She loved that room. Every time the holidays came around, her greatest joy was spending her days at her grandparents' house. She would get ready excitedly, planning each adventure in the garden with Nina, visiting the vegetable garden, picking fruit in the orchard and, of course, exploring her grandfather's book workshop. That place was full of old boxes with small, beautiful objects, colourful covers, gold-laminated sheets and mysterious instruments. There were also the drawings that the master craftsman made, which were beautiful! She spent afternoons imitating his drawings.
Of course, the room was her special place. At her parents' house in São Paulo, she shared the same room with her sister, who was four years older. Here, the room was all hers. It was long, with a beautiful window next to the bed from which she could see the field thrush and the great kiskadee singing early in the morning, and ending at Juliet's balcony, as Nina called the balconies of the respective bedrooms at the back of the old house. There was an old white wardrobe right in front of her brass bed, painted the same colour, an armchair near the balcony and built-in shelves all around the wall surrounding the glass door leading to the balcony. An old cherry wood chest of drawers displayed an old but charming lamp that illuminated the room with its shades of yellow. Every time she came to spend her days in that house, there they were, the inseparable furniture and confidants of her thoughts. However, something had subtly changed since the last two times she had visited the place.
It was the third time now. The first time she arrived, when she opened the wardrobe to hang her dresses on the empty hangers, she noticed some small objects tucked away in a corner at the back of the wardrobe. A bright button, a piece of coloured ribbon, an old stamp, a piece of patterned paper, and even a bottle cap with a cute design on it. At first, in her childish mind, she thought her grandmother had left them for her, but the next day they were gone. With the excitement of the holidays, the thought was lost. The second time she noticed the same thing when she opened the wardrobe, objects with slight variations appeared and disappeared in the corner of the wardrobe. Now it was the third time, and Gio began to believe that there was a strange pattern happening there. So, with all the experience of her nine years, she decided to unravel the mystery.
This time there would be no distractions. She began to observe whether or not there were objects at the back of the cupboard, and that was when she discovered something very interesting. They appeared for a few hours and then disappeared, and they were not always the same: they varied in shape, colour and nature, but they did not always appear. For a second she thought of rats. Yes, they could be rats. Could they be storing all those objects somewhere? Her grandfather had told her about birds that took objects, and some animals did that too. Could it be a rat there? She was afraid to tell her grandmother and cause a big fuss. She wanted to make the discovery on her own, to be sure before saying anything. She decided to stay up all night watching the cupboard to hear any creaking sounds, something being gnawed on, or a squeak. On the first night, nothing happened, or maybe she fell asleep too quickly.
But what she heard on the second night petrified her.
It was nothing like she expected.
There in the dark, with the moonlight as her guide, Gio heard the sound of someone moving around inside the wardrobe, like a child playing with something. Someone was messing with something, probably the objects that should be inside now. A mixture of fear and surprise stirred inside her. Was it a ghost? Was there a magical passage through the wardrobe? Was a large mysterious animal hiding there?
The natural question formed on her lips:
—Is anyone there? — There was no answer. A deathly silence settled in, as if whatever was inside the wardrobe had also been taken by surprise.
What if it was a ghost? Could it speak? Gio pondered some way to communicate and naturally continued.
—I can hear you in there. Can you speak? — she asked, but there was only more silence in response.
She slowly sank into the covers and hid her head with some disappointment. It was definitely an animal. Her eyes grew heavy and sleep fell over her mind.
The next morning, he stretched, looking at the sunny day and listening to the morning songs. A rooster in the neighbourhood crowed cheerfully. He got up, adjusting his nightgown, and looked at the wardrobe door. He sighed and stopped in front of it. His small hand turned the key and held the old porcelain handle. The outside light flooded in, and there were the usual random small objects again.
However, there was something else.
Gio held his breath for a second when he saw the three small objects that were lined up capriciously; an old stamp for stamping letters with an initial, a printing type and a piece of adhesive tape with a fancy letter printed on it, probably part of a decorative tape. Together they formed a simple word to read.
YES
The girl's heart raced with a mixture of joy at having discovered something phenomenal. It was a yes. A yes to one question or a yes to both? Thousands of questions popped into her mind and a new motivation ran through her body along with the adrenaline. She was the keeper of a sensational secret and now she had to figure out how to deal with it. She broke up the formation and pushed the objects into the corner of the cupboard along with all the others. Something told her that in a few hours they would disappear.
