Author note:
Desejo uma ótima Copa do Mundo a todos. Apesar do momento crítico em que nosso País vive em relação à segurança pública, impunidade, a falta de bons serviços essenciais à nossa população, além da intra-estrutura defasada de nossas cidades, estradas, portos e etc. Sim o nosso País está mal das pernas, e o custo dos estádios foi uma agressão sem tamanho e justificativa. Muitos acham que é o momento certo para protestar. Eu discordo. Até porque todos os protestos realizados neste ano foram repletos de bandeiras partidárias e de muito oportunismo.
É preciso separar as coisas. A Copa do Mundo não aumentou ou diminuiu o quadro nefasto e endêmico de corrupção que nos assola. Pense por esse lado, o evento ajudou a evidenciá-lo e nos fez acordar para exigir mudanças. Além disso, a Copa do Mundo é nossa tradição. Gostaria que o brasileiro fosse mais patriota em eventos realmente cruciais, mas é na Copa que nós nos vestimos de verde e amarelo. Então que assim seja. Que todos nós sejamos felizes neste período e que tudo ocorra em paz.
Só não se esqueça de que o depois da Copa é que vem o momento mais importante da nossa sociedade. É quando realmente precisamos ir às ruas e exigir mudanças: nas eleições. Se existe um momento em que deveremos ir às ruas para protestar é esse. Não para apoiar o candidato x ou y, mas para mostrar a todos eles, quem quer que seja, que estamos cansados e queremos uma nova postura e mentalidade. Que queremos educação, saúde, segurança e bons serviços. É quando devemos mostrar que estamos fartos de discursos demagogos e belas propagandas.
Mas agora é Copa do Mundo.
Então divirta-se, não se meta em confusão, beba com moderação, curta o seu churrasquinho e vista a amarelinha. Esse é o momento em que podemos fazer festa. PRA FRENTE BRASIL!
...
Go to Lima
(Quinn)
The night was a child in the city that never sleeps. I raised my glass and toasted the umpteenth time along with dozens illustrious complete strangers who were at the bar. I mean, it wasn't a simple bar either. It was famous for being frequented by NYU students. I think I vaguely knew one of the guys who were there. I don't remember. What matters is that everyone was having a great time. I drank my shot of tequila and it went down wonderfully.
How did I get here? Mike's fault. He left me alone in the apartment with no money and no drinks just because I was drying his cellar. Johnny thought absurd, but he hadn't right of opinion. He, himself, needed the ceiling as he looked a new apartment. I still had my credit card and decided to be a rebellious girl against Dad. I dressed the most reasonable clothes that brought in my bag, went down the fire escape and walked through the city to find a bar that pleased me. Santiago had called me several times to drink there, but I always refused to be an exemplary and responsible girlfriend. Bullshit. All ended when I saw my love in a gossip website with her amazing lips glued on her man whore co-star. And that was even a scene! It was a real kiss! You know what? I lost too much time being responsible in a time that had all understanding not to be. I am a college girl after all!
Mike was right when he said that no one should marry before 30. Santiago loved to say the same thing. I was crazy, that is. I entered the bar and started to catch up. After not even have to pay more for my consumption, there were several suckers willing to do it for me as I dance with all the girls. A redhead was more insistent. She tongue kissed me in the middle of the bar and everyone clapped. We were giving a show.
I could fuck her, I could have sex with any one did you heard it Rachel Berry-Lopez? I could have any woman in the world, but I only wanted one. I exchanged the redhead for a double shot of tequila.
"Noble gentlemen and ladies." A guy climbed on top of a chair with a glass of beer in hand.
"What's up, brother?"
"Every time that wonderful lady on TV say 'absurd' and 'honey' we shall drink. Who is with me?"
He was talking about Deby Bergan, the host of a lame late night TV show whose staff was "Oh honey" or her bravado "it's an absurd."
Game on!
…
(Santana)
I was having a good night's sleep when my phone started ringing. My desire was to throw it in my porch, but when I looked at the hour, 3:47 a.m., I got worried. Calls at that time were either emergencies or tragedies.
"Who is it?"
"Are you Satan?" It was a woman voice.
"What? If this is a hoax..."
"Don't turn off, please. My name is Carol and I work in Jordan's House, a bar that is near the NYU campus. Do you by chance know Lucy Quinn Fabray?"
