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…Sure, but first I gotta do one thing.

I woke up in a panic and looked at my phone. It was 7 in the morning.
I’d survived a very draining day, and had wound up getting a surprisingly uninterrupted, dreamless sleep.
Immediately the phone starting ringing, and I climbed down from the little loft to grab it, avoiding a giant tropical waterbug who was making his way across the hardwood floor.
“Alo?” I answered.
“Alo. It’s me, what are you doing?” Jonathan asked.
“Nothing, just woke up…”
“Narcisa wants to go for a helicopter ride…. what do you think?”
“Fuck. Yeah. Let’s go. I’m coming… Is she lucid?”
He explained to me that her run was short and concise, as I put my clothes on, the phone clamped between my ear and my shoulder. She had smoked crack for a few hours and then passed out. Her tolerance for the drug was becoming weaker and weaker. ”I’ll see you in a minute,” he told me as he hung up.
And I stood out on the veranda for a minute, wondering. Maybe my presence and positivity had something to do with Narcisa’s waning ability to successfully smoke crack.
After a few cigarettes out front, they pulled up on the motorcycle. Narcisa handed me a helmet.
I looked at Jonathan incredulously, then at my flipflops. Some gruesome accident scenarios flooded my head.
“What?” He said, “The two of you is like having one regular sized bitch on the back of my bike.” True, I thought… I got on in the middle. Narcisa squeezed me from behind.
“Where we going?” I asked, turning around to see her.
“To the Corcovado to ride on the helicopter. But first we go up on the spot so Narcisa can get the maconha.”
We cruised up the winding cobblestone roads, higher and higher up the hill until the road simply stopped, turning into footpath that led the way through the crooked favela.
She hopped off. “You coming?” She asked me.
I weighed my pros and cons. Wait on the motorcycle or go participate in some sordid dealing of a drug-trafficking slum with Narcisa…
I looked at Jonathan as I got off the bike, handing him my helmet.
“It’s safe.” He said. “Just keep your mouth shut”.
And that’s exactly what I did as I followed Narcisa up the path.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.

Joy Ride- first installment.

Narcisa’s eyes began to dart like pinballs around in her head. Like she was looking for the escape hatch, or more likely, looking around to make sure everyone was watching.
She drew a deep breath in and on the exhale emitted a low growl that built into a steady loud whine. “Go go go go go go go go. Gotta go now Cigano! Please please please. Go!”
She stood up like a venomous spider had just bitten her ass, and announced “I am leaving this place Cigano. Good bye.”
And she walked out the door, onto the busy street.
Jonathan looked at me and shook his head disapprovingly, shrugging.
“Whatever.” He said. “You guys go, I’ll stay here and pay.”
Things were about to get weird. I could feel it in the pre-dusk misty air as I walked out to find her.
“Narcisa?” I shouted.
“Yes! I’m right here!” She was across the street looking at diamonds in a glass case of a store.
Disregarding all traffic, she walked into the middle of the street, stood in front of a taxi and put her hand out.
“Come on Ale!”  She called to me.
I walked over and got in the cab. What else could I do?
“Where are you going?” The cabbie asked.
“We going up in Lapa right now okey? Go!”
It was silent for a minute. The traffic was thick.
“Where are you from?” The cabbie asked.
“Resende,” She answered.
“Really? Me too! I was just there…”
She nodded. It was silent again. The next question was a golf ball in my stomach.
“You smoke crack?” He asked.
“Yeah… why?”
“Me too…” He said. “You know about the extra terrestrials then…”
Narcisa sat up straight, her big eyes practically popping out of her perfectly round white face.
I looked at her pleadingly. It was too late…
I was in the middle of witnessing what I had heard about many times, Narcisa’s absurdly perverse synchronicity. This was the middle of a cosmic shit storm and, now already on the highway towards Cinelandia, I didn’t see any way out.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.

Healed or No Deal?

The Reike woman continued her healing process on Narcisa’s slumbering carcass, knowing that, in Narcisa’s case, sleep was just as crucial a form healing as any, since for the past two and a half years Narcisa had not once willingly fallen asleep. She was afraid of it, and it usually happened without her permission, as her body would often shut down between hits of crack or even mid-sentence.

This sleep was different and we all knew it.

