# Read the first page of Thanks, Universe by Cheri Krueger Read the opening of Thanks, Universe by Cheri Krueger free, no signup. A teenager leaves California to start over in 1991 Lisbon. - Page: https://uncovered.ink/read/thanks-universe-cheri-krueger - Genre: Contemporary fiction - Year: 2021 - ISBN: 9798454108663 - Read it blind (cover and title hidden): https://uncovered.ink/?b=9990000000073&s=read-page - Buy: https://bookshop.org/a/125786/9798454108663 - Borrow: https://search.worldcat.org/search?q=9798454108663 ## The opening Penny Azevedo ignored the other passengers pressing their foreheads to the windows and attempted an expression of jaded boredom, as if she landed in Lisbon every day. As if she wasn’t quaking inside like an aspen. As if she didn’t look exactly like the nervous teenager that she was. Sideways glances at the window gave her skin tiny shocks of excitement and combined with her racing heart and lurching stomach, Penny’s entire body was a roiling, boiling pot of nerves. Through wispy clouds, an ocean of red tile roofs appeared, parted by streets in hieroglyphic patterns. A new country. A new life. A clean slate. Thanks, Universe. Thank you for another chance. Customs took forever. When Penny finally handed over her once-gleaming new passport, it was bent and dark with sweat from her palms. The moment she saw Claudia waving on the other side of customs, relief left Penny weak. She wanted to look and act brave, but leaving the only home she had ever known to live in a foreign country where she only knew one person was daunting. Adventure, she reminded herself. How often does a person get an opportunity to start over? Claudia enveloped Penny in a motherly hug of greeting, and a fragrant cloud of her signature scent: lavender and orange blossoms. “You look tired, filha,” Claudia said, chattering as they made their way to baggage claim. “How was your flight? Did you get any sleep? You should have a nap, a little cat nap, and then we will explore the city.” Penny mumbled responses as they hurried out of the airport. Claudia hailed a taxi and Penny stared out the window as they passed rows of industrial-looking apartment buildings, long concrete walls scrawled with bright graffiti, and an enormous sprawl of shady green park with dots and dashes of colorful people shapes lolling on the grass. Within minutes they were in the Alfama District, the oldest surviving part of Lisbon after the wrath of the 1755 earthquake had devastated the area. Penny gaped at the ancient city, heavy with the weight of centuries, its narrow crooked streets and narrow crooked houses were so different from her 1950’s California suburb it was like time travel—if you ignore the cars rumbling by on cobblestones and the power lines strung in thick, black cobwebs overhead. The taxi stopped at the foot of a skinny, steep path, too narrow for a car. “We walk from here, Penny. My apartment is just there.” Claudia pointed to a yellow rowhouse with white trim and bright red flowers cascading over two ironwork balconies. Penny dragged her fingers across the rough stucco wall, imagining the people who lived here centuries ago when the cobblestone roads and sidewalks were first laid in these complex patterns. Life must have been a struggle then but still they took pride in their work. It was another form of art. Something clicked in Penny’s head, remembering the times her mother dragged her through museums…see these brushstrokes, see the light here…and she thought she was bored when in fact her mother’s perspective had been sinking into Penny’s stubbornness: art is everywhere if you look for it. “What stories you could tell,” she said to the wall. Claudia laughed. “I’m glad this building can’t tell stories about me. The neighbors talk enough.” They rumbled Penny’s two rolling suitcases up the short, steep hill. The front door to Claudia’s apartment was thick, rusty metal and opened to the cobblestone path. Inside was airy and minimally furnished since Claudia only lived here when she had business in Lisbon and between flights. Penny followed Claudia upstairs to the guest room. “Rest for a couple of hours. I put some things in the cupboard for you.” Claudia pointed to a large wooden wardrobe in the corner. “Some fun clothes. In case you want to play dress-up when we go out tonight.” Penny had stopped caring about clothes when she quit high school—when her body betrayed her poor life choices to the world and she refused to leave the house. She grimaced at the full length mirror, at her wrinkled jeans and even more wrinkled Journey t-shirt. After fourteen hours of travel, she was a complete wreck. Stepping closer, Penny scrutinized her pale, blotchy face. “Maybe I could borrow some makeup?” She slept hard for over an hour and woke up groggy and disoriented. After rubbing her eyes and stretching her stiff arms and legs, Penny rose to explore the cupboard. She fingered blouses and dresses misty-eyed. Claudia picked out clothes for me. These were not styles she would have chosen for herself and Penny felt like a different person after slipping on slim white slacks paired with a silky zebra print sleeveless top. The shoes in the wardrobe all had heels, and she didn’t want to break her neck tripping on cobblestone streets her first day in town, so she settled for the black and white checkered Vans she brought from home. At a light tapping on the door, Penny called out, “Come in.” Claudia looked her up and down and pointed a finger in the air. “I have the perfect thing for you.” She hurried away and came back with a green fringed shawl. “This will bring out the green in your