"What happened to her?" I was on alert.
"She's one of the guys who are in a state of misery here in the bar and I don't know to where I should send her by taxi. Then I tried a few family contacts in her cell and I caught yours because I liked the nickname."
Good thing the bartender called me. It would be worse if she had spoken to Rachel. My sister would freak out more than I was.
"Okay... Carol, right? You will send her to 426 W45th St. Please, call a female taxi driver. I'm sure you might know some. Keep my phone number because I will reward you if Quinn arrives in one piece at this address. But if she doesn't, I swear I'll make a hell on your ass. They don't call me Satan for nothing."
I wish I could kill Quinn Fabray. Damn me that still care about her. I immediately called Mike.
"Santana?"
"Your irresponsible human being, where are you?"
"On the street looking for Quinn. She ran away from home!"
"I just received a phone call from a bartender. Quinn is in an alcoholic coma and the girl will dispatch her in the taxi to your house."
"Johnny was there. I'll let him know."
"Tell him to give an extra tip if the taxi driver is female. I'll pay him later."
I lost my sleep. My heart was pounding and I practically dragged myself to the kitchen for a glass of water. I avoided turning on the lights because the door of my sister's room was open and that was the first night she slept alone since the fight. It was a relief had again a whole bed just for me, but one way or another, the ex-couple insisted on not leaving me alone. I looked out the door and Rachel was in deep sleep, thank God. I went back to my room still waiting for a phone call and stayed in the dark not to test my luck with Rachel. The phone rang no long after.
"Hi San!" That was Johnny.
"Is she okay? No signs of abuse or something?" I was almost freaking out.
"Quinn is back to the old sofa in the most perfect alcoholic coma, but in one piece. No signs of abuse, no blood, but certainly she is smelling."
"Thanks to the good Lord!" I breathed of relief. "And the taxi driver…"
"… was a big girl."
"Johnny... please, don't tell Rachel about any of this, okay?"
"Of course, San. Good night and sleep tight."
"You too!"
Tried to close my eyes, but it was hard. This breakup was literally killing me.
…
(Quinn)
"We need to establish some rules here!"
I only didn't roll my eyes because I would get dizzy. My hangover had reached colossal proportions and a small gesture like this would only worsen my situation. Mike met us as soon as I was more or less ready by mid-afternoon. Johnny missed the afternoon to attend the supreme calling of Michael Chang, the actor. I began to hate actors.
"No drinks in this house until things return to normal!" He decreed and almost literally hit the hammer. "Quinn, no more pubs, or junk food, or alcohol. You will only leave this place to get a job, or study."
"I didn't know that you are her father and she was 15." Johnny replied and Mike didn't like it.
"What are you saying?"
"I don't agree with any of it." Jonnhy said with the usual calm, but with a seriousness that wasn't very characteristic. Therefore, it caught the attention of Mike and mine. "Man, I know this is your place and you make the rules here. If you don't want any alcohol here, that's fine to me. I will respect it. But you can't treat a woman like this. Quinn is over 21. She is vaccinated, intelligent and independent grown woman who can make her own decisions. Don't treat her like a kid! Everyone here is responsible for their own deeds and wills. If her attitudes could get her hurt, it's our obligation to be honest and talk to her, and it's up to her to accept or not. She is the one who needs to know her own limits." He was still pondering his voice while continued staring Mike. "Prohibit drink indoors won't solve Quinn's problem, neither lock her in this place... in fact, that was one of the stupidest attitudes I saw you take in all that time, bro. And you Quinn." He turned his attention to me. "I love you and understand your pain. I sympathize. But get drunk won't make Rachel forgive you, nor will make things better. Believe me, I know that. I'm the one here who spent two years of my life drunk and high. Say more: you got lucky because the bartender was a decent girl and the taxi driver was very professional."
"I don't want to cause problems to you..." I whispered crestfallen.
"Relax, all right? I won't tell you what you should or should not do, Quinn. And I won't stop liking you if you decide to set off my other $230 bottle of whiskey in half hour."
We laughed a little bit, but Mike didn't see humors. I guess he didn't like being challenged by Johnny in his own place.
"Still, I don't want alcohol here."
"That's ok, bro."
"And I didn't want you here, Johnny. Three is too many in this place. Quinn will stay. You can go."
