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– Flavinho, let's spend the afternoon at the beach?
– Love, today I would be able to ride a sled to the stars with you. Staying until the sun rises on the beach, pushing away every grain that touches your body, and counting the waves, daring the ironies of the world, smiling to fate, deceiving death to the very end, just to be with you. You are all that is best in me, and whatever is inside me, is chained to you. Babe, do you know what day it is today?
– Of course, my poet ... Margo responds with a long kiss, stopping the running crowd trying to catch the last bus on Line 175.
Flavinho enters the line, protecting his companion from the pressure of the embarking crowd with his body . A kid complains, telling him to walk. Another pushes. The bus capacity runs out fast. Flavinho slows the line, but the bus jump-starts into a jolt, causing him to bump into a pregnant woman. He apologizes, but she ignores him. The guy next to her stares at him. Flavinho walks away politely without realizing that the stranger talks on the phone while staring at him, but for Flavinho today is a happy party day, an everything is gonna be all right day
Margo and her boyfriend lean against the back of the bus in a romantic mood. The bus follows its route, passengers holding to it like magnets, to an area nearby a military academy.
At the stop, a man wearing a Mets cap enters the bus. Like a snake, he searches and recognizes the target. Draws a gun under his shirt and shoots point-blank at the teenager.
Flavinho falls back with his hand on his chest. Margo tries to contain her boyfriend's blood and screams for help.
The killer jumps out the window and runs in the middle of the street, dodging cars. He crosses the Zuzu Angel tunnel with ease, and climbs the Rocinha Hill through its endless lanes. In a seemingly abandoned house, a group of men hides drug packages into a fake tiled wall. Three young teenagers perform the task, under the close eyes of a very large white man keeping watch. He glimpses the ajar door in search of a good hiding place. In opening, he knocks down a red tricycle, causing a tremendous noise. The big guy reacts, cocks the gun and shoots without blinking. The minors realize the bad luck: the man on the ground is known, it´s Gil.
– Man, you messed up. He's from the fucking community. You killed the dude. We're going to get "scolded" because of this shit. Son of a bitch! Did you have to show up right now? – they comment, nervously.
The gang comes out, rushing through the brick shack window, mingling with people in the alleyways. During the rumble, the neighborhood is the only discreet one. A white shorts resident closes the window and sits on the couch to watch TV. A girl with a baby in her arms goes to the grocery store, as if watching a movie scene. In the shack, Gil remains lying on the ground, bleeding out.
At a French Alps city´s ski station, a stunning redheaded and slender woman practices her first skiing movements. She seems well adapted to the new poles sliding on the track, and, sometimes, bends her knees, simulating a curve, instigating surrounding looks. "I was born for this. Good life, good champagne, a handsome sweet guy..."
A nod: it is the new sweetheart who watches over her from afar. They met as soon as she arrived in Paris. From the date, scheduled through a chatroom, they went out for a drink in a late afternoon, and, from then on, it was just sex and fun. Cadú is a hottie, with a light brown complexion, deep green eyes, elegant, modern and very talkative, in fact, he is a true luxury escort. True and expensive. The obstetrician only has eyes for his chiseled body, always available for sex.
“Handsome, but you have to pay well”, she thinks, arriving at the restaurant, where the boyfriend is helping himself to a brandy. At the table, a plate of escargots succulently awaits the couple. Cadú, always courteous, gets up and offers a chair. His drink is a Remy Martin brandy, but she prefers something more sophisticated.
– Absinthe, Lyanne? But it's a fortune!
– Sweetie, men are meant to pay, or have you already spent the money I gave you? It doesn't matter. There is more where that money came from, . Anything for both of us, dear.
– It's just that I feel a little embarrassed about you passing me money under the table. What if someone sees?
– Nobody cares about these things these days. Anything goes. Ok. Next time I will put it in a nice place for you to look for.
– You and your games! That's why I'm crazy to bang you all the time. Let's go to the bedroom.
– In a minute, insatiable boy.
– Don't call me boy, I hate it when you do that.
Cadú asks for the bill and shuts up with a generous dose of fresh air.
