But then I heard those noises again. Gunshots. Two sharp 3-round bursts that sounded somewhat distant, but certainly inside the limits of Gloria Santa.
“I’m gonna get us some pizza, won’t stay out long,” Renato said.
“You heard those gunshots, didn’t you?” I said.
“You’ll hear gunshots every now and then. They’re not really a problem unless you hear a few dozen in a row. Now that Gloria Santa has been pacified, chances are these are only celebration bursts. Flamengo soccer team is playing today, and most likely winning”
Renato went down the stairs. I felt terribly alone. Grandma Norma snorted on her couch, the TV casting ghastly lights over her body. I stayed at the table, away from the window. Night was coming, and I didn’t know what kind of monsters dwelled around a favela when the lights went out.
Chapter 13
I heard a sound coming from downstairs and jerked my head up, my heart heaving inside my chest. I was in a darkness with only the light of a bulb coming through the window from the building across the street. The TV was off, and inside the dimly lit room, grandma Norma was not on her sofa anymore. I rubbed my chin with the back of my hand. My jaw was sore and I felt that a sticky crust of saliva had formed after I had fallen asleep on the table.
Maybe because of the adrenaline of the day, I wasn’t aware of being so worn out. I remember lowering down my head over my forearms to help ease my thoughts, and without realizing it I’d slid into a deep sleep.
I heard steps coming from the ground floor. Was it Renato? That man had strange habits. I sensed he had good intentions, but I was also suspicious of him. Even grandma Norma resembled the kind of character whose kindness had been brought into play only to raise the credibility of a lie.
I had been groping for a blatant truth, and my fingers had only reached slippery corners. Renato seemed to be a fair, irresistible kind of man, but many serial killers had been profiled with those traits as well.
My head throbbed in pain. I couldn’t stand this situation much longer. I’d been a fugitive for less than twelve hours, nearly giving up. I almost got seduced by the idea of being caught after all. Being used as a bargaining chip might actually improve my situation, as the whole world would finally become aware of my current, absurd history.
Lights turned on, I raised my hands to protect my eyes. Renato walked up on the staircase with a box of pizza and a plastic bag in his hands. He carried out the most harmless of looks.
“You didn’t have to stay in the dark,” he said. He put the pizza box and a bottle of red wine on the table.
“I fell asleep,” I said.
Renato pulled out some plates, cups and some cutlery from under the kitchen sink.
“I’ve also brought you a new toothbrush.”
I had noticed it inside the plastic bag with the red wine. He had something sassy in mind. And, to be honest, I did too.
“Where’s your grandma?” I asked.
“Oh, she’s probably already asleep. She is an independent woman. That’s damn risky if you ask me, but after so many years, and so much limitation, there’s no way I’ll take that from her.”
“Sounds fair.”
I only realized how hungry I was after Renato had put a pizza slice on my plate. I ate it in a few bites, and asked for another one. Renato poured the red wine in a mug—poor Norma didn’t have a wine glass. I gulped it down waiting for the next serving.
The wine triggered an instant reaction in my body: cheeks heating up, tingles on my legs, and confidence rushing back. It had the same effect on Renato, his gaze before long, went from hungry for pizza to hungry for me.
“Where did you learn to speak English?” I asked. I shouldn’t want to know more about him, but I did.
“In America. I spent a couple of years working as a waiter in Orlando. I had quite a good life, but an illegal immigrant is a bomb waiting to blow up.”
I wished I had something reassuring to say to him. Renato raised the corner of his lips and squinted at me.
“I still plan on moving there. And I’ll do everything by the book next time. Is there anything else you would like to know about me, Emily?”
I took another sip of wine, another dose of courage, and looked at Renato’s lips. They were a bright scarlet. Was it from the redness of the wine or the lust of his heart? Renato had this terrible habit of half opening his mouth while staring at me, like he wanted to taste me—in small, uninterrupted portions.
“Are you still brave enough to take risks?” I asked.
My life had always been neat, planned out, safe, and full of achievable goals. But for the first time I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow. I loathed makeshift arrangements, and could only enjoy a party if all details had been sketched out weeks before. This was also true about my relationships. I never found bliss living with Marlon. I’d kept expecting that our next perfectly planned summer trip, or the new restaurant in town, would provide us with the energy and the special moments that we never took part in our home.
But now, life proved itself to be a mass of unpredictability. I should live in the
