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Parallel Lives

By Jonathon Bellall (UK)

Chapter 3
Forgetful Thinking

CHAPTER 3 – Forgetful Thinking

I gingerly opened my eyes to find I was in the lounge and it was daylight.  I was still fully dressed and lying on the settee.  In front of me was one empty bottle of wine and two glasses with limes in them.  Caipirinha glasses.  Amaya, of course, was no where in sight.  I went into the kitchen to find an empty pitcher by the sink.  A caipirinha pitcher.  I poured myself a glass of sparkling water while I tried to remember the events of last night.  The events of last night were shrouded in mist.  Caipirinha mist.

It was only around 7am in the morning so I turned off the lights in the lounge, which were completely unnecessary at this time of day and walked down the corridor towards my bedroom.  As soon as I started down the corridor I could see that the Amaya’s door was wide open. The first thought that entered my mind was that she had left and gone to a hotel.  However, when I was drawing level with the open door of her room was one of her giant suitcases against the wall.

Amaya was lying on top of the bedclothes, still in the same white shirt and black boxers she was wearing the night before. I fully intended to go to my room, but I thought I had better check to see if she was ok.   I lay next to her in bed and gently brushed the hair from her face.  She did not stir at all, so I made myself comfortable by her side, which was extremely difficult.  Although I was physically comfortable, I felt like an interloper in my own apartment.  Well ok, I know I was in the guest room, but it was still my guest room. 

I was trying to go back to sleep, but with little success.  Amaya’s mouth was slightly open and she breathed so faintly that I could hardly hear her at all, even though I was only inches away. It suddenly came into my mind that rather than leave the door wide open on purpose, she had done it because she was rather the worse the wear after the wine and caipirinhas.  It was an unwelcome thought and therefore one that lingered.  I had this terrible vision of her screaming as soon as she opened her eyes.  But still, I did not move and just stayed there gazing at her face.  My own act of staring at her started to creep me out.  I had an overwhelming feeling that I was doing something wrong, but could not quite put my finger on exactly what that was. 

After a little while I turned my back to Amaya, but that did not work at all so I turned back. She was lying on her right side and I was now on my left side facing her.  That was definitely better.  After two minutes I turned again so I was facing away from her. That was the only way I was going to sleep.  I was trying to remember what happened at the end of last night.  I did not think I had done anything to be ashamed of, but was far from certain.  The last thing I remember was kissing Amaya on the settee and drinking caipirinhas.  It was a very pleasant way to spend the small hours of the night, or early hours of the morning in fact.   

“You know you should not really be in here.”  Came a little voice from behind me.

“You looked very lonely in this big bed, and the sofa was very uncomfortable.” I said as I slowly turned to face her.  She had not moved at all and her eyes were still closed.

“Well at least stop moving around.  Go to sleep, if you are going to stay.”  Amaya said with her eyes still closed.

I took that as tacit permission to remain.  It is amazing how something so innocuous could bring such pleasure.  I took her left hand gently in my right hand and closed my eyes in search of sleep.  I lay there in silence listening to her breathing with the smell of her in my lungs.  It was a wonderful exotic smell, a mixture of her perfume and her own personal fragrance.  There was a wonderful feeling of calm as I lay there next to her. Although I tried, I did not sleep, and I do not think Amaya did either.

After a while I opened my eyes lazily and watched Amaya, although I could not really see her properly as our heads were too close.  All I could tell were that her eyes were closed. 

“Stop staring at me.”

“I am not staring.  I am looking.  There is a difference.”  I replied, unconvinced by my own words.

“Can’t you look from the corridor?”  Amaya asked, still with her eyes apparently closed.

“The view is better here.”

“Not from where I am it isn’t.” She said without hesitation.

“How would you know, you have your eyes closed.”

“That is what you think.”  As Amaya said this I opened my eyes properly and saw that hers were slightly open after all.

I only had to move my head slightly until we were mouth to mouth and I kissed her.  That was a slight aftertaste of limes, sugar and cachaca, but it was not half bad.  Amaya returned the kiss as she had done last night.  I moved the rest of my body slightly towards her until our legs touched, but only at the knee.  My right hand was still holding her left hand, and my left hand went to her neck, my fingers caressing the back of her neck.

