I was even beginning to talk like Seu Ariovaldo. At noon we’d head into the first tavern we saw
and chomp, chomp, chomp, devour his sandwich, sometimes with an orange soda, sometimes a red one.
Then I’d stick my hand into my change pocket and spread it out on the table.
“Here, Seu Ariovaldo.” And I’d push the coins towards him.
He’d smile and say, “You’re a good kid, Zezé.” “Seu Ariovaldo,” I asked him one day. “Why did you used to call me finch?”
“Back in Bahia, where I’m from, it means a little kid, a small child.”
He scratched his head and covered his mouth to burp.
Then he excused himself and took a toothpick to clean his teeth.
The money stayed where it was. “I’ve been thinking, Zezé. From now on you can keep the tips.
After all, we’re a duo now.“What’s a duo?” “When two people sing together.”
“Then can I buy a sweet?” “It’s your money. You can do what you want with it.”
“Thanks, champ.” He laughed at the imitation. Now I was the one eating the sweet and looking at him.
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