It was peaceful and serene and nothing resembling the usual tormented nightmare reel that ran through Narcisa’s tortured brain every other time it’s been lights out. We all breathed silently, afraid to interrupt it.
A good twenty minutes went by, and she woke up as Ana Lucia finished her magic. Jonathan and I stared in awe, waiting for her to start speaking in tongues, or shape shift into an angel, or the devil… or anything.
Anything. A sign.

She lay still for a beat with her eyes lit up before looking over at Jonathan and suggesting in a half-whispered croak, “Sushi?”
“Uhh… Sure,” We both said, shuffling to our feet.

Ana Lucia chuckled as she handed Narcisa her clothes. As Jonathan thanked the healer profusely, Narcisa got dressed and it was big hugs and kisses all around as we left the building with an overwhelming sense of ease.

The sushi restaurant was closed so we settled on a kilo joint next door. Narcisa ran to the buffet while Jonathan and I claimed a table.

“So,” He whispered to me, looking back at Narcisa who was ritualistically plucking palm hearts from a big bowl of salad with her chopstick fingers. “What do you think?”
“I donno…” I replied. “It’s hard to tell.”
“More will be revealed, I guess,” Jonathan nodded as he stood up to go grab some food for himself.

Narcisa sat down next to me.
“Well?” I said.
“Well. I feel good,” she told me as she ravaged a plate of mashed potatoes and palm hearts. “I trust these lady, man. It’s hard to explain. She make me feel comfort-able…. Is only first time I can relax when some body putting the hands on me an’ I don’ feel like they gonna molesting to me.. Is good like these, an’ then I can relax, got it?”
I got it, alright. “I could tell you were relaxed.. you were snoring…” I laughed.
“Oh man, It was SO good. I don’ sleep like these in a long time.”

Jonathan returned from the buffet with his plate of food, smiling brightly. We were all having a pretty successful day and he was finally letting his guard down enough to show it, which is the reason why, I believe, it was precisely that moment that Narcisa was hit full-force with a wave of madness.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.

Hopeful Encounters, Elephant Slippers and My Narrow Escape from the Jaws of Death for the Umpteenth Time…

“Stop here!” Narcisa yelled to the cabbie, putting her hand on his shoulder. We were in the middle of traffic, but she jumped out anyway while I waited for him to pull over so I could once again pay, this time with money I made Jonathan cough up.
The back neighborhoods of Copacabana were bustling with bikes and cars and skinny beggars, and Jonathan was sitting on a corner waiting for us on his motorcycle.
I smiled at him in good faith, relieved to know that Narcisa had once again not duped by either flipping the fuck out on me or taking me hostage up to the roving favelas where, in my head, she was at any given second about to lure me into the boca, take all my money and leave me for dead as Urubu buzzards and little boys with over-sized machine guns would poke and probe my dying body like cartoon characters.
Anyway, he was relieved to see us too I think.
“Oi, Cigano!” Narcisa shouted as cars honked and dodged her, missing her lanky frame by centimeters. “Let’s go into this store! We got some time, right?”
“Yeh, you’re appointment’s in fifteen minutes,” he said, looking at his watch.
We walked into the little thrift store and her eyes lit up as she picked up a pair of slippers that were shaped like elephants. “I must have these Cigano!” she whined.
I picked up a small white gown and thought of Jonathan’s ex, Amy Fields and her husband Noah Levine, who just had a baby girl.
He knew what I was thinking. “That’s perfect!” He said as he put it on the counter with the elephant slippers.
Narcisa grabbed a purple hat and sweater and added them to the pile, along with a motley assortment of Zoo Cards that featured photographs and descriptions of all the members of the reptile family.
“What the fuck do you need these for???” He asked her.
“Is for the e’speriments, Cigano, you’ll see…” she explained as she dragged a floor lamp and a coffee mug shaped like a palm tree over to the counter.
“Right… Hey Sailor, I got you a present,” he said as he handed me a little key chain with an anchor on it, an homage to my nickname, and my epic Pirate-themed back-piece . “Happy Birthday!”
“Yes, Happy Birthday! You almost as old as the Narcisa!” she added, tangled up in what appeared to be a telephone cord.
I laughed and thanked him for his on-the-fly thoughtful gesture and after packing up all of our new things, untangling Narcisa from whatever mess she’d gotten herself into and haggling with the sales clerk, we were back on the street.
“Okay, I’m ready to be healed!” Narcisa exclaimed. Jonathan and I nodded as we walked toward Ana Lucia’s office for the much-anticipated Reike healing session.
When we arrived, Ana Lucia greeted us. First, she gave Jonathan an understanding and compassionate embrace. I could see tears begin to well up in his eyes. Things were hopeful…
As she gave me a big long hug I could feel her energy and warmth passing gently through my body. Narcisa’s eyes immediately lit up upon contact with hers.
This woman was a powerful healing spirit manifested in the body of a four-foot-tall plump little thing with frizzy hair, that much was evident.
She led us up the stairs and into a tiny room with a small brown cot, and a wide array of stones and candles, ordering Narcisa to undress.
Narcisa stripped off her clothes and proceeded to lie on a table where Ana Lucia put purple gems on her naked body.
“Iss coooold!” Narcisa laughed.
She wrapped Narcisa in a blanket, and told her to relax. I could see Jonathan was crying, and I started crying too.
Narcisa was full of life and she emitted a sepia-toned aura as her muscles tensed and her clenched fists finally opened.
Ana Lucia smiled, put a finger to her ear as if to say listen.
Narcisa was snoring.

