Apparently, after seeing the body in the coffin, he had, in the eyes of others, completed a phase that freed him of some of the pain, making him available to be approached by people he knew and people he didn’t who wanted to talk about the fatality, to hear details, names, or simply share a little silence. He needed to get out of there right away. He looked for his parents and almost ran to them when he saw them. He wanted to know what came next. The wake would last a while longer, then the body would be carried to the grave, which wouldn’t be a hole in a grassy field but a kind of drawer or compartment, like the hundreds of others lining the many corridors of the high-rise cemetery. He told them he was going for a walk and that he’d meet them at the car a little later. He couldn’t stand to be there any more.
He left the cemetery and walked quickly downhill towards Azenha. Everything was closed that morning and both cars and people were scarce. He eventually found a tavern that was open. Behind the counter was a man with an enormous moustache covering his lips, but there wasn’t a customer in sight. A TV set high on the wall was showing Formula One. The red metal tables sponsored by a brand of beer were battered and rusty, but they were each covered with a pink-and-white-chequered tablecloth. Hermano sat at the first table, closest to the door. From the counter, the moustached bartender asked if he wanted to order something. Fanta.
He drank a little Fanta and sat there, waiting for his thoughts to take form. Minutes passed and nothing. No conclusion. His friends’ lives were changing, and one had ended, but he was still there, with no conclusions. If he couldn’t extract at least one little lesson from everything that was going on then he’d have to accept that life unfolded largely by chance and could be controlled only in its smaller details. And that couldn’t be true. There were things he just knew, and this was one.
Naiara appeared in front of him.
‘Your parents said you’d gone for a walk and I decided to try and find you.’
Hermano was annoyed. His meditation was being interrupted. He’d have to ignore her. He wouldn’t be able to talk.
‘Can I sit with you?’
He nodded. She sat. Silence. Then:
‘Can I sit on your lap?’
No, the answer was no, but he suddenly changed his mind and saw that yes, of course she could sit on his lap, she had left her brother’s wake to come and look for him, and she was right, why should they feel so alone just then?
‘Sure.’
She sat on his thigh as modestly as it is possible to sit on someone’s thigh, folded her arms across her chest and leaned her head on his shoulder. She was cold and her breaths were sighs. She was a young mammal. If he could have, he’d have loved her now. He waited a while to give deeper feelings a chance to manifest, to come to stay, but it didn’t happen.
‘Naiara, I’m not into you. I mean, not in a boyfriend–girlfriend kind of way. Sorry.’
‘That’s a shame, ’cause I’m into you.’ She gave him a kiss on the cheek and retreated back into the position she’d been in. His leg was growing tired. ‘Can I stay here anyway? For a little while?’
Without much intensity, he hugged her. It unsettled him more than death: wanting so badly to love someone and not being able to because it wasn’t a choice. He felt that she was the only creature alive that really knew him, the only one who showed signs of understanding at least part of what was behind his scant words and actions. He wanted to fall in love with her, but couldn’t. This incapacity intrigued him. While on the one hand it came with a feeling of impotence, on the other, by contrast, the kind of thing he wanted and could get was becoming clearer. He decided to concentrate on that, on the difference between the two things. He straightened his back and changed his position in the chair. He would leave only when he was filled with certainties.
Almost two hours later, he paid for the Fanta and caught a bus home. Naiara had long since left. His parents had found him at the bar, but he’d turned down their offer of a lift and said he’d find his own way back. On the bus, he refined and simplified his plans. Now he knew exactly what to do. He wouldn’t have to pretend any more.
Acknowledgements
The following people helped me to write this book with their patience, stories and/or critiques: Daniel Pellizzari, Mário Bortolotto, Nataniel Strack, Nelson Baretta, Pedro Jakobson, Rafael Braga and Tainá Müller. The novel Adri is reading in bed when she talks about the back-to-front musical chairs is Millennium People by J. G. Ballard. I shamelessly borrowed the expression from the Portuguese translation by Celso Nogueira.
THE BEGINNING
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HAMISH HAMILTON
UK | USA | Canada | Ireland | Australia
India | New Zealand | South Africa
Hamish Hamilton is part of the Penguin Random House group of companies whose addresses can be found at global.penguinrandomhouse.com
First published as Mãos de Cavalo in Brazil by Companhia das Letras 2006
This translation first published in Great Britain by Hamish Hamilton 2017
Copyright © Daniel Galera, 2006, 2017
Translation copyright © Alison Entrekin, 2017
The moral right of the author has been asserted
Cover image © Eli K Hayasaka/Getty Images
ISBN: 978-0-241-96487-3
The Shape of Bones Page 16