She got dressed quickly and ran when she heard her grandmother calling her for breakfast. She swallowed the bread and almost choked on her coffee with milk.
— Calm down, child. The day isn't going anywhere. — Filipa smiled and turned to look at the steaming, fragrant pots. Gio grabbed her cup and stood on the sink to leave it there and run out. Nina must still be asleep, but she didn't want to reveal her secret to anyone yet. She wanted to savour the small taste of discovery alone for a while. She wanted to know more before announcing her big secret. She sat on the lawn and watched her grandfather walking calmly, sweeping the leaves from the yard. She remembered the guy in the middle of the word "writing" by the mysterious visitor. Was he one of her grandfather's types? If so, he would return the box soon. And then she thought about the work the visitor had put into setting it up. Did everything he took disappear, or did he just take it back? Did he borrow everything? The objects he chose were mostly old, but some things stood out. The choice of ribbon colours, the patterns, everything was very beautiful and coordinated. It reminded him of the things his grandfather used to do. Even shells had been placed in his cupboard, always small and in beautiful, delicate colours.
If he spoke, why didn't he answer right away? Why did he make that montage? Was he afraid? Was he shy? Did he go looking for pieces far away, close by, where? If he were to talk to him that way, it would take a long time to get any answers. She needed something more practical. She stared at her grandfather without getting the answers she wanted from him either. He smiled at her and banged the broom on the floor to remove the leaf debris. Gio stamped her feet instinctively, imitating the noise he made with the broom. An unexpected idea popped into her head and made her eyes widen.
She got up as if propelled by a spring. She ran inside the house and back to her room. She looked at the wardrobe door and opened it. The objects were gone. She knocked on the inside of the door and the characteristic sound of wood rang out. She smiled. Maybe it would work.
She was so agitated that even Nina found her sister's behaviour strange. After dinner, she ran off to her room and had to be called back to brush her teeth. Her grandmother looked at her strangely, after all, she always wanted to stay up late to enjoy every second of the holidays. Now she seemed eager to go to sleep. Gio smiled and closed the door, yawning exaggeratedly. She grabbed her nightgown, dressed diligently, turned on the lamp and turned off the lights. She sat cross-legged on the bed and waited. The hours dragged on slowly and soon the positions on the bed began to change. Silence gradually reigned in the house and in the night, just as it did inside the wardrobe. Was the lamp getting in the way? She ran to turn it off. She adjusted her posture, lay down, sat up again. Soon she began to nod off. Finally, she leaned against the window in an attempt to see the moon with its bright halo. A few clouds covered it from time to time. She half-closed her eyes.
A soft sound of something sliding inside the wardrobe echoed. Gio stood up and looked at the door. She adjusted herself again. A shiver ran through her body and made the hairs on her arm stand on end. She smoothed her short hair behind her small ears. She clasped her hands together, gathering the courage to speak:
—Hello — her voice sounded a little off-key and the sound inside the wardrobe stopped. She continued. — I saw your message and I had an idea. I'll ask questions and you answer "yes" or "no". One knock on the door for "yes", two knocks for "no". Do you want to try? Do you think you can do it? — There was a moment of silence until Gio heard, to her surprise, a soft knock on the door.
He hears, he speaks! He's talking to me now!
She almost laughed. She wanted to start with the basics.
— Are you... a ghost? — Two soft knocks were heard, and she was very relieved that there was no wandering soul there. —Do you look like a girl? — The negative answer helped her form a mental image of the stranger. She continued. — Do you keep things in the wardrobe? — The answer was yes. — Do you live there? — A brief moment of silence and a negative answer followed. Gio wondered why the visitor was in the wardrobe. From her limited experience, things that stayed inside wardrobes were meant to scare children and were usually ghosts or the bogeyman, but she didn't believe in the bogeyman; after all, she was nine years old and knew about these things, although ghosts were a possibility. Another option came to mind and made her hesitate for a minute. Finally, she decided to ask. — Are you hiding? — she said cautiously. The single thud made her very surprised. The visitor was indeed hiding there. He brought objects that, for some reason, went away, and he was shy enough not to speak using his voice.
