Heitor was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn’t notice the cigar he held between his fingers had gone out. The man seemed to be reliving the moments when he had faced the horned man, the beast that Botelho kept captive in the Army’s laboratory. It seemed that recalling those moments was confusing and painful for the retired captain, over 70 years old. Durval waited for the man to recover from his memories. After a while, he cleared his throat and lit the cigar again. He took short puffs and finally released a long exhale towards the ceiling of the room. He looked at Durval to confirm he was still there.
— You said you felt something good inside the monster — Durval said.
— Yes.
— What kind of thing?
— It’s hard to explain. It was as if a link had formed between our minds. As if, somehow, we had become one person. I know it’s hard to understand. I don’t even understand what happened that day. You know empathy? When it feels like you’re sensing what the other person feels? It was more or less that. I felt a deep sorrow for the creature, as if there was immense suffering within it. A great loss. It was as if I didn’t have something I should have had, something fundamental had been taken from me. I thought it must be freedom, since the beast was trapped in a cage. But it wasn’t that; I later discovered it was something else…
Heitor stopped speaking for a moment, and for the first time, Durval saw that the man was emotional. The tough captain with a raspy and energetic speech, who imposed himself on everyone vehemently, was there, before Durval, fragile and exposed. His eyes filled with tears, and the muscles around his mouth subtly contracted. Durval felt pity for the man’s distress but said nothing. Showing affection at that moment could further destabilize the captain and make him explode. Better to stay silent and wait for the man to compose himself. Durval was careful not to make any sound when he swallowed hard.
Heitor did not bring his hand to his eyes to wipe away the tear that rolled down his face. Perhaps he wanted to pretend it wasn’t there, being the stubborn man he was, or perhaps he was at peace with what he felt.
The cockatoo seemed to understand what was happening and began to make a fine, bubbling noise, like a kitten purring.
Heitor smiled at the bird and exhaled from his chest, took a deep breath, cleared his throat, and coughed. Then he said:
— There wasn’t enough time.
— Enough time for what, my old friend?
— The link that was there, the connection that had formed between me and the horned man broke when the soldiers noisily entered the laboratory. I took a while to realize what was happening. At first, I only heard noise coming from the direction of the door, but in moments they were all around me.
— They arrested you then?
— I wish they had arrested me, Durval.
Episode XLVIII continues in the next edition.
JOSÉ GASPAR
Filmmaker and writer
www.historiasdooutromundo.com