The Tenth Night

 

Nick made me laugh when he said, "You know, I think the people at work believe we're lovers."

"Oh, really? Did someone say something to you?"

"No, but I've been noticing glances, stifled laughter, things like that."

"And does it bother you?"

"No. I've been through worse, you know that."

"You know, it doesn’t bother me either, though it always intrigues me. No one has ever seen me in places or situations that suggested any kind of sexual activity, but people still seem to think I’m some kind of sexual predator."

"Very different from me," he said with a smile. "I mean, I was always seen in places and situations that made it pretty clear what my life was about. I even did a sex show at a dive bar."

"Well, I’ve been on stage once. I played one of João’s neighbor in Jorge Andrade’s “A Zebra”. A complete disaster on my part! Unforgettable, but a disaster."

"You never got involved with anyone?"

"Never. I’ve always been alone."

"I feel sad about being alone, but I’ve decided I’m not going back to my old life, so I think I’ll die alone."

"You fear more abuse."

"Another knife in my back, yes. You’ve managed to make peace with loneliness."

"I’m human, living and walking on the streets. That’s why I meet a lot of people who can ignite the spark of desire or even passion in me. When that happens, I just stay quietly in a corner until the passion passes — and it always passes. Passion is a feeling, it comes and goes; desire fades when you put your mind and body into something more useful than an orgasm. In between, I stay busy with useful or higher things."

"Does all of this have to do with your religion?"

"Not originally. I was doing all this before my conversion because, like you, I’m afraid of stabs in the back. That’s why, since my early twenties, I started walking in this direction. Then came the conversion, and the fact that the church asks everyone to live a chaste life according to their state. So, I just kept doing what I was already doing, but now with a much better layer than just my fear of betrayal. My relationship with God has, to some extent, replaced the need for human companionship."

"You live a fantasy as if it were real."

"God isn’t a fantasy, but a being, though many worship a fantasy they call God."

"And how do you distinguish one from the other?"

"The same way we recognize each other as beings. By opposing and challenging each other. By showing each other things we wouldn’t see on our own. That’s why our colleagues will die with their fantasies, which, in the end, only speak of themselves."

And we both laughed together.

 

The Ninth Night

 

For this week's dinner, I really put my heart into the dessert.

My orchard was generous, and I had plenty of apples and pears.

I grabbed a kilogram of each, peeled them, removed the cores, and cut them into small pieces.

They went into a little pot with sugar, vanilla, and a bit of water, where I cooked them down until they turned soft. I added some pineapple chunks, candied fruits, and a bit of maraschino – delicious touch!

I set the jam aside and started on a custard with a liter of milk, another vanilla bean, 150 grams of sugar, and five eggs, all in another pot, stirring constantly until it thickened.

I caramelized a flan mold and alternated layers of custard and jam, one on top of the other, until I filled the mould.

I baked the flan in a baign-marie until everything was cooked through.

Once it cooled, I unmolded it and garnished it with apricots in syrup I had made a few days earlier.

"This is really good!" said Nick.

"See, I found this recipe at the local library, in an old French magazine. For some strange reason it was called "The Portuguese Girl"*, don't know why. Anyway, I can’t say for sure, but I think we're the only ones on the island who’ve tasted this dessert."

"You and your friends. It's not enough that you have your own library, you still go to the public one!"

"Well, there are no bookstores on the island. Especially secondhand ones. I miss those stores so much, with the smell of old paper in the air!"

"I wish I were like you, but all I need is a sofa and a TV to be happy! Not even dancing is that important to me."

"I think you’ve spent too much time looking for someone. I, on the other hand, decided early on not to be lovable, so instead of looking for someone, I just looked for myself. I explored every inclination and talent I had. When I started the macrobiotic diet, my mom said she wouldn’t cook 'those kinds of foods.' I told her it was fine and began cooking for myself. That teenage stubbornness led to this dinner."

"Where I destroyed myself, you built yourself."

“It's one way to look at it, but I think it's wonderful that you're building yourself now. As for me, when I got psychological help and understood the root of my aversion to emotional intimacy, I didn't change. I understood the problem and said, 'It doesn’t seem to me that love, passion, marriage, are worth all the work, confusion, and distress they cost to find and maintain.'"

 "The experiences are deeply frustrating. But I confess I’m afraid of growing old alone."

 “Anyone over thirty seems to have a fear of dying alone."

 "You have your god."

 "I really hope to die among the Holy Family. If that happens, I won’t be alone, but in the best company."

 Nick smiled and said: "I wish I were like you."

*"La Portugaise" in the original - Cahiers du jardin des modes - N°137, cuisine 8 - octobre 1958 - 13éme année - plats simples et habillés - diner de fête ou diner imprévu . Francine, Collectif

 

The Eighth Night.

Tonight, I informed Nick that our dinners would be changing for the next few weeks. Since we are entering Lent, I will not be serving meat. It’s a small penance in preparation for Easter.

He accepted, though somewhat puzzled. As a joke, he asked if I minded if he brought meat from home. In the same spirit, I told him it was fine, but he would have to eat it outside, in the garden, before coming inside.