— Are you alone? — A "no"' followed by a "yes" confused her for a few seconds. — Ah! Is that a "sometimes"? — she said and got an affirmative answer. — Are you my size? — Another confirmation. She wanted to ask several things. Why did the objects disappear? Did he take them? Did he have magical powers? There were so many questions, but there, at that moment, something urgent sounded in her mind because she thought that if she were alone and hidden, she might be feeling that.
—Are you afraid?— The silence was broken by a single thud, and Gio's joy drained from her heart.
The visitor is hiding, is small, and is scared. There is no magic in that.
She reached out her hand into the air towards the wardrobe, but was afraid to suggest that she could open the door, that she could see him. Did he want to be seen?
—Do you want me to see you? — The lack of response distressed little Gio. She then continued. —My name is Giovanna, you can call me Gio. Do you want to be my friend? — This time the silence lasted a long time. Gio strained her ears and it seemed that there was no one else there. She curled up under the blanket. The cold of dawn was beginning to take over the room and her eyelids were heavy. The exhaustion, an effect of the extreme agitation of the day, made her want to close her eyes and dive into dreams, but her heart was restless. Finally, she lay down quietly on her side, covered herself and turned her face towards the window. Now the moon was shining brightly on her.
She stared at it for a few seconds, until she finally heard a timid knock on the wardrobe door that made her smile and remain silent, and then she drifted off into dreams, without further resistance.
The visitor had accepted her friendship.
Gio felt she needed help, and Nina was naturally her first choice. Her sister listened attentively as she recounted the whole story in detail. Finally, she opened the wardrobe door and showed her the items hidden in the corner, explaining that they would soon disappear. Naturally, they would both stay there to witness the phenomenon. Nina did not mock her little sister for a second. At thirteen years old, she pondered every word she heard while looking at the objects carefully. Gio did not imagine being reproached by Nina; she had no moral authority to criticise anyone, after all, she was always talking to the Dancing Shiva, as her sister called the statue of the Hindu deity that was in the library and belonged to her grandfather. She figured they were in the same boat.
Nina examined the fabric ribbons for exactly two minutes, put them back in the wardrobe and closed the door. She then reported her deepest impressions:
—These ribbons look very old, just like everything he picks up. Where does he get these things?
—I don't know — said Gio, turning her hands.
—What if he's an alien? You know, like in the film? Or maybe the wardrobe is magical, like the one in the storybook with the lion, remember?
Gio looked at the wardrobe, uninspired by her sister's theories. She hadn't thought of the visitor as an alien, and the wardrobe didn't seem very magical to her. She had sat inside it a few times to test the space, and no supernatural passage had opened up to her.
—I don't know. I need to ask him — she said at last.
They looked at the piece of furniture and opened the door to see that, in fact, there was nothing else there. Nina took a deep breath, sniffed the air as if she had some hidden sleuth power to detect hoaxes, tapped the wood, which seemed very solid, and delivered her verdict:
—Okay. I'll make a list of questions you can ask him — she said, seeming thrilled with the idea. Gio readily agreed, but as soon as she got the list the following night, delivered by a sister who was very disappointed that she couldn't witness the conversation because the visitor might feel unsafe, she realised that the idea hadn't been so brilliant after all. She began to read the list of questions to herself:
Are you an alien? (If the answer is yes, take the attached list) Are you a gnome? Do you bring objects and then take them somewhere else? Is the wardrobe magical? Are you magical? Can you see the future? Will Nina pass her exams? Does Bebeto like Nina? Will Nina be rich in the future? Can you see through doors? You...
After the tenth question, Gio gave up on Nina's help, as she seemed more interested in a fortune teller than in the visitor himself. She decided to try asking simple questions that came to mind and could be answered with a yes or no. The problem was that many answers raised other questions that required more complex answers than just a "yes"' or "'no" and she found herself lacking the imagination to make assumptions about such a mysterious being.
But that night the visitor did not come, and Gio, although a little disappointed, had more time to formulate more effective questions. To avoid Nina's questions, she said that the visitor could not see the future, which made her sister a little disappointed and she went back to helping her grandmother in the garden or watching television.
