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  • Foto do escritorDirce Waltrick Do Amarante

QUI FACIT PER ALIUM, a short Story by Aurora Bernardini

Atualizado: 14 de jan. de 2021

QUI FACIT PER ALIUM, by Aurora Bernardini

Let ‘s say it was an act of goodwill. Christian charity, they say, is pity. And it really was for pity that I married Lynn. May the Lord grant me merit. Not only much older than me but penniless and – which is the worst -- affected by so many deseases he tried to desguise. What’s done is done, everyone carries his cross. There are always sins to be paid and I, myself, have a lot of them. OK. OK.

But in the long Monday afternoons, after having spent the whole weekend making him an assiduos company, I had to unwind.

So, I said to myself, I’ll make something recreational and constructive and...what about pottery painting? As a matter of fact I had Aunt Rosina who was an artist, despite the fact she said she only ‘had facilities’ for painting. What about inheritance?What about genetics? My sister for music...and me... By the way: let me introduce myself: I’m Jole Veneziani, sister of Livia Plurabelle.

I don’t remember how I got the address of the atelier. I probably saw an advertisement I liked, as I liked Teruko, the young japanese teacher, an artist herself.The fact the she fell in love for the macho man, what’s his name, Paco, yes, who was also a sculptor-- he had facilities for carving and , yes, he derived much of his masculinity from the fact of being a “purple” syndicalist -- is only a shame, but it doesn’t decrease any one of her qualities.

The first quality certainly lies in the fact of her having had a cradle, they use to say here. Her father was rich and so was her husband, whom she abandoned for Paco. It doesn’t only mean she had money; it means she was not vulgar, but grandiose, let’s say, and she was as fresh as a rose when she smiled and dressed in a very simple elegance sitting with us at the table of the spacious atelier where she worked, painting pottery.

Around the table there were about a dozen women. I didn’t know any of them but one, sitting at the other extremity of the table : a very old acquaitance of mine. When I first saw her my heart sank.. – Here we have our new companion, said Teruko introducing me to the class. I just nodded as old acquaitance use to do.

Everybody, here, – Teruko said to me-- wants to tell some story about themselves. A kind of therapy, we just listen to each other, during our coffee break, we use to say, even if we drink tea! She laughed, but I couldn’t help having a frisson. Suppose Lucia would tell the story– hélas, of my happy days -- of my having had an affair with Samuel, her fiancé?

But Lucia didn’t. She didn’t tell any story, nor did I.So many years had passed...

And almost a new year passed, too.I would not linger in telling anyone’s story here, although some of them were really weird. But one day when, during the break,Teruko was helping me to arrange in my car some potteries that had just come out of the oven and my collegues were finishing having tea at the table -- each one had cup of different colour written with her name --, we suddenly heard a piercing shout coming from the room.

We ran back immediately and we saw Lina’s head reclined on the the plate she was painting and the broken tea cup at its side. Was it heart? Was it tea? How could that happen so suddenly without a word, without any expectation?

The first-aid arrived and she was taken to the Centre.

We all waited for the response: happily just in time, Lina was safe, but it had been an attempt to poisoning. Poisoning? We looked at each other in a state of complete bewilderment. -- Do not touch anything , said Paco.We have to wait for the the police to come and make the necessary exams .

Not touching anything I just happened to read the name on the red cup of tea that had been lying near Lina’s head. It was mine.

Samuel Beckett

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