Page 2 of The Secret Dinner

“They’re really a fine bunch of young men, you can trust them. I’m this one’s mother.”

She pointed at me like someone picking out a shoe from a shop window. I hated being part of the whole kid-leaves-the-countryside-to-make-it-big-in-the-city cliché. The ventriloquist feigned kindness:

“What are you studying?”

“Business.”

“Oh, nice,” he said, his face expressionless. “And what about you?”

“Medicine,” Miguel replied, looking down at his feet.

“He came in fifth place on the entrance exam,” I made sure to add.

Miguel’s parents had always worked for my parents. We grew up in the same house, raised as brothers. I was used to his shyness. Miguel preferred to stay under the radar rather than brag about his merits. In elementary school, he joined me and Piglet as one of the playground outcasts. Now psychology has a name for what eight-year-olds do to each other: bullying. But back then, in Pingo, he was just numbnuts, I was the queer, and our friend Leitão got the nickname Piglet, which is the only one that stuck. Leitão, his last name, actually means piglet in Brazil, so he likes it. Everyone still calls him that.

“Where are the other two?” asked Heitor.

“They’re staying behind in Pingo until we get everything taken care of.”

The agent coughed. Sweating and spitting into his handkerchief, he talked about the building fees, the twenty-four-hour doorman, and the parking space.

“Do you have a car?”

“Just the one.”

Our ride was a 2006 burgundy Ford Focus, affectionately nicknamed Bukowski. The four of us split gas money, registration fees, and maintenance expenses. Bukowski was our pride and joy, an old gas-guzzler for sure, but he could still take us on adventures. We all planned to drive him from Pingo to Rio next month, this time for good. It was definitely going to be a fun trip.

After a full tour, we returned to the living room. I sat on the couch, looking around each corner of that perfect apartment. With my hands pressed nervously against my knees, I looked at the others in awkward silence. The time had come.

I casually asked, “How much is the rent?”

The agent created some suspense: He looked up the exact amount on his phone and … Okay, I know I shouldn’t brag about luck, about wins I didn’t earn, but the price miraculously was within our budget. He explained that the owners were in a hurry to find a tenant. They’d been transferred for work and needed to have everything signed and sealed before they left the country. I was on cloud nine, but I tried not to show my excitement. I held back a smile and said: “Excellent.”

“You’ll need to put down three months’ rent for the deposit or provide a guarantor.”

“I’ll put down the deposit,” my mother quickly chimed in.

I should have refused, I know that now. Her favors always came at a price. Starting a new life in Rio with a crutch like that was bad news. But I gave in. I really wanted that apartment. I texted Piglet and Hugo, letting them know we’d found the perfect place.

In that moment, I felt lucky. There was still a long road ahead, but I’d taken the first step toward a brighter future. I would achieve everything there was to achieve, I would be rich, successful, and independent. Goodbye, rural, homophobic hometown! Goodbye, Mother and your snark! In that apartment, it felt like nothing could go wrong.

Boy, was I mistaken.

[Letter]

Rio de Janeiro, March 22, 2018

Hi Mom,

How are things?

I’m finally in Rio de Janeiro, can you believe it? The apartment Dante and Miguel found is amazing, it really is everything they said over the phone. I got the biggest room, with a view of a fancy hotel across the street that’s covered in mirrors. The street has a lot of trees and not much traffic. It even looks a little like Pingo, but in Copacabana. The nearest subway station is only two blocks away. Before classes start, I’ve been trying to get off at different stations and learn the city. Of course I went to see Christ the Redeemer. And I prayed for you, for Bishop Lygia and the entire congregation of the Universal Church of the Crucified Lord.

I found a church near the apartment too, with services on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and I’m thinking about joining. I mentioned to pastor Sérgio that you’re a deaconess together with Bishop Lygia, and he was so excited—he said he loves her, too. After the service, he invited me to his house and showed me his DVD collection. There were about four of the bishop’s sermons, including her show in Salvador, which is harder to find. We watched the DVDs and sang “The Father’s Anointed” and “Lord, Come Bless Me” and other lesser-known songs, like “Praise to the Glorious One,” “Count Your Blessings,” and “Heal Me, O Lord.”

I registered for my classes this week, too. The campus is gorgeous, like something out of a movie, with benches under the trees and grassy courtyards. I got a little stressed registering for all my classes. It’s crazy the amount of paperwork we have to submit. Anyway, I’m now officially a computer science major at PUC Rio de Janeiro! And a very proud one, thank you very much!

The apartment has everything you need close by (even closer than at home): a supermarket, a diner, a flower shop, a nail salon, a bakery, a dance studio, and at least three gyms. I know you must be worried about my weight, so you’ll be happy to know I joined one. They’ve got this cool weight-loss program for people like me, with a personal trainer and everything. The instructor has already put together a fitness plan for me, with a lot of cardio and some strength training to help me lose body fat. I went yesterday and again today, and I’m aiming to go tomorrow as well. And apparently on Thursdays there’s a farmer’s market nearby, a few blocks down. I’m planning to get some fruits and vegetables there. My idea is to completely cut out soda, chocolate, and fried foods and just stick to juice. It’ll help me feel healthier. You’ll be so proud when you come visit me. Your son in college and thin! Can it get any better than that?