Dito couldn’t take his eyes from the small boy, and reaching for the coffin, he touched Smokey’s cold forehead.
“Do you know how it happened?”
Mother Dolores shook her head.
“They only told me he was found dead. He had been in a police precinct jail all this time.”
Dito looked at the women again who remained quiet. They had make up on and were wearing low cut dresses. He sat down at their side and concentrated on a candle about to burn out, when Mother Dolores came up with one to replace it.
“Did you know anyone of his family?”
Dito said that he didn’t.
“We have no one,” he added, a little disturbed.
An old woman showed up serving coffee. Dito got a cup and felt the atmosphere very heavy with the mixed smell of candles and flowers. While he awaited for the second round of coffee, he observed Smokey who looked as if he were asleep. Mother Dolores had knelt in front of the images of the saints, and after she stood up she said unintelligible things aloud. Dito followed the ceremony closely until he had to go to the bathroom. He crossed the partially dark hallway and got in a small room that stunk of urine. The tiles on the walls were loose and falling. A scantily dressed woman showed up at the door of a bedroom, saying something to the man who was leaving her room.
Dito pissed, thinking of Smokey’s bad luck. If Crystal had been involved in that deal, he had already paid for it. He now had to know of Manguito’s whereabouts. If he was still alive.
When he returned to the room, other people had shown up. A bald black man had brought his atabaque drum. He held it in between his knees and, at the request of Mother Dolores, he began to beat on it lightly while singing a melancholy song. His melody escaped the room through the half-open door and joined the other sounds coming from the heart of the old house.
When he began falling asleep, the old woman took him to a long folding chair for him to lie down. It was in a small and crowded room. He loosened up the knots in his shoes, put his gun in the back pocket of his pants and fell asleep. He woke up at daybreak. Movement in the house had increased. The women who were tired of hooking were ready to go away, but before that they were coming to see the young boy. Dito looked at those strange faces, showing marks of sleeplessness with dark circles under their eyes and smeared make up. Mother Dolores did not appear to have slept for a moment; she satyed in front of the saints’ images. The atabaque man beat his drum as smoothly as the night before and appeared to be singing the same song. When a far away clock struck six AM, Mother Dolores stood up and invited all to pray. She closed her eyes and raised her arms. The atabaque was silenced. A smoke cloud began to rise from a small grill placed in the corner of the room. In an instant the house was filled with incense.
III
Dito stayed behind when the women left the cemetery. He observed how odd figure of Mother Dolores and all the others looked. He wrote down the number of Smokey’s burial place to play it in the numbers game. He was almost sure he would win. He went into a restaurant and the waiter asked him to pay beforehand for the plate he chose.
“What’s the big deal, man? What if the food ain’t no good?”
As the man was indifferent to his protest, Dito had no other solution but to show him a bill of fifty. The waiter picked up the money and began to set the table.
Finishing lunch he went to look for his group. He was only able to find Encravado and Pin. He told them about Smokey. Pin couldn’t believe it.
“Gosh, they are rubbing us out!”
Dito thought like that also.
“Every time they get their hands on one of us, it’s to kill.”
“That’s why you can’t play with them,” Dito said.
“And what do you suggest? Pin asked.
“To set up a gang, to get a lot of money and to disappear for some time. It’s the only way.”
“It won’t work,” Encravado said.
“What won’t work is this rolling johns. In no time every one of you is gonna be in the cage.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Encravado wanted to know.
“Pull a job on the supermarket. Get a million and disappear!”
“Pffh! This is for big fish!” said Pin.
“Of course. It ain’t for babies. It will take balls to pull this off,” argued Dito nervously.
“I’m in,” Encravado said.
“Then let’s wait for Mother’s Scourge.”
“Figurinha may also want in,” Pin said. “I saw him yesterday.”
“What about you?”
Pin was in doubt: “It’s too big,man.”
He frowned, scratching his head, then said, “Damned if I do and damned if I don’t! I’m in.”
“After we talk to the others we make our plans.” Dito said.
Encravado began, then, to enumerate frustrated robberies, while Pin, echoing his friend, stressed what was said, “But I won’t be soft. If people cross me, they’ll eat bullets. You’ll see.”
Dito reclined on the bench, as was his habit, and looked at the sky, at the clouds, at the black wings of vultures flying in circles. He thought of Smokey and remembered the guys in the car: Xereta’s smiling face, at the moment he backed the car over his foot; Panther’s hat; Eyelash’s face and Overtime’s gestures. If he stayed longer in Rio he would seek them out. One at a time. He would have enough money to attack them and to spend many days in hiding. If he were to return to Sao Paulo he would settle accounts with Big Purple and Caramel. He didn’t feel good knowing they were alive, catching other boys, doing to them what they did to him and to Manguito and Smokey.
“Friday would be a good day,” Encravado said suddenly, as if he were continuing the earlier conversation.
“I prefer Saturday,” Dito argued. “It’s easier for us and more difficult for them. Women go out shopping with their children. We can get one of them and use him as a shield, if things get out of hand. I think it’ll be easy.”
“And who will get the money?”
