But I didn’t go.You know, Gló, it’s not for me. I promised Luís I’d take him. He’s so little.
All children his age can think about is Christmas.” “Zezé, I already told you I’m not going. And that’s a fib: you’re the one who wants to go.
You’ve got your whole life to get Christmas presents.” “But what if I die? What if I die without getting a present this Christmas?
You’re not going to die so soon, my little old man. You’ll live twice as long as Uncle Edmundo or Seu Benedito.
Now, enough of this. Go play.But I still didn’t go. I made sure she bumped into me everywhere she turned.
She’d go to the chest of drawers to get something and she’d find me sitting on the rocking chair, begging her with my eyes.
Begging with your eyes really got to her. She’d go to fetch water from the washtub and I’d be sitting in the doorway, looking at her.
She’d go to the bedroom to get the clothes to be washed and I’d be sitting on the bed, chin in hands, looking... She couldn’t take it.
“Enough, Zezé. I’ve already told you that no means no. For heaven’s sake, don’t try my patience. Go play.”
But again I didn’t go. That is, I thought I wasn’t going. But she picked me up, carried me out the door and dumped me in the backyard.
Then she went back inside and closed the doors to the kitchen and the living room. I didn’t give up.
I sat outside every window she was going to pass, because now she was starting to dust and make the beds.
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