Blood-drenched Beard

He takes a step toward the bathroom but stops that very second, turns, and goes to close the shutters, extinguishing the beam of sunlight illuminating the room. When he turns around again, Sara is moving in and stops only when her body is flush against his. Fuck it. He has allowed himself to be cornered, and now he needs to act accordingly. Sara wraps her arms around his neck. He wedges his hands under her jacket and runs his palms up her warm belly, sticky with sweat. He works his fingers under her top and fondles her small breasts. Sara kisses him timidly. It is more a series of little pecks than a real kiss, not at all the eager kiss that he was expecting, given the circumstances. It’s her way of kissing. Half the fun of it is that things are never exactly as you imagine. She kneels and sucks his cock. He holds her by the ponytail. She stops for a moment and says, Just today, okay? I promise.

• • •

Before catching the bus

to Florianópolis, he stops by the veterinary clinic. