Here the Whole Time - Vitor Martins Page 0,23

good. “What do the two of you have in common?”

I consider it for a second, and then start a list.

“We’re both seventeen. We are both gay …” and I can’t think of anything else.

“Okay, and what is it that the two of you don’t have in common?”

“Ah, that’s an easy one! We don’t go to the same school. I’m fat and he’s not. My mom is wonderful, and his mom … well, she’s a bit much,” I say with a quick laugh.

“Very good. Give that some more thought on your way home. Think about ways to open up and show him your opinions about things. But don’t forget that this exercise is about you, and not about Caio. What will determine your success in this exercise is your willingness to have a conversation, not Caio’s opinion about what you talk about. Are we good for today?” she asks, getting up from her chair. That’s her way of saying that our time is up.

Olivia walks me to the door, and before I walk out, she puts her hand on my shoulder.

“Felipe, one last thing. When you’re talking, don’t hold back your smile. You look good when you smile.”

I don’t really know how to process that information, so I answer with a question.

“Now you’re giving me tips on how to flirt, too?”

She laughs. “Just this once. I won’t charge you for that one. And, for god’s sake, you’re seventeen years old! Don’t use the word flirt. No one talks like that anymore.”

I leave her office with a smile, but it fades away after two minutes, because I realize that I will, inevitably, fail this week’s exercise.

I spend the next few hours trying as hard as I can not to go straight home. I take a walk in the town park, but there’s nothing new to see: the same retired gentlemen playing chess, the same pigeons eating bread crumbs by the lake, the same children running after said pigeons, who—poor things—can’t eat their bread crumbs in peace.

I try to turn each scene I observe into a possible conversation topic with Caio. Most of the ideas I have are very bad, but organizing my thoughts like this helps me keep my anxiety in check.

In a town as small as mine, it’s hard to take the scenic route anywhere. Everything is way too close.

I go to a newsstand, read some comics, and leave without getting anything. I go to the bookstore and buy a book I don’t need. I go to a coffee shop and read at a table by the corner until an employee starts giving me the stink eye because it’s been over two hours and all I got was an iced tea. I don’t have money to buy anything else because I spent it all at the bookstore, so I decide I can’t avoid going home forever. Also it’s late and I’m starving.

When I finally get home, my mom doesn’t seem to notice that it took me an extra four hours to go to the therapist this time. Caio’s mom probably would have contacted the FBI, but my mom isn’t like that. She and Caio are laughing and talking in the kitchen while she cooks dinner and he does the dishes.

We haven’t set the table to eat in the kitchen since Caio first got here. Tonight is no different. The three of us eat in the living room, sitting on the flowery couch, watching TV. The couch is small (especially when you consider the fact that I take up the space of two people), but when I’m there with the two of them, I feel comfortable.

My mom tells me she spent the afternoon painting with Caio, and they start laughing when she says that, unfortunately, he doesn’t have the talent for it.

I enjoy their company, but I don’t say much during dinner. All I want is to go to my room, turn off the lights, and wait until Caio comes in so we can talk.

And believe it or not, that’s exactly what I do.

It’s not even ten p.m., and I’m already in bed. The room is dark, and the door is ajar. Of course, Caio doesn’t come right away, because no one goes to bed this early. Still, I just lie there and wait. I watch my usual YouTube videos, see on Twitter that they’re making yet another Transformers movie (either the sixth or seventh, I’ve lost count), and tweet my thoughts about it: Who asked for another transformers????????

I get distracted enough