RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

2. A Toast to the Present

The street was a cacophony of languages going around the world, electronic salsa and tourists coloring the bars, residents rollerskating by the curb, models posing on the beach for the next summer catalog. The street was heat. Marisa sighed with pleasure at the caress of the sun on her face. After one year and a half living in Toronto, she was grateful to be here and couldn't wait to go back to Brazil with Marco.

Sometimes she felt guilty for their return, but she had never demanded that Marco left Canada. He was the one opting to relinquish a career in Toronto in favor of opening his own school in São Paulo. For years he had this wish of forming students in a deeper sense rather than merely indoctrinating them for the job market machinery. Marco was a visionary and would fulfill his dream. Then why did she feel this pang of guilt?

Her departure to Toronto was encompassed by ambivalence. On one side stood Marco and the adventure. On the other, the longing for stability after a succession of turbulences in her life—the sudden loss of her father and the estrangement of her mother, the uncertainty of her professional vocation and the breakup with Marco. Now the return to her hometown was also encompassed by ambivalence, a mix of joy, disquiet and defeat.

Marisa had envisioned a far different scenario in Toronto: building a solid relationship with Marco, studying to pursuit a career, embracing the future. Everything collapsed. She arrived in January in high spirits, enrolled in English classes and explored the city. Her euphoria, however, slowly waned into wait. Marisa waited for Marco to come back from long working hours, waited for time to pass to restart her studies.

In September she resumed the journalism course at the University of Toronto. In that hiatus of wait, however, Marisa had changed. The first class didn't interest her nor the second and the third. With dismay, she became aware of having chosen the wrong course and dropped out of college. All her wait then tumbled into a void. She reprimanded herself for being dependent on Marco, grew frustrated, and the occasional arguments with him thickened...

Marisa found distraction from those melancholic memories in the extensive costume collection of a party supply store on Washington Avenue while daydreaming about the ball at sea. She left shop in better spirits, armed with two bags, and proceeded to the al fresco mall on Lincoln Road, zigzagging along the wide street bisected by fountains and flower beds in search of a gift for Marco.

Their dating anniversary would be on the last day of the cruise. Two years together, cotton anniversary—such a fragile material. Research showed after two years a couple would stop investing in the relationship and became accommodated. But she refused to accept that her bond with Marco could be reduced to paltry statistics. Without thinking, Marisa entered a vintage store and began gathering an armful of clothes to relieve her increasing anxiety. In the fitting room, she remained undecided.

When Marisa opened the door, she found a woman waiting for her turn to use the fitting room. Short, with a robust physique, the girl appeared to be in the same situation as Marisa, almost disappearing behind the pile of clothes she carried. Above the pile emerged a pair of brown eyes and a perfectly oval forehead framed by brown-greyish hair tied in the tiniest ponytail. Marisa asked for her help to select a dress. The girl smiled. They spent the next hour amid changes of clothes and interjections.

"I can't believe I'm leaving with half a dozen dresses," Marisa exclaimed as they approached the register.

"If you find a piece that fits well, you have to seize the opportunity." The girl moistened her lips. "I'm thirsty like hell. Wanna drink something?"

The happy hour was close, and they sauntered along Lincoln Road until deciding for a bar that displayed works by local painters and offered outdoor tables. Marisa mentioned she'd attended wine tasting classes the previous year, suggesting they ordered a glass of Cinsault like the one she had tried at the course. It didn't take long for the wine to arrive at the table—a fragrant rosé that captured the hues of dusk—and the two introduced themselves at last.