It must have already happened to you.
"Don't you remember me?"
You are not remembering him. Searches frantically for all the files stored in memory for his face and the corresponding name, and cannot find it. And there is no time to search the disabled file.
He is there, in front of you, smiling, his eyes lit up anticipating your At this point, you have a choice.
There are three paths to follow. One, the short, thick and sincere.answer. Remember or not?
"No"
You are not remembering him and you have no reason to hide it. The dry "No" may even imply a reprimand to the question. You don't ask a question like that, potentially embarrassing, to anyone, my dear. At least not among educated people. You should be ashamed. I don't remember you and even if you did I wouldn't say. Take care.
Another path, less honest but equally reasonable, is that of concealment.
" Do not tell me. You are the ... the ...''
“Don't tell me”, in this case, it means “Tell me, tell me”. You count on his pity and know that sooner or later he will identify himself, to end his agony. Or you can say something like:
''Sorry it must be old age, but ...''
This is also an appeal to piety. It means "Do not torture a poor member, tell me who you are!" It is a nice way to say that you have no idea who he is, but that this is not due to his insignificance but to a deficiency of neurons of yours.
And there is the third way. The least rational and recommendable. Which leads to tragedy and ruin. And what, of course, you choose.
"Of course I'm remembering you!"
You don't want to hurt him, that's it. There is statistical evidence that the desire not to hurt others is at the root of most social disasters, but you don't want him to think that he went through your life without leaving a trace. And after saying the phrase, there is no way to go back. You jumped into the abyss. It's in God's hands. You still finish:
"How long!"
Now everything will depend on his reaction. If he is a scoundrel, he will challenge you.
"Then tell me who I am."
In that case, you have no choice but to simulate a heart attack and wait, falsely unconscious, for the ambulance to come and save you. But he can be merciful and just say:
"Yeah."
Or:
"Make time for it."
You have gained time to better research your memory. Who is this guy, my God? While retrieving crates with old tokens from the dust and the cobwebs from the back of the brain, you keep him at a distance with neutral phrases like verbal jabs.
"How have you been?"
"Well well."
"It seems like a lie."
"Wow."
(A classmate from school. From military service. Is he a relative? Who is this guy, my God?)
He is talking:
"I thought you wouldn't recognize me ..."
"What is it?!"
"No, because sometimes we disappointed by people"
"And would I forget you? Soon you?"
"People change. I do not know."
"What an idea!"
(It's Mike! No, Mike is already dead. You went to his funeral. The ... the ... what was his name? He had a mechanical leg. Rezende! But how do you know if he has a mechanical leg? You you can kick him, amicably. And if you kick the good leg? Kick them both. "How nice to meet you!" and paf, kick one leg. "How I miss you!" and paf, kick the other. Who is this guy?)
"It's amazing how we lose contact."
"Really."
One try. It is a risky move, but in those moments you must be audacious.
"Have you seen anyone from the old gang?"
"Just Bob."
"Old Bob!"
(Bob. Do you know any Bob? At least now you have a name to work with. A second card to locate in the attic. Bob, Bob...)
"Remember John?"
"Of course!"
"This one I also find, sometimes, in target shooting."
"Old John!"
(John. Target shooting. You don't know any John and you've never done target shooting. It's useless. The clues are not helping. You decide to forget all caution and move on to a decisive move. A move of despair. The last, before to appeal for a heart attack.)
"Rezende ..."
"Who?"
It's not him. At least that is clear.
"Wasn't there a Rezende in the class?"
"I do not remember."
"I must be confusing."
Silence. You feel like you're about to be unmasked.
"Do you know that Rita got married?"
" Do not tell me. You are the ... the ...''
“Don't tell me”, in this case, it means “Tell me, tell me”. You count on his pity and know that sooner or later he will identify himself, to end his agony. Or you can say something like:
''Sorry it must be old age, but ...''
This is also an appeal to piety. It means "Do not torture a poor member, tell me who you are!" It is a nice way to say that you have no idea who he is, but that this is not due to his insignificance but to a deficiency of neurons of yours.
And there is the third way. The least rational and recommendable. Which leads to tragedy and ruin. And what, of course, you choose.
"Of course I'm remembering you!"
You don't want to hurt him, that's it. There is statistical evidence that the desire not to hurt others is at the root of most social disasters, but you don't want him to think that he went through your life without leaving a trace. And after saying the phrase, there is no way to go back. You jumped into the abyss. It's in God's hands. You still finish:
"How long!"
Now everything will depend on his reaction. If he is a scoundrel, he will challenge you.
"Then tell me who I am."
In that case, you have no choice but to simulate a heart attack and wait, falsely unconscious, for the ambulance to come and save you. But he can be merciful and just say:
"Yeah."
Or:
"Make time for it."
You have gained time to better research your memory. Who is this guy, my God? While retrieving crates with old tokens from the dust and the cobwebs from the back of the brain, you keep him at a distance with neutral phrases like verbal jabs.
"How have you been?"
"Well well."