Amaya pulled back slightly from the kiss.  “Nothing can happen David, I mean it.”  Her eyes were fully open now.

“Nothing will happen Amaya.  It is just a little kiss.” I said as I kissed her again. As before, she reciprocated as an equal partner in the kiss.  An equal partner, but always with the casting vote.  My body remained completely still now, as did my hands, but the kiss continued lazily and longingly.   If you had asked me if I was trying to seduce her then the answer would have been a resounding no; but if you had asked me if I wanted to sleep with her then the answer would have been a resounding yes.  

I had always steered clear of affairs, either as the party inside of the relationship or the party outside of the relationship.  In 12 years of marriage I had never once had an affair.  Now I am not saying I was a saint, certainly not, but I did not have an affair during any time when I was married.  I did however have an affair in the six years after my marriage ended, but it was not really I something I could feel too guilty about.  In a way it was a similar situation as with Amaya, I had met a woman at a conference and we became friends.  The woman was married, but it was not a prosperous marriage, and our friendship became “colorful”, as they say in Brazil.

Just whether my friendship with Amaya would become colorful, and if so, which color would be present, I could not tell you.  We kissed like teenagers on a first date, though I would have hoped that we presented better technique.  There was a timelessness to the embrace and the kiss that left it rather dislocated from anything that might be expected to follow. There was no doubt that I was highly aroused, but I really did not have that desire for imminent sexual intercourse that I would have had if Amaya had been single.  And I kept my groin well away from her so that we did not even approach the dry fuck scenario. 

Amaya broke the kiss yet again.  “You make me feel like a little girl again, sneaking a kiss while my parents are out.”

“What time do you expect them back?” I asked rhetorically.

“You know it would have been very interesting to have met you under different circumstances.”  Amaya’s mouth was still only an inch or two from mine.

“Different circumstances under which we could have let things develop more fully?”  I asked, although I only asked in order to show her that I understood, not because I wanted confirmation.  “If you hade met me before I married, I very much doubt you would have been interested.”

“What makes you think I am interested now?”

Even at 7.30am in the morning, Amaya was making me think far more than I wanted to. “So the circumstances under which we could have let things develop more fully were that if we had met before you had married; and that I was a completely different person, both physically and mentally.”

“Now you are getting there, but you would have to be different emotionally as well, don’t forget that.”

“You know Amaya, it is rather wonderful to lie here and watch you talk, even though you are talking absolute bullshit, as always.” I did not hide the fact that Amaya had hit a raw nerve quite as well as I had wanted to.

“I don’t talk bullshit, if you haven’t noticed.” Before I could reply Amaya moved forward slightly and kissed me.  This was the first time that she had initiated a kiss.  Well it was the first time I could remember anyway.  She had reciprocated in a kiss several times before, but she had never actually kissed me, to my recollection.  Amaya bit slightly as she kissed, both my lips and my tongue.  I really should have made the girl some breakfast.  It added a sense of slight danger to the proceedings, like having oral sex with a cannibal. 

My left hand was around the back of her neck and my right hand now moved to the left side of her hips.  I pulled her towards me ever so slowly.  There was no resistance, other than the initial inertia.  I moved my body slightly now too, so that our legs intertwined and our hips were brought face to face, so to speak.  I was half expecting protests from Amaya, but there were none and the kiss ambled on.  My left hand massaged the nape of her neck while my right hand caressed her lower back and hips.

We lay liked that for what seemed an eternity.  A lifetime of gentle kisses and soft caresses; with the odd nibble thrown in for good measure.   The fact that I was aroused felt like an inconvenience to me.  What it felt like to Amaya, I could not tell you, for she did not say; but she certainly felt it.  My right hand continued its exploration inside Amaya’s white shirt, and like any great General went straight for the high ground.  There was still no opposition as I caressed her breasts.  I would have loved to add a little lip service to the work, but did not want to break the kiss.  I was really beginning to regret not getting someone in from the Guinness Book of records.  Well it was certainly a personal best, the longest kiss I could remember.

Following what seemed like decades massaging her breasts, my right hand descended again.  Its path meandered all over her silky skin which was a delight to touch no matter its position no the map.  Her stomach was flat and lean and her hips were slim without being bony.  It seemed a logical extension from my hand being under her white cotton shirt to it being under the black silk of her shorts.  My fingers crept inside the waist band of her shorts and then descended further, rather gingerly, I must admit.

