You Make Tomorrow

By Marcelo Cezar and By the Spirit Marco Aurélio

As we face life on Earth, forgotten from the past, we are surrounded by social beliefs based on appearance, which lead to materialism, prejudice, class struggle and the total inversion of spiritual values that work for the good of all.

But Life is much more than it seems, and it works for each one to develop their latent potentials. Illusions fade and contrast so the truth becomes clear.

Recognize that the power to achieve happiness is in your hands. If you want to progress without suffering, assume your desire to stay in the good, discard illusions, do not fear the future, because YOU MAKE TOMORROW and you can make it much better!

ZIBIA GASPARETTO

• Language: English
• Publisher: World Spiritist Institute
• Release date: Jul 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223926078

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

As evening fell, a dark cloud covered the city. It didn't take long for the lightning to pierce the sky and the deafening noise of the rays scared some people. Suddenly, the storm came down with an immense fury over the four corners of the Sao Paulo capital. Some pedestrians ran, trying in vain to protect their heads with their hands; others entered bars, bakeries, stores or fought for places under the awnings, trying to protect themselves from the thick drops that fell continuously. Many streets and avenues were flooded; streetcar and bus services were interrupted and the chaotic traffic stopped forever.

Several times, the lights were turned off and then on, depending on the intensity of the thunder. Most of the neighborhoods had no electricity. It had always been like that for years: the rains at the end of summer hampered the life of the Paulistas².

Miguel was standing, leaning against the window.

He looked at the thick drops of water falling on one of the window glasses of his office, in a luxurious commercial building on Avenida Paulista. He was a little distracted When the secretary entered by the secretary's entrance to his office. When he saw the end of the day approaching When he realized that the end of the day was approaching, he fired her, without taking his eyes off the window. He wanted to be alone.

He desperately needed to find a way out.

At that moment Miguel was afraid, pure fear. A strong fear of the future, of how his life would be - from then on, that began with an economic catastrophe that had shaken his structures months before.

Let us explain better what happened to Miguel. Until years ago, the purchase of shares in the Compañía Paulista de Estradas de Ferro was an excellent capital investment. Whoever had a certain amount of money in Caixa Econômica and another amount in other bank, earned a good remuneration, around eight percent per year. Every time the Company increased its capital, the citizens bought many shares and the dividends increased progressively. It was great. The strength of the company and the stock dividends were very seductive.

However, inflation, social charges, changes of governors and many other problems came over the years, and the Compañía Paulista de Estradas de Ferro entered a financial crisis. The patrimony, economically speaking, was formidable in terms of dividends, they stopped paying and the company could not appeal for a capital increase. Thus, the value of the shares was drastically reduced in the Stock Exchange.

In June 1961, the financial market suffered a terrible blow. The state government issued a decree expropriating fifty-one percent of the shares of the Compañía Paulista. In addition to nationalizing the company, according to the newspapers, the government acquired control of a gigantic Asset for a miserable amount.

And poor Miguel had invested all his money, some time ago, in shares of the Compañía Paulista de Estradas de Ferro.

Now, as a shareholder, he had to forcefully sell his shares to the government for a very, very low conclusion: Miguel saw all his savings, built up over almost thirty years, melt away in months. He went to court, hired lawyers. It was in vain.

And, to make matters worse, the President of the Republic had resigned his position. The country looked like a time bomb about to explode.

Miguel remembered Ramírez. His face paralyzed so much hate. Why had he believed that con man? Some friends warned him about Ramírez's reputation; however, his greed was overwhelming. In order to invest all his resources in shares of the Compañía Paulista, Miguel received from Ramirez a bonus of more than two million; it was a lot of money at the time.

- I always distrust the money that falls from the sky. Why did I trust this man? Why?

Miguel clenched his fist and wanted to break the window in front of him. He slapped his forehead, blaming himself for falling into the vicar's story. How many times and how many close friends had guided him to diversify his applications? But it was too late, too late.

