01

- I’m sorry, Zoe. It’s over.

- But... - I did not finish the sentence, I did not know what to say. Tears soaked my eyes and my stomach suddenly wrapped.

All right that the whole thing was recent, me and Pedro were together only six months, but, oh my life, I would introduce him to my family, on Valentine’s Day, the day my lovely cousin decided to get married.

You see, I didn’t hate her, but she always managed to disdain me.

Anelise was an independent woman, successful in the professional field (owner of a renowned confectionery), and now, in the loving sphere also, since Vincent, her fiancé and future husband, was a true prince.

At least that’s what my mother told me every time she called me.

And me?

I was unemployed - there were cuts in the hotel where I worked for three years as a cashier -, living off my unemployment insurance, and now getting dumped.

God, why is that?!

- Sorry, Zoe. You’re a nice woman, you’ll find someone who loves you like...

- How you didn’t love me - I interrupted you, hurt, hurt and, I don’t know, pretty upset too.

- We can be friends.

I looked at him, and I wanted to laugh in despair.

Pedro was a handsome guy, had light brown eyes, dark hair, black skin (a little darker than mine) and a healed body.

He was just a few months younger than me. I turned twenty-four in February and he will turn 25 in September.

We were good together, so I didn’t understand why we broke up. Actually, I thought it was totally unfair.

- Screw you, Peter! - I will shout, pushing you. - The last thing I want is to be your friend! Goodbye.

And that said I went into the house and slammed the door hard. I did not wait for any answer, I lay in my bed and let the cry come.

What would I do with my life from now on?

God, what would I do?

I awoke with safanões and whistles. The sun’s rays fell through the curtains, obstructing my vision.

- I thought I would have to throw you a bucket of ice water - Clara spoke, sitting on the edge of the bed.

- Shouldn’t you be at work? - I asked, stretching.

- I have to go to the dentist in half an hour. Pedro called me, told me to come here and take care of you. What happened?

Pedro.

My ex-boyfriend.

What a load of shit!

- He broke up with me - I replied, trying to pretend I didn’t care about that.

- But why is that?

- Oh, Clara, same old cliché talk. "It’s not you, it’s me." "You’ll find a better person," and blah, blah, blah.

- What an asshole!

I looked away. I didn’t want to talk about it, it hurt too much.

- It’s okay - I lied.

Clara held my hand firmly, creating a contrast between our colors. While she was very white, I had black skin, a bit retinatic.

The difference didn’t stop there.

Clara had long, straight, blond hair, honeyed eyes, and thin lips. I was already in the process of hair transition, so I chose to use long orange braids. My eyes were black and my mouth; fleshy.

Clara was the skinny type, while I always had the curvy body.

- You need a drink - said my best and only friend -, I’ll take care of you. But now I really have to go, if you need me just call.

Clara got up, gave a kiss on my cheek and left, all tidy and fragrant, to go to the dentist.

Smile.

Her and her platonic passions.

Last time you thought your mechanic was a catch, you found out the guy was married.

I let out a sigh.

Honestly, I didn’t feel the slightest urge to get out of bed. I urgently needed a job, it would be easier to get over the breakup.

Maybe I’d read a self-help book or something.

At great cost, I got up.

I washed my face, brushed my teeth, fixed my braids and went straight to the kitchen, still stuck in my pajamas of little stars.

When I was sitting on the couch, after having devoured a silver plate of couscous with egg and latte, my bell rang.

I crawled to the door, opened it, and there she was.

- Honey, you have dark circles under your eyes - I was saying, already entering my house.

I rolled my eyes.

- Good morning to you, too, Mother - I made a mockery by closing the door and following it.

Dona Augusta was walking, analyzing everything, as if evaluating a property that certainly would not buy at all.

It’s okay that my house wasn’t that great.

Living room, bathroom, American kitchen, two bedrooms, some minimalist pictures, plasma TV, walls painted (by me!) in pastel tone, and only.

But it was my home, and I really liked him.

Pretty much.

- So - I began, cautious -, to what do I owe the honor of your visit?

My mother threw the fake Channel bag on the couch and sat down carefully.

She was always very pompous, had skin the same color as mine, black hair smoothed and the body robust.

If I could, I’d only wear designer clothes, but I’d settle for the forgeries I’d found at Street Vendors.

Today I was wearing a set of lemon green blouse and skirt, which my father won on his birthday, when he was still among us.

Ah, Father, how I miss you!

- Well, I was walking around, thought I’d come see you. You don’t miss me, but I miss you.

And here we go for the drama of the day.

- Of course I feel - I said, going to the kitchen and opening the refrigerator. - Juice...?

- With sweetener - replied my mother.

I filled the glass with passion fruit juice, popped a few drops of sweetener and went back to the room. I handed it to her and sat down next to her.

I took a deep breath.

- Seriously, Mom, why did you come here?

— I want to know about you, Zoe - she said, sipping the juice and depositing the glass on the coffee table. - Are you still unemployed? When will I meet your boyfriend?

- I’m trying to find a job, but it’s not easy.

— You didn’t answer my other question, but you don’t have to, I know at the right moment I’ll meet this guy. For God’s sake, Zoe, tell me he’s not into drugs.

- Mom, please, please!

- I only want your good. Tomorrow your Aunt Marta will make a lunch in celebration of Anelise’s wedding, tell me she will, dear.

Okay, that was the reason for your visit.

It was not for nostalgia anything, my mother wanted (and would) compete with her sister.

Typical of both of them to do that, and it was so, but so, ridiculous.

- I will - I assured -, can I take Clara?

- You can, of course. Now I have to go, I’m going shopping.

- More shopping? - I asked in awe.

She just shrugged her shoulders.

- I don’t want your aunt to think we’re poor.

- Mom, but we’re poor! Look at me, I’m living on unemployment insurance, if my dad hadn’t given me this house, I’d be on the street by now.

- Stop nonsense - he said, lifting my chin -, always has my home to return.

It’s not my place anymore.

— You need to see your cousin, Zoe, you’re living your life. Rich, kind fiancé, dream job. Anelise moved up in life, knew how to enjoy it. Too bad you didn’t even try.

I swallowed it hard.

- I’ll walk you to the door - and I closed the conversation.

When my mother left, I threw myself on the couch and cried.

I cried because I wasn’t - and never would be - like my cousin. Because my father, the guy who always believed in me, lost his life because of a fucking cancer. I cried because, for my mother, I would never be good enough.

And finally, because, besides being unemployed, I had just come out of a relationship that I believed would last forever.

When did my life turn to hell?

Ah, fuck the diet, I deserved a pot full of fight