Daniel Galera: Blood-drenched Beard

Why can’t you forgive him?

Isn’t it obvious?

Are you really that petty? I forgive you for letting me go and writing a little note to yourself instead of talking to me. Are you incapable of forgiving?

I don’t want your forgiveness.

I forgive you anyway.

Well, I don’t accept it. I refuse to be forgiven.

Ha! Incredible. This is too good to be true.

I can live with whatever I’ve done wrong. Nothing disappears just because we decide it should, or because we want it to. No one can take back any harm I’ve done to others. It helps us become better people. Forgiving is like pretending it doesn’t exist. But life is the result of what we’ve done. It doesn’t make sense to act as if nothing has happened.

That’s not forgiveness! You’re mad! To forgive someone is to free them of blame. And in doing so, you free yourself too. It’s not pretending it never happened. It’s an act of charity, a white flag. It’s a choice you make. It takes courage, but it’s worth it.

It’s not a choice. There’s no such thing as choice.

No?

No, not really.

Okay then, but then why the resentment? Why be resentful if no one has any choice in anything? If we only obey fate, no one can be held responsible for their actions. Right? Everything I did, everything you did, and everything your brother did is all just destiny. There’s nothing to forgive because no one is to blame.

But that’s how it is. No one chooses anything, but we’re responsible anyway. That’s just how it is. I can’t explain why. I don’t have the words for it. Maybe you do.

I do, but what you’re saying doesn’t make sense. It’s absurd. Either there is free will, or there isn’t. If human beings are free agents, if we have choices, we are responsible for them. If there’s no free will, if the universe is predetermined by the laws of nature and everything is just the result of what has gone before, then no one is to blame for what they do. Neither resentment nor forgiveness makes any sense.

Wittgenstein.

Don’t give me that Wittgenstein crap! You know what I’m talking about. I know you’re more intelligent than you like to admit in your fits of woe-is-me.

So what are the two alternatives again?

Free will and determinism.

I don’t think it’s that simple.

There’s nothing simple about it.

What I mean is that both alternatives seem wrong. Or both are right at the same time. Two right answers to a wrong question.

Jesus Christ . What’s the right question, then?

I don’t know.

This is a replay of every maddening argument we’ve ever had. The topic changes, but the script is always the same. No one wins.

I know that there are no choices but that nevertheless we have to live as if there were. That’s all.

I think it’s my turn to say “Wittgenstein.” Am I allowed to?

That’s why forgiveness doesn’t make any sense. Forgiveness is cowardice. What takes courage is to keep on loving and having friendships and doing the right thing by others without pretending that you can erase things, without forgiving or accepting forgiveness. You said Dante’s upset because Dad killed himself. What for? I think what he did was fucked up, and I don’t forgive him for what he did, but he told me he had no choice but to kill himself, and now I understand that in a way he really didn’t. I’m not angry at anyone. Why would I be? He was good to us all until that moment. When we look back, it’s all inevitable.

Your dad told you he was going to kill himself?

He doesn’t answer and she covers her mouth with her hand.

Viv, no part of me is capable of forgiving my brother for what he did. It’s not that I want to but can’t. I don’t want to. It’d be wrong . Deep down he didn’t choose to do it, just as no one chooses anything, but it doesn’t exempt him from the responsibility for inviting you there knowing that I couldn’t go, for having gone ahead with things. Nor does it exempt you from the responsibility for having gone and for leaving me for him. And I’m not exempted from my responsibility for letting you go, for not helping you to be happy, for having become the guy that you ended up having no choice but to leave. It all works together and is a part of our lives now. At some point you guys decided that your feelings for each other justified hurting my feelings. You didn’t decide out of choice, because you didn’t have a choice, but Porto Alegre wasn’t an option, I wasn’t an option, you guys were in love in São Paulo where everything is an option, but the decision is there, it exists in the world like a stone, like a knife, the decision is here , it exists now , it’s something that happened and had consequences like any decision, any gesture, anything you do or say, whether you believe it’s your own free will or not. You guys decided that the life you wanted to have together from that point on was more important than any mark that it might leave on me, and you went ahead with it. And it’s okay. I can put myself in your place. I don’t think I’d have done the same thing, but I can imagine it and understand it. But have the courage to stand by it now. I’ll love you forever, and I would still defend my brother’s life in any way I could if it were ever in danger. But I don’t want to see him, and I won’t be your child’s godfather.

I’m sorry for coming here.

She gets up and straightens her clothes.

You don’t need to leave.

Yes, I do.

But she doesn’t leave immediately. She stands there awhile, staring out of the window at the sunny ocean.

Viv.

You’re happy here, aren’t you?

Me? Yes. I think so.

I actually believe you. When they told me you’d come here, they said you were running away, or were traumatized by what your dad did. I tell everyone it’s not true. I must be the only person who gets that that’s not it. There’s nowhere else you’d rather be right now.

Maybe. I don’t know.