He found the announcement a bit strange, but he knows that my life is guided by my faith. His acceptance didn’t mean he fully understood, and later, when I wasn’t expecting it, he asked, “Why doesn’t God want you to eat meat during Lent?”

I replied, “God doesn’t require it from me, but I believe abstaining from meat during Lent, and at other times of the year, is good for me. Eating meat is licit, good, and sometimes even necessary, but by choosing to give up something that is licit and good—saying to God, ‘I can do this, and it’s not a sin, and it brings me pleasure, but I choose not to,’—I show Him that I love Him. I also can do it as penance for my sins and for others’ sins but this is another point.”

“But why would God be pleased with you doing something He doesn’t need?” he asked.

I explained, “God is Love and Justice. He doesn’t need me, but He created me out of love. He knows I cannot be truly happy without Him. He made me to belong to Him, and the more I live in this relationship, the more I find love and joy. I can’t affect God in any way, but He deeply affects me. So, it is a matter of justice to give God what is rightfully His. Love and justice are intertwined; love brings forth justice, and justice brings forth love.”

“Justice?” he inquired.

“Justice is giving someone what they deserve. God has given me everything, so He deserves everything in return.”

“But where is you in it?”

I responded, “You’ve probably heard the saying, ‘Whoever wants to save his life will lose it.’”

“Yes,” he replied.

“It was said by Jesus,” I continued, “and it means that to live in God, we must die to ourselves, because evil resides in us, while God is pure Goodness. There is no darkness in Him, so I must purify myself, becoming goodness in order to be with Him.”

“But evil is ingrained in you,” he countered.

“That’s why,” I said, “I must spiritually die to myself, allowing God to live within me. Since my conversion, I’ve been ‘killing’ my old self to make room for God’s presence. If you see me consistently doing good, it’s not because of me—give thanks to God. Now, returning to your initial question: What does it mean to abstain from something if God isn’t affected by my actions? It’s a gesture of love. God loves me, and I respond with love – this is justice. But true love isn’t just about words and affection. Anyone can offer kind words, but to love someone to the point of suffering for them—that’s what true love is. I can’t give anything to God because He needs nothing from me, but I offer Him these voluntary sacrifices as a sign of my love. Of course, there are many other ways I can show my love for Him, such as through acts of mercy, both material and spiritual.”

Nick shook his head, “That sounds crazy to me. You live in the here and now, and nothing is more important than being yourself.”

“I agree,” I said. “In the here and now, I strive to live in God, because the more I live in Him, the more I become truly myself. Of course, if I could choose to be Batman, I would. But that’s not possible, isn't?

The Seventh Night

 

During the week, Nick insisted that we hold our weekly meeting at a restaurant rather than at my home. He explained that, despite enjoying my cooking and the care I had shown during our last gathering, he felt it was important to do something special for me. It was his way of expressing gratitude. Since he couldn't cook himself (as he put it, he could only manage to place a pan on the stove to boil water, and even that he might burn), he thought a dinner out would be a fitting gesture. Out of respect for his feelings, I agreed.

That evening, he parked his car at my house, and we drove to one of the most elegant and expensive restaurants in the city. After dinner, we walked to a seaside park and sat on a bench, enjoying the warmth of the night.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said.

"Indeed. I’ve always dreamed of living in a place like this, and by the grace of God, I’m here now."

"You're from Brazil, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"But Brazil has wonderful beaches."

"Yes, but I’m from the South of Brazil, where the beaches aren’t as stunning. What I’ve always wanted was this: warm, crystal-clear water; lush vegetation; peace. And most importantly, no crowds, no busy commercial areas. People rushing frantically, always hurrying to get nowhere, until Death stops them. It’s a very sad way to live. I like to wake up in the morning, jump into the sea in my backyard, swim, say hello to the fishes and crabs, pick some eggs and fruits for breakfast, then dress and go to work."

"That’s the difficult part," he said.

"Of course, work has its downsides, but it also brings many rewards."

"That's where we met," he said.

"Exactly! You see? Not everything is so bad. The truth is, in my country, we can’t have a life like this. London is even worse. The English don’t seem to know what it means to truly embrace the joy of life. But in Portugal, it’s different. Maybe most Latin cultures have it, some more than others."

"I tend to agree with you. In America, for example, people often feel empty. I don’t think we, in general, have the joy of living, as you put it. Maybe it’s because of our British heritage, I’m not sure. What I do know is how frustrating it is to be judged by what you have instead of who you are. I spent years as a drug-addicted male escort. The only thing I had was my body, and even that didn’t belong to me—it belonged to my addiction and the men who paid for it."

A fish leapt from the water, and Nick continued, "I came here to leave my past behind, and I found a whole new world where what matters is who I am. Sure, I’ve managed to build a more comfortable life than many here, but when people appreciate me, it’s not because of the credit cards in my wallet. I am much more than that."

"I’m glad you realized that," I replied. "‘Later’ is far better than ‘never.’"

He smiled in agreement, and a seagull flew across the starry sky.