eyes.” “I have brown eyes.” “Look closer.” Penny draped the shawl across her shoulders and stepped closer to the mirror, leaving a fog of her breath. The rich forest green fabric was shot with threads of metallic gold that twinkled in the lamplight. “I’ve never seen green in my eyes before.” “Women seem to only look for flaws when they look closely at themselves.” Claudia patted her shoulder. “Are you hungry, Penny?” “I’m starving. And Claudia, can you call me Pauline? Penny is such a kid’s name.” Rows of pastel stucco houses pressed close, making the narrow streets a shadowed canyon at early dusk. The city hummed with energy as people jostled down the sidewalks, a babble of voices in all languages jarred the ears and music poured from every open doorway. Pungent wafts of fish, garlic, and fresh bread filled the air, garnished with smelly notes of sun-warmed garbage in the alleyways. Narrow shop after narrow shop lined the streets: butchers, bakers, bars, and restaurants sharing walls. Many restaurants had only one table and two chairs outside and not much more inside. “It’s early for dinner.” Claudia stopped at a building that looked like a dozen other restaurants. “But this is the best halibut in the Alfama. Do you want to eat outside?” “Definitely.” Pauline sat in a metal bistro chair that wobbled a bit. Fully immersed in sights, sounds, and smells, she clutched the edge of her seat as if she might float away. I’m really here. I really did it. She had not traveled through time. She had not opened a book and stepped inside. This was not a dream. This is my real life now. Their waitress arrived with a huge smile. “Miss Claudia, so good to see you again. You’ll have the halibut?” “Yes, thank you, Sofia.” Claudia beamed. “I’ll have the same,” Penny said, too nervous to attempt to read the menu. “Bring us a small plate of percebes, too, please, Sofia,” Claudia said. “And a carafe of your lovely vinho verde.” Pauline’s mood lightened as she ate strange food—including barnacles—got drunk for the second time in her life, and marinated in vivid colors, exotic aromas and flavors. Intoxicated with sweet green wine, laughter and music, nearby drumbeats pummeled the tender spot in the center of her chest, twin thrums of melancholy and euphoria, and Pauline knew she would remember this moment for the rest of her life. After a dinner that lasted hours, Claudia led the way to an alley even more narrow than the streets. A man sat in a battered wooden chair by an open door. He looked up as they approached and stood, tipping his fedora. “Ola, bem-vindas. Good evening, Senhorita Mendonca. You honor us with your presence.” “Obrigado, Rafael, but I know you are just showing off for my friend. Pauline, meet Rafael. Do not believe a word he says.” “Boa noite,” said Pauline and Rafael answered with a stream of Portuguese that had her laughing and shaking her head. “No comprende.” They laughed at her high school Spanish. Rafael sat them in a corner near the small stage. The room was dimly lit, the walls a rich yellow-orange, the air smoky with cigarettes and fragrant meat that sizzled and snapped on the blazing grill behind the bar. A soft spotlight pointed at the stage where two men dressed in black sat in wooden chairs and tuned their stringed instruments. “Are those guitars, Claudia?” “Yes, guitarra portuguesa. Fado guitar.” A woman appeared on stage in a long black dress that left her shoulders bare, a red shawl draped in the crook of her elbows. She began to sing, swaying and gesturing dramatically, her rich voice vibrated with passion and pain. Grief-stricken, she sounded as if her beating heart were being torn from her chest. Mesmerized by the woman’s expressions and body language, Pauline understood the story of the song, even without understanding the words, but she didn’t realize she was crying until Claudia slipped her a tissue. “It’s so sad.” “It’s sad, yes,” Claudia said. “Love can be sad, but the song is also about hope.” “Love’s not worth the trouble. Nothing is worth hurting like that.” “Fado is about longing. It comes from the days when men worked the seas and explored the world, leaving behind women lonely and wondering. But many love stories have a happy ending and these songs have hope. Love isn’t painless, but life is pointless without it.” “I plan to stay far away from love,” Pauline said. Once she thought she was in love with Johnny. Clearly she wasn’t smart enough to know what love looked like. A young man approached their table. Slim and dark with shaggy hair and a wistful, wispy mustache, he held out his hand to Pauline. “Você quer dançar?” She shook her head. “He’s asking you to dance.” “I know. Can you please tell him no thank you?” Claudia translated. He nodded, his somber brown eyes said he was not surprised. Three years ago, Penny would have been flattered and eager to dance with that young man. Penny would have thought he could choose any girl from this crowded room and he chose me. But Pauline knew that man would ask the next girl and the next until he found someone to dance. It was nice to be asked but that doesn’t make you special. Warming her glass of wine in both hands, Claudia said, “I know a little of your story, Pauline, but I would like to hear more. What are your hopes and dreams?” “I made a bad decision and wrecked people’s lives. I haven’t thought about hopes and dreams. I’ve been too busy with regrets.” “What, did you murder someone? Rob a bank? No, you had an unplanned child. I know that much of your story and I’ve met little Jewel. She has a wonderful life.” “I changed so many lives. Even Johnny’s life has changed, although he