“Becky is my best friend. And I’m sure she’s trying to sabotage me because she’s jealous.”
His phone beeps, announcing another audio message. He hits play and Becky’s voice invades our bedroom again.
“The last message was a joke. Except for the thing about the Crocs, which is totally true. Caio is wonderful, gives great advice, makes a divine brigadeiro, and has three years of experience as an underwear model. Okay, that last part isn’t true. But, hey, just to be clear, I am his best friend, and therefore THAT POSITION IS NO LONGER AVAILABLE. There, I said it, bye.”
“You see?” Caio points at me. “I’m not a jerk. There’s your proof.”
“I still have my doubts about the Crocs part,” I say, evaluating the situation.
“Dude, Crocs are basically slippers that you can wear outdoors. Why not wear them?” he counters, and deep down, I think it might make sense.
“Oh, and about the brigadeiro. I’m interested,” I say, thinking about the perfect mix of condensed milk, cocoa powder, and butter, then regret it almost immediately.
Because I hate talking about food. Because when you’re fat and you talk about food, people always think, There goes fatty, talking about food! But Caio doesn’t seem to even think about that. He looks excited and promises to make brigadeiro tomorrow.
We spend some more time talking, and I learn a bunch of random facts about him. He’s allergic to honey, he broke the same arm three times when he was a kid, and he didn’t learn how to ride a bike until last year. I tell him random stuff about me, too. I like popcorn with no salt, no butter, no nothing. Just pure popcorn that tastes like Styrofoam. I’ve never broken a bone in my body but always wanted to have a cast so I could pretend to be a cyborg—half boy, half robot. I tried to give myself a haircut once and it was the worst decision I’ve ever made in my entire life.
We stay up late sharing stories and minor facts about ourselves. We take turns, and I never feel like I’m talking too much or too little. When we decide it’s finally time to go to bed, I fall asleep feeling more comfortable than ever and believing that tomorrow will be a great day to win my therapy challenge. Having a conversation with Caio is the easiest thing in the world!
HAVING A CONVERSATION WITH CAIO is the hardest thing in the world!
I don’t know why, but when he looks at me, I can barely talk. I suddenly forget how to organize my words and form complete sentences. I feel silly most of the time.
We woke up today to the sound of rain. Caio started talking about the weather, and I mumbled something back and stared at the ceiling.
Then this afternoon, I tried twice to approach him and start talking. The first time, I made a comment about the rain, then noticed we’d already covered that subject. Caio laughed and tried to continue our small talk, but I pretended I had to go to the bathroom and stayed in there for a while. The second time, I thought about asking how things were going at his school, but then I saw that he was focused on reading the book I lent him, so I gave up.
Before she left to deliver some paintings to a gallery downtown, my mom asked if we really planned on spending the whole day locked inside the apartment. Caio and I looked out the window at the same time and nodded without saying a word.
And now here we are, alone at home, sitting in the living room. Caio is still reading, more focused than ever, and I decide to do the same. I grab the book I bought yesterday after therapy and pick up reading where I left off.
It’s a fantasy novel about a girl who was raised like any other person until, on her seventeenth birthday, she discovers she has special powers and a mysterious past. Now shit’s hitting the fan all throughout the kingdom, and everyone’s future lies in the hands of this girl who doesn’t know how to control her powers and doesn’t even try to learn how to. Have you ever read a book like this? Because I’ve read about fifteen.
I can’t focus on the story and spend more time leafing through the pages than actually reading.
“Is your book any good?” Caio asks.
He’s lying on the couch, and I’m propped against the pillows on the floor near the carpet. I take a deep breath before answering.
“One of the worst I’ve ever read in my life,” I say. Caio laughs and contorts his body to get a peek at the cover.
We go back to sitting in silence, but suddenly Caio stands up and positions himself right in front of me.
“I need to ask you something, but don’t answer unless you want to,” he says, and I feel my body go cold.
I hug the pillow that I was using to hide my belly, and only after a few seconds have passed do I realize that Caio is waiting on me for a response. I nod, and that’s enough for him.
“Why have you been so quiet all day? Is it something I’ve done?”
I don’t know what to say, and I need some time to think. I expected he might question me about it sooner or later, but I wasn’t smart enough to have an answer waiting for him.
“It’s not you; it’s me,” I say in a very low and ashamed voice, because honestly, what a crappy answer!
“Just last night we had this long conversation, but when we woke up this morning you were all quiet, and now you’re only nodding and shaking your head at me. It’s so weird,” Caio says, then immediately starts to apologize. “I don’t mean you’re weird, okay? I’m talking about the situation and the way you change, like night and day. That’s weird, not you.”
I laugh a little, because it’s funny to see Caio so concerned and apologizing so much when, in fact, I am actually pretty weird. That’s when I get an idea that might work out great, or it might be terrible. I look at the open book in my hand, and my eyes find a sentence in which the protagonist says, “That’s enough! I shall take the reins of my destiny, change my life, and finally find my love.”
I roll my eyes at how cliché that is, and then keep rolling them, because that’s exactly what I’m about to do: I will take the reins of my destiny and … you get the picture.
“I can try to explain,” I say, getting up from the floor, not looking at Caio directly. “But you’ll probably think I’ve lost my mind.”
Caio seems confused but excited at the same time. I signal for him to follow me and head to the bedroom. The curtain is thin and the room is too bright. So I grab a blanket from the closet, clip two ends to the top of the window, and close the door—and in two minutes, I have a completely dark room, just as it would be if it were nighttime.
“You can lie down, if you want to,” I tell Caio, and then realize that it must seem like the strangest proposition of all time.
Caio doesn’t say anything. He lies down in his bed, and I lie down in mine, and we remain quiet.
I need some time to gather all the courage inside me (which is usually about zero) and think about how to approach the subject. I decide to start with the truth.
“I can’t talk to you during the day because I don’t like being observed. I’m embarrassed by how you might see me, and that’s why I can only open up in the dark. You see? I am officially weird,” I say all at once, with a little laugh at the end.
But Caio doesn’t laugh.
He takes some time to process this information, and he looks ready to get up and leave the room at any moment. I don’t want him to go. I want him to be here with me.