However, what bothered Miguel most was the poverty. Losing everything, friends, status, home, comfort, benefits. He saw his life go to the dogs. He had been thinking about a solution for days, but had nothing to do. Caixa Econômica would soon pawn his house in the Pacaembu neighborhood. The rent payment for the engineering office had been due for months. The owner had filed a lawsuit to evict the commercial property.

Miguel grimaced. He turned away from the window. He rolled over on his heels and threw himself thoughtfully into the leather chair. Miguel Gouveia Penteado, fifty-six years old, good looking, civil engineer, married, father of two adult children, nervously ran his hands through the silver hair. He looked impatiently at a corner of the table and his eyes were fixed on the picture frame. When he saw the young woman's face, his lips traced a faint smile. Ana Paula had always been his favorite daughter. How many and how many times had he fought with Guillermina, his wife, over Ana Paula? he said aloud:

- You were always a bad mother. If only you would treat your daughter like you do with Luis Carlos! But no! You have been involved with the child since she was born. Just because Ana Paula didn't live up to your expectations, why? Miguel shook his head sideways.

He felt sorry for his daughter. And even more now.

He had tried to be a loving father, covering Ana Paula with pampering and comfort. He had raised his children to be totally dependent on their money. In the past, he had boasted of giving great allowances and buying everything they wanted. Ana Paula was content with very little.

She was embarrassed to receive an adult allowance. Lately she had been looking for work, wanted to be independent, to live her own life.

Luis Carlos lived well and just wanted to know about partying. He was simply in trouble. Sometimes Miguel wondered if he hadn't damaged or corrupted his children's nature, with so much protection.

- I wanted to give them everything I didn't have, everything my father didn't give me. Did I do something wrong? - he asked himself, anguished.

And now, how would he talk to the children? I had no idea how I was going to take the situation, especially Luis Carlos.

Guillermina was a special case. How could I tell the wife that they were broke? She was quite capable of skinning him without even having mercy. Guillermina was great, she had a strong temper. It also alerted him to the diversification of applications. I hadn't listened to her. For the first time in his life, he had to twist his wife's arm. But she was fire! Imagine Guillermina knowing that they had lost everything! She was going to bake him alive.

Miguel was tired, he felt at the end of his rope. For seven months he had tried, unsuccessfully, to win a tender a single piece of work that belonged to the federal government. This could at least cover his expenses If he found a job, he would have time to think about what to do, more than anything else! Any businessman who had contacts or connections with the former president was now on a kind of blacklist made by the upper echelons of the new government. The doors of the Planalto were definitely closed to him.

He felt overwhelmed. He leaned his fingers on the table. It was hard for him to breathe. The businessman, his body shattered, bent over and picked up the card again. He reread it for the umpteenth time. The new government had terminated the last contract with his construction company.

- Damn Jânio! - He shouted -. To resign from the presidency like that? In these last seven months, the new Secretary of Works did not want to attend me, no senator wanted to receive me, the Prime Minister disappeared. President Juan Goulart is an inaccessible figure. Ramírez disappeared. I can't find him. He has to satisfy me about these damn actions!

He hit the table hard.

- God, what about me? What to do? All the incurred debts are in my name...

Miguel covered his face with his hands in a gesture of extreme desperation. It was the end of everything: fame, prestige, dinners, collusion with government figures. Worse, it was the end of money, of an inheritance built up over thirty years of work. He bit his lip with fury, savoring the bitter taste of blood. Despair took hold of him. It was no use thinking about anything now. What was the use of thinking about what you could have done before? It was already done. The past was dead, buried. I would rather die than live like that.

To die! Why not?

Yes! This would be the solution to the problems. Why resign yourself and live badly? Why despair over nothing? Lower the standard of living? Never! Being despised by society? No way!

- That's right, there's no other way out –he said himself, desperately.

Miguel looked at his watch: half past six in the evening. He picked up a box next to the photo frame. He took out a small key, got up and went over to the safe.