– Calm down, you don't have to get upset, let's have our drink while I relax and get hotter, Bubuzinho.
Lyanne straightens her long red hair and bits the corner of her lip. She steals his brandy, making a point of running her tongue on the corner of her lip. Positive sign: Cadú leaves some bills on the table and they leave.
In the gondola, Lyanne undoes her blouse and exposes her breasts. "Here, it's all yours, but don't tear it, it's expensive, and you can't afford it." Cadú looks a bit annoyed, but prefers to suck her red, upright tits. She spreads her legs and sits over him, unbuttoning the zipper of her wool pants, both bodies protected by a sweater.
An employee receives tourists. Lyanne speeds up her rhythm to a selfish orgasm. She reaches her goal and tells him to end the game. Cadú, disconcerted, settles down, “I wasn't born rich, what am I going to do now? Study ? Now, it is not possible anymore, that time is over! ”. She hurries him.
– Now, let's go shopping, honey. You need a new watch, the Rolex you wear is too worn out.
– You don’t have to. I heard this is the land of Mont Blanc, it should be more affordable.
– You don't know anything, imagine, a Mont Blanc does not measure up to the technology of a Rolex. These futile things, you leave them to me, I know best, Bubuzinho.
The couple drives on the cobblestone road that cuts through the Chartreuse mountains towards the snowy valley. Lyanne, behind the wheel, runs her hand over Cadú's pants in a hopeful voice: "My handsome, Lyaninha will let you come next time."
In his office, decorated with colorful images of Guanabara Bay and a huge gold inlaid table with two white leather sofas on the side, Conrado examines some documents in a patient folder. Letter H. The nurse announces the arrival of a patient. A 75-year-old man enters and is greeted with a light hug.
– Haroldo, how are you doing?
– Not so good, Conrado. I have noticed that my legs are always wobbly, I am very tired. I feel this treatment is making me weak. Can't we take a break?
– Chemotherapy is like that. It takes time for a person to recover. The feeling of weariness is normal, after all, we are facing an enemy. The process to slow down cancer cells reproduction and the tumor is painful, but this is our challenge: mine and yours. Imagine that this is an enemy that you have to fight every day: this is how chemotherapy works. You will see that all this effort was worth it. How are the headaches?
– Come and go. Only the tiredness is wearing me down.
– It's natural, so let's continue with the treatment. In a month from now you will have blood tests to assess the platelets condition.
– Conrado, I'm not sure I want to continue with this. I know this cancer is malignant and tends to spread. I'm going to die, aren't I? Tell me the truth, you have become my friend, you can be absolutely sincere.
– Haroldo, chemotherapy is the only proven tumor inhibition technique, without it, we have no alternatives.
– My granddaughter is insisting that I travel with her. She wants to take me to Canada, the weather is mild at this time. I have a good reserve of money and I want to use it, after all, life without Bete is very hard. Old and alone, it is very difficult.
– Your granddaughter is an example of a girl, she worries, one notices that she loves you and that is admirable, but I believe it is not your time yet. Wait for another six months, the treatment term, then you travel, agreed?
Conrado says goodbye to him with a light hug, asking for a little more patience. The old man looks disappointed. Conrado puts Haroldo's file under a pile of paper and consults the secretary about the next patient. His last generation cell phone rings. The man identifies himself as police officer Martins and asks for a patient's medical record. Conrado claims that he has already provided the death certificate, but he counters that the document is vague and contains only the main factor: vital organs failure due to hospital infection. Conrado insists that the medical record would be of no value to the police, just technical information.
– But I need the details of her death, even if it is just an embellishment for journalists.
The doctor ensures he will provide the papers by the end of the week.
Satisfied, Martins, gets up from his desk, evaluating his reflection in the police station´s mirrored glass. A man of average height, white and with a spiked haircut, he looks cool today . He goes around the room, tuning his charm, aiming at the boss's secretary at the end of the corridor. He leans over her table and looks down at the mulatto woman´s cleavage, under her long braided hair. His eyes are of a bright blue color so attractive she could not escape his sight.