The following night, the visitor came. Gio took advantage of some of her sister's questions and finished with some of her own. In this way, she discovered basic things such as the fact that he was not an alien, not a gnome, that the wardrobe was not magical, and that he could not see through doors or see the future. She discovered that he felt safe inside the wardrobe, but didn't stay there all the time. That he could go to other places, but people couldn't see him because he hid, as he was doing now. Some questions remained unanswered, such as whether he was magical or whether he took objects away. Gio began to think that he couldn't explain things with just a "yes" or a "no". She sighed and stared at the door.
—I'm not very good at asking lots of different questions. I guess you can't answer everything with a "yes" or a "no", can you? — the affirmative answer satisfied her on the one hand. — Sorry, I think I'm kind of stupid. — Two vehement knocks made her smile. Then an idea made her excited. — I have books! Do you want me to read you a story?
The statement made her jump, choose a book from the shelf and run back. So Gio settled into bed and instructed the visitor that she would stop reading when he knocked twice on the door. In this way, they spent a few nights in a ritual of greeting each other through knocks, short speeches from Gio and reading short stories. Sometimes Gio stopped because she wanted to sleep, sometimes the visitor knocked and disappeared, other times he didn't come. Gio wondered on those nights if he had a name, but she was afraid to ask and have him go looking for clippings to find letters that made up his name. What if he didn't have a name? His life, if you could call it that, was very strange. She just preferred to call him "the friend in the wardrobe".
One morning, Gio woke up to an unexpected surprise. When her eyes opened and she moved to the side of the wardrobe, a hollow thud of something falling on the floor caught her attention. Something had been placed next to her pillow and fell when she moved. She looked for what had fallen just below the bed and was surprised to see a huge seashell in a beautiful coral colour. She had heard of these before, but had never picked one up. She put the shell to her ear and heard the characteristic "sea" sound they made. She smiled as she looked at the unusual object that had been left there. It took her a few minutes to understand what had happened. She looked at the half-open wardrobe door and saw some fragments of sand on the floor. He had finally left and now he had left her a gift. Gio felt a mixture of joy and pride that her shy friend could do that.
He trusts me.
He held the shell, placing it against his ear from time to time. He knew that in a few hours, or even minutes, it would disappear. It would be just a memory of a fleeting moment of kindness in a world that seemed intangible to that being.
Curiously, during all that time, she had never seen anything disappear. It was always just a matter of being and not being between opening and closing the door. Even with Nina it was like that. One minute it was in the wardrobe, the next, when she opened the door, everything was gone. Now she realized that and decided to stay there until the object disappeared. She didn't change her clothes, she didn't go down for breakfast. She just pretended she wanted to sleep more and lay down, hiding the shell next to her under the sheets. She stared at the contours of the shell, memorizing its color and waiting.
Then it happened. In the blink of an eye, it disappeared from in front of her. She recoiled in fright. She hadn't been asleep, she was sure of it. It was in the exact time it took to blink her eyes. Between lowering her eyelids, her gift was gone, and with it, the visitor's existence.
Always like this, always like this, never in the same place, never retaining anything. Everything he took was hers for a few hours, then he would leave. Had anyone ever given her anything? She thought about that and, at that moment, made a very important decision.
She got out of bed, got dressed, washed her face, brushed her teeth, combed her hair, and went downstairs to look for her grandfather. She found him in the workshop, as always, doing some work. She stopped in front of him and declared:
—Grandpa, I want to make a book. — Her grandfather looked at her calmly, pausing his printing press and waiting for her to continue. — I want to make a whole book, all by myself, to give as a gift.
—You want to bind a book and give it as a gift. Is that right? Where is the book?
—No. I want a blank book to write in. It has to be very beautiful, and I'll draw it so you know how it should be done, but I need to make it. Will you help me make it? — He walked over to her, knelt down, and smiled.
—Of course. We'll make the most beautiful book in the world. I'll help you, piccola Gio. — He placed his hand on her shoulder.