The rain kept on punishing the city, without mercy. The rays became more intense, as if they were aware of what was to come.

Miguel shuddered at the thunder.

However, he took courage, he put the key in the safe, opened it, made sure, and before taking it, hesitated:

- Slowly or quickly?

He clenched his teeth, controlling his anxiety. Determined:

- Quickly.

With a gesture worthy of a movie scene, Miguel closed his eyes and bit his lip. He tilted the metal barrel near his chest, at heart level, and pulled the trigger.

Bang!

A dry, fatal shot.

CHAPTER 2

Suzana was a very beautiful young woman. Tall, with a well-shaped body, she had big almond-shaped eyes, her straight brown hair fell over her shoulders. She attracts attention wherever she goes. She knew it, so she wasn´t trusting that most men saw her as an object of pleasure, but she prevailed and sometimes even spoke with a more daring joke. That is why she dressed in sober clothes. No necklines or short skirts. She needed to be as discreet as possible. She believed that, in this way, she would go unnoticed and attract as little attention as possible.

Suzana had completed the secretarial course and had worked in Miguel's office for three years. This had been her first job. She had a special affection for her boss.

The young woman sympathized with Spiritism, since her father was a worker in a Spiritist Center in the neighborhood where they lived. She understood a bit of mediumship and, in particular, had been disturbed that fateful afternoon.

She couldn't identify what she was feeling. She got sick after lunch but busily blamed the food for the sudden illness.

Like every night, Suzana knocked lightly on the door. She saw Miguel standing in front of the window.

- Did you need anything else?

- No thanks.

Suzana felt suffocated because of the air. The atmosphere was very tense. The hairs on her body stood on end. She hid her feelings and asked, looking serene:

- Are you okay, Dr. Miguel?

On her back, looking at some point on the street, she replied:

- Yes, I am, darling.

- Are you sure?

- You can go. It seems to be raining.

- If you want, I can stay a little longer -. Miguel was adamant:

- No! Please, Suzana. I am going to receive an old friend who is about to leave his wife and wants to talk with me - he lied.

- I need privacy.

- It's okay. See you tomorrow, Dr. Miguel.

- See you tomorrow.

Suzana walked past his table, grabbed the bag and left. She arrived at the door of the building in disgust. She felt something very strange.

She realized that the boss was not well, and worse, that the atmosphere was not good. She had noticed this for days, but today it was unbearable. Dreadful thoughts appeared during the afternoon.

Everything was very strange.

The girl reached the sidewalk, and the rain, although less intense, continued to fall and hinder people. She remembered that she had an umbrella in the pantry and returned to the office.

She picked up the umbrella and, as she walked to the exit door, she heard a dry, terrifying noise. She felt a dreadful sensation, a unique tightness in her chest.

- My God!

Suzana was left without action. For a moment she didn't know how to act.

- Dr. Miguel couldn't have done what I'm thinking. Not that!

She made the sign of the cross and walked fast. She went to the door of the boss' office, put the umbrella on a small table, put her hand on the doorknob, counted to three, took a deep breath and opened it.

The scene in front of her was terrible. The blood spread on the wall, splashed on the window, the curtain, the table, a real horror. Her terrified eyes mechanically followed the surroundings until they crossed the body of Miguel, lying on the floor, on his back; the hole was visible around the chest and the right index finger was still attached to the trigger of the revolver. Suzana took his mouth in awe in her hand. She closed her eyes and immediately prayed. Then, more calmly, she asked in a sad tone, as if Miguel could hear her:

- Dr. Miguel, why this extreme action? Why such a radical attitude? Why didn't I get there in time to stop you?

Suzana began to feel chills, nausea.

She felt a strong desire to pray and prayed fervently. She stayed in prayer for a few minutes until the chills disappeared. Calmer, she went to her office and called the police.