Oh fuck. Johnny shouldn't have challenged the pride of Mike's male alpha in his own territory, even though what Johnny said made more sense. I was a grown woman, and yes, I had to test my limits, even though at that point I seriously wanted to test my ability to process alcohol in my system. Johnny smiled, kissed me in my cheek, and started to pack his things without complain. I think he did it a lot in his life.
"I will pick up the boxes later, ok?" Johnny said.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"I still have some friends in the city, Quinn. Don't worry."
Life sucks!
…
I found myself alone in that room that was beginning to hate. I took my phone and checked messages and links. There were some from my mother and colleagues, but I didn't want to talk to anyone. The person I most wanted to get a message or a phone call hated me at the moment, still, I touched the screen on Rachel's name and I sent a message for the umpteenth time.
"I'm sorry. Please forgive me. I love you." - Quinn
I touched the screen again in another name: Satan.
"Hi" I smiled while listening to voluminous voice.
"Hi!" There was a brief silence.
"What's up?"
"How are things there?"
"Same old." Santana seemed too peppy.
"She's by your side, right?"
"You bet."
"Are you doing something? It seems you are on the street."
"Nothing much, my sister and I'll watch a movie soon."
"Is she okay?"
"Yes."
"Could you draw a better answer?"
"Right now, I think it won't be possible. Why don't you call me later? Better: we can meet another day."
"Okay." I was frustrated. "I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry, San. I can't go back and fix that mistake, but I swear I'm going to try everything within my power to make everything better, so she won't get hurt again. I'm so sorry..." I started crying. I was tired of crying, but couldn't avoid.
"Ok, Bella. Glad to see you're back. I'll talk to you later. Goodbye."
There was a horrible empty feeling when the phone hung up. I cried harder. My life at that moment was a waste. I left the apartment in the fire escape again and walked to the market. I bought a bottle of vodka and went home. Maybe the drink didn't solve, but I needed it to easy my pain a little bit.
…
(Rachel)
I didn't want to leave home, but Santana insisted that I should have some fun. She was doing everything possible to help me: she fixed the breakfast, cleaned the house despite her physical conditions, sought stay home with me, and told the most unimaginable stories. The only thing that we refused to discuss was about the day I got drunk and poured some of my frustrations on her. The day before yesterday she took me to watch an off-Broadway musical play. Yesterday we walked through Central Park and saw what was there for summer activities. Today was the cinema.
We were in the line when her phone rang. She pushed me to get the popcorn and she tensed, despite speaking casually. Santana could be a good liar to a lot of people but me. I knew her postures better than anyone.
"Quinn left another message..." I said as she hung up. Santana's eyes widened as if she had caught. "She said the same: please forgive her and bla, bla, bla."
"Why don't you call her?" Santana looked a little choked up, and it led me to believe that maybe it was Quinn on the phone.
"Not now..."
"Okay."
"So Is Izabella in Manhattan?" I changed my strategy to make her confess. The line started walking. "Didn't she lock the college and move out to other city with a rich old guy?"
"Yeah..." Santana wore long pauses when she wanted to gain time to invent some story. "She came to solve some pending and asked me out in the meantime."
"Will you?"
"What?"
"Go out with her?" I pressed a little bit. "You are free and you've got together a few times. You should take the opportunity to meet her once more."
"We have to pack our things to Lima."
"We will travel on Friday and it doesn't stop you of going out tomorrow or even today, right?"
"Ray... what do you want?" Yeah, I won.
"Quinn called you." Santana just nodded. "Have you have spoken behind my back?" She shook her head again, only in negative. I believed her. "What did she want?"
"She wanted to know about you, of course." She said with some asperity.
"Ok." I tried to keep my emotions in check. "Don't lie to me, Santy."
"The question is not that."
"What is it?"
"You don't want to talk about Quinn, and don't want to talk with her. But she is all you think about. So do not push me on this."
"Just don't make fool of me."
"That's the last thing I would do to you, Ray." I helped to sidle up to our seats in row. When we sat down, she spoke again. "I hate this."
The lights dimmed and the trailer began.
…
(Quinn)
"I can't drink anymore!" I massaged my temples. It wasn't just the hangover. My pee was weird, also the number two, my skin looked green, my buds began to fall. I was so wrong.
