The pout and the chattering teeth.

8 min readOct 21, 2022

Full text; I gave up doing a series of Short Forms

And because of this guy, I got the cacoethes.

I wrote “Who I am”; there is a paragraph that explains the title of this text.

Anyone who has read it knows that Darilma lived next door; she was pretty and graceful, I liked her, we talked, we did crossword puzzles, and she played the piano for me. There I said that I didn’t know how to date and that I only understood why after many years of psychoanalysis.

We never went out alone, and we never went to movies, but she said she loved the guy’s pout.

I went to check: I went to see a movie of his.

There were two in theatres on Sunday: Amarga Esperança (Bitter Hope), at 10, and Feast of the Devil (The Rope; this one never!

I watched Bitter Hope, already knowing I wouldn’t like the movie, but wanted to see Farley Granger’s pout in action.

I didn’t understand what she saw on his lips, but I returned home already training to pull my lower lip out.

I had lunch and went to sit in the living room which has a window facing Darilma’s house.

I opened War and Peace to the page where the bookmark was.

I heard Darilma playing the piano for someone, talking, and laughing.

I slammed the window violently!

Chattering teeth

It was the first time I snapped my teeth together, hard, and pul my lower lip even lower.

My mother came running,

̶ Flavio! What happened?

̶ I can’t read with this noise!

My mother just said,

̶ Eduardo is sleeping.

He was already seven years old…

I think she thought I did it out of jealousy.

It was not; it was desperation to miss the once-in-a-lifetime chance to have a woman I could learn to date. Possessiveness.

I closed the doors to the living room, bathroom, and kitchen, went to my room opened the window overlooking the side street, where Ziembinski lived.

Wonderful! He, who always works at the theatre every Saturday and Sunday, happened to be at home; I went to read listening to his wonderful classical music, from his 12-inch vinyl, performed by his impressive hi-fi ensemble.

The next day

I continued reading; sometimes, instinctively, he chattered his teeth and stretched his lip.

I fell asleep reading the book; my mother told me that I needed to go to the dentist because I had bruxism; she heard me scraping my teeth in my sleep.

I got home from school at noon; I was lucky, I took the bus that left Praça da Liberdade and the traffic was flowing well.

Freedom Square today; at that time the bus lines were where the tents are, next to the Igreja Das Almas Dos Enforcados, and in the back street, Rua dos Aflitos.

My mother always waited for me to have lunch together; me from my mean, weak, and tasteless classes, except physics; her busy and rich morning, the people who came to visit her and ask for advice, the work to build a church in Jardim da Saúde, conversations with neighbour Marilda, Darilma’s mother…

̶ Flavio! This is not bruxism! You’re chatting your teeth by day! Why?

I hadn’t even realized.

̶ I don’t know, Mom; it also happened to me in the class of the stinky, boring and angry Frei… (I prefer not to mention the poor guy’s name).

̶ When nervous and angry that I couldn’t express, I understand; but here we are so relaxed and peaceful…

True; I don’t know why, it seems to have become a cacoethes.

̶ Try to get rid of it: it’s unpleasant.

I listened to Mr Otto’s Opel,

Darilma’s father, entering the garage; when I he a break at Byington e Cia, which was the reason for the birth of Fazenda Itahyê, or a service that he would perform near the centre, he would bring her from the Conservatório Dramático e Musical de São Paulo (Dramatic and Musical Conservatory of São Paulo)[3].

I heard her voice, happy, telling his mother and brother Carlos (Carlinhos) about her success,

Mom! I got promoted to third grade!

And went to lunch.

I held the conversation and went to the office to do the lessons. A chatter of teeth escaped.

̶ Flavio!

Sorry. I’m trying hard, but this one escaped.

After having lunch and telling the details of how and why she was promoted to mother and brother Carlos, she went through the gate that my father and Seu Otto made at the bottom of the wall that separated our houses,

̶ Lady Bebé, where is Flavio? I need to tell him something.

̶ He is in the office doing his lessons; go there; he will be happy.

̶ Flavio!

The chattering stoped.

She sat down in the narrow chair, which was what fit in the office beside the table and my chair, and started to tell how it had been, who had called her to take her to the board…

I sincerely, happily, complimented her.

No more fuss, but I didn’t forget to hang my lip; but she, it seems, did not notice.

Three years later

Three years went by fast, as I remember them now, certainly not back then.

I continued to chatter my teeth.

Mr Otto took us for walks: Once he took us all to Santos and São Vicente, six crammed into the Opel! I didn’t knock teeth on the way.

Darilma went on to the fifth year, Carlos joined the Aeronautics Institute of Technology — Ita in 1953, and I joined Politechnic School and CPOR in ’54. I could only rest on breaks every three months at CPOR; I had to regain energy, and still do university work left behind.

Seventy-six years later

I married Darilma, unmarried, and we continue to love each other, talk to each other and visit always, directly or through our three children — she never wanted to have a cell phone — we see each other, through them, by video.

I learned to date: Set a beggar on horseback and he will ride to hell…

I love and adore women; I admire them and respect them. I was happy dating many all of them, and they liked me (I believe they still do), with some, I still talk, by messages or phone.

I had wonderful passions from which I learned a lot.

In one, I ended up getting married.

I spent four weeks alone with my son on his farm; wife and children were in France; she was seeing parents and friends, her daughter, almost eight years old, already knew them and speaks fluent French; the boy, two and a half years old, got along with his grandparents and so many cousins, communicated someway; when he came back, speaks French mixed with Portuguese; cute, smart boy.

I went there, not only to be close to him but to help him, as I could, in the complementary — indeed supplementary — constructions of his house.

He, a farmer, would wake up — as usual — at five-thirty, go get fodder for the cattle, feed the dogs, the pigs, the chickens, the horse. Me, when it wasn’t too cold (hell, it was winter and it’s very cold there) he would wake me up at eight; very cold? At nine-thirty. Tired, we slept at ten at night.

If I got up at eight, I would help him fill sacks of fodder; eight normally, 16 if there was a forecast of rain in the next few days, or if we were going to leave the next day.

I suspect it was in the second week, he came to see me in bed, I was still half asleep,

Dad! You are chattering your teeth hard, you have bruxism.

̶It is not bruxism, son, but I don’t know why it came back!

it returned? What is it then?

̶ A cacoethes that I had a long time ago, and that I got rid of completely; I don’t know why it reappeared now.

At the time of the cacoethes, I helped a lot in the expansion and renovation of our house in Jardim da Saúde, I was young and strong, I helped a lot, I raised walls, and sometimes Darilma came to see what I knew how to do, and said, “Be careful not to fall!”. Behold, when I was laying the last row of the inner wall of the kitchen expansion, the brick slipped, I jumped in time and landed on my feet, but I luxed my right ankle; no problem: the next day I finished the job.

Here, I helped him build a very large new outdoor kitchen-dining room with an oven and wood stove.

I helped him build walls by handing him bricks, delivering and picking up tools to build the roof structure then sanding the bricks on the inside and outside walls.