RED 2: A Trick of Mirrors [#Wattys2017]

44. Full Circle

Marisa contemplated her left hand. On the third finger sparkled a gold ring.

"Is this a proposal?"

"No. It's an order."

Recovering from the shock, she smiled, and all the tension in her body melted away. Her euphoria was almost painful.

"Is that how you propose to your women?"

"You said yourself that I'm controlling, didn't you? When we're back in Brazil we'll take care of the ceremony."

He drew her closer and their lips met. From her closed eyes flowed tears, and from those tears flowed a plethora of days, the Marco from the distant past who enchanted her but who in fact she didn't know, the Marco from the recent past with his scars whom she finally got to know, and now this Marco without the ghost of Lorena, without the shadow of Eliana, totally open for her with his heart in plain view carrying her marks, hers alone and no one else's. Marco tightened his arms around her, comforting, anchoring. Marisa stared at him.

"Forgive me." And sobbed against his chest.

"I already did, my love."

They remained like that, in the fusing warmth of their bodies, feet firmly planted on the ground. She straightened herself, sniffing as he caressed her hair.

"You were right. I wasn't indifferent to Robert's attention. He promised me the life I've always wanted. The life I've always wanted with you, Marco. But without realizing I distanced myself and ended up pushing you away. I didn't appreciate your efforts in Canada. I only thought of myself."

"We're quits. I didn't acknowledge your needs and believed it sufficed to give you material security. I only thought of my own issues. Afterward I took upon myself to sooth Eliana's pain because it was mine too."

"I was afraid, Marco, I was so afraid you wanted to be with her because you got disappointed with me. I dropped out of college and didn't adapt to Toronto. I'm inexperienced and I was an obstacle to your career—"

Marco silenced her, pressing his forefinger to her lips. They sat on the unmade bed.

"You were never an obstacle, on the contrary, you brought joy to my life and encouraged me to progress. I'm content to be returning to Brazil. Life is made of many paths. Your experience is enough for me, Mari. You'll see that as years go by and we get used to the world, it becomes less and less interesting. Your capacity of marveling at things is still intact and nurtures me. We'll learn together. That's what matters."

"Two mirrors reflecting many moons."

"That's it. Until now, we've fallen into traditional roles because they're the models we know: the strong man and the fragile woman, the provider and the mistress of the house. But they impoverish our essence because they are straitjackets. Limited, limiting. We're both equally strong and fragile, independent and dependent. Let's start all over again without straitjackets."

Without straitjackets.

It was true, she thought. Those roles restricted each one's essence—an essence pure and unique that no formula could encompass—and impaired the most profound intimacy of a couple with a power play that didn't belong to them nor had been of their choice. They were stanched models condemning a relationship to reproduce generic ideals. The two of them didn't need those arbitrary molds to be man and woman.

This is what he proposed: that they formed a cell from two essences, not two molds. They would be King and Queen of their own selves and live happily ever after. No: they would live happily and unhappily ever after. Unhappiness was the other side of happiness, the door that opened up to questioning and new horizons. It would strengthen Marco and her, deepen their bond and teach a more authentic happiness. The happiness Robert had waved at her was shiny yet false. The one Marco offered was real.