Secret Lovers

BACK HOME Lavinia

Brazil. I'm not sure what it feels like to be coming home. Seeing the city through the car window, it gives me anxiety and happiness at the same time. This place was the scene of a lot in my life before I left everything behind and went in search of a dream. I felt here from extreme happiness to absolute sadness. Indignations and creeps of life that forced me to grow up, mature as a woman, be cold for some situations and more humane for others. Here I grew up, despite not being born in this city. I moved here to

thirteen years old, when my twin brother passed away and my parents wanted to change to try to forget and escape from the memories. Today, it's just me, my parents, and Isaac, my older brother who is running for vice governor.

And seeing him get to that level of politics kills people with pride. My brother had everything to have become a miscreant or to be killed by the police. We came here and went to live in a slum. The conditions were precarious, he started to have the worst friendships and all the bad influence. Was

a poor boy, black and who kept people away just because he was black, poor and lived in a favela. he lowered himself, following firmly with the purpose of giving my parents a good life and, above all, giving them pride.

I smile when I see a message from Pedro on my cell phone. My great friend, He is asking what day I will arrive. I answer that maybe tomorrow. I want to take him by surprise, even though I think it might not be possible. Pedro has an investigative streak. I ask you to tell Isa, our best mutual friend, to wait until tomorrow. I laugh when he sends me an emoji with eyes turning and says

being disgusted with my lack of sensitivity towards him. Nobody knows that I am already in the city, except Felipe, my fiancé, and my parents.

I asked not to tell even Isaac.

I just left a tour and I'm exhausted. I have already made it clear to my team that I will only be performing again next year. It's June and I want to enjoy this rest of the year in a good way, after all, I'm getting married in September and, basically, it was

that's why i came back, my fiancé has been here for a month preparing some things. I look at my engagement ring and take a deep breath to hold the

anxiety and euphoria that always dominates me when I think about this subject. I, Lavínia Torres, am getting married. It worries and excites me. In fact, I worry about getting me excited; don't think nonsense, excited in a happy way and not because you're almost enjoying it. How crazy!

I ask the taxi driver to drop me off at my parents' house, in Barra, a few blocks away from Felipe's apartment. As expected, I have a huge load of luggage. O

the trunk is full, and still in the back seat with me came the box of my cello - one of them, brought the pet one - and two more suitcases. I descend quickly as the man turns to open the bottom of the car. I hurry to the huge gate and touch the intercom. The man starts to unpack my bags and put them on the sidewalk. Someone answers the intercom.

- Mom. I'm here! - I cry letting happiness overflow in my voice. I look at the man who is still unpacking, adjust my clothes, run my hand through my hair, and the gate opens. My heart leaps in anticipation, in that delicious feeling of good tension, that you will find a person you love after so long without seeing each other.

It's been a year since I see my family. And when I see my mother coming with a man, my eyes instantly fill with water. Balancing on high heels, I run to hug her without even waiting to get to the gate.

- Mom. - I jump into her arms wrapping her in my best hug. She hugs me in the same intensity. We were clinging for a while while she said things like: “I miss you”, “thank God you're at home”. Then she introduces me to the man who came with her saying that she is the gardener she called to help with my bags. I take one suitcase, she takes another and we drag them to the entrance of the house.

Surrounded by a beautiful garden, the house is light blue, with large, Spanish windows, all white. There are two floors, with huge balconies and a nice balcony with rocking chairs where my parents spend the afternoons.

resting. Her knitting and him reading something. Short and thin, my mom doesn't seem to be her age. Sixty-two. She likes to wear more comfortable clothes, hates pants, because she says that the undersides need to breathe. My father, on the other hand, is burly. Very loud and does not accept the

Grey hair. He is always correcting the silver of the time with some dye. My mother touches the doorknob and, before opening it, she looks at me with an embarrassed expression

- Sorry, honey.

- What, mom?

She pushes the door open, enters and I find out why she is sorry as soon as I step foot in the room. I am greeted with screams, balloons in my face and firecrackers. I keep looking at that riot with an expression of trolling. Everyone is here, laughing at me. Pedro gives me a wink and I can't resist showing him a middle finger. Felipe comes to me and hugs me laughing.

- Why did it? - I push his face so he doesn't kiss me.

- It was not me. - He laughs holding me. - It was his father, who told his brother and he planned it. I push Felipe for good and close my face to

Isaac showing my disgust for his embrace. Still he squeezes me laughing

against my will.

- Could I have the right to surprise you? - I question in an incriminating tone looking at Pedro and Isa, who has been clapping for me.

- He was loving to deceive us, huh? - Pedro hugs me and slaps my a*s, in disguise. I don't care about him, Pedro is gay, he doesn't look good and few people know. In fact, no one knows, as he thinks this is a great abomination and would be a chagrin for his family. He is twenty-eight years old and living a dilemma with his s*x life. Only I and Isa know, because

in a moment of great depression, he told us, but said that he would do anything to reverse the situation and return to being a man. Yes, Pedro self

Discriminates.Isabelle hugs me then, bouncing with happiness. Isa is my best

friend, I was godmother at her wedding with Dante, years ago. He's running for governor with my brother, who will be his deputy, and I'm looking forward to seeing my friend as the first lady of the state. After the little party to welcome me, everyone left and I stayed with my family and Felipe for dinner. I'm crazy for missing my mother's food. Before leaving, Pedro came to nudge me and say:

- Barzinho tomorrow at nine. Me, you and Isa. Without refusal.

- Stop pushing Isa to our binges; she is a married woman. "I warned in the same tone.

- That's why I'm going with you, to keep the honor of both of you.

- Yup. It is going to be looking at the boys that I'm connected to. I want to know everything, see?

- Stop talking s**t. - He talks. - Tomorrow at eight. Step over and pick you up. Isa is the driver of the day.

- As always.

At the beginning of my career, having lunch and dinner in other countries was a great thing, a great experience, but after a few years, I only thought about eating Brazilian food, especially made by my mother.

I look at everyone at the table, laughing and talking, happy. I breathe relieved to be with my family again. My father had a heart attack

recently, and it drove me crazy, I was in Spain. I look at him all happy with Felipe. My dad likes him a lot, he likes him a lot and I couldn't have found someone better. We have been together for a year and I can say that I am rushing the wedding only with the inner urge to make my father happy soon. Felipe is black, came from a poor family and managed

stand out on its own merit, and that for my father is the best thing of all. He always put it in his head that whites never want anything serious, other than having fun, with a young black woman.

Small and self-discriminating mind. Anyway, I'm not with Felipe just to please my father. I really like him, we have a solid friendship. It will be a great choice for me

husband.