I feel like shaking you, slapping you in the face for your coldness, your arrogance, your vanity, for God’s sake. The vanity of thinking you don’t need anyone, of believing you shouldn’t forgive or be forgiven. But it’s not like that from your point of view, is it? You’re happy. I can see in your eyes the loneliness I’ve brought you. I know you never feel alone. It’s just because I’m here now. Tomorrow everything will be fine again. I’m going to head back early. I’ll change my ticket this afternoon at the airport. You don’t need to say anything. I know how much you love me. It exists somewhere. It’s safe. I won’t come back here again. If you want to visit us one day, the doors will always be open. I’m due mid-April. Okay? He’ll be your nephew. If you don’t have the dignity, the courage to come and see him, maybe one day he’ll come looking for you, when he’s old enough. Because that’s how you like it, isn’t it? When people come to you.

He chokes trying to say something.

I’m going now. Don’t worry. Things happened as you predicted they would, didn’t they? But it’ll be quicker than you imagined. It’s already over.

The verse extract quoted at the end of Chapter 9 is by Manoel Brandão de Souza and was taken from the book História de Garopaba ( The History of Garopaba ) by Manoel Valentim.

I would like to say a special thanks to my friend and open-water swimming companion Mário Martins da Silva Jr., for his limitless wisdom and generosity, and to my father, Gilson Galera, who told me the story that gave rise to all the rest.

* He came. He got there before me. He just left. I’ve never seen your brother like that — he looked terrified. He was afraid of running into you, of course. He spent ages over by the coffin…. Of course he didn’t cry — your brother doesn’t cry, you know what he’s like. All he asked was if I knew what time you were coming and if she was coming with you. I told him she wasn’t coming, but he doesn’t have a problem with her. It’s you he doesn’t want to see. He told me he couldn’t stay. He said, if I do, I’ll plant one on him when I see him. And I told him, Your father’s lying there dead. Stop being a child, you’re almost thirty-three years old, do it for your dad, he’d want you two to make up. But your brother just laughed…. I don’t know why, I’ve never understood, but your father and him always had something that was theirs alone. Go figure. He had Beta in the car with him…. I have no idea, Dante…. I also think it’s really weird, but I’m afraid to ask. Your father left a note… he left the house to me and some money for you kids. We’re going to read his will tomorrow. He didn’t have anything else, it’s incredible. He blew everything. And now it’ll be a while because there’s all the bureaucracy—. Nothing. Oh, there’s also a private pension plan, which will go to you two. It’s a decent sum of money. He wrote, about the house, Do what you want with it, Sônia, but I know you’re going to sell it and split the money between the princes. That’s what I’ll do, of course. It’s been so long since I loved that man and we fought so much afterward that I can’t remember what it was like any more. But your brother stayed for about fifteen minutes, spoke to Uncle Natal, to Golias, who’s over there… he’s the only one of your father’s old pals that I can stand too. He spoke to that woman there who I don’t know. Was she his girlfriend?… I knew it. Just look at that tart’s face, all stretched out…. A whole bunch of them are going to show up — there’ll be venom flying everywhere, and they’re going to treat me as if I was some parched old prune…. What?… He didn’t do anything else. He came, looked in the coffin, and left…. No, darling. Come to think of it, he did say that he’d have to talk to me some other time because he was moving. He’s leaving Porto Alegre…. I don’t know yet. He just wanted to leave. Except for the minute he spent over at the coffin, he spent the whole time looking at the gate and then he came and said, I’ve got to go, I’d better go, then he hugged me and left…. But I tried! It’s your father’s wake, I said, stop being a child, it’s going to be horrible for me, for you, but he upped and left. I think he only came for my sake — if he didn’t, people would give me a hard time. He just stayed long enough to be seen, but what good was it, leaving like he did? Family was never our speciality. Only you, darling. I was able to introduce him to Ronaldo, I’m going to introduce you too in a minute, he’s gone to park the car somewhere else, he was afraid of getting a fine, there are parking meters…. Yes, I’m happy…. Do you think so? I’m old, that’s what I am…. Just because I’m your mother. But it may be. We look better when we’re at peace with ourselves. It’s a tragedy what your father did, but we had been so distant for such a long time. I thought he’d die of a heart attack or something like that at some point — after all, he never looked after himself, as you know, but something like this… at his age. Why do it at sixty-four? And in such a horrible way, he could have… Yes, we’ll never know. Now he’s gone…. Yes…. I agree, darling…. Yes, you’re right…. No, leave your brother in peace. It’ll be worse. Let him be. He doesn’t want to see you. If he didn’t want to see you today, he doesn’t want to see you ever again…. I think so too, but that’s how he is. I think you suffer more than he does, darling…. Yes, I know. But let’s not talk about it now, okay? Come here, let your mother give you a kiss…. They let you pay for the service in four installments. This funeral parlor is good. We’ll put it all down on paper afterward. Look, here comes Ronaldo. I’m so happy with him. You have to come visit us…. Yes, it’s near Assis Brasil. São Paulo isn’t so far. It’s just a hop, skip, and a jump. You should come more often. Okay? Come visit your mother more. Ronaldo, this is my eldest.