– Two hours in the saloon, but it's worth it," the 20-something mulatto woman insinuates. She emits body waves in skinny jeans and a combined turquoise top. Martins puts his hand on the braids and slides towards her breasts. Suzi stops him by reminding him about her boyfriend, "a sturdy wall".
– I know, the boss! – completes Martins and the secretary boasts about it. – Suzi, you're lucky the boss's wife has no idea.
People are approaching and Martins controls himself. Justifies himself with a message to his chief about the medical record request. He looks at the bottom of his colleague's knitted top and leaves, realizing that he has again lost the chance to get the boss's girl to bed.
In the Hospital surgical center, the surgeon finishes the procedures at the boy, who presents a strong hemorrhage in his chest region. He removes the bullet and deposits it on a metal tray. Julio has his moment and analyzes the bullet's curve trajectory, sliding over the utensil, making an irritating noise. The experienced doctor, in his forty-five years, has a curriculum considered normal in the balance of losses and gains. He has worked in the hospital's emergency department for five years and knows how things go. He gets out of surgery, takes off his gloves and washes his hands, watched anxiously by the young woman with braces on her teeth, unsuccessfully wiping out her tears outside the watch-window: Margo, leaning against the room door, approaches him.
– He's young and will survive. The bullet was successfully removed and the bleeding stopped. Everything went well – the doctor tries to comfort her.
– Save my boyfriend, he's an angel.
– Calm down, the first 24 hours are the most critical. After this phase, the organism will start reacting with its own defenses against the infection. He will be able to recover.
– But what do I say to Flavinho's family? His mother is desperate, she is old and has a heart problem. You know? It was our dating anniversary, one year. We were going to Leblon beach to celebrate. I asked to leave work early, if only I knew it was going to happen on the bus ...
– Young lady, think that everything will be all right. Have you eaten today? There's a cafeteria down here that sells some healthy sandwiches. Have one and go home. Write down the hospital phone and call me tomorrow morning, I'll be on call.
– I will only leave with him or with some good news.
– So, at least eat something, I don't want another patient here – he jokes, affectionately.
Two policemen stick their feet in the shack door and find Gil shot down in the abdomen. A policeman checks his pulse and realizes he is still alive, but is questioned by the colleague, interrupting the rescue.
-He´s alive. The thug still breathes.
– Let's see if he spits all out before he dies – shaking the wounded man. – You are the one called PP, Paulo Peão, isn't that right, buddy?
Gil makes the sign of the cross, swearing that it is not true. .
– Of course you are. This guy looks just like the PP´s photo – comparing with the picture– Look here.
His partner refrains.
– Shot in the abdomen. I will request the rescue vehicle – he tells his partner.
The bad cop sticks the barrel of the pistol in Gil's abdomen wound, while he´s dying on the floor.
– Will you talk or will I have to put another bullet in your “horns”, huh?
Gil just makes a painful sound.
– PP, where's the powder? Where the fuck did you hide the drug? Tell me right now or I´m going to kill you!
Blood drips onto the pale t-shirt and spills on the clay floor.
– Are you going to talk or would you prefer to take it in the pipe? – announces, turning the wounded body until the barrel of the gun touches his ass. – Aren't you going to spill? Ah, it's because you like it. Gildinha here is good, she is hot ... She gives it to you like no one! She´s tough and sure of it. Do you want to see?" Come and see how sweet she is too ... – he threatens, passing the gun on him from front to back.
His colleague catches the scene.
– Stop it, the guy is already dying! Are you gonna end his life here, with everyone watching?
– Positive. This one has a certain destination already . He looked for it, found it, "bro". He's fucked up now.
The ambulance arrival is a lifesaver and the policeman retreat, leaving the rescuers in action. The angry cop begs for death in the first bar on the way home.
The following day's newspapers feature the headlines: Drug War leaves a man seriously injured. The criminal, known for committing crimes for pure dilettantism, is in a coma at hospital.
– Dilettantism? The guy just ‘ finished’ people that messed with whom he liked, that was it. – was the general comment in the nicest bar in the favela, with a jukebox, karaoke, DVD, internet and, of course, stupidly cold beer, even some imported.