“Leave it with me. The important thing is to get the manager. Having him in hand, the money will show up. Otherwise the manager is a goner.”
Pin found that very funny. He clapped his hand and laughed loudly, “This is a cool dude, man!”
Encravado didn’t find that funny, “What if we can’t hang on to the manager?”
“Can’t hold him? What kind of fucking robbers are you? Or would you rather to pull a job at an old folk’s home?”
“We have to use our heads,” Pin said.
“First we check out the supermarket. We ain’t going there, like a bunch of crazies, without studying the place, man. We can even make a drawing of the building. Then, we go in. I bet it’ll work,” Dito said.
Encravado began to trust Dito.
“I’d been thinking of something like this for a long time. I only needed the partners.”
“Now you have them, and everything will be cool. By next week, we’ll already have the dough in our pockets. Not small change to make us have to beg from one of these sons of bitches around here. Big stuff.”
“If we can get some real dough, I’ll buy me a boat and become a fisherman,” Pin planned aloud.
“I’ll stop working.” Encravado said ironically.
“Tomorrow I’ll check out a supermarket. Later on we gather here and make a drawing of it,” Dito continued.
“Almost all of them have a mezzanine for the manager. One of us will hold the manager while the others run away.”
“And why not bring the manager out in the street with us, to give us cover?” Dito wondered.
“Cool, man. I hadn’t thought about this,” Pin replied.
“One of us will stay at the door to keep on the lookout.
“And the weapons?” Pin wanted to know.
“That’s easy.” Scourge will know where to find them. I got a gun. Two more will be enough. With the rest of the money we buy toy guns, just to scare the fools,” Dito said.
“And how do w
e escape?”
“How? We run. Each one to his favorite place. Later we meet here.”
There was nothing else to be discussed. They needed to wait for Mother’s Scourge and Figurinha. Dito knew thwy would be coming along. If his clothes had been a little cleaner he would have gone to the movies. He had the money. But he couldn’t risk being caught. With that shirt and that jacket almost black now, he wouldn’t be able to buy a ticket. He would end up making a scene at the ticket office and a policeman would show up. It would be better just to stay put.
A blond woman went along the opposite sidewal; Pin whistled, putting both index fingers in his mouth. It was a very loud whistle, of the kind that hurts the ears. No one in the group knew how to whistle louder than Pin. He was proud of it. The woman turned back and, looking at him, smiled.
“Where’s Sueli?”
“She’s coming in no time.”
The woman walked away.
“There it is man. Want to fool around with Beth? She’ll be alone in about two hours. And Sueli is coming to Cinelândia.”
“It’s not a bad idea.”
“Go on. You don’t need to be introduced. It’s the building after the little bar.”
Dito carried his jacket over the shoulders, after tying up his shoes and asking Encravado to talk to Mother’s Scourge and to look for Figurinha.
“We’ll see each other later.”
He left kicking the ficus seeds that covered the sidewalk. He crossed the street at the light among the rushing people. The stores had already closed for the day, their windows lit up. The buses went by very crowded while a traffic policeman whistled nervously at the intersection. He moved away from the noises of the street and from those of the bar filled with men drinking beer; he climbed the wooden stairs and met a fat woman who was just leaving, carrying a bag.
“Where’s Beth’s apartment?”
The woman looked at him with disdain and pointing to the end of the hallway, said, “It must be number 125.”
Dito passed by several closed doors. Lights were turned on in 125. Dito knocked at the door lightly, and when the door opened he saw the girl he had not seen in such a long time.
“Hi,” she said smiling.
“Hi,” he answered asking if he could come in.
“Please, feel at home. It’s not a big place but it’s functional.”
He threw his jacket on the ripped sofa and asked for a glass of water.
“I don’t think I have water, but if you want rum and peach juice, I have it, it’s really better.”
She opened the bottle and served the glasses. All the while Dito looked at the posters she had plastered on the walls, at the paper and plastic knick knacks, at the wicker lamp, the small colorful rugs and at the mirror in front of which Beth would put her make up on. After the first sip Dito smacked his lips in approval, which prompted Beth to explain it was a brand from Petro’polis, where she had friends. Dito smiled in courtesy, uninterested in the subject. When she asked him about his life, he stood up shrugging his shoulders with indifference. She offered, then, to wash his shirt.
“It will be dry by the time you leave,” she said.
At first he didn’t accept the offer, which he found a bit humiliating; but she insisted, opening his shirt buttons. That intimacy, her touching him with her long colored nails, excited him. He shuddered once and touched her face. They looked at each other intently until Beth moved her lips closer to his and they kissed. Dito, who had tried to control the drink in his hand, pulled away to place his glass on the floor. They rushed back to kissing, though Beth, this time, slipped her hands underneath his shirt. Dito held her thighter than he ever thought possible. They laid down on the sofa. When Beth took her blouse off showing her rosy breats Dito shoved aside his pants. She tickled him as she played with his hairs and he hugged her again. Beth let herself be caught, stretching her legs. She stirred and moaned. Dito felt a strange sensation, as if he were losing control. He saw the mist of perspiration on Beth’s face as the rest of her clothes fell to the ground. The lamp’s light shone on her rounded thighs and on the arms that squeezed him with frenzy. He heard the dissonant sounds of the sofa’s springs and felt her nails scratching his back. The more ardent she became the greater his appetite for her body and the more intense his regret for not having looked for her earlier, when Pin had first told him of her desire.
