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— Q-q-quem é você?! (W-w-who are you?!) — I stammered, and flinched again at the sound of my own voice. Here, in this silence, I could hear it even more clearly — I sounded like some idealized Latina soap opera actress. Even my scared tone sounded fucking enchanting.
— É você? Você fez isso comigo?! (Is it you? Did you do this to me?!)
She laughed again — low, drawn-out, with that particular tone that carried not just mockery, but that unbearable, feminine superiority, the kind an older, powerful woman gives a naive girl who’s just slipped into her first heels and thinks she suddenly understands life.
— Ai, menina doce, estúpida e ingênua... claro que fui eu, quem mais poderia ter feito isso? (Ah, sweet, stupid, naive little girl… of course it was me, who else could’ve done this?) — she said, and in that moment I felt exactly like that. Stupid, naive, and… a girl. Standing in front of someone older… like a mother, with that sinking feeling you’ve just said something dumb — and yeah, that’s exactly how I felt. Standing there, shoulders almost hunched like I was waiting for a slap on the back of the head instead of an answer. Though… deep down I knew: the answer would scare me a hell of a lot more.
— Eu... eu não entendo... (I... I don’t understand...) — I began, but stopped myself, feeling that same shame again, like I was saying something stupid, and I dropped my gaze to the floor.
She stood so close that the air between us felt like it was drawn to her, obeying not physics but her gaze. I instinctively took a half-step back, but froze immediately — because her hand, with long fingers and nails like a carnival queen’s, slowly reached out — almost tenderly — and stopped right near my cheek. Not touching. Just commanding me to stay. And I stayed.
— Você realmente não percebe? (You really don’t get it?) — she said, looking at me like I wasn’t just dumb, but dangerously stupid.
— Foi você quem pediu, minha linda. (It was you who asked for this, my beautiful.)
I blinked. My fingers curled into fists, my tits rose with a sharp breath, then dropped heavily, like they were reminding me — you’re not just standing here, you’re standing in a body where even breathing is a goddamn event. I had no idea how to answer.
— Eu... eu só... (I... I just...) — I started, but went quiet. What could I say? That it was a joke? That I didn’t think anyone was listening?
She tilted her head slightly, her curls spilling over her shoulders, gleaming in that white light that somehow illuminated everything without even seeming to exist. In her eyes there was something… unbearably womanly. That thing that makes a woman a woman.
— “Se eu pudesse, ficaria aqui para sempre...” (If I could, I’d stay here forever...) — she repeated, looking straight into my soul.
— Você sussurrou para o mar, e o mar ouviu. (You whispered it to the sea, and the sea heard me.)
I gasped.
— Mas... eu não quis dizer... eu... eu sou um homem! (But… I didn’t mean it… I… I’m a man!) — I blurted, feeling how the word “homem” (man) made my new body twitch, like it was rejecting that lie on its own.