The Final Red Light

The Final Red Light - I

Gerardo, motionless in the quiet darkness of the amphitheatre, waiting for the signaling beam which would diminish the identical faces of the crowd into a blur of blinding red light, announcing the symbolic death and rebirth of the unnamed dancer/warrior. The final act was the most startling for Gerardo, and a thousand more performances wouldn't fade the anxiety which it provoked. He was certainly not the most inexperienced amongst the cast (a few years had rendered him competent in his act) but compared to those whom he shared the stage with, he could only ever dance in the shadows of giants. Though the most seasoned dancer in the final act could feel its heavy presence, and with the final dance of the year they would rejoice in a few months of bliss before being subject to those damming red lights, which would almost feel unfamiliar every time. A constant renewed feeling of naked vulnerability.

The red light snapped with a sharp echo and the faint violin stopped unaesthetically, and the piano keys started to chime in. Slow, intermittent, repetitions of the same low frequencies would almost distort the dancers into forgetting their purpose, their origins, their beings, but Ronaldo would break the limbo of maddening metronome and jump to his feet, looking for his partner with whom he would complete his dance and in turn, his life. Ronaldo reaches to the skies as the red light turns violet, then blue, and with the singing of the organs, he turns to extend his hand to Sophia for one last dance to the heavens, when he is met with the slicing of his fingers by a long dagger which would then plunge into throat, at the hands of Sophia. The final act concluded as Gerardo acted the ghost of Ronaldo’s shell, dancing alone to the infinities of purgatory, through to paradise.

Back stage, the assistants and stage hands were all handing out orange juice and wet towels. In this play for some reason, it felt like intimacy with death itself. Five or so minutes after the curtains fell, like every other night, the silenced gasps of the crowds broke into exuberant cheers and roars. The momentary uncertainty of the crowds was that which the dancers and producers lived with for many sleepless twilights. Those moments of recollection after the show were of profound loneliness and were silently abysmal, like having one's head, ears and eyes wrapped in a heavy wet blanket. After the initial shock passed, the crew would appear normal once again.

- What are you doing this season? - Asked Ronaldo, referring to the brief intermission between the play and the other side. 

- I was planning to go back home but I think I’ll travel alongside the circus for the first month at least, just to save on travel costs and accommodation. What about yourself? - Replied Gerardo whilst taking off his dance shoes and socks, exposing his calloused and blistered feet.

Ronaldo gave a loud but brief exaltation of laughter - We always end up doing the same thing and every time we end up following the tour. I was thinking of asking Sophia to stay with me in São Paulo. Gerardo returned the laugh - You said the same thing to me last time when we were in Rio, and I believe you said the same thing in Lima, too. 

As Gerardo finished putting on his runners, Sophia approached and sat down with a sigh of relief - Ah, I feel like I've just run a marathon. I was going to leave tonight but I’ll stay and help the guys pack up. I think we should be done by tomorrow night, or Sunday morning.

Ronaldo looked at Gerardo and fainted a subtle smile then glanced back at Sophia - I might stay too and help out, the sooner this gets cleared up… Sophia returned the grin which wasn't intended for her and sarcastically said - You’re not staying back for my sake are you, Ronaldo? She chuckled harder than she would have liked and leaned in and kissed Ronaldo and Gerardo on the cheeks and bid them goodnight. Gerardo and Ronaldo stayed for an indeterminable while longer to chat, the anxiety of the final act had begun to settle and they fell into conversation. 

What if we break the norm this season? - mentioned Ronaldo - What do you mean? - Gerardo replied curiously - Why don’t we spend a week in Santa Catarina? The beaches are incredible, and we can see from there. I’ll ask Sophia to join, too! Gerardo shaped his mouth and raised his brow as he distantly gazed, like an unheard, but familiar song just started playing - That’s not a bad idea. Last time we were in the south of Brazil we barely touched the sand. And the Ilha Do Campeche is said to be immaculate, warm glass-like waters with fish which find your feet. Why not? I could use a tan. I feel like the long and nightly exposure to the red lights… Ronaldo raised his head suddenly and pierced Gerardo with angered eyes - Don’t say it, please - My bad - he responded, with guilty eyes. 

Paradise - II

Ilha Do Campeche was all and more. The words spoken to Gerardo about the island and the photos seemed like perverse abstractions and could never have done them justice, he thought. Possibly twenty or thirty meters of a slanted hill of white sand separated the jungle’s trees, which seemed a world of their own, with the steadily moving, tranquil waves of the warm transparent waters. The Coatis waddled along with their tiny feet on the sands in groups of ten or so, large ones and small, leaving the faintest of prints in the grains. The inviting ocean breeze would harmonize with the sounds of the jungle behind them, the occasional screeching of a condor or eagle shouting its mate. Like the waves at their feet, the trees behind them were subject to the dance of the winds. 

Though the morning time did not usually allow such actions, the break from their work permitted them to buy a Caipirinha at the beach-side cocktail bar, which emitted tropical vibes with its array of fruits and colours, and they sipped the sweet lime and cachaça concoction until the symphony of waves and rustling leaves was interrupted around midday - I saw an all-you-can-eat sushi bar up the road, are you guys interested? - Said Sophia - I suppose, not much of a sushi eater - replied Gerardo - Surly they have other options, if not, they would go broke selling unlimited sushi for a fixed price. I’m down - Ronaldo ejected. 

The walk to the sushi restaurant was to the rhythm of the drum on the far corner up the street, the artisans approached like falling leaves through the wind and with the most welcoming smiles. There was an elderly man painting and assembling clocks with his fingers until they looked incredible, which, upon some chatter with the man, had put all of his children through school in the capital. As they passed the lady selling hammocks and artisanal ponchos, Sophia was struck by the vibrant and invasive colours of the make-it-yourself ice cream shop - We have to come here after - she exclaimed.

A Brief Intermission - III 

They only have sushi - muttered Gerardo indignantly as the others sat down with mountainous plates. They stuffed their mouths shamelessly as the waitress passed every now and again with drinks. Sophia with a fresh coconut in hand, sweet as if it had been store bought. Gerardo stayed true to the Caipirinha and Ronaldo ventured off to try the Strawberry Daiquiri. As they sat back with full stomachs, contemplating their poor choice of food and drink, or of the excess of its consumption, a fluttering poster caught the eye of Gerardo just outside the open window they were sitting by. With curious familiarity and eeriness, he excuses himself to go and smoke a cigarette outside. He places the filter on the paper, cradled between both his thumbs and index fingers and finally places and rolls the tobacco, sealing it with a lick, but never losing sight of the poster which was just on the other side of a lamp post.  

The Final Red Light - IV/I 

With certain perplexity, followed by dizzying nausea and fear, Gerardo read; Tonight only! Campeche will live “Circum Perpetuum’s” undying interpretational combination of Prometheus and Dante, through a magical evening of dance and music. Gerardo stood motionless and felt a familiar sickness in the pit of his belly - No, this can’t be. He runs inside with his cigarette hanging from his mouth; the waitress frustratingly asking him to smoke outside, but to no avail, and the poster in hand - Guys! What the hell is this? - he smacks the poster down on the table expecting the same outrage and confusion from his friends - I thought we were done, aren’t we done for the season? I thought the circus was continuing north, wasn’t it? We can’t be expected to go, can we? - the quick-fire of questions were followed by his shaking hands and trembling voice. Sophia and Ronaldo exchanged a stare of exclusive understanding, to Gerardo’s unervingness, and both Ronaldo and Sophia extended their hands to meet Gerardo’s and said - there’s just one more, one final red light. And the sunlight ceased, leaving Gerardo in absolute darkness, awaiting the final red light.