When Beth cried quietly Dito felt his body quake. Soon after, they stretched, exhaustion taking them over. Dito rolled down to the rugs on the floor but Beth remained breathless on the sofa, looking at him, smiling, whispering sweet nothings to him. Dito didn’t feel like saying anything. He wanted only to look at her, observe her naked body, feel her within the reach of his hands and his desires. He realized she probably liked him, or she wouldn’t have given herself up so easily. Now he wanted her to wash his shirt, to have a justification for staying; to be able to roll with her again; to sleep there, and who knows, perhaps wake up late when the sun was up high and the streets were already crowded.
Beth asked him things he didn’t want to answer. He stood up and filled their glasses with the peach drink. They feel less ceremonious drinking together, now. Dito told her of the first day he arrived in Rio, and she told him at that time she lived in Cruzeiro. All the time, she talked, he was thinking of the people one meets and never sees again.
“I like you because you are not like the others,” she said.
Dito was playing with her hair. He felt like giving her a gift, something she could wear on her arms or on her neck. She told him not to worry, not to spend money foolishly.
“I would like it if you came here more often,” Beth added.
Dito nodded, still feeling he would like to buy her either a goldchain necklace or a bracelet. If it were expensive, he would just take it from a showcase. It wouldn’t be difficult and Beth didn’t need to know how he acquired it. She finished her drink and had another one. Then, she sat on the floor, passing her legs over Dito. Feeling her skin pleased him and slowly his body waked up again. He kissed her on her belly, on her breasts; he lightly bit one of her thighs. Beth moaned sweetly letting her hair fall down, covering Dito’s back. They hugged: their bodies intertwining. Dito fell backward on the wooden floor, Beth riding him. The room’s ceiling appeared to Dito to be turning around, the light oscillating. And again, with their fingers interwoven in anxiety and nervousness; with Beth’s body shaking, her hair covering his face; with his pulling her closer and closer to his body; with their voracious kissing where trembling tongues exchanged breaths and saliva; her entire body was taken over by a tremor that made Dito come again and left Beth moaning and holding on to him, her knees firmly grounded on the wooden floor.
She laid down over him, and played with his eyes, his thin nose, following with her nails the contour of his lips.
“I think you’re great!”
Dito answered praising her.
“Each woman is beautiful in her own way,” she answered.
Dito told her, then, she was beautiful.
“How many women have you had?”
He didn’t answer right away, then he raised two fingers.
“Two?” Beth found that funny. “I can teach you lots of things. You come here, whenever you want.”
He promised her to come, perhaps twice a week. But she wasn’t satisfied, she wanted it to be more frequently.
“I am usually alone in the first hours of the morning.”
“I don’t want to mess up your life.”
Beth’s smile sparkled again. Her eyes appeared to close. They kissed and hugged again. She stood up going to the bathroom and mentioned that she needed to wash the clothes. He only followed her with his eyes.
“Sleep here tonight. The clothes will be dry in the morning.”
Dito stayed lying down on the parquet floor. He heard Beth’s talk along with the sound of the few cars passing in the street, the sound of a far away radio or television, the water in the bidet and the toilet flush. Whe
n she asked whether he was hungry he found himself surprised by her interest. She went on about her business naked, getting the pans, opening cabinets. Dito stood up catching her from behind and as they hugged, Beth bit his hands. On the table she had laid out a margarine stick, a Vienna sausage can to be opened and potatoes to cook. In the sink she had left the washed up rice, draining.
“Don’t you want to be mine only?” She asked him.
Her face was close to his eyes and, for the first time, she spoke without smiling. Her lips approached him, touching his skin. Dito stayed quiet, not knowing how to answer. She repeated her question, facing him squarely.
“I can make you happy!” She tempted him.
“And what would I do for you?”
The embraced once again. Beth was enchanted by his sincerity.
“Later on, you find a job and forget street life,” she said.
He didn’t say anything else. He was sure she was right. That’s what would have to happen. He smiled, feeling the aroma of Beth’s skin; the brushing of her buttocks on his body, her thin and warm body. She managed to put the rice to boil and to open the magarine stick. He decided then to go to the bathroom. Beth kept on talking.
“If you want it, everything can turn out fine!” She said. “I think it’s a good idea,” Dito answered without thinking.
“We can even move to another city!” She continued.
Dito thought of his friends, of the plans he had made; of going to Sao Paulo; of meeting Zé Ina’cio, Black Fly and Armadillo; of killing Big Purple, Caramel, and possibly Dr. Mauro. He would have to find out where he lived, how he went home, where he would be with friends, which club he frequented. He could spend years doing that, but one day he would be able to surprise the man. And then he wouldn’t be able to do anything. So, Beth’s invitation would go against all his decisions. He didn’t know if he was accepting them or just agreeing with her not to displease her. He wanted to stay for the night, next to her kisses and to her warm body.
Childhood of the Dead Page 14