by A. C. Meyer
“Hi, Guilherme, this is Carlos Eduardo, from Be. I’m sorry to be calling on a Saturday. I need the network’s administrator’s password.” He tells me the password, and asks if there’s something he can help me with. “No, it’s fine. I’m finishing the next issue and I need to install a program on my computer, but for some reason it asked for that password,” I explain, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Anyway, thank you. Have a nice weekend.” I quickly say goodbye and hand the paper with the password written on it to Moretti.
“Where’s this Miguel guy’s office?” he asks, and we move to the IT department, stopping only by the front desk to grab the keys. I point out which computer is Miguel’s, and in no time, he sits and turns it on, types the password and starts working.
While he’s at it, my mother goes to the kitchen to make us coffee, my dad sits down, and Rodrigo retrieves his cell phone from his pocket and types a text.
“Is everything okay?” I ask him, worried about Mari.
“Yeah, I’m texting Lais. I said I was going to your place, but I didn’t tell her anything else.”
“Did she tell you how Mari is?”
“She slept. Fell asleep right after I left. Man, you need to talk to her. She has no idea what’s going on.”
“I know she doesn’t—”
“No,” he interrupts me. “You don’t get it. She doesn’t know anything at all. She thought you broke up with her because Miguel told you something about him dating her. There’s a lot that happened here at the company with Mari that you don’t know about,” says Rodrigo, and I feel my stomach clench.
“What are you talking about?”
“Look, Cadu, she’s the one who has to tell you that. I think you need to talk and be honest with each other. You were both victims, but to move on, you need to hear what she has to say.”
“If she even wants to talk to me, right?” I shake my head.
“Yeah, if she even wants to talk to you.” Rodrigo sighs and goes on. “Let’s take things one step at a time.”
My mom walks in, carrying a cup of coffee for each one of us on a tray. She serves it, and then takes a seat beside my dad. Nearly forty minutes later, Moretti pulls away from the computer, turns to us, and says, “Well, I found out a lot here. Rodrigo, if you can take some notes, I think it’ll be better, so that we can take action first thing on Monday. I’m afraid I might leave something out.”
“Of course,” Rodrigo agrees.
“Well, for starters, there’s spyware which is not only monitoring Mariana’s computer, but also yours and five other people’s, who, I believe, are in high positions in the company.” He mentions five executives by name. “I could access the e-mail account that was receiving your assistant’s e-mails. It was programmed to open automatically, and everything leads me to believe it was created to try and mislead us. From this account, he was sending e-mails with photos, meeting information, reports and many other things, all to three people.”
“Who?” I ask, tense, and Moretti looks from me to my parents.
“Two women. Roberta Carvalho and Lynn Dias.”
“Jesus!” I pass a hand over my face, unable to believe that Beto’s assistant, Roberta, and Lynn, one of the most famous models from our magazines, could be involved.
“And who’s the third person?” my father asks.
“J. C. Moraes,” Moretti answers, and my mother lets out a moan.
“My God, Arthur, it’s Zeca!” The room falls into a deep silence, until Moretti begins to speak again.
“I’m really sorry. I hacked his e-mail account. It’s the same administrator,” he says, and I nod. Both magazines share the same IT department. “I’ve got a series of e-mails and messages from him, guiding what those three people should do, what he expected of them, and who they should send that material to. Someone called Renée is also involved. The e-mails showed that Renée had been dealing, on J. C. Moraes’ behalf, everything that was going to be in the next issue, in exchange for a position to work there.”
“You told me you were suspicious . . .” says my father, recalling a conversation we had a while ago. “We just never expected Zeca to do something like that. My God, what would make the boy do that?”
“I wonder where we went wrong . . .” my mom starts, tears in her eyes. “How could our son stab his brother in the back like that? That’s not what we taught him,” my mom says, exasperated.
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” says Moretti. “We often don’t see through the people we love the most. I’ll print this and do a back-up. I strongly advise you to change the administrator’s password so you don’t risk someone accessing it to delete the evidence.” Rodrigo nods and finishes. “You’ll have to make a decision.”
“What do you mean?”
“You have to decide what you want to do. Will you go to the police? Will you just talk to Zeca and fire everyone else? It’s always more complicated when it involves family.”
“Police?” my mother whispers, and my father looks like he’s just been punched.
“Mrs. Moraes, Arthur, I know you’re shaken and no one has to decide anything right now. But something has to be done. Even if it’s just pretending it didn’t happen and pulling Zeca away from business.” While Rodrigo talks to my parents, I decide to take the lead.
“Mom, Dad, go home. Rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow and we’ll decide what’s best. I’m going to finish things here with Moretti and Rodrigo, we’ll change the passwords and we’ll decide what to do tomorrow. Dad, what do you say we have a meeting, around ten? Until then, I’ll have time to think this through and we can make a decision together.” My father agrees. “Then we’ll have time to strategize and call the shareholders.” My parents hug me before they leave. “I’m sorry you have to go through this,” I say, kissing my mother’s cheek, still in disbelief that my brother could do what he did.