I was expecting Amaya to pull out of the kiss and barrage me with protests at any minute, but the minutes stretched away endlessly and no protests were received.  In fact the kiss intensified and flourished, growing stronger and more passionate.  My hand descended ever further until it started to explore never regions previous expeditions and not dared enter.  Apparently for fear of drowning.  It was reassuring to know that Amaya was as aroused as I was.  In fact she seemed very aroused and her whole body seemed to twitch with static.

“God David stop it!”  The kiss was broken.  “If we have sex I will never speak to you again.”  And the moment passed.  Amaya sat bolt upright in bed as I lay there confused, embarrassed and bewildered.  “Look you know I am married and this cannot happen.   Don’t make it any harder than it is already.”

“If it were any harder than it is already is it would explode.”  I said wryly.  “OK, so let’s have breakfast or something.”  I suggested.

“I think I need to go for a run.  Then a shower.  And then breakfast.”

“Great.  If you don’t mind I will have a quick cold shower now, otherwise it will be impossible to run anywhere.”  And with that I stood up and left the room without a backward glance.

20 minutes later and I was showered and dressed for a run on the beach.  Amaya was nowhere to be found so I turned on the computer and read the English papers on te Internet, sports pages of course.  I then checked the time of the United - Chelsea game.   While I was catching up on friends on Facebook Amaya appeared in the lounge behind me.  She was wearing tight purple shorts down to her knee and a pale pink tight cut off top which showed off her abdomen.

“Very nice indeed” I said I got up to meet her.  When met in the middle of the lounge we collided gently and kissed as though it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“You sure you don’t want to eat anything before we go?”  I asked, somewhat surprised that we had kissed, and even more surprised that we maintained the embrace, my fingers interlocked behind her lower back.

“Maybe just some water.  We can have breakfast when we get back.  You can’t eat before a run David, you would be sick.”  

“Ok, there’s some water in the fridge, and you know where the glasses are now.  Don’t ever drink the tap water of course.”  I said, encouraging Amaya to help herself.

Once she had drunk her little glass of water we left the apartment and I called for the elevator. 

“Now I am only going to run for about 20-25 minutes, because I went for a run last night while I was waiting for you.” I explained rather defensively.  

“Really.  And how long do you normally run?”  Amaya asked, calling my bluff.

“Well I once ran round the Lagoa, which took over 50 minutes.”

“Once?”  Amaya asked rather nonplussed.

“I wouldn’t do it twice.  It nearly killed me.”  With that the elevator arrived and we stepped inside.

“Ah, let me explain something.  My apartment is 301, but you have to press 5 for the fifth floor.”

“That makes no sense at all.  Apartment 301 is on the Fifth floor?”

“Its Brazil.” I said, and with those words I kissed her again.  It was simply too much to resist with all those mirrors inside the elevator, looking at her from so many different angles, and in skintight shorts.   It looked like an orgy between two sets of triplets.  There was quite a raunchy hug too, but we had to abandon the kiss as soon as the elevator doors started to open.  I introduced Amaya to the doorman and told him that she was allowed entry to the building if she ever turned up at the gate without me, and then we walked down towards the beach.

“It doesn’t seem such a bad place to live.”  Amaya commented nonchalantly.

“It is not at all bad.  It can be infuriating, but it is not bad.”

“So why do you think it is infuriating?”  There was something about Amaya’s question that implied that if I thought it was infuriating, I was wrong.  She always seemed to know better.

“Because it is a very different culture, much more laid back than England or Europe for that matter, but much less considerate too.  Here it is very much everyman for himself.”  

“And that can be infuriating?” Amaya challenged.

“Yes it can actually, as you will see over the next few days, but you will not be here long enough to really get it.”  I tried to explain.

“So give me an example.”  I felt like Amaya was cross examining me on a witness stand.

“OK.”  I said while I tried to think of one example from the millions that I had experienced.  “One example: my foreigner’s identity card was up for renewal.  Six months before it expired I call the Federal Police.  It takes about one week and 30 phone calls before someone finally answers and tells me that I could only renew it one month before it expires, and that I can find information about how to do it on the Federal Police Internet site.  Two months before it expires I check out their Internet site, but can find no form for foreigners to renew ID cards.  I go in person to the nearest Federal Police office, where after waiting two hours for an appointment I am informed that only the Federal Police office at the airport deals with foreigners.”