* * *

Miguel's death was highlighted in the main newspapers of the country and always appeared in the headlines of the social columns. And there were excellent ingredients to sell newspapers: high society, fame, bankruptcy and suicide. The newspapers gloated over the old man, scolding him for his nefarious attitude and for leaving the family with a streak. A true circus of horrors.

Guillermina shook her head sideways. She could not believe what she saw. The picture of her and Miguel together, smiling, printed on the front page of the newspaper. In a fit of hysteria, she crumpled and tore up the newspaper in front of her, furiously scattering the pieces across the room. She was upset. Her husband had always been a wimp, living together had shown that, and that crazy attitude had not really surprised her. But killing himself in the office? Cause negative publicity about the family? Where did Miguel have the head for making such a mistake? As she prepared for the funeral, her thoughts went back in time.

Guillermina's family had lost their entire fortune in the great crisis that shook the world with the crash of the New York Stock Exchange in 1929. Intelligent and very beautiful, Guillermina went on to find a husband, preferably with possessions. Many of those who frequented her circle of friends lost everything and she had to go after the nouveau riche.

At that time, nouveau riche was usually an immigrant or the son of an immigrant who was beginning to make a fortune in the country, to a great job and a lot of sweat. This had been the case with Miguel's family. The son of a Portuguese man who had arrived in Brazil without a penny in his pocket, the boy had grown up poor, with many difficulties. Soon his father prospered in business and was able to attend a good university. He graduated as an engineer and set up a small but profitable office.

Miguel was handsome. White skin, very black and straight hair, a mountain of scattered hair on his body, masculine, manly. The girls sighed when they saw him. However, he was insecure and easy to manipulate.

Guillermina, so vain, found in Miguel a raw stone that, well polished, would bear great fruit in the future. With her beauty and charm, she courted him and in a short time, even against the will of Miguel's family, they were married. Guillermina made her husband a cat and a shoe during the years they were married. With skill and refinement, she helped Miguel grow professionally, through the friendships he made in social circles. Yes, because Guillermina lost the money, but many of her friends followed the same path and married the nouveau riche. They were women who came from traditional families, from lineage, and this was highly valued in the high society of São Paulo at that time.

Guillermina had married without love. Over the years, her marriage became a burden. Life was good, she could maintain her luxuries, but she lacked strength, color and Guillermina wanted more, much more. She concluded that it was time to find a new suitor. Even when she was close to middle age, she still looked good, she attracted attention. There were even friends of the son who were pining for her.

Aware of her beauty and convinced of her ingenuity, a few years ago she began to take her feet off the plate. However, Guillermina fell in love with a kind of gangster, that kind of rogue who bewitched many women. Although Ramirez was a remarkable profiteer, he had everything to win over a woman: tall, thin, dark-skinned, black hair.

Ramírez had come to our parts as soon as the Spanish General Francisco Franco enacted the Law of Repression of Communism and Freemasonry in 1940. Ramírez was sympathetic to the Republic.

Because of this, his goods were confiscated and he had to go into exile, first to Mexico and a few years later to Brazil.

This happened at a time when the government was still registering prostitutes. Ah, yes, because there was a time when sex workers were registered with records, photos and everything else by the government.

Years later, the brothels under government control were closed by decree. Thousands of prostitutes were thrown onto the streets at night. Then came street prostitution, a form of prostitution in which women offer themselves publicly on the sidewalk.

Ramirez, a purse snatcher, saw a gold mine there. The area invaded by the prostitutes was called Boca do Lixo³ and the Spaniard began to control the prostitution in the area. He did a lot at the expense of the girls. Over the years, in addition to controlling Boca, he set up clandestine brothels with the help of corrupt politicians and police who had free access to the brothels; in exchange for the girls' services and free drinks, they prevented the competent authorities from damaging the business in any way.

