I took a cold shower, and it left me more agitated than before. I didn’t get any sleep all night. It was very hot, and I tossed and turned in bed, thinking about what to do. What if Sulamita turned me in? What if Ramirez killed me? The hottest day of the year, the radio said. It said: sixteen trampled to death at a religious event. It said: Taliban stronghold invaded. It said: Iran enriches uranium to twenty percent.
So far, so good, I told myself. I’m not religious, I’m not an insurgent, and I don’t live in Iran. And it’s still possible to run away, to return to São Paulo, over. Go back to telemarketing. Sell novelties that nobody wants to buy.
I felt a weird sensation that alternated between deep despair and an artificial calm. As soon as I relaxed I became nervous again, I would go out into the street, smoke a cigarette, walk to the corner, trying to get rid of that affliction, thinking that the most that could happen to me was to be killed by Ramirez, go to prison, or return to São Paulo. The “anti-city.” That was how I thought of São Paulo. The counter-city that had turned me into an anti-I. Capable of slapping female employees. Still, it was one option. Besides, even if they hunted me down and arrested me, there was a limit to misfortune. They – Ramirez and the police – couldn’t arrest me twice or kill me twice, I told myself, so that’s all, prison or death, as if prison and death were just meaningless words. That’s how I calmed myself. And suddenly it was as if I had woken up from a state of confusion and understood exactly what it meant to go to prison and to die. Or to return to São Paulo.
Saturday morning I went to the supermarket with Serafina, bought ham, bread, crackers, and cigarettes, and then we left for the penitentiary to visit Moacir.
He was even more dejected than at our first meeting and very worried about the children. He’d made his mother promise she’d take care of the kids. Don’t let Eliana hit them, he said, Eliana is very high-strung. Serafina wanted to know what was going on and asked a lot of questions. Mother, he answered, it doesn’t do any good to explain. All you’ve gotta do is take care of the children, that’s all.
At the end, he asked his mother to give us a few moments and told me it had been Eliana who blew the whistle on him. How do you know? I asked. She told me so herself, she was here yesterday. Does she know about me? I asked. No, he replied, of course not. She saw the packages of drugs in my workshop and when we were fighting, when the cops arrived, she ratted me out. That’s what happened.
Then his eyes turned red, he made an effort not to cry as he told me that Eliana had stated plainly that she had turned him in because she hated him. She said she’s disgusted by me, he continued, that I’m like a dirty pig in the middle of those bikes. Since when is grease dirty?
I didn’t know what to say. Maybe it’s a lie, I ventured. It’s grease, he said. I tried to calm him, I said I’d talk with Sulamita, see about finding a lawyer, and he told me it wasn’t necessary, that he had already taken care of everything. How? I asked. A friend of mine, you don’t know him. I urged him not to involve me. Are you crazy? he said. Who’s gonna take care of my kids? Or my mother? I’m counting on you, he said.
I was disconcerted by his answer. It wasn’t part of my plans to take care of Moacir’s family, and from the way things were put, the price of my freedom would be something like marrying Eliana. Taking on her children.
Don’t let them lack for anything, he said.
Of course not, I agreed. Never.
I left with Serafina still confused, asking more questions.
When we arrived, we found Eliana returning from the outdoor market with the little Indians, each one with a turnover in his hand. I asked if she needed anything and she told me the only thing she wanted was to be rid of Serafina. I can’t put up with that old woman in my house any longer, she said.
I took Serafina to have lunch nearby, but neither of us managed to eat a bite.
Later, I called Sulamita. What’s going on? asked my father-in-law at the other end of the line. She’s acting strange. Quiet. Come over here so we can talk, the old man continued, maybe I can help you two. I give good advice. I’m your friend. By the way, I need a favor from you. Father to son. An advance, he said, as if I were his boss. The chance to buy my neighbor’s VW has come up. Can’t do it right now, I said. And tell Sulamita I called, over.
I spent the rest of the day in my room, with Serafina beside me, silently braiding straw, and at certain moments her presence was even comforting. From time to time, when I closed my eyes, my plan, over, slowly formed like a gigantic wave that started through a crack in my tectonic plates in the deepest and darkest part of my ocean and came rushing forward, gaining force and volume. The argument for me to go ahead was also powerful: if I had been rich when my father disappeared, and if at the time someone had phoned to propose a trade, my money for my father’s body, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. I’d have paid. My plan, per se, wouldn’t do any harm to Dona Lu. She had money to burn. In a way, I’d even be doing the family a favor, since it’s by burying our dead that they die once and for all and leave us in peace. The problem, over, was the cadaver. Where to find a cadaver?
Sunday was worse than Saturday. Sulamita didn’t answer my calls. I felt numb, torpid, and heavy because of the heat.
Serafina brought me a cold fish broth. While I ate it, in bed, the Indian woman taught me, for the first time, an expression in Guató, infani, whose meaning, she explained, was “it’s awful.”
I only got out of bed when, around three o’clock, Dalva phoned, asking if I could pick up José at the airport.
On the way back, the rancher told me how worried he was about Dona Lu’s health. I know, he said, I know deep down that Junior is dead, but she won’t believe it until she sees our son’s body. The word “body” infused me with courage. Act quickly, over.
When I returned home, the Indian kids were in my bedroom, playing hide-and-seek. I threw everyone out and lay down, my head roiling with ideas.
And then, at seven o’clock, I heard a sound on the stairs.
I ran to open the door and saw Sulamita coming toward me.
As I embraced her, I noticed from the sour smell of her clothes and hair that she had come from the morgue.
She took my hand and said she needed to show me something. It’s very important.
Infani, I thought, as we headed out to my car.