Durante muitas sessões, ela sempre tomou muita atenção ao gabinete da sua analista. Sabia tudo ao pormenor. Quase que podia dizer quantos centímetros por mês crescia a planta que estava colocada na frente do divã. Terminada a sessão, ela tinha de sair, pelo que se despediu e voltou costas à analista e à escrivaninha. Ainda virou a cabeça novamente para trás, mas já a analista ocupava todo o espaço, não a deixando ver o papelinho novamente... Sair do edifício, andar pela rua, apanhar o metro, regressar a casa… tudo foi feito com o papel na cabeça. “Eu acho que tinha o nome dela lá escrito. Acho que vi: Isabel". Foi difícil esperar pelo dia seguinte. A hora que antecedeu a sessão, teve os minutos contados, um a um, até perfazerem sessenta. Um toque à campainha. Olá. Espreitar. Deitar. São quarenta e cinco minutos de espera e teria mais uma oportunidade. Aquele livro continua de pernas para o ar. Qualquer dia digo-lhe. "Bom, ficamos por aqui". Levantar. Lentamente... espreitei: " Isabel, amanhã falaremos melhor". Her attention was drawn to a piece of paper on the table . Not knowing how to do it, she began to think that she had to read it. She had to read it! During many sessions, she had always paid close attention to her analyst's office. She knew everything in detail. She could almost say how many centimeters per month the plant in front of the couch had grown. When the session ended, she had to leave, so she said goodbye and turned her back on the analyst and the table. She turned her head back, but the analyst was now occupying the entire space, preventing her from seeing the piece of paper again... Leaving the building, walking down the street, taking the subway, returning home... she did everything with the paper on her mind. “I think her name was written on it. I think I saw it: Isabel.” It was difficult to wait for the next day. The hour before the session, she counted the minutes, one by one, until they reached sixty. A ring of the doorbell. Hello. Peek. Lie down. Forty-five minutes of waiting and she would have another chance. That book is still upside down. One of these days I'll tell her. “Well, that's it for now.” Get up. Slowly... I peeked: “Isabel, we'll talk more tomorrow.”
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