Chapter 6

He was right. The only time I saw Daniella in the next two weeks she entered the room thinking I was asleep. She gave a start after she saw I was not only awake, but sitting on the bed with my back on the pillow, reading “Quincas Borba”, a new book from Machado De Assis that Pedro had given me the day before. As the color on her face subdued to a pale stare that could’ve been directed to a ghost, she dropped the tray she had carried in, spilling chicken broth all over the floor. Seemingly without knowing what do, she stopped midway between bowing to pick up the tray and turning towards the door to flee, like a child caught by her mom doing something children used to do when they thought no one was looking. I couldn’t help but be slightly amused by that, and when I smiled at her she probably realized there would be no way out. She then frowned at the floor, shrugged and walked to the bed, sitting at its side.

“- I’m sorry… I… I didn’t mean to scare you” – She said, not entirely to myself. – “I thought you were sleeping… Please forgive me. I guess I’m just not used yet to see someone coming back from the dead.”

“- Daniella, if I am back from the dead, what is not even the case, since I never died, it is because of you. I am nothing but thankful to all the help and the offer to bring me in to your house to take care of the wounds. My family sure would not be able to afford the doctors you hired to see that I survived.”

“-No. No. You almost gave your life away to protect mine, and for nothing.”

How could I tell her it was not “for nothing”? That I actually had fallen in love with her the very first moment I saw her, even before I noticed the other men? I couldn’t.
“Please… Don’t say that. I am no hero. It was just out of reflex. If I had had any time to think about it, I would’ve probably run away the fastest I could.”

She thought a bit about it, or something else, and dismissed it shaking her head slightly. “- But you didn’t, did you? No. You didn’t” – The way she said that I almost though she was regretting it, as if she should be the one in the bed. “- I was careless”.

“- No. Or do you think I would not have been their victim anyway, if you were not there? They were probably just waiting for anyone to pass by. It was fortunate that you were there, in any case.” – I said that in a way to imply the thugs would not have fled before killing me, her screams alerting a policeman walking by, and not in the real meaning, which was that meeting her was worth to almost die.

She didn’t seem convinced, though. “- Well, I should call someone to clean this mess.” – She said, standing up – “I’ll see that Maria brings you a new tray. You must be hungry”.

I was hungry, but didn’t want her to go. As I started to protest, she brought a finger up to her lips, prompting me to be quiet, and left. I never saw her again until the day I walked out of the room.