A womanizer, Ramirez gathered a handful of lovers until he met Guillermina. Then, hunger joined the desire to eat. He was rich, but had no prestige or status. Ramírez needed to infiltrate high society; however, he had no last name or other status that could help him in this endeavor. And Guillermina seemed the right target, since she was well connected, extremely materialistic and the ideal woman to open the doors of high society to him. For this reason, and only for it, Ramírez apparently stopped getting involved with other women and chose Guillermina as his only partner.

Guillermina had married without love. She had traded the feeling for the money. Suddenly, when Ramirez appeared in her life, all that feeling repressed for years surfaced, very strong. She had fallen in love with Ramirez and his great bank account. Guillermina was too involved, and when Ramirez wanted to get close to Miguel, she thought the approach helped her husband never suspect his connection to the gangster. To facilitate the rapprochement, pretended to be friend of Miguel and get him interested in the shares of the Compañía Paulista, Ramirez covered her lover in jewelry, was a gallant, treated her like a queen.

There was a time when Guillermina felt safe and ready to part with Miguel. She would only wait until the end of the year.

Remembering this now, preparing for the funeral, Guillermina spoke out loud, amidst laughter:

- Miguel had always been an idiot! Well, I suspected. He was too weak to take that step. He couldn't even live with little. I'm glad to be with Ramirez.

Now I am a widow and I will no longer need subterfuge to walk freely with you. I didn't even need the separation. I won't even be looked down upon.

Badly seen... That word hammered in his head. Miguel's death was good news, but suicide? Why didn't the weak husband wait any longer? After all, Miguel's suicide could have thrown her into the social mud, it was a reprehensible act by all.

No doubt the dust would settle over time and people would soon forget. But there was always someone pointing at her and talking quietly: "Her husband was a wimp, he killed himself, poor man That was too much for her huge ego. Guillermina gritted her teeth in anger.

- Why didn't you kill yourself at home? Why didn't you take a glass of tranquilizers before going to sleep? It could save us from unnecessary limitations. We would have time to cover up the case. Ramirez would bring in one of those doctors who perform abortions on those prostitutes and we could easily alter the death certificate, declaring accidental death. However, did Miguel do this in the office? And didn't you wait for the secretary to leave?

It was impossible to say it was an accident, because the police were adamant: Miguel had committed suicide. And although Guillermina paid a lot of money to the police, the Medical-Legal Institute (MLI) had already done the autopsy and informed the band of journalists about the cause of death. The smoke zone in the chest area and the amount of nitrite on the fingers left no doubt: Miguel had committed suicide.

Guillermina felt the urge to tear out poor Suzana's hair, blaming the press for the uproar Miguel's death had caused on the secretary's shoulders. She rubbed a little dust on her face and walked down the stairs, talking and gesticulating:

- Why did that secretary call the police right away? Why didn't she call our house first? Did she have to go off and cause such a stir in our lives?

- Relax, mother," responded Luis Carlos, a little shaken by the sudden death of his father. Suzana didn't mean it. She was afraid and the impulse was to call the police. I don't think she intended to tarnish Dad's image. Suzana, besides being a good employee, is a great person.

Guillermina covered her face with her hands, feigning despair.

- What about us? Besides being broke, we will bear the brunt of your father's cowardly act.

- Don't be like that, Mother," pleaded the boy with tearful eyes.

Guillermina continued her scene:

- Miguel should never have done that. Didn't he think of us? Can you imagine how such an act could damage our reputation? If only we could cover up the case.

- The damage is done," said the young man, tears rolling down his cheeks.

- Don't be sad, my son.

- How could I not be? I lost my father in a brutal way. I loved him.

She embraced her son.

- You will get over it, my dear. Luis Carlos continued to be devastated:

- I found out that we ran out of money and...

- Calm down... Everything is resolved.

- Now I'll have to work, Mom. How boring! - Guillermina hold her son.

- No! Not that. You weren't born to work. You were born to shine and command and be served.

He was surprised.

- But what to do? We are ruined. Bye-bye, partying; bye-bye, women.

Guillermina hugged him again and gently ran a hand through his hair.

