His Own Man by Edgard Telles Ribeiro Read Free Book Online

words carried any special weight. Everything about his appearance suggested seriousness — yet he acted as if the last thing he expected was to be taken seriously.
    Perhaps because of that, or the slight hope that takes hold of someone shy confronted by the unexpected on a night train, Marina ended up being the one to utter the decisive line of the evening. After talking at length about their respective journeys in the somewhat nonchalant tone of people who didn’t harbor unrealistic expectations, Max pointed out that, with the train’s arrival at the station, their paths would part once more. She swallowed one last gulp of wine and took a deep breath before throwing down the gauntlet: “Unless fate works its wonders and brings us together again.”
    Not even the jesting tone in which the line was delivered had stripped the words of their subtext as Max heard it: fate … wonders … 
and fortune
, he had mused to himself.
    The next day, Marina confessed to a friend over the phone, “I don’t know where I got the courage to say something so ridiculous.” Before adding, not very convincingly, “It must have been the wine.” (
If you say so
, her friend was probably thinking on the other end of the line.)
    Marina knew perfectly well that her boldness was born of old longings. But she was unaware of the underlying cause: the flames of the small hearth fire built for two on that night train had been carefully kindled by Max.
    After dinner, the two had stayed in the dining car for more than an hour, peppering their conversation with longer and longer pauses. Marina gazed out at the small towns and villagesthey were passing through in the middle of the night, which seemed like apparitions, but in a shared dream. Every so often the train would go through a tunnel, and the two travelers’ profiles suddenly became visible in the fogged-up window, only to disappear again into the landscape. This left her feeling as if they’d gone off together toward glorious destinations, whereas the man seated across from her, contemplating the same scenery, saw things more pragmatically.
    Suddenly, as if overcome by a profound weariness, they retired to the cocoons of their respective sleeping compartments. They wanted to replay their conversations in the dark, to the rocking of the train, with no witnesses other than their own hopes and desires.
    Marina had admired the straightforward candor with which Max had spoken of his separation, even though the subject tugged at her heartstrings. Listening to details about the breakup of his relationship with his ex-wife, she discovered how alone she too had felt throughout her adolescence and early adult life. Without realizing it, she had wandered into unfamiliar territory, the sort of place where soul mates sometimes meet.
    Max didn’t sleep at all that night. Watching the succession of shadows that flickered on the ceiling of his cabin, he weighed the implications of this chance encounter. It seemed that suddenly, due to a whim of the gods, he would be able to take a decisive step toward reacquiring what he had always seen as his, thereby sealing the promise of a stellar future that had begun with his entrance into Itamaraty.
    He would say little about this encounter to his colleagues. For months, Marina remained shrouded in an aura of mystery, from which she rarely emerged, save in a photo published in some paper or the hushed sound of her voice on a whisper-filled phone call.
    I owe the detailed description of the train scene to her. We became friends over time, sounding each other out as weconducted separate investigations into the enigma that was Max. Whereas I sought more objective truths bearing on the realities of my career, Marina’s search would probe deeper, taking the form of an obsession in years to come.
    Why, Marina would ask herself, had Max stopped loving her as intensely as she did him? Why, after the wedding, had he begun to withdraw — compelling her to entangle