My parents leave, and the three of us stay there, so that Moretti can do his back-up, alter the passwords, and protect our information.
Cadu
When I get home, I feel like I’ve just been run over by a truck. Just the thought of everything we’ve uncovered this weekend makes me dizzy. I spend the rest of the night wondering how it could be possible that my brother would do something like that. Zeca has always been a guy to look up to, a successful businessman, competent, respected in his field. He runs one of the most influential business and political magazines in the country, and has won several awards over the years.
I remember that, before I took over at Be, the magazine was part of Zeca’s group, but it was hardly relevant in his business. My father gave me the magazine as a type of “punishment,” but I fell in love with my job and ended up fighting hard to make Be into one of the best fashion magazines in the country.
Looking back, flashes of memories come to my mind. I remember that when I got my first award for the magazine, Zeca acted indifferent, as if it was no big deal. Whenever I talked to him about making changes, he would dismiss it as something not worth his time, and I always thought it was because his was a “more important” business, one that made much more money for our company than mine. Now, I wonder if his behavior wasn’t just pure jealousy . . . Maybe he felt bad for “losing” one of his publications, one he was responsible for. Just thinking that made my heart hurt. He has always been my hero. He was the guy I looked up to the most, right after my father. And now, everything I believed in was proving to be a lie. My hero was nothing but a liar. Someone who had the balls to set up his own brother. If I hadn’t seen it myself, I wouldn’t have believed it.
I turn the stereo on and stand in front of the large window in my bedroom. It is impossible not to think of Mari when I see the ocean in front of me. I close my eyes, and pictures of her play like a movie in my head. Then I remember one night in particular. We had just made love and there was an intense light shining over the bed. She stood up,
wrapped in a sheet, and went to the window.
“What is it, baby?”
“The moon. It’s huge! Beautiful!” She turns to me and I can’t hold back my smile when I see her looking so sexy, wrapped in my sheets, with her hair messy and a smile on her face that takes my breath away.
“No.”
“No, what?”
“You’re beautiful.” I stand up and hold her hand, pulling her to me. She lets out a laugh that sends warmth all over my body.
“I thought I was huge.” She laughs again and I get serious.
“You’re perfect, Mari.” She shakes her head in agreement, but her eyes say something else. “I mean it. I don’t care if you’re a size two or size twelve. You’re beautiful, just the way you are. I fell in love with the intelligent, sweet, loving, and funny woman you are. And I love your body. You’re perfect to me, you’re my ideal woman.” There are tears in her eyes, and a small drop escapes. I capture it with my thumb and smile at her, bringing our faces together until our lips are touching in a gentle kiss, filled with love.
I open my eyes, seeing the ocean in front of me once more, but now the picture is blurry from my own tears.
I open my eyes, not sure I’m ready for the day ahead, look for the clock, and then jump out of bed; it’s a quarter to nine. I have to shower quickly, so that I can get to the office in time for the meeting with the shareholders.
I run to the bathroom, thinking that I should call Mari before the meeting. I don’t know what I can do to apologize, but I have to talk to her as soon as possible.
I take a shower, put on my suit, and get my things to leave, without even stopping for breakfast. I am feeling too sick for that. I grab my car keys from over the sideboard in the living room. When I open my apartment door, what I see crushes me: everything I had left at Mari’s is now outside my door, collected inside two big boxes. I didn’t realize I had so much stuff at her place. I open the first box, and my heart clenches when I see the dress I had ordered specially for her. Everything I gave her is in that box. Our entire story has been reduced to two boxes. My heart is racing and I’m having a hard time breathing. It takes everything in me to pull the boxes into my apartment. I take deep breaths, trying to calm down. What I really want to do is go to her apartment right now and fix this, but I know that now is not the time. I wouldn’t even know what to say or how to redeem myself.
I slam the door and go to the garage. My life is a mess, but to put it back together, I’ll have to take it slow, so I don’t screw things up again.
Mari
“I can’t believe you left and you didn’t even tell me, Mari!” Lais complains.
I shake my head without actually answering, while I walk through the apartment and into my bedroom.
It was seven a.m., and I had already gone to and come back from Cadu’s place. While Lais was asleep, I set all his belongings in two boxes, called a taxi, and left them at his doorstep. I was in no shape to see him again, after everything. Knowing I still had his stuff was making me even more nervous.
I walk inside the bedroom and Lais is still talking, but I can barely hear her. My mind is wandering far away, into a not so distant past, when I gave my heart to the only man who could break it into a thousand tiny pieces. I take off my clothes, put on a T-shirt and climb into bed, pulling my blanket to cover me, feeling it wrap me in a soft and protective cocoon.
“Mari!” Lais complains, when she sees I’m not listening to a single word she says.
“I’m sorry, girl,” I tell her, without looking at her. “I just want to go back to sleep. Please.” Something in my voice obviously touches Lais’s heart, and she sighs, finally turning off the light.
“Okay. I’m here if you need me,” she says, and I fall into a dreamless sleep.
