❝when it hurts, but it hurts so good,
do you take it? do you break it off?
when it hurts, but it hurts so good,
can you say it? can you say it?
your love is like (hey, na-na-na, na-na)
your love is like (hey, na-na-na, na-na)
it hurts so good (hey...
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March 21, 1994
THE NEWLY TURNED FOUR-YEAR OLD IS ALREADY AWAKE BY THE CRACK OF DAWN. A smile is plastered on his face as he gets out of bed and runs across the hall, knocking on the door to his father's bedroom. The door opens and Ayrton stands there, half-asleep. His hair is disheveled and there's a sleepy look on his face considering he literally just woke up. A tired smile forms on his face as he reached down and scoops the little boy up from the floor.
A giggle leaves Caio's lips as he looks up at his father. "Feliz aniversário, papai." he says.
"Feliz aniversário, filho." Ayrton says through a yawn. "Not tired?"
"No, I slept early last night!" Caio says proudly, smiling. "Podemos ir à cozinha, por favor, papai?"
Ayrton nods. He heads down the hall, going into the kitchen. Caio lets him set him down on the counter. The boy is already bored as he swings his legs back and forth, humming softly to himself as he watches Ayrton go to the refrigerator and take out a bottle of Heineken.
For the past two years, on their birthday, Ayrton would let Caio have just a taste of whatever alcoholic beverage the man felt like having a glass of that morning. Just a tiny sip. He wasn't trying to go overboard—come on, Caio's only four, why would a little kid have anything more than just a sip of a drink they're not even legally supposed to have? Maybe when he was older, he could have a little bit more than just a taste.
When Ayrton sets the green glass bottle on the counter, Caio stares at the label, trying to read it. He knew it said Heineken, but he didn't know how to pronounce it. He always struggled with it. "Hi... nuh... Hi-nuh... ken."
"Hai-nuh-kn," Caio pronounces slowly. Ayrton smiles at him and nods. "Heineken." He looks at his father for approval. The smile never leaves Ayrton's face.
"Bom trabalho, filho." He then screws the cap off and pours a tiny bit of the beer into it and offers it to Caio. "Here."
Caio takes it from him, but as soon as the drink touches his tongue, he sticks out his tongue in disgust as he hands the cap back to Ayrton.
"Eca. É nojento, papai." Caio complains. "How do people like beer? It tastes bad."
Ayrton shrugs, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. A beat of silence passes between the father and son before they both burst out into a fit of laughter. But it's short lived, as Ayrton didn't want their family to be woken up.