"Then stop!" Mike shouted. "Your commitment to drown on your sorrows is getting ridiculous."
I had no courage nor moral to even mutter my friend's aggressiveness. With great difficulty, I got up from the couch and walked to the phone that he had forgotten in the charger. I removed the machine from the electricity and started reading the messages left. Santana warned that Rachel and her were in Lima. There was no further explanation, but I could imagine that Rachel would seek The Lopezes' support on these occasions. Well, Shelby and Juan weren't my best friends before. Imagine now?
"Preparei torradas de pão de forma e fiz chá" – Mike ofereceu – "É melhor comer um pouco. Não lembro mais do dia em que você colocou alguma coisa nessa barriga que não fosse álcool."
Aceitei as torradas, mas dispensei o chá. Queria água gelada. A boca estava seca e estava com um hálito deplorável. A cabeça começou a girar mais rápido e precisei correr ao banheiro antes mesmo de conseguir mastigar o pão. Não bebi naquele dia, mas achei que ia morrer de tanto passar mal por causa da desidratação.
"I made toast and tea." Mike offered. "It's better to eat a little more. I don't remember the day you put something in your belly that wasn't alcohol."
I accepted the toast, but dismissed the tea. I was craving for water: the coldest the better. My mouth was dry and I had a pitiful breath. My head began to spin faster and I had to run to the bathroom before I even started to chew the bread. I didn't drink that day, but I thought I would die of either getting sick because of dehydration.
…
(Rachel)
My heart leaped when I saw how tiny was abuela and all her difficulties of making her traditional cookies. She said that her fingers ached. The years were passing faster and faster to abuela. She was still very active old woman, and of course, she had the difficulties of her age. My father said that a colleague diagnosed her with a degenerative disease and that's nothing to get done, but try to slow down the process and give her some quality of living. Abuela is a strong woman, though. She was aware of everything that was happening to her and try hard to not surrender to the disease.
I hadn't spoken with abuela that much during my parents' wedding, but here, at her house, I realized how different she was, walking slower than I remembered, claiming more because of the pain. Still, abuela had just the same huge smile and joy to see us. Santana, as always, was the first to embrace and kiss her on the verge of making abuela complain. She didn't care and still bite abuela on her shoulder. Santana won a slap in the arm because of the small romp. I was more emotional. Abuela gently hugged me and I fought myself to not cry for everything: for Quinn, for abuela's fragile health, until the death of that flea-bitten dog she had.
Daniela, my cousin, was also there at that afternoon. She was the CEO of Uncle Peter's Beer factories. While Santana and Daniela were chatting in the living room about business, abuela called me to help her with the cookies because she could no longer kneading as the recipe calls for. And knead well was the secret.
"Su padre dice que hará se debut em la televisión." She proudly commented. "Mi nieta es realmente un artista!"
"Usted tiene que esperar meses para ver." I smiled. "Trajo um kit para usted. Tienes camiseta y unas pocas cosas."
"Voy a vestir La camiseta y decir con orgullo que mi nieta trabaja em el programa."
"La masa ya está em el punto?"
Abuela checked the texture and then experienced a bit, then nodded positive. It was time to curl and shape the cookies. We both were sat at the table and begin the second stage of labor. I had a faster pace and abuela could no longer compete effectively with my youth. She made cookies slower, but always steadily. While wrapped four she prepared two and put in the form
"Cómo está tu corazón?" My grandmother stared at me and frowned. That old lady wasn't in the best physical shape, but her mind and the ability to see people's souls was still intact.
"Distressed."
"Tus ojos me dicen. Something is bad con su noiva?" Here comes that lovely way to mix English and Spanish words.
"Quinn and I broke up." I got up and put the first tray in the oven. There were two more to prepare.
"Qué lástima!" She said with sincerity. "You were so happy together. Qué pasó?"
"She cheated on me, abuela. We fought one day and she had sex with other girl."
"Como usted sabe?"
"Quinn confesó. In the next day, she came back in a bad shape and said everything."
"No retorno?"
I stared at my grandmother. It wasn't a casual question, though expected. I knew there was something more in that mind that wouldn't be satisfied with a simple answer. Was there no return? I thought to myself. Despite all the rage in the world, I had the feeling that nothing was final.
