Rubem Fonseca - Crimes of August

“I don’t know. I never read it.”

“You were never curious?”

“No.”

“Afraid of discovering she has a lover? Every woman has a lover, didn’t you know? And they tell the truth in their diary. Dear Diary, I’m madly in love, my husband is a boring brute, and I’ve found this sensitive man who sends me red roses. The sly ones like Alice are the worst.”

“What about you? Do you have a diary?”

“Not yet, for now all I have is a lover. Who doesn’t send me red roses.”

“What’s with you?”

“Sundays are so boring! And this thing is still in its beginning!”

“You’re nervous. Calm down.”

“You’re not expecting a call from Chicão. That’s just an excuse not to see me. I’m finding you indifferent.”

“That’s silly.”

“Don’t try to fool me. I’m not Alice. I’m warning you. My insanity isn’t the tame kind.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“A glass of champagne doesn’t get anybody drunk.”

“Early in the morning?”

“It’s eleven o’clock. Let’s meet at Beira Mar, my love. Please. I’m begging you.”

Had she set down the champagne glass and joined her hands in a gesture of prayer as she did after fucking? Lomagno wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“I have to call Chicão.”

“Isn’t he supposed to call you?”

“Yes, but if Chicão doesn’t call, I have to try to find out what he wants.”

“You said you didn’t know where Chicão was. You said he had orders to disappear. How are you going to call him? Pedro Lomagno, I didn’t do what I did so afterward you could make a fool out of me!”

Nymphomaniacal harpy. Because of her, two people had been killed. How had things ever gotten to that point?

“Did you hear what I said?!”

“I heard, Luciana. .”

“Then we going to meet at Beira Mar. Now! Chicão can go to hell.”

“It’s impossible, dear. Be reasonable.”

Luciana’s tone changed. Now, sarcastic and bitter. “Did that Negro ever play the woman for you? Or did you play the woman for him?”

“Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Paulo did. Why not you?”

“Your husband was different from me.”

“You’re a bi just like he was.”

Lomagno hung up. Perplexed, stunned, he analyzed what he was feeling. A month earlier he was overwhelmed by a permanent and irresistible desire to be with that woman, to eat and drink with her, to go to bed with her. He remembered the pleasantry of falsely casual public encounters, carefully planned, of attending a ballet where he, from the back of his box, would spend the night watching her through opera glasses while Luciana, knowing she was being observed, sent him subtle hidden signals, running her tongue over her lips, or biting them, or secretly caressing her own breasts almost bared by the low-cut evening gown. Suddenly, unexpectedly, he had tired of her; the way he tired of everything, it was true, but never in that manner. He couldn’t understand what had caused that sudden, so powerful, feeling of aversion. Paulo’s death, which she had planned? He disdained Paulo. And Paulo had to be killed, or he would have driven Cemtex into bankruptcy. Then what was it? Now, he wanted Alice by his side. Did he love Alice?

Maybe he wasn’t asking the right questions, maybe he wasn’t giving the right answers to the right questions or to the wrong questions he was asking himself. Maybe there was no question to ask, or no answer to the confusion, the turmoil he was feeling at that moment.

AS ALWAYS, Mattos awoke before Alice, who had slept with him in the new bed.

But neither had slept well.

Both remained immobile in the darkness, eyes shut. Alice amused herself for a time with the dark images that formed under her closed eyelids: black gases, expanding like stormy clouds of carbon in an endless opaque vault, assumed almost indistinct shapes in continuous mutation — a face with no eyes, a black butterfly, a hunchback, her own face. .

“Are you sleeping?”

“No,” said Mattos. “It always takes a long time for me to fall asleep.” (When he slept with a woman.)

“I think I’m going to take another pill,” said Alice.

Mattos got up, turned on the light, and went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

Alice was wearing a short-sleeved nightgown closed up to the neckline. Mattos was in undershorts and a long-sleeved shirt that he had rolled up to the elbows. Neither of them wanted to sleep naked in front of the other.

“Better to take a sleeping pill than lie awake, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t you like a glass of warm milk?” asked Mattos, worried about the woman’s thin, pallid face and the dark circles around her eyes.

“All right. If that doesn’t work, I’ll take a pill.”

They sat on the edge of the bed, drinking milk.

“Are you having trouble getting used to the new bed?” asked Alice.

“I’m not sleepy.”

“You slept better on that sofa?”

“I always sleep badly.”

“Are you angry with me because of the sofa bed?”

“No. Lie down. Let’s see if you can get to sleep now.”

Again in darkness. “May I hug you?”

“Yes.”

Alice hugged Mattos.

Sleeping embraced by a woman was tiring and disagreeable to Mattos. A woman up against his body kept him from thinking straight.

Now in the living room, Mattos, who had gotten dressed as if leaving for work, thought about the woman sleeping in his bedroom. If he had a friend, he would ask what he should do in such a situation. His pride had been badly hurt when she left him. It did no good for Alice to return now, humble, crazy, prodigal. He no longer wanted to live with her. He didn’t want to live with any woman.

Alice appeared in the room.

“Are you going out?”

“I always get dressed when I wake up. I take a bath and get dressed. But I haven’t put on my tie.”

“That’s true. You haven’t put on your tie.”

“I don’t know how to say this. .”

“Say what?”

Alice seemed to have become emaciated during the night. The dark circles around her eyes hadn’t disappeared, despite a night’s sleep, and they stood out against her pale skin.

“It’s nothing important. We can talk later.”

“How nice. I wake up completely foggy. I don’t wake up right until — How to say what? What is it you don’t know how to tell me? Something unpleasant?”

“No. . It’s not — I already told you, it’s not important.”

“I want to know. Please. .”

“This isn’t a good place for you to stay. That’s what it is.”

“Why?”

“Several reasons. The other day a man came here to kill me.”

“Were you afraid?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not afraid either.”

“This place isn’t comfortable. . It’s very small. .”

“Are you sending me away?”

“No, it’s not that. . You could rent an apartment, a larger place, more comfortable. . That wouldn’t be a problem for you.”

“Will you come live with me?”

“We’ll see about that later.”

“Later when?”

“You’re a married woman. .”

“Separated.”

“Later we’ll see.”

The telephone rang.

“Mr. Mattos, this is Leonídio, from Forensics. Today’s Sunday, but I thought you might want to come here anyway. A cadaver showed up with the characteristics of the guy you were looking for.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Where are you going?” asked Alice.

“Duty.”

“Where?”

“Rua dos Inválidos.”

“Rua dos Inválidos? To do what, on Rua dos Inválidos? What’s on Rua dos Inválidos?”

“A government department.”

“Will you be long?”

“I don’t know. Think about what I told you.”