Chapter 18

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

JOEL

I always considered myself a morning person. In New York, I went out for a run at least three times a week before work, but there was waking up early and waking up early. Fortunately, the real morning person in the room decided to wake me up by planting soft kisses on the back of my neck, then shoulders and lower back. When he got to my ass cheeks, he bit me, causing me to moan and press down into the mattress, giving me also much-needed friction.

“Oh no,” he said, crawling up my body to kiss me properly. “We don’t have time. Come on, sleepyhead, we have to go.”

The hotel staff couldn’t have been more helpful to us. Not only did they manage everything with the mechanic yesterday, leaving me only to sort out the payment, but they also put together a fantastic breakfast in a takeaway bag. They even made us some coffee for the road.

It took us one and a half hours to get to Santarém where we’d planned to visit the gardens with a viewpoint known as the sun’s gates. It was another one of the locations our moms visited on a school trip, and while they had only spent their lunch hour there, after some research, we decided we wanted to watch the sunrise from there.

It wasn’t difficult to find parking so early in the morning. The city was still asleep, so we strolled quietly toward the gate that gave entry to the gardens.

It was that time of day when it wasn’t nighttime anymore, but it wasn’t quite daytime. The temperature was still cool, but you could feel it warming up with the light of the sun, and the air smelled fresh.

There wasn’t even a breeze, which could only mean it would be another scorching day. I’d read that Santarém often had higher temperatures than the surrounding areas.

The gardens were nondescript. There were some trees, some areas with grass, but it certainly wasn’t something to write home about. The gardens were part of the old castle, and the tall, thick walls surrounding it had probably served the purpose of defending the city from invaders.

As we’d driven into Santarém, we’d crossed the river Tagus and noticed how high up the city was, but now from this strategic viewpoint, we could see why the viewpoint was called the Sun’s Gates.

Unlike the rolling hills of the Alentejo, this part of the country was like a patchwork of colors. Shades of green and brown fields separated in some areas by lines of trees. We could see villages in the distance where we could spot church bell towers taller than the buildings around it, and of course, the river snaking around the land making its way from Spain to Lisbon. The tide was low, and the water was so clean we could see the sandbanks beneath it. It was truly breathtaking.

We took a seat on the east side of the wall, facing the sun as it was rising. It felt warm on my face. There was something about the sunrise that had always appealed to me more than the sunset. Maybe it was that it was the sign of a new day rather than the ending. It was full of possibilities. I was glad we had our travel journal because suddenly I felt like I needed to write.

“Don’t you want to have breakfast?” David asked, opening the breakfast bag to find a few pastries and two small ham sandwiches.

“Yes, but in a minute. I need to write something down first.”

While I was writing, David sat in contemplative silence next to me. I wasn’t sure if he was trying to be quiet for me or if he was using the time for reflection.

With the sun rising fast and the temperature getting warmer, I put the journal down and had some breakfast too.

“Shall we read our moms’ journal?” I suggested.

He nodded and took it out of the rucksack he was carrying. We opened it on the bookmarked page.

3 June 1983 - School trip to Santarém

Dear Journal,

We came to Santarém today to see the church where the man who discovered Brazil is buried. We didn’t think it was very interesting, but we’ve been learning about the discoveries in history class, so we paid attention just in case it came up in an exam.

We had lunch in the gardens and viewpoint of Portas do Sol. The place has a view of all the fields. It was quite nice, especially as it was a warm day. We had our lunch sitting on the grass.

Sílvia – Oh, and Paula has a boyfriend!!!!!!!!

Paula - I do NOT!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sílvia – Yes, you do because I saw you kiss Vítor by that gate looking over the river.

Paula - So? It doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend.

Sílvia - Do you want him to be?

Paula - Yes, but I think Mário and Teresa are REALLY boyfriend and girlfriend. Wouldn’t that be weird?

Sílvia - Of course not!

We read a few similar entries where the girls had started by describing their day and then carried on with an on-page dialogue. It was the best insight into their young minds, but it also made me miss my mom so much.

“I wonder who this guy Vítor is,” David said.

“Yeah. Do you think he’s of any significance to your mom?” I asked.

David looked out to the view in front of us like he was trying to remember something.

“Not sure, really. It’s strange thinking about her with a boyfriend because I never saw her with anyone all my life. I hadn’t even thought about it until now. She must have been lonely. I wonder why she never dated.”

I thought the same thing. I remembered Paula was very beautiful. She’d had long dark hair and smiling brown eyes. There was so much of her in David. I wasn’t sure he realized that.

“Wasn’t there another entry that mentions Vítor and your mom?” I took the book from David and started leafing through the pages. When we came on the road trip, we’d read the destinations of the school trips but had decided on reading the content once we were on location, but I thought I’d seen Vítor mentioned elsewhere.

“Here, this one.” I pointed to another one of the girls’ on-page dialogue that had stood out because it wasn’t a regular entry. It looked like maybe they’d been in class when they wrote on this page.

David scooted closer to me to read.

Paula - I really like Vítor.

Sílvia - I know. You two are so in love it makes me sick!

Paula - I don’t think he likes me.

Sílvia - What?? Don’t be silly. Of course he does. Has he done something?

Paula - No

Sílvia - Then why?

Paula - I just have a feeling he’s got a secret that he’s not telling me.

Sílvia - You think he likes another girl?

Paula - No, I think it’s something else, something bigger.

Sílvia - Talk to him.

Paula - Okay. I’m baking an apple cake today. Wanna help?

Sílvia - You know I’m your official taste tester and spoon licker. I’ll be there.

“This is intriguing,” David said. “It looks like this Vítor might have been her high school love interest. Maybe there are more clues later in the journal.”