“Ok, ok.” Amaya kept adding with a nod of understanding and impatience as we walked to the beach.

“I drive out to the airport the next day only to be told that I need to fill out a form first, and the form is only available on the Internet.  I drive back to the office, which takes another hour, look at the Federal Police site again, but still can’t find the form.  At this point I am so frustrated I am almost in tears and my associate, who shares an office with me, says that she has a cousin in the Federal Police who may be able to help.  She calls the cousin and she agrees to help.  The cousin makes a few inquiries, and calls back.  The form is indeed only available at the airport, but she gave me the name of the Police Chief there and suggested I go the next day, with all the relevant information, and ask to see him, saying I was a personal friend of hers.”

By this time we had arrived at the beach and Amaya was stretching before the run.

“I go the next day and I ask to see the Chief, who is not there, so I namedrop the associate’s cousin and jump to the front of a massive queue, completing the application within two hours and receiving my temporary identity card on a scrappy piece of paper, which is valid for six months.”

“So all is well that ends well.”  Amaya chipped in.

“Oh it hasn’t ended yet Amaya.  I go back to the airport six months later and after waiting in another queue for over an hour I ask if the ID card is ready.  Without even looking at my name or ID number he officer says that it isn’t ready, and validates the temporary ID card for another six months.  As he does this I mention that it is strange the card has not arrived as the Chief had said it would only take six months, and the officer replies:

‘Look it isn’t ready, but I don’t know if it has arrived or not. You see those boxes over there?’ he asks pointing to three shoebox sized boxes on top of a filing cabinet, ‘they are all literally full of ID cards and I have to open each box, go through them one by one, input them onto the computer that they have arrived, one by one, and then look through them, and place them in alphabetical order.’  ‘So when do you think they will be ready?’ I asked politely. ‘Six months’ he said.  Well it is a year later and I still have only a temporary ID card. 

“It could be worse.”  Amaya said helpfully.  “Right, let’s go.  If you can’t keep up we will meet back here.” And with that she was gone.

“Now that is infuriating.” I said as I started to run after her.

I could keep up with Amaya, but with some difficulty, and after 25 minutes I was completely knackered and she seemed to be just getting into her stride.  So I stopped, and slowly walked back to the start, where we had agreed to meet.  I got myself a Gatorade and waited for her.   She very slowly reappeared as a purple pink dot along the beach.  It was not too long before she came back properly into view, running faster than ever along the beach.  She ran into me as she arrived and we hugged, albeit all too briefly.

“Very impressive.  Almost an hour.  Where did you go, São Paulo?”  I asked, trying not to look too impressed.  “And you look nicer than ever all sweaty.”

“I wish I could say the same for you.”  Amaya said vaguely.

“Do you want a drink?”  I said as I offered her half the Gatorade.

“That must be about 80% Gatorade and 20% David spit.  So no thank you, but you can you get me a water.”

I refrained from making a remark about how she did not refuse David spit at other occasions, and bought her a water, as ordered.  As we walked back to the apartment she talked about doing a half marathon recently, and how much she normally runs each week, including when she is travelling.  It all seemed very nice, if you like that kind of thing.

“So does your husband go running with you?”  I asked.

“No, he plays squash and golf.  Neither of which I can stand.”

“That’s helpful.”

“If you don’t mind David, I do not really want to take any more marriage advice from someone who is trying to get into my knickers.” 

“What do you mean trying?  Ok, ok, point taken, but the last thing on earth I want is to cause problems with your marriage.”

“Well you may wish to stop crawling into my bed in the morning and trying to shag me while I am half asleep then.”

“You mean I should wait till you are awake, or do it while you are still fully asleep?”

“I mean you should get your girlfriend round and do that with her.”

“Look.” I said as I stopped and held both Amaya’s hands. “Let’s be serious for one moment, and agree that nothing can happen this weekend.  On one level there is nothing I want more than to share certain new experiences with you, but I don’t think either of us could deal with the fallout.”

