either. And Clementine, played with her fork like a mermaid would upon finding such a utensil on shore.
When everyone dispersed, Latricia pulled Clementine aside into the kitchen.
"I feel so bad, Clementine," she was keeping her voice low.
"Why? It's not your fault," Clementine was too tired to have this conversation or any for that matter.
"Yes, yes it is! I took you that night. I practically introduced you to Zico.," she played with the kitchen towel absentmindedly, "oh just to think of it, if only I invited you stay home that night, maybe none of this would happen."
At that point, Ernesto came in, clearly having heard the conversation and he chimed in as if naturally having been there all along.
"Well, that's not fair,"Ernesto said, carrying in some glasses and placing them on the counter., "to you or to her." Talking to Latricia, he motioned towards Clementine. "It's not your fault, and as for her and Zico...I don't know if I believe in destiny but...maybe they were meant to meet for some greater purpose."
"What would that be?" Clementine asked skeptically.
"Ah, Chiquita, we are not meant to know these grand things. Its not up to us, but I do think we are all a part of. Some greater, divine, spiritual plan. One that was never meant to be understood by us."
"I wish it were that simple," Clementine said, barely audible, more to herself.
"Go, get some rest. Tomorrow everything will be clearer," Ernesto patted her on the back assuringly and said "boa noite!".
"Boa noite," she gave Latricia and Ernesto a quick kiss and ran upstairs.
Too exhausted by the events of the day, she realized this was not how she thought the night would end. She thought she would be with him now. But she didn't have time to think too long because she soon fell into a helpless sleep.
If she truly thought that the morning would be calmer, she was mistaken.
The news had broken far and wide. She woke up early, and ran to the newspaper - freshly delivered each moaning along with a variation of other notable publication, including the New York and LA Times. And her worst fears were confirmed. There it was, if it didn't seem real enough, the corn page coverage of every newspaper in Brazil made it clear, real and loud.
She had a hard time believing it still, everything still holding a haze of surrealism. She didn't even get to go inside, devouring the article to every last word.
