Blood-drenched Beard

It takes about ten minutes pedaling slowly to get from the Pinguirito Municipal School, where Pablo is in the first grade, to Dália’s house, but today he takes a detour past the Gelomel ice cream parlor before handing the boy over to Dália’s mother, who had a foot amputated a few months ago as a result of a diabetic ulcer. She always invites him in for some cake and juice. Sometimes he accepts the invitation. Dália’s mother likes him. She claims to be something of a witch and says she dreamed about him before they even met in person, perhaps influenced by the things Dália had already told her about him.* At each visit she adds some details to the dream, things she has remembered or new interpretations she has made. He has already told her he doesn’t believe in such things, but she doesn’t seem to care. Sometimes he gets the impression that she makes up her dreams on the spot.

He is still riding down the main avenue to the ice cream parlor when he passes a corner block in front of the supermarket and hears a shout and a loud thud. Two men are demolishing the wall of a semidestroyed kiosk with kicks and an enormous sledgehammer. He has never paid the place much attention but is sure the kiosk was intact yesterday. The bold, dark-skinned man holding the sledgehammer has a pear-shaped body, with a potbelly, short arms, and no shoulders. He waves at Pablo.

Hey, Pablito! Go Grêmio!

The boy raises a fist and shouts, Grêmio!

They arrive at the ice cream parlor. He leans the bike against the glass door and unbuckles Pablo from the bike seat.

Who was the man with the sledgehammer?

Bonobo.

Booboo?

No, Bo-nooo-bo!

At the ice cream counter, Pablo fills his bowl with balls of coconut, grape, and chocolate chip ice cream. To top it off, jelly teeth and a good dose of condensed milk. According to his mother, he can put whatever he wants in his bowl as long as he doesn’t overdo it on the quantity. It can’t cost more than five reais. Pablo is an easy child to deal with, at least as far as he is concerned. He doesn’t complain about anything and doesn’t make extravagant requests. Dália says that sometimes he is stubborn and hyperactive, and she thinks he might be bipolar or something of the sort. He never recognizes Pablo among the dozens of children in the schoolyard, but Pablo always gets his backpack and comes running over. All he has to do is wait a little.

Pablo pulls out of his SpongeBob backpack the swimming goggles that he gave him as a present the day they met. He has been the Goggles Guy ever since. Pablo puts on his goggles and attacks the ice cream. There are milk teeth alongside half-grown adult teeth in his mouth, smeared with melted ice cream.

So, Pablito. Are you going to learn to swim now?

No.

I’ll teach you.

Okay.

You can use your goggles to protect your eyes when we ride on the bike. They’re for that too.

Okay.

He takes an alternative route through back streets and drops Pablo home. He doesn’t stay for juice or cake today. He doesn’t want to know why he is a vampire. On the way back he passes the corner where the two men were trying to demolish the kiosk wall. Now they are trying to get an ice cream freezer onto the back of a pickup. It isn’t working. The shoulderless man who had waved at Pablo turns his head and shouts.

Hey, dude! We need a hand here. Quick, quick!

He brakes the bike and surveys the scene. Two walls of the kiosk have been brought down with the sledgehammer. There are shards of glass everywhere, pieces of brick, crumbling cement, iron bars, a wooden door and window frames and all manner of debris lying around. At one end of the property, next to the wall of the neighboring house, is the abandoned carcass of an old beige VW Beetle destroyed by rust and exposure to the elements.

A dozen crumpled beer cans are scattered about the crushed grass, which looks as if it has been trampled by hordes of vacationers during the summer. Near the kiosk is a half-full bottle of Smirnoff Vanilla Vodka. The tendons in the men’s necks are bulging, and the freezer is slipping from their hands. He dumps the bike on the ground and runs to help them.

Over here, says Bonobo. We need to get this freezer on the back, but it’s a bitch. Give us a hand ’cause it’s about to fall.

Afternoon, says the other man. He looks a little older. He has a dyed-black pompadour, a small chin, yellow teeth and a sunburned face with deep wrinkles and grooves. Hoop earrings in both ears. He is wearing blue-and-black-checked board shorts and a filthy pink polo shirt drenched with sweat.

This is Altair, says Bonobo as he helps lift the freezer. After a few more pushes and adjustments, it is safely positioned in the back of the pickup.

Thanks for the hand, man. I saw you giving Pablito a lift on your bike. You hooking up with Dália?

Yeah.

Cool.

But where are you from? asks Altair. You’re new around here, aren’t you?