Here the Whole Time - Vitor Martins Page 0,43

ragged, trying to keep his calm.

“My mom is unbearable,” he says.

I give my mom my best “I told you so” look.

“What happened this time?” I ask, my mouth still full of cake.

“She’s still going on about Becky,” Caio says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.

“What about her?” my mom asks curiously.

“My mom hates Becky.”

“But she’s such a good egg,” my mom says. Good egg is her favorite description.

“It’s because she’s a lesbian,” I explain, since I know it makes Caio uncomfortable to talk about lesbians in front of my mom.

My mom rolls her eyes so hard that it surprises me. I know how much she hates bigots, but I also know that she wouldn’t say or do anything to offend Caio’s mom.

“One day she’ll come around, I’m sure,” she says, placing a hand on Caio’s shoulder.

“I hope so, Ms. Rita.”

“For god’s sake, no calling me Ms. Just Rita is fine.”

“Just Rita sounds so serious,” he says.

“I think it’s cute when the kids at the community center call you Ms. Rita,” I interject.

My mom cracks a smile. “I like Ms. Rita.”

“Soooo, Ms. Rita,” says Caio, making his words longer than necessary. “Tonight we’re seeing Becky again, and if my mom asks, would you mind telling her you don’t know anything about it?”

My mom looks up at the ceiling, considering what to say. “Let’s pretend that I really don’t know any of it, okay? You two can go out, come back whenever you want, but I beg you, Caio, please don’t die in an accident. And don’t get any tattoos. And don’t lose any visible limbs. I don’t want to have to explain any of that to your mother later.”

“You got it,” Caio say, kissing her on the cheek gratefully. “I just can’t make any promises about the tattoo.”

“If it’s in a place she can’t see, then it’s fine.” She winks.

And I get up from the table because this is the most embarrassing conversation I’ve ever witnessed in my life.

We always get everything late in my town. Japanese restaurants weren’t a thing until just last year. The first Avengers movie only premiered in our movie theaters in 2015. So I’m not at all surprised when Caio tells me we’re going to a Festa Junina. If you’re not familiar, Festa Junina is a nationwide tradition in Brazil that celebrates the harvest. There are parties and festivals all throughout the month of June, and everyone dresses up in country-style costumes and eats all kinds of delicious food.

Since the month of June went by without any festivities, they’ve decided to seize the opportunity and have the traditional June Festival in July. Regardless of the month, parties here are always the same. A live forró band plays in the town’s main square, surrounded by food and drink stalls.

Usually these parties are pretty bad, but every year I stop by to eat some hot dogs and corn on the cob. I’ll suffer through any event that features hot dogs and corn on the cob.

When it’s almost dark, Caio starts getting ready to go to the festival. I’m lying in bed watching serious YouTube videos (Korean twins dancing to Madonna songs), when I see Caio pacing back and forth, removing several items of clothing from his suitcase, and trying to decide what to wear. From the face he’s making, it looks more like he’s choosing which wire to cut in order to successfully deactivate a time bomb.

Nearly an hour later, he’s ready. I’ve never seen him so dressed up. His hair is up, in a cool style. He’s wearing tight jeans that make his legs look so—I’m sorry but I couldn’t come up with a better description—delicious, and a blue shirt with the top two buttons open.

I, on the other hand, pick my usual jeans and a black T-shirt. I go into the bathroom to get dressed, and I’m ready in two minutes. When I come back to the bedroom, Caio looks me up and down, and in his eyes I can read the word DISASTER.

He pauses for a second, hand on his chin, does a little more thinking, and then starts going through a pile of my clothes that’s plopped on my desk chair. From the bottom of the pile he pulls out the checkered shirt that my mom bought me. The one he picked.

“I think this one would look nice,” he says, handing it to me.

I put it on over the black T-shirt and start buttoning it, hoping it won’t be too tight around my neck.