Nowhere People

One in the morning. Donato connects to Skype. It’s the first time he’s done so since arriving in Porto Alegre. Luisa is away. Less than twenty minutes later, the call comes. Typical time for her. He accepts. Hi, Luisa. He turns on the camera. She turns hers on, too. The two of them look at each other: framed faces in different sizes on the screen. Noises from the two environments crackle through the speakers built into his laptop. Well? she asks. Both of them know they should not talk about the days that have already gone by. He says that being on his own has done him good. She says she understands what he means. He comments on the house and then says he has begun to suspect that this really is the place for him. Then she asks whether he’s had a look at all the stuff she left. Many times, he says. He knows now that she was only fulfilling Maína’s request. He asks whether she and Maína had been friends. Luisa says yes, that there had been an incredible empathy between them, but that Maína ended up becoming closer to Henrique, perhaps because Henrique had been so attached to her son. Donato lets her talk about it and, as he looks at her on the monitor, he realises that she is not the same woman who left the city more than a month ago saying she would be back in forty days. He knows that she’s doing well without him. Luisa did as much as she could, there’s no reason to condemn her. And she says that at first she thought the whole business of Henrique adopting him was lunacy, but they were not together at that point, there was no way she could have persuaded him against it. Luisa and her candour. Then they were left once again with no idea what to talk about and, out of the blue, Luisa says she’s got herself a boyfriend, a guy her age. Donato just tells her he’s been sleeping on her mattress, and she smiles (which he captures with a Skype screenshot) and then, herself again, Luisa replies that they can talk about that properly tomorrow.

‌

liquidisers