"It seems like a lie."
"Wow."
(A classmate from school. From military service. Is he a relative? Who is this guy, my God?)
He is talking:
"I thought you wouldn't recognize me ..."
"What is it?!"
"No, because sometimes we disappointed by people"
"And would I forget you? Soon you?"
"People change. I do not know."
"What an idea!"
(It's Mike! No, Mike is already dead. You went to his funeral. The ... the ... what was his name? He had a mechanical leg. Rezende! But how do you know if he has a mechanical leg? You you can kick him, amicably. And if you kick the good leg? Kick them both. "How nice to meet you!" and paf, kick one leg. "How I miss you!" and paf, kick the other. Who is this guy?)
"It's amazing how we lose contact."
"Really."
One try. It is a risky move, but in those moments you must be audacious.
"Have you seen anyone from the old gang?"
"Just Bob."
"Old Bob!"
(Bob. Do you know any Bob? At least now you have a name to work with. A second card to locate in the attic. Bob, Bob...)
"Remember John?"
"Of course!"
"This one I also find, sometimes, in target shooting."
"Old John!"
(John. Target shooting. You don't know any John and you've never done target shooting. It's useless. The clues are not helping. You decide to forget all caution and move on to a decisive move. A move of despair. The last, before to appeal for a heart attack.)
"Rezende ..."
"Who?"
It's not him. At least that is clear.
"Wasn't there a Rezende in the class?"
"I do not remember."
"I must be confusing."
Silence. You feel like you're about to be unmasked.
"Do you know that Rita got married?"
"Not!"
"Married."
"With whom?"
"I think you didn't know. Bituca."
You have abandoned all scruples. To the devil with caution. Since shame is inevitable, it must be total, devastating. You are seized by a kind of terminal euphoria. Of delirium from the abyss. How come you don't know Bituca?
"Of course I did! Old Bituca ..."
"Well, they got married ..."
It's your chance. It's the way out. You move on to attack.
"And they didn't tell me anything ?!"
"Well..."
"No. Wait a minute. All these things happening, Rita marrying Bituca, John shooting, and nobody tells me anything ?!"
"It's just that we lost contact and ..."
"But my name is on the list, my dear. Just make a call. Send an invitation."
"..."
"And you still thought I wasn't going to recognize you. You guys forgot about me!"
"Sorry Edgar. Is that ..."
"No, I'm not sorry. You're right. People change ..."
(Edgar. He called you Edgar. You are not Edgar. He mistook you for someone else. He also has no idea who you are. It is best to get this over with. Take advantage of him being on the defensive. Look at watch and say “look at the time”)
"I have to go. Look, was it nice to see you?"
"Okay, Edgar. And I'm sorry, huh?"
"What is this? We need to see each other more often."
"Yes."
"Get the old gang together."
"Right."
"And look, when you talk to Rita and Mutuca ..."
"Bituca."
"And Bituca, say I sent you a kiss. Bye, huh?"
"Bye, Edgar!"
As you walk away, you still hear, satisfied, as he says "Great Edgar". But he swears it's the last time he'll do that. The next time someone asks you, "Are you recognizing me?" won't say a word. I will run away.
---------------------------------------------------------
Book: As Mentiras que os homens contam (The lies that men tell.)
Author: Luis Fernando Verissímo
"Married."
"With whom?"
"I think you didn't know. Bituca."
You have abandoned all scruples. To the devil with caution. Since shame is inevitable, it must be total, devastating. You are seized by a kind of terminal euphoria. Of delirium from the abyss. How come you don't know Bituca?
"Of course I did! Old Bituca ..."
"Well, they got married ..."
It's your chance. It's the way out. You move on to attack.
"And they didn't tell me anything ?!"
"Well..."
"No. Wait a minute. All these things happening, Rita marrying Bituca, John shooting, and nobody tells me anything ?!"
"It's just that we lost contact and ..."
"But my name is on the list, my dear. Just make a call. Send an invitation."
"..."
"And you still thought I wasn't going to recognize you. You guys forgot about me!"
"Sorry Edgar. Is that ..."
"No, I'm not sorry. You're right. People change ..."
(Edgar. He called you Edgar. You are not Edgar. He mistook you for someone else. He also has no idea who you are. It is best to get this over with. Take advantage of him being on the defensive. Look at watch and say “look at the time”)
"I have to go. Look, was it nice to see you?"
"Okay, Edgar. And I'm sorry, huh?"
"What is this? We need to see each other more often."
"Yes."
"Get the old gang together."
"Right."
"And look, when you talk to Rita and Mutuca ..."
"Bituca."
"And Bituca, say I sent you a kiss. Bye, huh?"
"Bye, Edgar!"
As you walk away, you still hear, satisfied, as he says "Great Edgar". But he swears it's the last time he'll do that. The next time someone asks you, "Are you recognizing me?" won't say a word. I will run away.
---------------------------------------------------------
Book: As Mentiras que os homens contam (The lies that men tell.)
Author: Luis Fernando Verissímo
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