Todo carnaval tem seu fim

Apesar do carnaval já ter passado, por aqui ainda estou no aquecimento. Por isso vou publicar um texto antigo, mas que diz respeito a uma situação atual. É uma historinha verídica, sobre alguém que está em minha vida há 12 carnavais, e que uma vez mais, este ano, foi meu pierrot.


Two Lifelong Passions


I don’t know whether one thing has to do with the other, but both of them have come together to my life. These two things I’m talking about started a long time ago and are still of the greatest importance in the present time, in their uncertain ways.
I’ve been fond of the English language since I began studying it, so much younger than now, and soon I got too involved with it to let it go. So I entered a private English school, where I met the people that would accompany me through many years of “lessons” and “exercises”. Not all of them shared my enthusiastic feelings about our studies; some of them, truly speaking, even thought it was quite boring. I can’t blame them; my enthusiasm found its strength not only in books, but also in something very different from them.
Since I started the course I attended the same class, but one day, in the beginning of a new semester, our headmistress decided that because of the small number of students, the two classes (mine and the one that met in the earlier period) would be put together to be a single group. Since then everything changed.
It was known by everybody that I have always been an easy-going person, even kind and mostly friendly. But there was one boy among the others from the new class which seemed to have been sent by someone who wanted to see me loosing my temper. We couldn’t get along at all. We argued every single class because of the silliest subjects you can ever imagine. But, despite all the hate we felt for each other, we couldn’t help sitting side by side all the time. People noticed it: every time I was late for class I found an empty chair reserved for me - by his side. Such things led us to a bigger involvement, and besides all our fights, we became closer. Every work that should be done in groups we did together; on the way home, although we lived in opposite sides of the town, we found a manner to go walking - together.
Such involvement was clearly noticed by our classmates, who kept making jokes about our “love-and-hate” relationship. Those jokes used to drive me mad, but now I realize how easy it was to see the difference in my face when he was absent; in those occasions the class lost a great part of what it had of fun.
One day, after another of his frequent absences, I decided to do something about it, to get a revenge. Here’s what I (unconsciously) was thinking: “Well, great. So he thinks he’s the only one allowed to stay at home. I’m the one who has to be always here, waiting for him just as a fool. He will learn that things are not just like that. He will see”. With these thoughts in mind I executed my plan of revenge and, on the next class, I decided not to go to the course, without any apparent reason. First I was very happy with my attitude but some moments later I realized how ridiculous I was being, trying to hurt him somehow, as if he cared whether I had or hadn’t gone to class.
On the following day, I went to my course. I felt ashamed as if all the other students knew what I had done (or at least what my intention was). I arrived there and quietly sat down. Few minutes later, my “friend” arrived, too, and to my surprise, he was definitely angry. Seeing such enraged expression in front of me, I couldn’t find words to say or questions to ask. But it wasn’t necessary at all, for he started his speech: “What kind of plan do you have in mind? Is it a kind of hide-and-seek? Could you explain me why you come to the classes when I am absent and then you don’t come when I am here? What do you really intend with it?” He was really angry. It’s not necessary to say how astonished I was at that moment; he seemed to have read my thoughts! It was impossible to believe, and I quit looking for explanations.
The better for me, because a series of things like that kept happening, and all I should do was enjoy those moments and think of what would become of everything. This story took place about six years ago, but I remember it as if it was last week. And how could I ever forget it? This is my last year in the University, where I am graduating in English language (I’ve really taken it to the last consequences) and, few weeks ago, my friend came directly from the past to say he would really like to try it again. Where did we meet? Here, on this Campus, during a students’ meeting. Once more, he came to my course to mix things up and leave. But I shall not care; I know this story hasn’t come to its end; and I also know that English will survive without him.