– Don't you understand that these newspaper guys like to embellish their articles?– says Deise, a black woman with full breasts, large ass and brightly black eyes.
– Speak up, Deise! – The woman able of creating light in the plain dark of her eyes – the bar owner flirts with the manicure.
– Stop it, Maneco. You are married and I know you can´t play because your wife keeps you on a very short leash!
– But what about Gil, will he make it? – asks one of the regulars at the bar.
– From what I recently saw on the internet, his chances are 10%. This will yield news in the papers, because that is what people like. – he comments.
– It´s also possible that 'the pigs will finish him' at the hospital.
– This is already just like the movies. It is easier for him to die in such a hospital bed, the kind we all will end in because we have no money, than to become a movie star.
– This Deise leaves nothing behind, a practical woman, ready for anything and with all the answers on the tip of her tongue– he blinks, flirting like crazy. – Deise, tell me something, when are you going to go out and about with me? You know, I've been waiting for this chance since I met you ...
A mulatto woman with a red leather handbag storms into the bar. Rosa complains, annoyed for not finding her car keys where they should be: on the clavicular! She translates: on the key holder. Maneco, who has been at work since six in the morning, asks for some patience.
– No excuses. I have a schedule, I'm a very busy woman. It is not because I am of black descent and I live in a community that I do not have my rights. Where are the keys?
Rosa checks out the traffic through the view she has from the top of the buildings and decides on a taxi. She comes out in short steps, showing her thin and muscular legs under close eyes, especially her No. 1 fan, her husband´s, and No. 2, her manicure´s.
– That is what it means, to be in true possession of your rights. That's right – Deise quips, glimpsing at the elegance of the sweet mulatto woman.
At the hospital, Roberta, leaning over a steel counter, hastily signs up the transfer papers for her husband. Her tracing is precise and culminates with a brush paint stroke at the name end. An official observes if the all the items have been filled in, while she is feeling proud about her daughter's profession as a journalist, for, without Tatiana, she would not have been able to get this release.
– The healthcare plan did not want to pay for the helicopter, but she is a journalist and has influence.
– Or at least they think I do. – corrects the journalist.
– That´s okay, the important thing is that we can now take your father to Rio. There, he will get better care and has more options – she emphasizes, going against a local employee.
– Madam, I'm sorry, but our hospital has all the conditions. What happens is that our equipment is not as complete as the ones the ICUs in Rio have.
– Yes, I understand, in fact, it reassures me I´m doing the right thing in taking João Henrique to Rio. We are at home there and have well-known doctors.
– I'm sorry, ma'am, but the doctors in Teresópolis are very good and recognized by the population for an efficient service, comparable to those in Rio de Janeiro.
The helicopter lands in a cloud of dust in the center of the hospital's courtyard lawn. Lying on a transport stretcher, João Henrique is accompanied by two nurses and a rescue worker.
The aircraft flies over the Serra dos Órgãos mountains, an infinitely deep blue-green. A dense fog disappears with the device, over just the typical sound of a bee sandwiched on the glass, turning the path between life and death – black and white, fear and sigh, lightning and surface – to be infinitely cruel to Roberta and Tatiana from now on. And who said life would not be predestined to be hung by a thread?
II
Tatiana drives back to Rio without delaying her eyes´ curtain over the landscape that tries to hide her anguish. The moment is exclusive and it settles like a cone protecting the dialogue between mother and daughter. They go down the mountain and take the time to disarm themselves, at this right moment, to cry and vent. Roberta has maintained an almost morbid silence for a long time.
– First they said João had a fractured rib, which would heal on his own, and yesterday the doctor reported that the tests showed a lung perforation. I can't take it!
– Easy now. Dad has always been healthy, he never smoked, he played sports. I assume that the lung problem can be overcome with antibiotics.
– That's if he doesn't get pneumonia. Would the solution come only by a miracle? I am tired of this brainwashing based liturgy, the collective that does not respect the individual being, an atheist!
– Mother, I believe there is a Force, something like that, that moves the other forces that we are.