“Yes and in any event it is not going to happen.  I can assure you of that, so stop trying.”  Amaya said, a little too emphatically, as she removed her right hand from my left, and resumed the walk home.

“But the odd little kiss never hurt anyone.” I said as we walked back hand in hand.

“Tell that to Jesus.”  Amaya said, giving an example that I did not find entirely appropriate.

“Oh so now you are comparing me to Judas.  That’s nice.”

Once we go back to the apartment, we both went for shower, separately, unfortunately.  I put on a black Manchester United shirt and kaki shorts, all ready for the match and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast.  By the time Amaya entered the lounge breakfast was ready and the table on the lounge balcony had been set for two diners. 

“Just go out on the balcony and I will bring breakfast out.  What do you want to drink?”  I asked.

“Coffee and orange juice will be fine.”  Amaya replied helpfully.

As we sat on the balcony eating melon, mango, pineapple and papaya it was even more obvious than during our run that today was not going to be a sunny day.  There were clouds covering the sky and the light gray gave way to dark gray with a worrying frequency.

“We may have to postpone going to the beach, it looks like it is going to be cloudy all day today, and probably rain later.”  I commented without any disappointment whatsoever.

“I am not sure we can start postponing things, better to cancel them.  I am only going to be here a couple of days.”

“So when do you have to fly to Columbia?” I asked as nonchalantly as I could, desperately trying to hide the fact that I wanted Amaya to stay for as long as possible.

“Well I have to meet a colleague on Tuesday evening, so I should really leave Monday.  That’s another thing; I will have to book a flight out of here later.”

“But when does the conference start?” I asked, rather disappointed that she would be leaving quite so soon.

 “Not until the following Monday, but we have excursions booked from Wednesday on.”

I pondered whether I could try to persuade her to stay later, and still keep a modicum of self respect, and decided it would not be possible.

“That is a pity because there is so much to do during the week.  For instance there is horse racing at the jockey club Monday night, if you like a flutter.”  I was not even convincing myself.

“I would rather not, if I wanted to watch horse racing I would have stayed in Singapore.  My family own horses there.  We even have a race named after us.”

“What a coincidence,” I said “we have a bank named after us.”  Though I was not sure Amaya would be convinced.

“Really, which one?”  Amaya asked with no hint of a smile.

“My family name is Barclay, so have a good think about it then make a calculated guess.” I said, trying not to sound exasperated. 

With that Amaya stood up and picked up the now empty breakfast plates and started to move towards the lounge, but as she passed me she stooped and kissed me on the top of the head.  “I feel it is much more likely that you would have a bank robbery named after you rather than a bank,” she said as she disappeared inside.

I picked up the glasses and coffee cups and followed her through the lounge and into the kitchen.

“You are getting so well trained.”  I said as I placed the cups and glasses on the top next to the sink.

Amaya stopped washing the dishes and slowly turned towards me “you really do want me to kill you don’t you?” She asked without the glimmer of sarcasm.

“Well certainly not while we’re chatting.” I replied as I kissed her gently on the lips and slipped my arms round her waste.  She did not reciprocate with any great enthusiasm and the kiss petered out.  “Sorry I did not mean to disturb you while you were working.”

“Just for that you can do the dishes yourself.” Amaya said as she stormed past me and out of the kitchen.

The dishes took a couple of minutes to wash and then I went to look for my little guest.  It was hard to find her as she was in the guest room with the door wide open arranging her things.  I went into the cupboard and came back with a little present for her.

“Here Amaya, you can wear this to the game today,” I said as I handed her a Manchester United shirt I had bought my daughter.

“David, I support Arsenal and would not be seen dead in a Manchester United shirt.  You really want to take me to watch the game in some pub?”

“Of course Amaya, you will love it, you can meet some of my little friends.  That reminds me I have to make a few phone calls.”  And with that I went into the lounge to where I had left the BlackBerry. 

I found it on top of the dining table and sent a message to Paul, Steve, Liam and Chris suggesting that we meet for the game at 12.30 in the Irish Pub.  It was a sure bet that Chris would not go.  He normally did not even wake up till around two in the afternoon, and even though he was a big football fan and supported Manchester United, he did not like to watch the games on television.  He once pronounced that “live coverage” is killing football and reminisces about watching the highlights of games on Match of the Day.  For some English people leaving England for a foreign country, such as Brazil, allows them to put their home country in a time capsule, safe in the knowledge that nothing has changed in the 20 years that they left.  If/when they do go back to England they find that there is no way to go home.  Home was 20 years ago.

