Lakes like Blue Whales
A sequel to Hemingway’s Hills like White Elephants
The lakes of the island of Santa Catharina were wide and blue. They laid right below green hills in which there was a small and simple gazebo. At the other side of the lakes vast dunes led to a beach and the Atlantic Ocean could be seen far away. It was a cold winter in the southern hemisphere and the Sun was almost setting down on the opposite side of the hill. The girl and her Peruvian friend could hear the kids close to them speaking Portuguese. A man who seemed to be their father went back to his car, an old Chevrolet AC International, while the woman, apparently their mother, tried to make the kids stop running.
“Do you understand what they’re saying?” the girl asked. She had stopped looking at the lakes and now the kids had her full attention.
“Not really,” the other woman said. “You know that in Peru we speak Spanish, right? Here, in Brazil, they speak Portuguese.”
“Sure, but I thought both languages were similar.”
“Not that much. I know some Portuguese, but only if they speak slowly.”
The mother had finally managed to take her kids to the car where the father seemed to be waiting impatiently.
“Are you all right?” asked the Peruvian woman, worried about her friend.
“Yes, I am.” said the girl, who gave one last look at the family as they drove away.
“So how do you like them?”
“Them what?” the girl seemed distracted.
“The lakes.”
“Oh, they’re fine! I wish we had time to bath on them.” said the girl, looking back at the lakes.
“You know they are actually the same lake? They connect under that bridge,” said the other woman “And it’s not a real lake too, it’s a lagoon. It seems that it is linked to the ocean somewhere north of here.”
“How do you know that?”
“The guy from the hotel told me.”
The girl looked back at the street.
“Do you wanna talk about what you’re feeling?” the friend asked.
“What do you mean?”
“It has been more than five years.”
“No, it hasn't,” said the girl, firmly. “We’re still in July.”
“I’m sorry…”
“It’s OK,” the girl interrupted her friend quickly.
The Peruvian woman walked away and sat down by the edge of the gazebo. The sky was turning darker and a few stars could be seen by the far east.
“We should be walking back to the hotel.”
“Do you ever feel lonely?” the girl asked, looking at the lakes and at the ocean far away.
“Yes, sometimes I do,” answered her friend.
“How do you deal with that?”
“I don’t think it’s a problema,” the friend said, looking up. “Sometimes I love to be all by myself.”
“Aren't you afraid?”
“Why would I be?”
“I don’t know…” the girl crossed her arms. “It’s getting colder.”
“You know me very well by now. I don’t think it’s a problem to be independent. ¡Todo lo contrario! I really think we, women, should be able to live our lives the way we want to.”
“Sure…”
“You’re never going to see me singing I Wanna Be Loved By You.”
“OK, I get it,” finished the girl. “Can we go now?”
“Can you stop running away?”
“I’m not.”
“I know you regret what you did, but at the time you didn't have much of a choice.”
“No, I didn't…”
“And I want you to know that now you can choose, you don’t have to follow what other people say, you don’t have to depend on men…”
“It’s not that easy, you know? You've never been in my shoes.”
“I know that. But I’m a woman as well, so don’t tell me life has been easy on me, tu sabes lo que he pasado y lo que estoy pasando…”
“Yes, I know it.”
“So be strong, stick with me…”
“But I feel…” the girl hold her breath before the next word, “…lonely.”
“You have me.”
“It’s hard.”
“It’s hard when you’re doubtful.” after saying that, the Peruvian friend stood up and noticed that the girl was still looking at the lakes. She started walking away quietly, reaching the street and walking down the hill the opposite side from the lakes. As she walked away she whispered “Lo siento.”
“The lakes, they look like blue whales,” the girl said, unaware of her friend’s absence. “I've never seen a whale.”
She kept looking at the lakes. It was completely dark when a car passed by the street, calling the girl’s attention. She recognized it. The same family that left some minutes ago was back.
“They’re…” the girl said it, looking for her friend, realizing that she was not there anymore.
The mother got out of the car, walking in the direction of the gazebo. The girl could hear one of the kids crying inside the vehicle.
“Olá, com licença, você viu alguma chupeta por aqui? Meus filhos estavam aqui mais cedo e um deles perdeu a chupeta, agora ele não para de chorar.” the mother said with a desperate look.
“Oh, I’m… sorry… uhn, no portuguese, no hablo, sorry.”
“Ah, a moça é estrangeira, tudo bem.” said the mother, wandering around as if she was looking for something she had lost.
Instinctively the girl started looking around as well, but she did not find anything unfamiliar in the gazebo. It did not take long until the mother was back to the car and the family drove away one more time.
The girl, alone in the gazebo, decided to leave too. She took one last look at the lakes, now reflecting the dark sky, and left. As she walked to the street she stepped into a yellow pacifier. The girl took it from the ground and immediately realized that was probably the reason the kid was crying in the car. She kept staring at the pacifier for a moment and then she walked around, looking for something. Close to the gazebo the girl found a garbage can, she threw the pacifier there and went down the hill, unhesitating.