- You are so beautiful... No, any kind of work definitely doesn't suit you.

- But reality is cruel. I will have to work.

- I will support you.

- How? Dad got into a lot of debt. Our house is mortgaged to Caixa Econômica. And there is more...

- More? - she asked, still pretending to be worried.

- Those two million were blocked by the government. We have absolutely nothing left. Nothing. Sometimes I think I should do the same thing as Dad.

- What?

- Put a bullet in your chest and that's it. I prefer that to being poor.

Guillermina was shocked. She was very attached to her son.

- Shut up! You are my beautiful son. Without you, I don't know what to do. If I didn't have you by my side, I couldn't bear such humiliation. Your father was a weakling and deserved that end. Weak people do not deserve to live. If your father had so many friends in the government, why didn't anyone approach him? Why didn't they warn him about the nationalization of the Compañía Paulista?

- I don't know.

- Only the intelligent survive, my son. Put that definitely in your head.

- But it would be easy to end up like Dad, don't you think?

- It might even be a way out. Die and you're ready. After all, life is one and when we die, it's over. But to end a life with a tarnished reputation, to be despised and called a coward, weak or even crazy? Never! Let's find a way out of this.

- You have a lot of confidence. You're in shock over Dad's death.

- No, my son," she lied. I need to be strong. We have to come together. I can't and don't want to lose my balance. I am counting on your support.

- You know you can count on me. In the meantime, we're broke - it became sad and desperate.

- Let's find a way.

- Do you have any ideas?

- A good marriage, for example.

- Who would want to marry me?

- There are several rich girls around you

- In situation we're in? They'll leave, for sure. They prefer an ugly rich guy than a poor handsome guy like me.

- You know me - said Guillermina, with shinning eyes.

- You'll help me, Mom, I'm sure. Guillermina threw a kiss on his forehead.

- There is always a fool, a rich girl with self-esteem on the floor. Let me handle this later.

Guillermina looked at her son carefully and laughed intimately at Luis Carlos' naivety.

He was Guillermina's oldest and favorite son. He had grown up surrounded by comfort and pampering, and now that twenty-six years old, he spends his money with women and gambling. He studied law under pressure of his father; however, he closed his enrollment in the third year. The university didn't give him time for the party. This was inhumane, he believed. And Luis Carlos never wanted to work either. From time to time, he attended meetings where Miguel would wet the hands of politicians to win a tender.

Although he was handsome and seductive, Luis Carlos was very easy to get into the conversation, about women. However, the boy was one of the most sought-after figures at parties, meetings and, above all, by women in general. In a survey carried out by O Cruzeiro magazine, Luís Carlos Amaral Gouveia Penteado won, after coming in second place, the most coveted Bachelor title for young matchmakers in the country.

- Before thinking about Luís Carlos' future, we must decide on the funeral and burial.

Guillermina stopped thinking. She and her son turned their necks to the voice at the entrance to the room. Guillermina murmured and responded out loud:

- Oh you! What happened?

- Is that... That... That... You... We have to think...

- Think about what?

- W... W... Well...

- Stop stuttering - shouted Guillermina.

- Hum... Hum...

- Speak like a normal person!

- Take care of yourself...

- Don't tell me you're shocked?

- N... No...

- Don't come to me with your weaknesses at a time like this.

Ana Paula's eyes were red and swollen with tears. In fact, she was shocked by the death of her father. There was no judgment for her. Whether it was natural, accidental or suicide, her father had died. She truly loved him.

The young woman was sad because her mother and brother, instead of sympathizing with the grief, condemned Miguel's attitude and were concerned only about his social image. It was as if her father meant nothing to them, as if he were nothing, a toy that stopped working and that was it. She broke into a tearful voice:

- Luis Carlos, aren't you shocked? It is not possible that don´t feel sad about the death of Dad.

The young man bowed his head. At that moment, he felt a hint of remorse. Luis Carlos was not so close to his father.