To my amazement Amaya walked into the lounge wearing my daughter’s Manchester United shirt.

“I bought that shirt for her when she was six!” 

“I know, it is a little tight around the chest, ok round the waist though.” She added brightly.

“I just can’t believe you managed to get your big head through the little hole!”  I said as I hugged her, holding her arms so she could not him me.

 “There aren’t many people I would wear a Manchester United shirt for.” She whispered.

“Sadly Amaya, that may just be the nicest thing you have ever said to me.”  We kissed evenly and as equal investors in the moment.

“I hope you are not getting turned on because of the shirt.”  Amaya accused.

“More by what’s in it.  Let’s see how long we can make the next couple of days last.” I whispered softly as my head lay on her shoulder and we embraced.

“It is nice here with you; it seems very natural somehow, like I was meant to be here.”

“You are meant to be here and you will always be welcome.”

“I haven’t mentioned it until now, but where is your girlfriend, I thought she would be here?”

“No girlfriend, we split up a couple of weeks ago.”

“What the supermodel was not super enough for you?”

“Too much coke.”  I explained.

“How do you mean too much coke?  What happened?”  She asked, rather shocked.

“Well if you really must know,” I said sitting down and gently pulling Amaya along to sit down next to me on the settee, “I went round to her apartment a couple of weeks ago, about 11pm.  By the time I got there it appeared that she was already a little high. I had already told her a thousand times not to snort before seeing each other.  That all she had to do was tell me she was on the powder, and we could see each other some other day.  I tried to ignore it and carry on as though nothing had happened. 

Well ignoring it is easier said than done as she is running about and dancing around like a squirrel with a fire cracker up its arse.  But anyway, by midnight we were in bed and ‘making out’, shall we say, but after ten minutes she got all twitchy and stopped.  Now without getting into details this wasn’t the first time this had happened.  When she was coked up she was no good for anything in the bed room.  Anyway, I just rolled over and went to sleep.

“Good boy.”  Amaya said, but with rather a concerned look on her face.

“Anyway, I wake up at 3am in the morning and Rafaela is not there.”

“Rafaela?” 

“Rafaela, the girlfriend.  She has a name you know.  Anyway, I can see a light under the bedroom door and so go out into the corridor and open the door to the lounge.  Well there she is with a friend of hers snorting lines of coke off her laptop.  And there I am naked in the middle of the lounge.”

“Was the friend male or female?”  Amaya asked matter of factly.

“It was a girl.  Anyway, I went back to the bedroom and shouted for Rafaela to join me.  She came in to the bedroom and I told her to get rid of the friend and to not keep doing coke when I was around.  She duly goes back into the lounge and makes her excuses to her friend, who leaves after another ten minutes.”

“I thought you would have invited them both into the bedroom.”

“Then you thought wrong.  Anyway, then Rafaela comes storming into the bedroom complaining that I made a scene in front of her friend.  Well that was the final straw. I got up quietly and started to get dressed, while Rafaela disappeared into the bathroom.  Once I was dressed I went to the front door, but found that it was locked and the key was nowhere to be found.  I was not a happy bunny.  I shouted Rafaela’s name, and nothing.  I shouted again, even louder, still nothing.  Then she appears in the doorway, with her make up reapplied and in her best Dolce e Gabbana knickers.  Well that was too much.”

“And you jumped back into bed with her?”  Amaya said with a knowing smile.

“Hell no!!   I asked her when the key was and she said that I had to find it.  I screamed at her even louder to get the fucking door open.  But she was all ‘stop making a scene, you have to calm down,’ but I was having none of it.  I pounded my fists against the door and demanded that she open it before I ripped it apart.  After ten minutes she finally agreed to open the door and I went home.”

“And you split up with her because of that?”  Amaya asked.

“No, I split up with her because a week later she did exactly the same thing.  Everyone’s allowed one mistake.  But just the one!”

 “And you never saw her again?”

“Never.  We have spoken on the phone and exchanged emails, but that was that.”

“Lucky girl.”  Amaya said with a smile.  “She had a narrow escape.”