A Night with the Brazilians
On Friday night I finally went to "Born in the Brothels," a film I've been trying to see for three months, with Tim. Tim and I have a special relationship, when we met in China we almost instantly had crushes on each other; he's beautiful and charming. We kissed in bars when nobody was looking and held hands when running across the street. The Brazilian and I had a very innocent relationship. When things ended, we stopped kissing in bars, but we kept falling asleep up against each other. He has a little sister my age and I don't think if he's ever really figured out if he wants to be my boyfriend or big brother, so he's kind a hybrid of both...he's my Brazilian love consultant.
Tim and I watched the movie leaning up against each other. Afterward I met his little sister, she was really sweet. It was nice to see Tim with her, it somehow made him more real. They were funny together, the way siblings who love each other are, tall and thin next to the sink discussing the plans for the night, while I sat quietly drinking my wine at the table. Occasionally his sister would turn to me, ask a question, then turn smiling back to Tim and continue the conversation. They had the same accent. We all went out, by this time another Brazilian and an Argentinian had joined us.
We all arrived at the Barking Dog in Bethesda at about 1:00 a.m. after running around in Adams Morgan. There were more Brazilians there. One of them didn't stop watching me, I tried just to pay attention to Tim and his sister. We all left when the lights came on, diplomat cars racing through Maryland, and went back to another Brazilian's apartment. They made Brazilian drinks, I tried to avoid mine because I was somehow twice as drunk as everyone else; Tim's sister drank mine for me. I heard stories about thier home, how their mother or their workers made the drinks we were drinking as soon as they woke up, their favorite was when it was made with passion fruit.
When the boy who had been watching me in the bar would get too close, Tim's sister would break in and ask about his girlfriend; he wasn't deterred, neither was she. She was protective of me, I was Tim's. I crawled across the carpet and sat next to Tim after a while, within minutes we were lying on the floor next to each other arguing gently.
When we were in China, Tim used to call me his "China Doll" because he horrified me so often; "I have to be careful what I say around you...or you might break," he said grinning at me one night. I was raised by a debutant and he's a Brazilian. My boyfriends behave around me, and so do their friends, everyone straightens up and flies right when I come into the room; even raftguides. Tim tries his best. He explained how boys work to me in the back of cabs, the way they think and why they do what they do. I think he quietly hates everyone I date. A little smile came across his face Friday night as I ate my dinner with our drinks; he said, "You even eat your chips like a queen."
"Are you making fun of me?" I asked with raised eyebrows and my hurt puppy look.
He's eyes got serious. "No," he said shaking his head. "You eat very nicely, we're in a bar, but still you eat very nicely." Five minutes later he told me he'd slept with one of my friends. Five minutes after that he started making fun of the boys I like. Fifteen minutes later we were leaning up against each other at "Born in the Brothels." Seven hours later I found myself lying on the white carpet of a Brazilian's apartment gently arguing with him about who he was to me. One hour later they dropped me off at my dorm room and before I got out of the car, Tim hugged me like he meant it.
Tim and I watched the movie leaning up against each other. Afterward I met his little sister, she was really sweet. It was nice to see Tim with her, it somehow made him more real. They were funny together, the way siblings who love each other are, tall and thin next to the sink discussing the plans for the night, while I sat quietly drinking my wine at the table. Occasionally his sister would turn to me, ask a question, then turn smiling back to Tim and continue the conversation. They had the same accent. We all went out, by this time another Brazilian and an Argentinian had joined us.
We all arrived at the Barking Dog in Bethesda at about 1:00 a.m. after running around in Adams Morgan. There were more Brazilians there. One of them didn't stop watching me, I tried just to pay attention to Tim and his sister. We all left when the lights came on, diplomat cars racing through Maryland, and went back to another Brazilian's apartment. They made Brazilian drinks, I tried to avoid mine because I was somehow twice as drunk as everyone else; Tim's sister drank mine for me. I heard stories about thier home, how their mother or their workers made the drinks we were drinking as soon as they woke up, their favorite was when it was made with passion fruit.
When the boy who had been watching me in the bar would get too close, Tim's sister would break in and ask about his girlfriend; he wasn't deterred, neither was she. She was protective of me, I was Tim's. I crawled across the carpet and sat next to Tim after a while, within minutes we were lying on the floor next to each other arguing gently.
When we were in China, Tim used to call me his "China Doll" because he horrified me so often; "I have to be careful what I say around you...or you might break," he said grinning at me one night. I was raised by a debutant and he's a Brazilian. My boyfriends behave around me, and so do their friends, everyone straightens up and flies right when I come into the room; even raftguides. Tim tries his best. He explained how boys work to me in the back of cabs, the way they think and why they do what they do. I think he quietly hates everyone I date. A little smile came across his face Friday night as I ate my dinner with our drinks; he said, "You even eat your chips like a queen."
"Are you making fun of me?" I asked with raised eyebrows and my hurt puppy look.
He's eyes got serious. "No," he said shaking his head. "You eat very nicely, we're in a bar, but still you eat very nicely." Five minutes later he told me he'd slept with one of my friends. Five minutes after that he started making fun of the boys I like. Fifteen minutes later we were leaning up against each other at "Born in the Brothels." Seven hours later I found myself lying on the white carpet of a Brazilian's apartment gently arguing with him about who he was to me. One hour later they dropped me off at my dorm room and before I got out of the car, Tim hugged me like he meant it.