IV

The events did not change; Léo remained calm, amusing, and tender in his own way. Not that he had accepted it. He had a paranoid doubt that Alex was hiding much more, and he wasn't entirely wrong, given he knew Alex far less than he knew many of his college colleagues, from whom he was always surprised by some revelation. A fact that didn't scare him; he felt Alex wasn't dangerous. On the contrary, he felt his friend needed care. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night with a deep melancholy.

— It's paranoia. — he repeated to himself, though neither reason nor facts supported him.

He wanted to go home, to forget. To believe that this would be too much for him. However, in those moments, he remembered his friend and, despite everything, could never see him as a grown man, independent, sober. He was indeed a confused adolescent. Something was wrong. "What could it be?". Late, already in bed, he tried to find an explanation, something logical.

Perhaps Alex was a child with special abilities, who, under the care of an ignorant person led by superstitions, ended up developing a psychosis. Megalomania justified by great skills. Medical attention was necessary; the question is: "How to convince him of this?". He who remains serene about everything, he who truly believes in this?

Discreetly, the companions observed each other. Alex worried about his friend's reaction to the revelations. He believed in the loyalty of the chosen one, but hoped not to disappoint in future events.

Léo bought a small notebook where he jotted down everything that happened with his friend. His joy when calling Maria, and the sadness that followed due to the delay in his declaration. The phrases he whispered to himself while writing his book. There was also a page dedicated to the description of the cut on his thigh.

Notes

Shy, introverted, humble, has a tutor who is his patron, doesn't get angry, becomes very restless with the slightest pain. Doesn't feel cold or heat. Can see even that fly sitting on the church's lightning rod. Broke the world record for diving, and died twice in the last few days.

He is VIRGIN and two and a half million years old. (It would be hard to believe the virginity of a twenty-year-old man). He also doesn't remember kissing anyone...

He seems to have no contact with people he knew before me. The man he calls Uncle went back where he came from, wherever that was; they say a farm in Catalão.

He stated in a strange tone that he had never fallen in love. (I doubt it! He's hiding something. Something big! That makes him restless when he touches this word: "passion"). He is in love with Maria and can't say it. He suffers because of it.

He loves her like no one has loved before, and I'm speaking for someone who knows her well.

He loves her, in his own way, but he loves her, whatever that means.

The wound bled a lot as soon as I made it, then it suddenly stopped bleeding when Maria arrived. The most confusing part is that I didn't notice any blood on the floor afterward.

It was two fingers deep, one and a half. I'm good with incisions. It didn't disappear that day, like in a movie; in fact, it's still there today, a week later. It's a scar, and it's only strange that it's not painful. I'm convinced it's just an external mark now, and given the speed, I believe it won't exist in another week.

One week later: the mark is very light, but it's still there. As if to remind me.

End of note

     [Each day a new 'item' was added.]

* * *

During these days, Alex read in a newspaper about an award for new writers. He decided to participate and dedicated himself to writing a novel about a young, immortal, deeply in love, and very shy man. He felt good about it. It was his way of hiding from the eyes of time, which seemed to want to quickly destroy the world around him. Idealizing is necessary. Weeks passed like this. Maria never bothered to call or visit him again. Alex didn't look for her either. Léo used to share something that happened during the day at dinner, always including the girl. Alex seemed indifferent. When Léo narrated something that happened at college or the hospital, he would then show interest, focusing on the dialogue of some character, never on Maria. Was he pretending? Perhaps, but who could judge him?

Léo thought he was going crazy when he found himself discussing with his friend the advantages and disadvantages of living until the end of time.

— Year three thousand, four thousand, and you'll still have this same face. A few more months and two thousand, we'll celebrate Brazil's five hundredth anniversary. You'll look about twenty-four when Brazil turns five hundred thousand years old... Will humanity reach that point? Destruction of forests, lack of food, poor quality air. We'll be in space. That's it!

— I don't worry about that.

— You never worry about anything. *Man*! — exclaimed Léo, astonished — In a thousand years, I, Maria, my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and their grandchildren's grandchildren will be dead, and you will be alive. Will you miss me, miss Maria?

— I won't remember you, if not like a dream, a fleeting sensation... Happy, I believe.

Léo felt small but didn't comment.