doesn’t know it. He has a child in this world that he will probably never meet. My parents have a toddler to care for when they should be enjoying retirement. And I have permanent scars.” Claudia nodded her head. “The oldest story. If only we could regulate men and their sperm flying all over the place instead of regulating a woman’s womb resting peacefully in her belly. Unfortunately the rules are made by men and they don’t like to be regulated.” She shrugged. “Having a child changed your life, absolutely, but your life is far from over. You’re barely more than a child yourself. And your scars? No one cares. A man sees a willing woman, he doesn’t see scars. Look at me! I used to be very fat. I know, you’re being discreet by looking away because you think I’m still fat. But, no, once I was enormously fat. When I was twenty, I made the decision to stop eating myself to death and I lost over forty-five kilos. My body looked like someone left a stack of biscoitos in the rain. I have plenty of scars.” Claudia leaned closer. “I’ve never had a problem finding a willing man.” She leaned back. “And neither will you.” “I’m completely uninterested in sex,” Pauline said. “The last thing I need is another accidental pregnancy.” Claudia laid some money on the table. “Let’s walk a bit, get some fresh air.” Strolling down the sidewalk with her head tilted back, Pauline studied the old buildings covered in beautiful blue and white ceramic tiles, still feeling like she was walking around inside a story. They stopped at a building with two tall towers. “Is that a castle?” Pauline asked. “It’s a church. A very, very, old church,” said Claudia. “The name is long, Santa Maria Maior de Lisboa. Most call it the Se.” “It’s so beautiful.” Pauline tilted her head all the way back to take in the pointed tops. “It was built in the twelfth century and rebuilt many times,” said Claudia. “Flood, fire, and earthquakes.” “I need to read more about Portugal’s history. And I’d like to learn Portuguese. I wish I had learned when my Papa asked me to.” “It’s never too late to learn, filha.” The street was quieter here, with little foot traffic, and the beat of music was a distant thrum. Pauline followed Claudia through the tall arched entry of the church and up the stone steps to the scarred wooden doors. “I brought you here to tell you my story.” Claudia touched the far right corner of the threshold. “When the priest opened this door on May fifth, nineteen-fifty, I was lying there. I didn’t make a sound and at first he thought I was dead. But I was alive and perhaps one or two days old. The priest reached out to his friend, Carlos Mendonca. Carlos and his wife, Dores, despaired of having a child after many miscarriages and I had the good fortune to be adopted by those wonderful people who I am so proud to call my parents. Maybe my birth mother thought I ruined her life,” Claudia said and turned her back to the door. She motioned for Pauline to follow, footsteps echoing on cold stone. “I don’t know my mother’s story. Was she raped? Was she poor? Sick? Abandoned by a careless boyfriend? I hope she is happy now. I wish I could know that she is not tormented by her choice.” She paused, and caught Pauline’s eye. “Your parents care for Jewel as if she were their own daughter. They couldn’t possibly love her more if Wilma had given birth herself. Jewel is healthy and happy and you do not ever need to think you abandoned her.” Pauline looked away, shrugging. “My mom is probably happy I’m gone so she can enjoy her granddaughter. I haven’t been nice to my parents for a long time. Or my friends. Kate especially. I wasn’t nice to Jewel and sometimes she would look at me like she was afraid of me.” She paused at a narrow shop window, stocked with shelves of colored pencils and chalk, tubes of paint, canvases, and brushes of all sizes, the glass protected with decorative metal bars. She peered through the bars, cupping her eyes to get a better look. “This is the kind of store my mom would bring Jewel to shop.” “I’ve seen Wilma’s paintings. The watercolor hanging at the Davis house is spectacular.” “Mount Diablo and the foothills. It’s one of my favorites,” Pauline said. “I’m glad Jewel likes drawing and stuff like that. Mom tried to get me interested in art but I don’t remember enjoying it at all.” “Perhaps you haven’t found the right art to express yourself? You could write or sing or who knows? Just try to be happy in the moment. If you’re not enjoying your life, you have an obligation to your spirit, to your soul, to ask yourself, what else could I be doing? And do that thing.” Pauline grimaced a smile. “You make it sound easy.” “Oh, no.” Claudia laughed and shook her head. “I didn’t intend for it to sound easy!” ## Books with a similar feel - [Satan and the Adventure of the Blue-Eyed Freak by Ray Bendici](https://uncovered.ink/read/satan-and-the-adventure-of-the-blue-eyed-freak-ray-bendici.md) - [Yet Another Day at the Office by Rob Fitzel](https://uncovered.ink/read/yet-another-day-at-the-office-rob-fitzel.md) - [My Lover's Lover by Maggie O'Farrell](https://uncovered.ink/read/my-lovers-lover-maggie-ofarrell.md) - [The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks](https://uncovered.ink/read/the-wasp-factory-iain-banks.md) - [Love May Fail by Matthew Quick](https://uncovered.ink/read/love-may-fail-matthew-quick.md) - [Memoirs of a Teenage Amnesiac by Gabrielle Zevin](https://uncovered.ink/read/memoirs-of-a-teenage-amnesiac-gabrielle-zevin.md) --- Source: Uncovered (https://uncovered.ink). A short sample shown for reading and discovery. 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