Blood-drenched Beard

When he wakes up the next morning, Bonobo is sitting next to his bed, talking to the nurse. Would you like to take some time off and spend a few days hanging out at a bed-and-breakfast in Rosa? Have you ever thought about being a model? Natália’s mouth is half open, and she looks both shocked and intrigued by the figure in front of her, but she turns back to her patient as soon as she sees that he has awoken. As she takes his temperature, Bonobo tells him that he tried to visit the day before, but Lockjaw broke down halfway there, and he had to have her towed to Paulo Lopes, where he left her at a garage. Today he got a lift with a girl who was going to Curitiba. You’re looking uglier than me, swimmer. I already know the name of the dickhead who did this to you. They say he’s at home, can’t walk, and his neck is black. How can a guy go and steal your dog like that? In times past I would’ve finished the job for you. I’d have ripped his balls off and thrown ’em to the sharks, but nowadays I only plant kindness and compassion. And anyway, no one else’ll ever give you a hard time in this town. Someone told Altair about the fight, and Altair told me. People are saying your attackers left you unconscious on the sand, but you got up and went after the guy. Wish I’d seen it. It’s a bummer that it happened, but I wish I’d seen it. Natália takes his temperature and writes it on a spreadsheet. Don’t you have those thermometers that you stick up the patient’s ass, Nati? He prefers that sort. Natália makes a face, excuses herself, and leaves. Man, what a babe, says Bonobo. Don’t you think? I’ve never seen anything like her. Get her number before you leave. When the effect of Natália’s presence wears off, Bonobo asks, What’s this story about you meeting your granddad? He thinks for a moment and then says that he has come to the conclusion that it was just a dream or that he was delirious with fever. Not only does he lie, but he embellishes. I went off hiking through the hills in the rain and got sick. I didn’t look after myself and came down with a fever, drinking and going out of my mind at home. Beta disappeared, and I didn’t even notice. I had hallucinations. I was pretty confused when we spoke on the phone. This whole story of my granddad is over for me now. I know I told you that before, but this time I’m serious. Bonobo places a hand on his shoulder. Everyone who comes here goes out of their mind a little in their first winter here, swimmer. It’s a rite of passage. I hope you make it through. I hope you stay. You’re my brother now. Remember that. If you need something, we’re brothers. Bonobo leans backward and looks serious again. I know I still owe you that money, but I’ll only be able to pay you back after the holidays. Money only flows here in the summer, as you know. I’ve got big plans for the bed-and-breakfast. This summer looks promising. There’s always a way. I’ve got plans to expand and diversify the products and services we offer. I want to target two kinds of customer: those who sympathize with Eastern religions; and hipsters. Two strong behavioral trends for the coming decade, thus two strong consumer trends. Spiritual materialism and ironic consumerism. Zen tourism and self-conscious metatourism. The first is right up my alley. It’ll be easy. Talks and courses in Buddhism, meditation sessions before breakfast included in the daily rates, a small shrine, a whole program of activities that feel like a game and makes guests feel that they’re fulfilling stages toward spiritual enlightenment, letting go of the material world and attaining happiness for themselves and others. A list of activities that they score points for and that lead to rewards. They’ll take home some kind of certificate. And there’s always going to be something under construction on the premises so people can volunteer to help. It’s kind of bad karma, but I’ve got bills to pay. The hipsters are a bit harder. They need to feel that they’re doing something authentic, but it can’t be truly authentic. The atmosphere needs to be retro and a little antiestablishment, but without these terms ever being mentioned. Hipster guests aren’t tourists. They’re authentic, alternative individuals consciously acting like tourists in touristy settings, which turns the spiritual poverty of silly commercial tourism into something cool with the wave of a magic wand. The good old long weekend at the beach repackaged as a fetish. We’ll offer authentic package deals with an old-fashioned flavor. I’ll have to work out how to exploit it. At any rate, I’m going to go ahead and get a gramophone and set up a thrift shop in the front foyer. I’ve worked it all out on PowerPoint. I’ll show you later. If you grow a seventies-style mustache, you can be my concierge. Whaddya think, swimmer? Interested?