“Don’t leave me alone.”
I got the flashlight.
“I won’t be far away, nothing to worry about. Lock everything and only open the door to me. And stay away from the window.”
“Please …”
“Don’t worry.”
I left, taking the revolver. At the tool shed I grabbed two shovels and a pickax and went to the magnolia grove. I sat down on the stone bench, with the flashlight on. I placed the shovels and pickax beside the bench.
Sonya and Jorge were slow to show up. The man was wearing a hat that covered half his face.
“Turn off that flashlight. What did you want with me?”
I recognized him at once. If you want to stay alive in this shitty world, you can’t forget anyone’s face or voice. It was the son of old man Baglioni, who I had helped make it to the other world. I pretended not to recognize him.
“Just one question. Is the woman your wife?”
“That old bag? She’s my partner. She’s off her rocker and has been screwing up the business. What did you want from me?”
“To get what you owe me.”
“Before you do the job? Impossible. A deal’s a deal.”
“I’m going to kill the woman today and disappear. How am I supposed to get the rest?”
“You know where to find Sonya. She’ll pay you later.”
I turned on the flashlight. I pointed to the shovels and pickax.
“I want you two to help me dig a grave. If I do it by myself it’ll take a really long time. The body has to vanish. I went shopping with her in the village today, and they saw my face.”
“That’s all we needed,” said Jorge.
“No grave, no body.”
“All right, all right,” Jorge said, grabbing one of the shovels. I picked up the other one and the pickax.
“Not here. We have to go outside the estate, in the forest.”
“I can’t walk very far in these high heels,” Sonya said.
“That’s your problem.”
We went into the forest, with Sonya complaining that her shoes were getting ruined.
“This is good,” I said.
Sonya refused to dig. Jorge and I worked in silence, the way gravediggers do. It’s not easy to open up a large grave, especially in that type of hard earth. Our shirts were soaked in sweat. Jorge was sweating more than me but didn’t take off the hat that concealed his face.
Jorge laid down the shovel. “That’s deep enough,” he said.
I still had the pickax in my hand.
“There’s still one thing missing,” I said.
I struck Jorge in the head with all my strength, using the point of the pickax. He fell. Sonya began to run but only managed a few steps and a shout of fear, not really a shout, more a kind of howl.
I checked to see they were really dead; I didn’t want to bury them alive. I deepened the cavity a little more. I threw them into the hole and covered it with dirt. I patted down the earth with the shovel and covered the grave with rocks and tree branches. In the forest there was nothing but birds, toads, snakes, insects, and other harmless animals. They weren’t going to dig up that grave, but I didn’t want to take any chances.
I washed the shovels and the pickax and returned them to the tool shed. I knocked on the iron door of the house.
“It’s me, you can open the door.”
The woman opened the door, as frightened as ever. “Did you see anything?”
“No. And I didn’t hear any strange noises. Did you?”
“No,” she answered. “Would you like some tea? I’ll make us some tea.”
I stayed at the estate for another week with the woman, despite the music. There’s nothing more irritating than violin music. Every day I would go to the grave where those two were rotting, to see if there was any bad smell in the air. Nothing. In the market in the village they recommended an elderly couple as caretakers for the woman. The old man was a robust type who worked all day in the garden, him and my mother. I’m joking, but I wish she could have been my mother. I liked her. If I’d had a mother like her, I’d be a different man, my fate would be different, and I’d take care of her. I’d have someone to love.
She was in the garden with the caretaker, puttering in the soil. “I have to leave,” I said.
“I don’t know how to repay you for what you’ve done for me. I’m well. I’m no longer afraid.”
“You’re not well. But no one is going to phone you in the middle of the night anymore or follow you in the streets to frighten you.”
“How can I pay you? You must be needing some money.”
“I’ve already been paid. But you can give me a ride to the bus station in the city.”
The woman drove me to the bus station.
“When you need anything, look for me. Give me your telephone number,” she said.
“I don’t have a phone.”
“Sonya must know how to find you if I need you, doesn’t she? She was very kind, recommending you as my guardian angel.”
I didn’t answer. The woman waited with me until the bus arrived, the two of us in the car listening to the music she liked, and the violin didn’t seem so irritating.
I got on the bus. She waved at me as the bus pulled away.
the ship catrineta
I AWOKE TO THE SOUND OF AUNT OLYMPIA declaiming “The Ship Catrineta” in her grave and powerful contralto voice.
My soul I deny thee, O demon,
Thou serpent of land and of sea.
To God and His hosts it looks upward,
From body and torment to flee.
An angel descended from Heaven,
Delivered him safe to the lee.
The demon was rent by his fury
And peace again ruled o’er the sea.
Come ev’ning the ship Catrineta
Had landed, from Satan set free.
Then I remembered that today was my twenty-first birthday. All my aunts must be in the hall, waiting for me to wake up. “I’m awake,” I shouted. They came into my room. Aunt Helena was carrying an old, dusty book with a leather cover and gilded clasps. Aunt Regina was bringing a tray with my breakfast, and Aunt Julieta a basket with fresh fruit gathered from our orchard. Aunt Olympia had on the dress she wore in Molière’s École des Femmes.
“It’s all a lie,” Aunt Helena said. “The demon didn’t explode, and no angel saved the captain; the truth is all in the old ‘Ship’s Log’, written by our ancestor Manuel de Matos, which thou hast already read, and in this other book, ‘The Secret Decalogue of Uncle Jacinto’, which thou art to read for the first time today.”
In “The Secret Decalogue” my mission was defined. I was the only male in a family reduced, besides myself, to four unmarried and implacable women. The sun was coming through the window, and I could hear the birds singing in the garden. It was a beautiful morning. My aunts asked anxiously if I had chosen the girl. I answered yes.
“We’ll have a birthday party tonight. Bring her here, so we can meet her,” said Aunt Regina. My aunts have taken care of me since I was born. My mother died in childbirth and my father, my mother’s first cousin, committed suicide a month later.
I told my aunts that they would meet sweet Ermelinda Balsemão that night. Their faces beamed with satisfaction. Aunt Regina handed me “The Secret Decalogue of Uncle Jacinto” and they all solemnly left the room. Before beginning to read the Decalogue, I telephoned Ermê, as I called her, and asked if she’d like to have dinner with my aunts and me. She was happy to accept. Then I opened “The Secret Decalogue” and began to read the commandments of my mission: It is the inescapable obligation of every first-born male of our Family, above the laws of society, religion, and ethics …