A Reason to Stay

On Christmas Eve my column was in the paper in Toronto. Dana had put it on the front page after all, in the space she had kept for me, small, at the bottom, under a photograph of a snowstorm. Nobody would share it. My father printed it out on the old printer in the back of the shop. He read it standing up, with his glasses on his nose. Then he folded it and put it in his wallet, behind the photograph of my mother. He didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t need to.

Na véspera de Natal, a minha coluna saiu no jornal de Toronto. A Dana pôs afinal a coluna na primeira página, no espaço que tinha guardado para mim, pequena, em baixo, debaixo da fotografia de uma tempestade de neve. Ninguém ia partilhá-la. O meu pai imprimiu-a na impressora velha, nos fundos da loja. Leu-a de pé, com os óculos na ponta do nariz. Depois dobrou-a e guardou-a na carteira, atrás da fotografia da minha mãe. Não disse nada sobre ela. Não precisava.

At five o’clock the children’s play began in the church. I had never seen a nativity play go so wrong. The stable shook. The star fell on one of the kings. A shepherd was sick. And at the end, the angel with the big line stood up and froze. So the angel next to her took her hand, and a shepherd who had no lines at all said it with them: “Do not be afraid.” The whole church laughed and cried at the same time. The shepherd was Amara.

Às cinco horas começou na igreja o auto de Natal das crianças. Nunca tinha visto um auto de Natal correr tão mal. O estábulo tremeu. A estrela caiu em cima de um dos reis. Um pastor vomitou. E no fim, o anjo com a frase grande levantou-se e ficou parado. Então o anjo ao lado pegou-lhe na mão, e um pastor que não tinha falas disse a frase com elas: “Não tenham medo.” A igreja inteira riu e chorou ao mesmo tempo. O pastor era a Amara.

After the play, the children walked across the square to the hospital in their costumes, through the snow. Their parents went with them, and Father Tom, and a bishop in a tall hat. I walked with them, at the back. Clara Novak had got her yes from the hospital after all. I had phoned them three times to help, and Father Tom had asked the bishop, and here we were.

Depois do auto, as crianças atravessaram a praça até ao hospital, com os trajes, pela neve. Os pais foram com elas, e o Father Tom, e um bispo de chapéu alto. Eu fui com eles, atrás. Afinal, a Clara Novak tinha conseguido o sim do hospital. Eu tinha-lhes telefonado três vezes para ajudar, e o Father Tom tinha pedido ao bispo, e ali estávamos.

The ward was on the fourth floor. There were eight beds. In the one by the window was a big man, with something hard under his blanket that held his back straight. His face, when he saw the children come in, changed completely. Amara ran to him in her shepherd’s costume, with a tea towel on her head.

A enfermaria ficava no quarto andar. Havia oito camas. Na que estava junto à janela estava um homem grande, com uma coisa dura debaixo do cobertor que lhe mantinha as costas direitas. A cara dele, quando viu as crianças entrar, mudou por completo. A Amara correu para ele com o traje de pastora, com um pano de cozinha na cabeça.

The children sang “Silent Night”, the oldest of all the carols, to the whole ward. Some of them sang it well, and most of them sang it loudly. The nurses stood in the doorway. The man in the next bed cried, and said it was his cold.

As crianças cantaram a “Noite Feliz”, a mais antiga de todas as canções de Natal, para toda a enfermaria. Algumas cantaram-na bem, e a maioria cantou-a alto. As enfermeiras ficaram à porta. O homem da cama ao lado chorou e disse que era da constipação.

When the song was over, Amara came and found me at the back. I don’t know how she knew me. Maybe she had seen me on the square. She was holding a cream envelope, soft from being opened many times.

Quando a canção acabou, a Amara veio ter comigo ao fundo. Não sei como me conhecia. Talvez me tivesse visto na praça. Tinha na mão um envelope cor de creme, mole de tantas vezes ter sido aberto.

“Saint Nicholas wrote to me,” she said. “He said Christmas would come to my dad. Look.” She pointed at the children, the nurses, her father laughing with a king. “It came.”

“O São Nicolau escreveu-me”, disse ela. “Disse que o Natal ia chegar ao meu pai. Olha.” Apontou para as crianças, para as enfermeiras, para o pai a rir com um rei. “Chegou.”

“So it did,” I said.

“Pois chegou”, disse eu.

“Do you think he really is Saint Nicholas?” she asked. “The one who writes?”

“Achas que ele é mesmo o São Nicolau?”, perguntou. “O que escreve?”

I thought about Edith at her round table, with her eyes closed, thinking for a long time before she answered. I thought about Ben with the pen. I thought about Mr Doyle, who didn’t want to know.

Pensei na Edith à mesa redonda, de olhos fechados, a pensar muito tempo antes de responder. Pensei no Ben com a caneta. Pensei no Sr. Doyle, que não queria saber.