— It doesn't matter what you think about your memory. What I know is that without your forgetting, you would go mad.

— I can forget the beating I took, but I still feel the pain. Do you understand?

— I think I can understand.

Alex walked to the backyard; it was very cold there. Léo, aware of his friend's insensitivity, didn't question it. He ran to the room, grabbed a sweater for himself, and caught up with his friend, who was already by the pool.

— Thinking of swimming on the coldest night in thirty years? That's what the newspaper reported. — Léo commented.

— I want to be happy, brother.

Léo dragged two chairs to where Alex was squatting. He didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

— I want to be happy. — he repeated — Today, even if it's just once. Maybe I'll never remember, but...

— But one day you won't remember the romance you lived, but you'll remember the happiness.

Alex smiled:

— I swear I will be loyal to her as long as I have her in my memory, and God willing, I won't forget her.

— No matter how long a man lives, life is always short. — Léo philosophized — Now don't think about this... Don't take things like that; you are, in one way or another, young; you have a life ahead of you. Don't give in to the first love; enjoy it; observe what you learn.

— Really?

— Of course! You are in love; it's not the end of the world; the Earth is not at risk. Take it lightly... You won't regret it.

— I love her! — Alex exclaims.

— I know.

— Like nev... — Alex hesitated, as if seeking support for his statement — Like never before!

— You don't remember, do you?

— I don't remember. — said Alex as he pulled a chair next to his friend — I don't remember falling in love, but it doesn't feel like a new sensation. You are a new sensation.

— Good heavens! Don't say that around anyone!

— I know when a sensation is new. I'm going to Goiânia to buy something *for* Maria; don't worry, it will be something cheap.

— That's the spirit. What did you do in the seventies?

— Why?

— I always asked my father that; I felt like asking *you*?

— Let's leave that for another day, I want to go diving.

— The water is freezing! You'll freeze to death.

— I believe I can handle it. — said Alex in a boastful tone, as he walked and jumped in.

Léo was worried just imagining how cold the water must be.

— I'm going... — Léo faltered — I'm going...

Léo also dived in.

The events did not change; Léo remained calm, amusing, and tender in his own way. Not that he had accepted it. He had a paranoid doubt that Alex was hiding much more, and he wasn't entirely wrong, given he knew Alex far less than he knew many of his college colleagues, from whom he was always surprised by some revelation. A fact that didn't scare him; he felt Alex wasn't dangerous. On the contrary, he felt his friend needed care. Sometimes he would wake up in the middle of the night with a deep melancholy.

— It's paranoia. — he repeated to himself, though neither reason nor facts supported him.

He wanted to go home, to forget. To believe that this would be too much for him. However, in those moments, he remembered his friend and, despite everything, could never see him as a grown man, independent, sober. He was indeed a confused adolescent. Something was wrong. "What could it be?". Late, already in bed, he tried to find an explanation, something logical.

Perhaps Alex was a child with special abilities, who, under the care of an ignorant person led by superstitions, ended up developing a psychosis. Megalomania justified by great skills. Medical attention was necessary; the question is: "How to convince him of this?". He who remains serene about everything, he who truly believes in this?

Discreetly, the companions observed each other. Alex worried about his friend's reaction to the revelations. He believed in the loyalty of the chosen one, but hoped not to disappoint in future events.

Léo bought a small notebook where he jotted down everything that happened with his friend. His joy when calling Maria, and the sadness that followed due to the delay in his declaration. The phrases he whispered to himself while writing his book. There was also a page dedicated to the description of the cut on his thigh.

Notes

Shy, introverted, humble, has a tutor who is his patron, doesn't get angry, becomes very restless with the slightest pain. Doesn't feel cold or heat. Can see even that fly sitting on the church's lightning rod. Broke the world record for diving, and died twice in the last few days.

He is VIRGIN and two and a half million years old. (It would be hard to believe the virginity of a twenty-year-old man). He also doesn't remember kissing anyone...

He seems to have no contact with people he knew before me. The man he calls Uncle went back where he came from, wherever that was; they say a farm in Catalão.

He stated in a strange tone that he had never fallen in love. (I doubt it! He's hiding something. Something big! That makes him restless when he touches this word: "passion"). He is in love with Maria and can't say it. He suffers because of it.

