Blood-drenched Beard

He shakes his head and makes a gesture to say it isn’t necessary. His eyes have adjusted to the sunlight, and now he can see the houses on Siriú Hill to his left, and, to his right, in the distance, Garopaba, stretching all the way to Vigia Point. His tongue is swollen and salty in his mouth, plastered with thick saliva. He feels a twinge of hot pain near his waist and groans. He lifts up his wet T-shirt and sees a white cut in the middle of a reddish oval.

Did you hurt yourself? Do you remember what happened?

More or less.

Did someone attack you?

It was nothing.

His arms are covered in scratches, and his pants are torn at his thighs. He runs his hands over his face, hair, and beard.

You haven’t got anything on your face, says the man.

What about you? What’re you doing here?

Running. I’m training for a test to be a lifeguard. It’s part of a course.

When is it?

In December. It’s best to run barefoot in the sand to get used to it.

He puts his hand on the wound on his stomach and starts to get up but falls back in a sitting position again, breathing noisily through his nose. He swallows saliva as a reflex, but his mouth is dry.

You wouldn’t happen to have any water there, would you?

Nope.

No problem. Have a good run.

The man watches him without moving.

You can go, thanks.

You sure?

Yup.

Wait here, and I’ll give you a hand on my way back. Or I can let someone know in Garopaba. Is there someone who can come and pick you up?

It’s not necessary.

Take it easy with the bottle. It’ll do you in.

The man walks backward a few steps, then turns and runs along the sand toward Siriú.

He crosses his legs and sits there awhile, feeling the sun on the top of his head. He doesn’t remember arriving at the beach but is able to recall vivid fragments of the whole previous night. It seems rather like a dream, like the Fata Morgana that Jasmim saw too. He remembers Beta, and a sudden sigh, deep and long, is born in the middle of his chest and leaves his mouth with a sticky smack of saliva. He needs to go back to look for her, but he won’t be strong enough for a few days, and deep down he doesn’t really believe that she is alive or can be found. But he’ll go anyway. Judging from the height of the sun, it must be about nine o’clock in the morning. He can almost hear the sand drying in the dunes behind him. The tide is high. He still has a white cotton sock on one foot. He has to place both hands on the ground in order to lift his hips and stand up. He starts walking very slowly toward Garopaba. His joints all hurt. He is halfway down the beach when he hears someone shout behind him. It is the same man who woke him up, running back along the sand.

I got this for you in Siriú.

He accepts the bottle of mineral water without stopping walking. He tries to twist the top off but can’t.

Here, let me.

The man takes the bottle, opens it, and returns it. He takes a series of short gulps. They walk along side by side.

Thanks.

Are you going to make it, Tom Hanks? Are you?

Yep. Especially now, with this water here to save me.

Want me to help you?

No, man, finish your run. I’ll make it. I just can’t stop.

Put your arm here.

The man offers him his shoulder for support and puts his arm around his waist. They walk together, slowly.

Stop by the health clinic when you get there. You don’t look well.

It’ll pass.

They walk together for more than half an hour. The sun has disappeared again behind thick clouds by the time they arrive at the Garopaba Beach promenade.

I can make it on my own from here, man.

Don’t you want to go to the health clinic?

I want to stop off at home first. I live over there, overlooking Baú Rock. See? In the ground-floor apartment. Thanks for the help, and sorry I spoiled your workout.

Forget it.

Is there a swimming test also to be a lifeguard?

Yep.

What’s your swimming like?

Pretty lousy. That’s my problem.

Stop by my place in a few days’ time, and I’ll give you some tips to help you improve. I’m a swimming instructor.

Seriously?

Seriously. Don’t forget. Lifeguards have to swim well.

Okay, you’re on. See you later, Tom Hanks!

The man leaves and starts running back toward Siriú again. He continues on his own along the small stretch that remains, eyes trained on his front door. People arriving for lunch at the restaurants on the seafront observe him from afar and take a while to look away. Some fishermen working on their beached boats stop what they are doing to watch him go past. He gives the ones who stare at him longer a quick wave of the hand and gets almost imperceptible nods of the head in return.

His legs shake on the crumbling steps up to Baú Rock. The water at the end of the bay is incredibly smooth and calm. He enters the dark corridor between the buildings and retrieves the key hidden among the plants. Beta’s absence screams in the silence of the musty living room. He opens the windows, and the light comes in. The humidity is scandalous. Droplets of water slide down the walls and the sides of appliances and into puddles on the tiled floor.