I blink several times, trying to see through the darkness. I wake up feeling scared and confused, surfacing from a deep sleep. Slowly, my eyes adjust to the lack of light and memories take over me again. Don’t cry, please, don’t cry, I pray silently. Then, a muffled conversation catches my ear. I check the clock on the nightstand. I’ve been asleep for nearly fourteen hours. I feel weak, but the voices from afar were making me more and more curious. Is Lais talking to Rodrigo? I get up slowly, pick up a satin robe that was thrown over the chair in my bedroom, and go to the living room. I cover my face with my hand and blink when I’m surprised by the light, and the voices are suddenly quiet. When our eyes meet, I feel the whole room spinning around me, and I do my best not to fall down.
“What the hell are you doing here? Out!” I yell at him, then go to the kitchen to grab something to eat.
“Lais, let’s talk, please?” he asks, and to my surprise, my best friend gets up and goes to the front door.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” I tell him, then turn to Lais. “What are you doing? Are you leaving me alone with the enemy?”
“You guys need to talk, Mari,” Lais says, and I face her, baffled. “Listen to him. If after that, you still don’t want to see him, then tell him to go. But you need to talk.” She looks serious, then leaves, closing the door behind her. Suddenly, it all feels like too much. I feel my whole body shaking and my head hurting, until a pair of hands holds me, warming up my body. I try to shove him away, but he won’t let me.
“Shh . . . Mari, let me explain. If after that, you never want to see me again, I’ll understand. But let me explain.” I was ready to say no, but something in his eyes changed my mind.
I sit on the couch, nauseous with all the anxiety from what I was about to hear. He sits beside me, and I move away. His eyes look hurt when I refuse to be near him, and deep down, I can’t help but feel a little glad he’s hurting. I’ve suffered too much the last couple of days. Knowing he’s felt the same way brought some sort of relief to my broken heart.
“Oh, baby . . .” he says, and I make a face.
“You said you wanted to talk, and I’m being kind enough to listen to you after everything you did. I’m giving you a chance, because Lais asked me to. But don’t you dare ‘baby’ me, because when you threw me out of the office as if I was trash, your ‘baby’ didn’t matter to you then.” I cross my arms, not bothering to hide my feelings.
I look at him, and for the first time that evening, I pay attention to how he looks. His beard is starting to grow, his eyes are red and swollen. His hair is the same mess it usually is after a day of work, but was far from looking sexy like it does every other day. Today everything about him looks just out of place. He looks lost and sad, and in no way resembles the confident man I once knew.
“I’m sorry,” he says, keeping his head down. “I wish I could go back in time and take back everything I did and said. You didn’t deserve any of that, Mari. But I wanted the chance to explain.”
“I’m still here listening to you, aren’t I?” I answer quietly, trying to control my nerves.
“Yes, you are. And I’m very grateful you’re giving me a chance to explain,” he says, sadness glimmering in his eyes. I nod and wait for him to start talking. I just hope that, after hearing him out, I won’t regret my decision.
I take a deep breath, running my fingers through my hair and searching for courage to tell her what happened. I know this will be my only chance to apologize. I will do whatever it takes to fix this mess. She looks hurt, sad and disappointed, and despite it being all a big misunderstanding, I know she has the right to feel this way.
She faces me and I lower my head. I talk about the files, about the things Miguel told me, and especially how much the possibility that what he said was true had hurt me. I open my heart and let her see what’s inside: the disappointment, the hurt, the sorrow. How lost and heartbroken I felt; how much it had pained me. I tell her about how I was when Rodrigo found me and everything we found out with Moretti’s help over the weekend.
Mari never interrupts me. She listens attentively, and doesn’t ask any
questions. She seems to be digesting it all, trying to figure out how the happy life we had suddenly became such a mess.
“And today we had a meeting with the shareholders. Zeca was let go from the management of his magazines and my father stepped in to take his place. Everyone involved was fired and the board of trustees will meet in a few days to discuss whether to take legal action against them or not.”
“Your brother just accepted it?” she asks, and I make a face when I remember the mess the meeting turned into.
“It was hard. Zeca made a scene, tried to solve things his own way, but we had made up our minds. My father said that if he didn’t leave on his own, the shareholders were authorized to call the police, which would be much worse for him.” I breathe deeply and move close to her, holding her hands between mine. “Forgive me, Mari. I know I was mean and that I should’ve trusted you, but I can’t lose you. My life is nothing without you. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone before. I can’t even think of not having you in my life.” I know I look and sound distraught, and when Mari faces me, her eyes are filled with tears. She lowers her head and releases my hands.
“I get it. I do, Cadu. I get how you felt, and I know it was all just a big misunderstanding, but we can’t be together anymore. Trust is the foundation of any relationship, and I don’t trust you anymore.”
“Mari, please . . .” I beg, but she shakes her head.
“I’m sorry, Cadu. I love you, but you humiliated me. I left the company accompanied by guards, as if I had done something terrible, and I didn’t even know what was happening!”
