— The bars of the cage were less than two meters away from me. It was crouched inside the cage, looking directly at me, motionless, like a wax figure. Only its eyes were alive. The two fiery orbs and the two wide horns protruding from the sides of its head.
Heitor and Durval continued sitting at the table, even though Melinda had already cleared the plates and dishes from lunch.
“I took another step toward the bars. I tried to notice any movement from the creature, but it remained still, seeming to wait for me to come closer. Like a servant bringing a cup of tea to its master, I brought my soul to the monster.
“One more step and I was less than a hand’s breadth from the bars. It was then that the creature began to rise. It kept its eyes on mine and lifted its body like a machine, with precision. It looked like a robot. As if every millimetric movement had been planned with purpose and determination. It stood right in front of me. It must have been two meters tall.
— I asked if you want coffee? — Melinda said almost shouting.
Durval returned from the complete rapture that Heitor’s narrative had provoked and stared at Melinda without really seeing her. It took him a second to identify what the woman was asking.
— Yes, yes, coffee, thank you! — Durval replied.
— I want some too, Mel, please — said Heitor and smiled at his wife. Then he turned to Durval. — Let’s go to the living room!
Durval still thought about saying they could stay right there. But he carefully got up to avoid falling; his leg in a cast made movement difficult, he grabbed the cane he had left leaning against the wall and followed Heitor. Upon entering the living room, he almost fell with the cane when startled by a shrill noise that he imagined was a shotgun shot. He thought this time he would hit the ground, but saw that it was the cockatoo squawking perched on the arm of the sofa. Heitor was sitting in the armchair petting the bird’s head.
— It’s Dorotéia — Heitor said.
— Yes, I know.
The bird seemed to dislike Durval. But Durval also didn’t like that chalk-white bird at all. The creature bobbed its head up and down with ruffled feathers as Durval approached. But the worst was the irritating gargling noise; it sounded like it was gargling with lead balls in its beak.
Heitor grabbed the spray bottle and squirted water at the bird, which opened its wings and reveled in the sprays.
— In the heat, she likes it — he explained.
— Yes, you told me.
— There are vitamins in the water for the feathers.
Durval sat down on the sofa carefully and with some fear that the bird would jump on him and peck his face. He tried to stay as far away from the creature as possible.
— She doesn’t like strangers. She gets skittish — he paused. Then continued: — But where were we?
And Durval realized he would hear the rest of Heitor’s story in the company of the grumpy bird.
JOSÉ GASPAR
Filmmaker and writer
www.historiasdooutromundo.com