Blood-drenched Beard

It’s almost impossible. I’m sorry.

Can I see her?

It’s better if you don’t. In general we don’t allow it. You think you want to see her, but you don’t. Believe me.

I don’t have a problem with these things.

Even if you’re a doctor or a vet, it doesn’t matter. It’s not a question of being used to seeing blood. You don’t want to. It’s better if you talk to me. Trust me, I’ve seen this before.

Sweat drips from his chin. He is still breathing heavily. He remembers that he is in a T-shirt and Speedos, barefoot.

Excuse the state I’m in. I ran here from the gym.

Don’t worry. Look, forgive me for insisting. I’m really sorry, and I know that you love your dog a lot, but I need to emphasize that it would be best—

Your name’s Greice, isn’t it?

Yes.

Greice, I understand. But I need to see her before I decide. I won’t leave without seeing her.

She stares at him for a moment.

Come with me, then.

There isn’t much in the operating room: a wall cabinet, a support trolley, plastic tubes, cotton wool, not a surgical instrument in sight. In the center, on an aluminum table under an operating light with four bulbs, is his father’s dog.

I’ve cleaned and sedated her. But like I told you, she’s badly hurt. You’ll get a shock.

He walks over and looks at the dog.

Then he approaches the vet, who stayed in the doorway, and talks to her in a low voice close to her face.

Do everything you can, Greice. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll pay more than normal if necessary. I’ll pay whatever you think is fair. If you need to take her somewhere else, let’s do it. Do whatever you can for her to survive and to get as well as possible.

You understand that she’s going to be paralyzed? That there’s no guarantee that she’s going to walk?

Yes.

The surgery costs around two thousand reais. But it might end up costing more.

That’s fine. The price doesn’t matter.

Leave your contact information with William in reception. Cell phone and everything. I’ll call you as soon as I’ve got some news. And she’ll need to stay in the clinic for at least thirty days. That’ll cost you too.

Okay. Do everything you can.

I promise you I will.

Thanks.

He gives William his contact details and walks back into Garopaba.

• • •

The news has spread through the gym. Mila hugs him and kisses his neck. He feels the satiny skin of the Chilean descended from Mapuche Indians on his. She strokes his hair with her hand and offers him a slice of wholemeal chocolate cake. She says he is pale and looks weak. Débora is signing up some new clients but straightens up in her chair and asks how the dog is with pity written all over her face. She tells him to go home as it’s almost time anyway, and Saucepan is watching his students in the swimming pool. He thinks about calling his mother as he gets changed in the dressing room but decides not to. To her, Beta is just a dog, if not to say a kind of enemy, and he realizes how absurd it is to be jealous of a dog and a dead man, even if not entirely without cause. When he told his mother that he had decided to look after Beta after his father’s suicide, she shook her head, unable to understand. If it were up to her, she would have pressured someone in the neighborhood to take her in. But her son keeping the dog? It was a kind of offense.

He arrives early to pick up Pablo from school. When the children get out, Pablo appears accompanied by a teacher. He lost the fingernail of his index finger in a game. He is sporting an oversized bandage on the finger, a thick wad of gauze held down with plasters. The teacher strokes his hair.

He had to go to the health clinic, didn’t you, Pablito?

Yep.

And what did the doctor say?

The nail will grow back, says Pablo with a sideways glance, paying attention to something else.

He puts Pablo in the bike seat.

Ready?

Ready!

Can you hold on properly with your finger like that?

Yep.

Did it hurt a lot?

Yep.

He continues asking questions the whole way, and Pablo answers them as succinctly and directly as possible and with an honesty that still hasn’t been contaminated by sarcasm or irony. When they get to Dália’s mother’s house, she asks if he has read the last e-mail she sent him. He confesses that he hasn’t yet.

I had another vision with you in it. Or a dream, if you prefer. This time it was really strange. I want to know what you think.

I promise I’ll read it as soon as possible.

On his way home he stops in front of the pizza parlor on the main avenue. He identifies Dália by her height and exuberant curls. She is in a meeting with other employees at the counter of the bar and signals through the window for him to wait a minute. As she walks out, she makes a funny face with twisted lips and squinting eyes.

Hi, you wooking for me?

I’m looking for a really pretty girl who works here.

She lets the funny expression go, and he discovers her face all over again. How many times has it been now? Thirty? Fifty?

Hey there, sexy. Your beard’s getting long.

Letting nature follow its course.

Been breaking many hearts?