He loves her like no one has loved before, and I'm speaking for someone who knows her well.

He loves her, in his own way, but he loves her, whatever that means.

The wound bled a lot as soon as I made it, then it suddenly stopped bleeding when Maria arrived. The most confusing part is that I didn't notice any blood on the floor afterward.

It was two fingers deep, one and a half. I'm good with incisions. It didn't disappear that day, like in a movie; in fact, it's still there today, a week later. It's a scar, and it's only strange that it's not painful. I'm convinced it's just an external mark now, and given the speed, I believe it won't exist in another week.

One week later: the mark is very light, but it's still there. As if to remind me.

End of note

     [Each day a new 'item' was added.]

* * *

During these days, Alex read in a newspaper about an award for new writers. He decided to participate and dedicated himself to writing a novel about a young, immortal, deeply in love, and very shy man. He felt good about it. It was his way of hiding from the eyes of time, which seemed to want to quickly destroy the world around him. Idealizing is necessary. Weeks passed like this. Maria never bothered to call or visit him again. Alex didn't look for her either. Léo used to share something that happened during the day at dinner, always including the girl. Alex seemed indifferent. When Léo narrated something that happened at college or the hospital, he would then show interest, focusing on the dialogue of some character, never on Maria. Was he pretending? Perhaps, but who could judge him?

Léo thought he was going crazy when he found himself discussing with his friend the advantages and disadvantages of living until the end of time.

— Year three thousand, four thousand, and you'll still have this same face. A few more months and two thousand, we'll celebrate Brazil's five hundredth anniversary. You'll look about twenty-four when Brazil turns five hundred thousand years old... Will humanity reach that point? Destruction of forests, lack of food, poor quality air. We'll be in space. That's it!

— I don't worry about that.

— You never worry about anything. *Man*! — exclaimed Léo, astonished — In a thousand years, I, Maria, my children, my grandchildren, my great-grandchildren, great-great-grandchildren, and their grandchildren's grandchildren will be dead, and you will be alive. Will you miss me, miss Maria?

— I won't remember you, if not like a dream, a fleeting sensation... Happy, I believe.

Léo felt small but didn't comment.

— It doesn't matter what you think about your memory. What I know is that without your forgetting, you would go mad.

— I can forget the beating I took, but I still feel the pain. Do you understand?

— I think I can understand.

Alex walked to the backyard; it was very cold there. Léo, aware of his friend's insensitivity, didn't question it. He ran to the room, grabbed a sweater for himself, and caught up with his friend, who was already by the pool.

— Thinking of swimming on the coldest night in thirty years? That's what the newspaper reported. — Léo commented.

— I want to be happy, brother.

Léo dragged two chairs to where Alex was squatting. He didn't say anything, waiting for him to continue.

— I want to be happy. — he repeated — Today, even if it's just once. Maybe I'll never remember, but...

— But one day you won't remember the romance you lived, but you'll remember the happiness.

Alex smiled:

— I swear I will be loyal to her as long as I have her in my memory, and God willing, I won't forget her.

— No matter how long a man lives, life is always short. — Léo philosophized — Now don't think about this... Don't take things like that; you are, in one way or another, young; you have a life ahead of you. Don't give in to the first love; enjoy it; observe what you learn.

— Really?

— Of course! You are in love; it's not the end of the world; the Earth is not at risk. Take it lightly... You won't regret it.

— I love her! — Alex exclaims.

— I know.

— Like nev... — Alex hesitated, as if seeking support for his statement — Like never before!

— You don't remember, do you?

— I don't remember. — said Alex as he pulled a chair next to his friend — I don't remember falling in love, but it doesn't feel like a new sensation. You are a new sensation.

— Good heavens! Don't say that around anyone!

— I know when a sensation is new. I'm going to Goiânia to buy something *for* Maria; don't worry, it will be something cheap.

— That's the spirit. What did you do in the seventies?

— Why?

— I always asked my father that; I felt like asking *you*?

— Let's leave that for another day, I want to go diving.

— The water is freezing! You'll freeze to death.

— I believe I can handle it. — said Alex in a boastful tone, as he walked and jumped in.

Léo was worried just imagining how cold the water must be.

— I'm going... — Léo faltered — I'm going...

Léo also dived in.