"Quinn hurt me too much, abuelita. She had sex with somebody else and I don't think I can forgive her after that. No retorno."
"Sabes Rachel, su corazón is very damaged now. But nothing is permanent in this world. Nada. Centennial forests may die, the highest mountain erodes, the oceans may dry, even our sun will die someday. If none of these monumental nature things are finite, which you will tell about the fragile and volatile human heart?"
"Abuelita… you're telling me to forgive Quinn?"
"Yo estoy diciendo nada, nada, nada es para siempre. Today you are angry and hurt. But tomorrow you may reconsider. I'm not saying that you will, because even love, if it's not true, one day ends."
"I truly loved Quinn, abuela. I'm not sure if she loved me back for real. I don't think she did."
"If your love is true and also hers, then it can find a way. But if it isn't, then acabou. De una forma u otra, you'll be fine."
"Abuela…" I was uncertain to ask. "Did abuelo Ernesto cheated on you one day?"
"I was separated from Ernesto for two years in Chile. He left months after your father was born. But like I said, love found a way."
"I didn't know, abuela. I'm so sorry."
"Cosas de la vida, Rachel. No me arrepiento de nada. Y mi story had a happy end."
I was thinking, maybe my story has a happy ending, not necessarily with Quinn beside me.
…
(Quinn)
Loading boxes wasn't easy with a hangover. Johnny was happy. He rented a kitchenette in Union City, New Jersey. The place was kind of bad, if I must say. The street was narrow and decadent, but the rents were much cheaper than an increasingly exorbitant ones in New York. He got a car with a friend (Johnny was the guy who knew half of the city) and since I felt responsible for Mike had expelled Johnny from home, I volunteered to help him with his stuffs. I climbed to the second floor of the small salmon-colored building, more tacky impossible, to the place that was almost a quarter of a reasonable size of a room with a small bathroom, no tube, and the kitchen was nothing more than a sink in a cabinet above and a fridge in the corner. It was small. In fact, that was the smaller place I've even seen someone living on.
"At least I got my microwave." Johnny said as he tested the fridge "Look: it has space to put a few bottles of beer and a piece of cheese."
"You could have accepted your friend's offer and stayed in Brooklyn."
"Here I save money. Spending on transport is the same, but the savings in rent will be $300. It will worth since I need do some savings to actual buy my own place. And, here, I have a bed, a bathroom, a corner to stay quiet. It's all I need."
"I'm happy for you."
"Well, if you want to leave Mike's sofa for some reason, I know a friend. She's nice and she's looking for somebody to share the rent."
"Another ex-girlfriend?"
"Come on. I'm not Don Juan… or Mike!" He smilled. "This one is really a friend of mine. She teaches in an Elementary School and sings in the weekends... sometimes."
"Another singer… great."
"Maggie is straight, Quinn."
"Still, another singer! No, thank you, I will stay with Mike until he kicks my ass. And his couch is comfy."
"If you say so… It's time to you go home, blondie. I'll drive you."
At Mike's place, Johnny promised to return tomorrow to clean up the mess we've made. So, I stayed alone in that space that honestly bothered me. It wasn't my place. I missed my bed, my bathroom, my couch, my kitchen and mostly my Rachel.
I would drink again of anger for being private about all this. Instead, I answered my phone. It was Lewis Gore.
"Fabray! Where have you been? You've been missed."
"I had some personal problems."
"Are you okay now?"
"Sure, what's up?"
"Good. I have a great job for you. A colleague of mine needs a good cinematography for a short film. Are you up?"
I had no work in sight even.
"Sure. Can you give me his contact on a text? I'm without a pen and a paper to write down."
"Yes I can. Cool that you will talk. This guy is good, Fabray. I think you will enjoy working with him."
I hung up feeling too lazy to talk to this guy, but I had to take into consideration that my savings was very limited. I didn't want to stay at Mike's forever and without decent savings, I could end in a kitchenette like Johnny's or sharing some place with a straight singer that I don't care about. It was better to go after the money and quit drinking for a while. My phone vibrated and I was impressed with Lewis efficiency to send the contact that fast. I opened the message and it wasn't his.
"We are back. Ray is considering talk to you, but don't say I told you so." - Satan
My heart was pounding. After 24 hellish days without seeing her, I would get the chance again.