And so Gio's saga to make a book began. Mornings and afternoons passed as she learned to cut, sew, shape, inlay, and engrave. Loredano watched the model his granddaughter had drawn so he would know how to guide her. Mornings and afternoons passed as she learned to cut, sew, shape, inlay, and engrave. Loredano looked at the model his granddaughter had drawn so he could guide her, and what he had in his hands was a very creative book with drawings and details that he never imagined a nine-year-old girl could retain in her mind. It was a medium-sized book, but much narrower than normal, and she made a point of telling him that this was exactly how it should be. At that moment, the old craftsman already knew something that the girl Gio would only discover years later: there was a craftswoman there.
At that time, something else moved the girl. An urgency not only linked to the fact that the holidays were ending, but also because the visitor had not appeared for days. After her gift, the absence came next, and Gio feared that it was some kind of farewell. She tried very hard to do everything, and even when she made mistakes, she redid it, sometimes with tears in her eyes. It all seemed so difficult, so complex, but something in her heart told her that the old craftsman's hand could not be there, only hers. It was a gift to keep, something he could take with him because it would truly be his.
When the book was finally ready, it was the day before she was due to leave. She had worked hard to finish it in time. She looked with some anxiety at the book, which was neither too big nor too wide. Long and full of details, gilding, and colors. A copy with a childlike touch that seemed to reproduce the mix of beauties that the visitor left in the wardrobe. Loredano put his hand on her shoulder and consoled her:
—It's very good, piccola Gio. Very good. It's a work of art. You put your whole heart into it, and that's what makes it so beautiful. — The girl smiled and kissed her grandfather on the cheek.
—Thank you, Grandpa. My friend will like it very much — she said and smiled, going into the room.
That night, Gio put the book in the corner of the wardrobe and waited silently, but her eyes were so heavy that she fell into a dreamless sleep and was only abruptly awakened by her mother's hands. She looked at the wardrobe as her mother hurried her to get dressed so they could leave early and avoid traffic. The bags were packed and there was nothing left to do there. She didn't open the door. She was afraid to find the book; afraid he hadn't seen it. She waited and trusted that the visitor, the friend from the wardrobe, had seen it. That he had taken it and kept it, permanently. If he came back, it would surely be there the next time he came.
The weeks passed and the cold days were replaced by rainy afternoons and warmer mornings. Soon it would be the end-of-year holidays and their grandparents' house was waiting for the girls. Nina seemed to have kept Gio's secret deep inside her, so deep that it seemed she had never even known about it. Gio thought that his sister was good at keeping secrets.
When the holidays were approaching, they got in the car and left with their parents for the long-awaited visit to their grandparents. Her heart was racing with a mixture of anxiety and joy. What had happened?
As soon as the car parked, the girls jumped out and ran to the door of the old house. Hugs were exchanged and Gio looked up at the stairs. On impulse, she quickened her pace to the second floor while listening to her grandmother comment on some surprise.
Her hand turned the doorknob and she entered, looking for the wardrobe, but it was no longer there.
It took her mind a few seconds to understand that the room had been partially redecorated. The armchair and bed were still the same, but in place of the wardrobe stood a large, more modern chest of drawers, and now another built-in wardrobe was fixed near the entrance, out of sight.
The wardrobe where he hid, where he kept his precious things, was no longer there.
Gio opened the other new, impersonal wardrobe, everything was clean and empty. No buttons, no stamps, no tape, let alone her book. A tear slid silently down her face. Her grandmother came in and noticed the girl's empty expression as she looked at the space where the old wardrobe had been.
—Don't you like it, Gio? Look, now you have a new built-in cupboard here. Much bigger for your things, my dear — she said to the girl, who began to cry and sat down on the floor. — Gio! What's wrong? Why are you crying?
—Where is it? Where is... the wardrobe? — was all she could say.
—Oh. It was very old, so we donated it. We tidied up the rooms for you and Nina. We thought you would like it. Don't you like it? Did you prefer the other wardrobe?
—What about the book?
—What book?
—The one... that was... in the wardrobe.
—There was nothing in the wardrobe, my dear. — Her grandmother helped her sit up on the bed and Gio wiped her eyes.
—No? Did he take the book?
—Who took the book?
—He... he... — Gio continued to sob for a long time.
The wardrobe was gone, the book was gone, the visitor was gone.
No ribbons or buttons appeared in the new wardrobe. Nothing came back, and Gio never knew the name of her friend from the wardrobe. She never had the courage to find out if he even had a name.
The visitor never came back.
Giovanna grew up.