We put the journal in the rucksack and walked back to the car. Our next stop was óbidos where we would stay the night.

David drove this time, so I took the opportunity to call my grandparents to check in. I was glad to hear they were all well and told my grandmother about some of the places we visited, especially the beautiful fields of the Alentejo, although I left out the part where we’d slept in the car a couple of nights before. I didn’t want to worry her.

“You will have to try ginjinha ,” my grandmother said. “It’s a sour cherry liqueur very traditional in óbidos . In some places, they serve it in little chocolate cups. One day, I’ll tell you the story of when your granddad got drunk on ginjinha.” She laughed.

I couldn’t believe how easy it was to feel close to my grandparents after all these years. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I hadn’t stayed away at all. Yes, I’d talked to them on the phone at least every month and more often when I’d been at my parents’, but it was different.

I felt warmth in my heart after talking to my grandmother, and happiness. A different kind than the one I felt when I was near David.

We also called Teresa to check how things were at the café. Because David was driving, we put her on speakerphone. She was such a lovely woman, full of energy, and I could hear in her voice how much she loved David.

I wondered if David knew that or if he was so caught up in his secret that he didn’t see what was right in front of him. I had a strong feeling that despite Mário’s beliefs, Teresa wouldn’t care about who or what David was, other than a son to her. But it wasn’t my place to tell him that. He would need to know it in his heart first.

óbidos was similar to Santarém in the way that as we were approaching it from the highway, we could see the village high up on the hill surrounded by the castle wall. The difference was in the surroundings. While Santarém was a district capital developed beyond the castle walls, óbidos was a more traditional settlement. It had expanded beyond the walls, but it still kept the quaint small-village buildings.

After our adventure a couple of nights ago, we decided to find our accommodation before exploring the area. We were staying in the annex of a family-owned house; a cozy one-bedroom-and-living-room conversion with whitewashed walls and dark wood furniture. It looked traditional and lived in.

Once we had the keys to our accommodation, we asked our host what the best options to explore the historical center were. It turned out that we were only a twenty-minute walk uphill from the main entry gate, so we decided to leave the car and explore on foot.

The place was heaving with tourists and school trips, and most of them seemed to be interested in the small artisanal shops selling handmade products that lined both sides of the small cobbled streets. Some shops had displays of embroidered tablecloths, tea towels, and aprons hanging on the door due to having limited space inside, while other shops sold all the traditional hand-painted crockery in bright colors.

We walked the shops and then turned down a quieter street that had a promising sign for a tavern restaurant. A couple of turns later we found it. The seating space outside was on a raised deck with tables and benches, each on a swinging platform.

We took a seat and ordered a few snacks and a couple of beers since neither of us would be driving again today.

“What a cool feature,” I said, putting my foot on the platform to make us swing. There were no other tourists or noises around, so it felt like we were in a little oasis. There was even a small breeze.

“This is perfect,” David said, holding my hand and running his thumb in circles over my knuckles.

His touch was so soothing. I took a swig of my beer and closed my eyes for a second, just taking in the scent of the flowers that were hanging from the wooden beams above us, giving us some shade.

I opened my eyes and looked at David. He looked so relaxed and happy. The way he was smiling at me was doing all sorts of things to my heart. I smiled back, not daring to open my mouth for fear I’d say the words that were starting to fight to get out.

After lunch, we walked all the way around the top of the wall of the castle. The views were beautiful, but from the height of the walls, I preferred looking at all the houses contained within. I wondered how long they’d been there. Had they been passed on from generation to generation? Had they been destroyed and rebuilt as wars were fought and time went by?

Some of the gardens I could see from above had orange and lemon trees or a small chicken coop. Others were completely paved and only had some outdoor furniture. I was so distracted that I didn’t realize we’d come to the end of the wall and had to turn to go down the stairs.

As I turned, David pushed me against the wall, and while holding me in place with his own body, his lips crashed on mine. I put my hands around his waist, and as we continued to kiss, I felt my body relax against his. Before my brain noticed he was kissing me openly in daylight, he stopped, and resting his forehead against mine, he said breathlessly, “I’ve been dying to do that.”

When David grabbed my hand to go down the stairs, I saw a few other tourists smiling at us, clearly having seen the obvious display of affection. David looked back and winked. He knew those people were behind us. And he still kissed me. Fuck.

We were engulfed by a group of school teenagers as soon as we turned a corner. All we could do was lean against a wall while the group moved on animatedly. David held my hand as we stood side by side, and as the kids were walking past, he squeezed it and whispered to me.

“Look.” He nodded in the direction of a boy and girl who were holding hands as they walked. The girl was chatting with another girl who was walking beside her. I looked at David not understanding what it was he wanted me to see.

“Now look at that boy over there.” There was another boy walking almost outside of the group, wearing a yellow T-shirt, keeping his head down with headphones on his ears. He looked like all the other kids, but there was a different stance to him like he was wearing a shield or some sort of invisible armor.

“Look back at the boy who’s with the girl.”

That’s when I noticed it. The boy who was with the girl had his eyes locked on the yellow T-shirt boy. With his headphones on and his gaze fixed on the floor, he had no idea he was the object of the other boy’s attention.

We kept our eyes on the group until they turned another corner and were out of sight.

“I was that boy,” David said. “The one with the girl.”

“You liked another boy when you were in high school?”

“No, but I pretended to like girls while I was trying to figure out why my eyes kept fixing on the boys,” he confessed.

“It must have been confusing for you.”

“It was, at least until the summer,” he said.

“The summer?”

“The summer we kissed, and the last time I saw you.”

“Oh.”

“After that, I knew.”