The Adam Boy

CHAPTER 24 - DARLING AND... CONCERNED

That day, like the rest of the week, I saw Alex a few times in the screenwriting room, which was rare and strange. He looked restless and concerned. When he sat down at his research computer, Norman went over to him and gave some orders, which I saw him sweating and with an expression of desperation increasing.

Until one day he told me that TV had a poetry project and Norman asked him to do some sticker work for the breaks, where the poetry would be shown. What he had to do was: choose some poems, make a thirty second vignette, with a background according to each poetry and a soundtrack. But what was making him worried were two things: he didn't know how to use Photoshop to make the montages and images that Norman gave as an idea. The other concern was that he did not know which poetry to choose, since he did not know many, or none of poetry, and it had to be poetry by Brazilian poets.

When it was five o'clock in the afternoon, an hour to end the shift, he came into the room and sat next to me on his left side at his PC.

- Adam, do you know any Brazilian poets?

- Yes! I know some poems by Cecília Meireles, Carlos Drummond, Manuel Bandeiras. Why?

- Man, you can help me. I really need your help, then - he spoke with a very desperate look and a voice even more.

- Okay, so let's go. What kind of poetry do you need.

- I need poetry that speaks of poetry, or that speaks of poets.

- Um ... Well, there's one from Cecília Meireles who talks about herself, who quotes the poet. And so:

"I sing because the instant exists,

And my life is complete.

I'm not happy, I'm not sad,

I'm a poet. "

- Goood! Very good - I heard Norman Da Silvia's loud and unmistakable voice speaking to my right side. It was his attitude that surprised me. She stayed at her PC, looking closely at the screen, working and doing her things very concentrated. And when you think that she's disconnected from the room, that everything is going through her without her noticing, you're wrong. We always have a surprise when, out of the blue, on a subject, whether from work or not, that the interns are talking, she responds in the most unexpected way possible, scaring and surprising us.

- This is reeeeally cool, Aleeeex. You can puuuut this.

- Ah right - replied Alex, turning to his computer, with an expression, now beyond despair, surprise, just as I had stayed at that moment. - And what is the name of this poetry, Adam?

- Reason... No! It's Reason - I repeated, because I think the nervousness of the moment and, knowing that Norman was listening, made my diction not well understood.

- It's Reason, soooon! Reaaaaason - she never took her eyes off the screen and kept typing. This woman surprised me more every day; she read what was written on her screen, typed what was missing, listened to what was said in the room and still had reason to answer.

- Nice! Do you know any more?

- Well, there is a very good one that also talks about poets, but she is not Brazilian. It is from Fernando Pessoa who says:

The poet is a man who feigns

And feigns so thoroughly, at last

He manages to feign as pain

The pain he really feels,

On my right side I heard Norman chuckle barely audibly, without taking his eye off the screen.

- This poem is veeeery good, soooon.

- But this is not from a Brazilian. It cannot be from poets from Portugal.

"But this is a very good one, Alex," I said, and turned towards Norman. - Norman, you can be Portuguese too, can't you?

Whenever I asked a question contrary to Norman's order, I was already prepared psychologically, now to hear such an answer, now to lose my job, now to lose my own life. Alex was looking at her, his eyes apprehensive.

- See, the ideeeea is just Braziiiilian poets. But this is really gooood. I like it. You can do it, Aleeeex. But only from Fernando Pessooooa from Portugal, okkkk?

I breathed and inhaled; I went through one more. I was alive and I realized that Alex had also started breathing again.

- And what's the name of that?

- Altopsychography!

- Well, Aleeeex. You already found a researcher in the aaaarea - she spoke, typing and laughing. - You don't need any moooore.

- Wow, thanks, - said Alex, this time he and I knew that no one else could hear, from the low tone he spoke. - I was already desperate. Can you help me with this?

- Yes I can. I don't know a lot of poems by heart, but I have some books at home that talk about poets and poems, I can bring you tomorrow.

- Thanks a lot.

We spent the rest of the minutes researching Brazilian poems. We didn't think much, but I realized that it was already a relief for Alex to have something.

When it was ten minutes to six, Norman got up. He went to the table where we left our backpacks and bags, took his and was getting ready to leave. While adjusting his bag he said:

- Soooo you mean you like poetryyyy? - and laughed, looked happy. - That's right, soooon. It does very wellll - in that sentence she had gotten more serious. It looked like he was giving advice. He turned his back and left without speaking.

I laughed. His attitude really surprised me ... and made me happy. Not wanting to brag, but I had already done a lot of right in life and in my things. But at that moment I had done a simple right thing, and something that, even without receiving any material or promotional in return, I saw that it was a good thing.

When I and some interns left work, we went to college, they studied at the same college as me and did either Radio and TV or journalism. When we arrived, we went to the food court. It was almost certain that the subject was the working day and the working day with Norman. We always talk about what she had done and the nonsense done by some intern. We even joked about giving a symbolic prize to those who did the biggest bullshit of the day. This award we called the Trainee Shit Award. When each one was already having their lunch, they asked who was the winner of the prize that day. Yes, we recapitulate everything that each one had done. When Marcela arrived at my name, she said:

- Not! Adam doesn't. Today Adam became Norman's darling.

Everyone laughed.

"It's true," said Valéria, another intern in our industry. - You saw how happy she was when Adam spoke poetry.

- Man - Marcela said to me - you decorate poems. You are not normal.

I laughed with the others. I knew that in part it was overkill, but I knew that that day Norman had liked what I had done.

New conclusions: I had to review my concepts about me becoming a bad person and what a bad person is; seems to be very relative.

Doubt: Did I really become Norman Da Silvia's darling? Fear...