Sunday night. Moacir bellowed. Eliana bellowed, and the children bellowed.
I stood in the hallway, wondering whether or not I should interfere.
Eliana said: She exasperates me. I don’t have to put up with that crazy Indian woman, who almost burned my house down. Moacir: Don’t change the subject; I wanna know who gave you that piece of meat. And those gizzards.
More shouts. Meats and butcher shops were mentioned. Alceu. Something broke. Glass. And more shouts.
I scratched my head, lit a cigarette. The devil was on the loose. Things are bad today, said a neighbor when he saw me getting out of the car, a retired guy who was all the time poking his nose in where it didn’t belong. They’ve been yelling like that all afternoon, he said.
The name-calling went on and on. Tramp. Drunkard. Bastard. Whore. Limp-dick. It was only when I heard the word “trafficker” that I decided to knock on the door.
Moacir opened the door.
What’s happening here? I asked. The neighbors are stirred up.
Moacir came out and closed the door. Eliana continued hurling insults. That woman, he said. Have you heard the rumors? About her and Alceu? You know who Alceu is, the butcher? A kinda cross-eyed guy?
I’ve had it, he said. The woman’s driving me crazy.
I did what I could to calm Moacir, took him for a beer at the corner bar, but to make matters worse, Alceu, the butcher, had the same idea.
See how he looks at me? Then he says he’s not looking, he’s cross-eyed. Look at him looking over here. I feel like putting out both the bastard’s eyes.
The guy’s cross-eyed, I said. He’s looking at the door, not at us.
He is?
I know those cross-eyed types, I said. You need to calm down. Eliana is an honest woman.
You think so?
Without any doubt.
What about that Alceu guy?
He sells meat, I said. That’s all. Cross-eyed.
You think so?
Of course. Eliana loves you, I replied. That’s what I’m saying.
We returned home. Moacir seemed to be under control. He said that Ramirez’s agent had run into a problem in Paraguay and still hadn’t come to pick up the shipment. Careful, I said, you’re already talking like a trafficker.
We laughed. Tomorrow, he said, I’m gonna slip you some dough. I’ve already sold almost a hundred grams today.
We said goodbye, I went up to my room, and when I was almost asleep Carlão phoned me. Are you awake?
More or less.
I want to talk to you.
I felt a chill in my spine. About what?
Can you come here?
Tomorrow?
From the look of things, that Sunday had no intention of ending.
Rita’s face was like a handful of raw meat, her mouth swollen, bruises; nothing was in order in that face. Her nose was bleeding, and one tooth had been broken. On the sofa, sobbing, she said she was going to lose her child.
Let’s take her to the hospital, I told Carlão.
I hope she dies, my cousin said. That bitch. I left my family for her. Two daughters. I hope the baby dies too, that’s what I want to happen to that cow.
Carlão left the room. Rita didn’t even look at me, sobbing uncontrollably. I moved toward the phone, planning to call an ambulance, but then Carlão returned with a gun. That was when I realized he knew everything.
We’re getting out of here, he said. To the car. Both of you. Now.
Take it easy, Carlão. Let’s talk, I said.
Now you want to talk, you son of a bitch? You made some poor woman kill herself in São Paulo, I went there, picked you up out of the gutter, brought you here, offered my home, got you a job, you came here, ate my food and took advantage of her being easy, fucked my wife, got my wife pregnant.
I’m not your wife, Rita said.
Shut up, you whore.
You’re not my husband, insisted Rita.
The only reason I don’t kill the two of you right here and now is ’cause I don’t want to dirty my living room with the blood of a couple of pigs. And ’cause I don’t want to just kill, I want to bury too. Move it, both of you.
Before going out to the gas station where Carlão’s car was, we went through the garage, and he got a shovel and handed it to Rita. I saw blood running down her legs. Stay calm, I said, everything’s going to be all right.
In the car, he asked whether if I was spared I would take care of the wretched being that was going to be born, which wouldn’t happen because he would kill me along with Rita. That’s as sure as two and two is four, he said, but let’s suppose I’m a fool and let you two go free?
As soon as I managed to open my mouth to say I was sorry, that neither Rita nor I meant for it to happen, which was a lie – because we had wanted each other from the first day, seeing her sunbathing in a bikini, I was crazy from the first instant, but it was true that I regretted it, that my wish was never to have gotten near Rita – he started yelling, Shut your trap, you goddamn son of a bitch, shut your mouth, you motherfucker, because I swear if I hear your voice I’ll kill you both right here and then set fire to the car.
We drove for over twenty minutes, the car being jolted by the dirt road full of potholes, then turned onto a small trail, in even worse condition, and followed it for another ten minutes.
The night was clear and we could see the terrain around us, the trees, the whole landscape. Carlão parked, turned off the headlights, and as soon as we got out, handed the shovel to Rita, ordering her to dig under an ipê tree. Keep digging, he said repeatedly. Deeper. Faster. Harder. And when she fell down, he would kick her, saying that she wasn’t even any good for that, for digging her own grave. He handed me the shovel.
When the hole was deep enough, Carlão told us to get inside and keep our backs to him.
We obeyed. Sobbing, Rita squeezed my hand.
Let go of his hand, you bitch, screamed Carlão.
I won’t, she said. If I’m going to die, I want to die like this.
I tried to pull my hand away, but Rita clutched it tightly.
I closed my eyes, awaiting the worst. And then we heard footsteps in the woods. I thought it was someone approaching but quickly realized the sound was moving away from us.
I gathered my courage and looked behind me and saw Carlão leaving, the gun in his hand.
Rita sobbed, trembling. Stay calm, I said.
I thought we had sunk as low as we could. But things were going to get a lot worse.