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.

“I’m so tired” Narcisa said suddenly, out of breath. She lay down by a waterfall in the park.
“We’re supposed to go see Ana Lucia the Reike healer, remember?” Jonathan reminded her.
“I know Cigano but I’m just so…. tired…” She closed her eyes.
We sat there for a while without saying anything until Narcisa’s eyes popped open. “Pumpkin soup! Now! Go!”
And she sprinted back down towards the art school cafeteria. We followed behind her and sat down next to her at a small table. The old woman who’d witnessed her pushing the cat in the pool an hour earlier looked at us with a mix of trepidation and pity.
Narcisa ordered her pumpkin soup, and I ordered a tomato soup.
Jonathan ordered a cold soft drink.
We waited for the soup to come as Narcisa’s eyelids grew heavier. When it came she scarfed it down without conversation.
Then she belched loudly. “Tiiiii-red.” She repeated.
“I know, Princess, but Ana Lucia is expecting us at 4. Why don’t we go to Copacabana for a while and wait there?”
“Good. We go then.” She got up and left, disregarding the bill, naturally.
“Stupid cat,” she muttered as she walked by the fountain again.
We caught up to her and Jonathan started up the bike to give her a lift to the bottom of the hill, since at that point she had resided to half-dragging herself down it like a broken robot saying “Tiiiii-red Cigano… so so tiiii-red.”
She slept the whole taxi ride to the beach. We got out at the last kiosk before the little military fort separating Copacabana from Ipanema. Jonathan was already there, typing away on his Crackberry, eating an ice cream bar. 

Narcisa rubbed her eyes, looked at the ice cream bar, and then the feeding frenzy was on. She snatched the ice cream from him, quick as a gila monster, swallowing the whole thing in one bite and spitting out the stick. She then called over a boy who was selling empadas and ordered four guava and cheese flavored ones. When she was done with that she called over another boy who was selling “Globo” wafer biscuits, ravaged those, crumbs flying all over the place. Pigeons began to crowd around the mess.
“Get away!” She spat as more crumbs flew out of her mouth.
“You planning on eating any of that?” Jonathan laughed.
“I love you Cigano! You are the beautiful man.” She said as, squeezing his head, she kissed his cheek. “Now we must go to see the Ana Lucia!”
He looked at his watch and nodded. “Okay, yeah. Let’s go.”
Narcisa stomped at a few pigeons and yelled at a taxi that came to a screeching halt.
“Come Alessandra we have to go!”
I jumped in the cab. “See you there!” I yelled to Jonathan, not sure at this point if “there” was even where we were headed….

NOTIFICAÇÃO: Os eventos relatados neste site são contos de ficção registrados na Biblioteca Nacional com todos os direitos autorais revertidos ao autor Jonathan Shaw e Alessandra DeBenedetti. Os personagens mencionados são inteiramente fictícios. Certos eventos, personagens, lugares e relatos, foram baseados em fatos reais, porém qualquer semelhança a qualquer pessoa viva ou morta se trata de pura coincidência. As várias fotografias apresentadas se encontram com o rosto distorcido para preservar o anonimato das modelos que representam personagens fictícios.