All the Other Colors Drowned

Chapter 3 - Coal, Jabuticabas, Jet and Petroleum

On Thursday, I woke up early by accident. It was probably anxiety keeping me from sleeping well. I woke up at eight or nine, but I was up at five. My father was awake too, lying in the backyard hammock doing something in his notebook. When he saw me, he furrowed his thin eyebrows.

— Maya? Everything okay?

— Yeah — my voice was deeper because I had just woken up. I cleared my throat. - Good morning.

— Good morning.

I went to the kitchen, prepared a cold glass of chocolate milk and walked back to André dragging my slippers.

It was very cool outside, even a little cold. The white morning sun wasn't too strong in the eyes, and it was windy enough to ruffle the leaves of the two trees we had at the back of the house. It was a good lawn, but empty. No vegetable garden or a dog playing. Kind of lonely, yet peaceful.

I peeked into André's notebook. He was writing things down for his class today. In fact, he was already all dressed up to go out. His red stubble swallowed his freckles, and his curly hair was already falling a little over his eyes, but he was always neat, especially because my mother valued her own image a lot, and convinced him to do the same. If it weren't for her, he probably wouldn't even iron his clothes. Although I was in favor of rumpled clothes.

— You got up early. — he pointed, and stopped what he was doing to look at me. I liked that, that attention he gave to me and Sabrina.

— Yeah, I don't know what happened either. — I yawned. My eyes were still heavy.

— Are you anxious about the club?

He always seemed to know what was bothering me. I always had a great relationship with my father. He was a charismatic man, a bit of a goofball, and I wasn't sure, but I imagined that maybe that was what won my mother over. Serious people sometimes needed the contrast of a relaxed partner.

Anyone who stopped to look at the two would have no idea they got along so well. In addition to being visual opposites, since my father was skinny and short for a man, and my mother was fat and tall for a woman. They were almost the same height, André was 5'9" and Holanda was 5'8".

She had an intimidating frown, and he had a calm expression I could only envy. But even they had something in common: their dedication, their desire to learn different things, and their hidden taste for soap operas.

Leaving the soap operas aside, it was on one of these adventures to learn something new that they met. And the funniest thing was that, first, Holanda saw him as a child, because he really was. He was twelve, and she was seventeen, and they were in the same typing class group.

André was too good at it, so he moved on to the older group. And immediately, when he walked into the room and saw that indisputably beautiful girl, with full lips and full cheekbones, he fell in love. And also, like every twelve-year-old boy with his first crush, he was all awkward. He wanted to get her attention no matter what.

Holanda, without time to think about these things, just thought he was funny. Then she finished her course and they didn't see each other again, especially since she left the city for a few years to study.

When she returned, and was working in the emergency unit, they met again. André had a urinary infection after spending several days without going to the bathroom properly. His hyperfocus made him forget to go, so he only noticed when he started to get sick. She had a hard time recognizing him, because now he had a thin beard, sharp features and was clearly not a boy. He was already twenty years old, and he recognized her immediately. How could he even forget her?

"I think the universe gave me a second chance", was what he said when he felt better. Holanda laughed at his drama.

"You weren't so bad. But be more careful."