…
It wasn't even eight o'clock in the morning when the familiar music from my phone started to play. I was awake and went stumbling over the furniture to reach my phone.
"Rachel." I answered breathlessly.
"Good morning, Quinn. I wonder if you are available for a chat at lunch?"
"Of course! Where?"
"Do you remember Jojo's, that restaurant near Lexington, Upper East Site?"
"Yeah, sure, you loved this restaurant..."
"Meet you there at noon precisely."
What should I do until then? I was so excited to meet her that I couldn't think of virtually anything. Rachel tagged me in a public place, but with certain meaning because we ate there two or three times on a date. She said that she would be rich to buy an apartment in that area, because she loved the idea to be close to Central Park. I joked and said that our destination would be the Bronx.
I ate a piece of bread and drink a little milk to not look so ill due to alcohol abuse in recent days. And I had to take a shower, but my clothes were smelly. I needed new ones as soon as possible. Because my credit card was in the limit, I run into one of those cheap shops to buy an outfit that only lasts until the first laundry. Because I was early, I had to wait an Asian girl unlocked the doors.
"Is it working?" I looked more like a beggar. The girl looked confused and nodded reluctantly. "Great!"
I bought a plain red blouse, shorts and a pair of slippers, because even my only shoe was in state of misery. I literally ran back to Mike's place and took a shower. I washed my hair, rubbed my skin, cleaned nails, put some perfume and then, catch the bus.
Rachel was already there.
My fiancé looked beautiful in a blue dress that I loved. Her hair was neatly brushed, light make-up on, and that young lady fresh air that I loved. I couldn't believe that I spent 26 days without see her.
"Rachel." I said breathlessly when I saw her at the table. "You are beautiful."
"Quinn…" She didn't get up or allowed me to touch her. "You are..." She seemed to find the exact words as I sat at the table beside her. "different?"
"You didn't allow me to come back and I wasn't exactly doing the laundry these days. I had to improvise."
"Really?" She wasn't impressed. "And what were you doing to keep this unhealthy Look? You visibly lost weight."
"I was completely lost without you, Rach."
"I heard that Mike hosted you at all this time. It must have been exhausting for him to have you and Johnny in a small apartment."
"We found a way. And Johnny already has his own place. So, how is Santana? Is she already without the boot?"
"Yes, she is."
"This is great."
"But she will need to use crutches for a while longer."
The waiter came to meet us and left menus. We ordered drinks. Rachel order natural orange juice and I: a coke with ice. Everything looked good in that restaurant, but I was broken financially. Rachel read everything with the usual concentration. She had a habit of biting her lower lip as she chose and I thought it was lovely.
"I remember those hot asparagus and ricotta ravioli were perfect." She said.
Perfect and expensive.
"I'm not so hungry."
"You can choose any dish that I will pay for our lunch." She said without even looking at me.
"Rachel..."
"Quinn, I lived with you for three years and a few days that wouldn't make me forget certain tics and codes." Then she stared at me. "Not hungry in Fabray's book means no money. So I will pay."
It was humiliating, but I swallowed my pride.
"The organic burger looks great."
We made our orders when the waiter brought the drinks. I wanted to introduce the subject that interested me, I just didn't know how. Rachel was armed during all our meeting, what remained was to wait for me.
"And the movie?" I asked. "Do you travel this week, right?"
"On Thursday."
"Anxious?"
"Slightly." It was when she looked at me her for the second time on the day. "That's when I need you." My heart raced. I was all attention at that moment. "When I travel on Thursday, you will be allowed to go home and pack your things calmly. Santana agreed to let you sleep these days in the apartment and she will help you find a new place to live. But here is my price: my sister needs to do physiotherapy every day and we know how much she neglects her health. What I need is that you drive her and make sure she will do her physiotherapy."
"Do you want me to babysit Santana?" I was outraged.
"Honestly, I'm not prepared to take any decision involving our relationship, Quinn. Not yet. I'm not even prepared to live under the same roof as you, and god knows how hard it's to be here with you at this restaurant. I'll spend two weeks out in Canada. You'll have all this time to pack your things and move out with dignity. When I get back, then we talk."
"Sure." I had no other way, apparently.
"Great. My flight is in the morning. You can go home in the afternoon."
If this was the chance she gave me, so I had to grab it with my teeth and nails, even if it was initially just to take care of Santana.