The first time I met Valentina, it was next my place. I was about arrive at home. She was looking for something. Somebody, in fact, looking around and calling what I guess to be a name, in that ritm of voice one uses to call a child. The words? Impossible to understand or reproduce. I woudn’t even dare what language was that.
As she wasn’t desperate, I new the lost one couldn’t be a human been. I wonder for few seconds if I should offer help. There were too strange immigrants there. Some were very cheerful. Some so rude, as I haven’t the right do speak with them. And I wan’t able to distinguish the origin of them – according to my Russian roommate, it depends on they were from: Latin people were nice, eastern Europeans, reserved, muslins, chauvinists and don’t talking with woman unless they wan’t sell you something or think you are a prostitute.
A pretty soft voice woman doesn’t seemed to me so scary. “Can I help you. Did you lose someone?”
She stare at me a moment, didn’t say anything, turn her face and continued her search. Well, she was the rude kind. Never mind.
Two hours late, after I had lunch and take shower, I left home to my second work shift. The woman was there. Peacefully, looking nowhere. “Hi, lady!” I didn’t notice. It couldn’t be with me. “Hello, you there!” call again, louder. “Thanks for helping me find the cat.” As she said that I stopped walking. It was with me. What this dammed crazy woman is doing? Is she teasing me? Or did she regret the way she treated me?
“You’re well came. It’s a pleasure helping a sweet lady concerned by her lovely pet”, I said, trying to be the most ironic possible. She seemed surprise and confuse, keeping her eyes on me. Maybe my English, or hers, wasn’t good enough to make ironies. Maybe she was really sorry for her rudeness. So I add: “Brazilian humor..”, raising my shoulders. “Oh, I see… Anyway, he is not lovely. He is a beast.”
If she correct me he is not lovely, I suppose she accepted the other part of my sentence, being called a sweet lady. “The beast needs a beauty to became a prince”, I said, testing her again.“Haha! You are funny, Brazilian lady”, she said. “Yeah, I thing I am”, I said and turn back, continued walking to tube station.
“See you latter”, she insisted. It was clear it wouldn’t be our last meeting. And very soon it woud be clear she could be anything, but sweet.
