Part 1: Meeting Manuel
The church bazaar promises! I’ve saved some of the money Dad paid me for the work I do on the farm to spend today. Mom, Dad, and Marcelo, my little brother, are checking out the farm animals for the auction. I prefer to play bingo instead. I usually get some good prizes there. I see a friend or two from high school drinking beer and trying to make a pass at some girls from our class. Then, they go to the large church lawn, which was converted into a soccer field, to watch some amateur soccer teams play. I alternate playing bingo and hanging around to see the new things they’ve put out this year.
As I feel hot and thirsty, I settle for a bottle of water, then a lemon popsicle. I like the ones that are cylindrical for they last longer. I pay and count my change, for the man selling popsicles usually cheats on the change. I put the coins in my lhama leather coin bag from Bolivia, and try to find a nice shady place to sit. Suddenly someone comes from behind me and grabs my arm. It must be some other high school friend trying to borrow money for beers.
“Oh, hi there! What a surprise to find you here, my boy! And look at how you’ve grown! And look at your little moustache! I bet you also have a big moustache here!” The large man rubs his crotch. It’s Manuel, the owner of the oldest grocery store in town.
After gently disengaging from his tight hold, I rub my arm. I suppose he has no idea how strong he is. I hate it when people do that!
Anyway, I wonder what he’s doing here, I mean, here in the middle of the crowd, for he usually works during church bazaars. He sells his dry goods and I guess he gives the church a percentage of the earnings--a small percentage I should say--for he is known in the entire town for his stinginess.
“Oh, hi, Manuel. How are you doing?” I ask out of politeness, wishing him to go away.
“I feel great, especially now that I’ve found a lovely company to share a popsicle with.” It’s just now that I realize he’s also sucking a lemon popsicle.
“I though you preferred to drink beer.”
“Not me, my boy. I prefer popsicles. At least it won’t make this belly rounder!” He rubs his medium-sized belly.
“Well, you aren’t that round, Manuel. It’s just that, you’re a big man. That’s all.” I lie to him.
“You sure about it? Can I believe you?” He sucks his popsicle and smiles. “Well, I must say that my swimming exercises at the falls are finally paying off. I feel more alive and stronger.” I turn to him, for I love nature too, especially waterfalls, rivers, and fishing.
“Did you say you swim at the falls? Which falls?” I hope I’m not sounding too interested, for I hate being played by adults, especially this man.
“In Água da Madeira River. There is a secret spot that only I know where it is. I go there almost every weekend. It’s a cool and lovely place. Would you like to come with me to check it out sometime?”
“I don’t know.” Surely I would, but not with a man like Manuel, and alone. “It’s very far from Dad’s farm, I suppose.” I look away, trying to get as much information as possible from him. Maybe I could go there alone if it’s not too far off.
“No problem, I can pick you up anytime. I usually go there on Sunday afternoons.” He sucks his popsicle and smiles, displaying his large front teeth.
“Well, I’ll think about it.” I lie again.
“Ok. Look, you’re doing it wrong! You’ve got to suck your popsicle like this, see, suck!” He inserts the large cylinder in his mouth and sucks.
“I can’t! My mouth is not that big!”
“You don’t have to have a large mouth. See, my mouth is also small. But you can use your lips. Like this,” he sucks his popsicle and I admire him inserting it in his mouth. I admire the veins on his strong tanned neck. He is well-shaved today and his black moustache, seen this up-close and against the sun, is turning gray. I mean, I see a few gray hairs. I also notice some wrinkles around his eyes and forehead. Manuel must be in his early fifties or so. I am turning eighteen next week.
At home everybody in my family is quite excited talking about the church bazaar. Dad says this year’s was more crowded than the year before. Mom says she saw a lady wearing high-heels and walking quite awkwardly on the lawn. My younger brother complains and sulks as he wanted to stay longer. I tell them about Manuel and his weird invitation. Mom says the river is too dangerous, even for grown up men. So, in her opinion, I shouldn’t go. Dad, on the other hand, says I’m older enough to take care of myself and can swim. Besides, both men are adults and know what they are doing. So it’s settled. I decide to go.
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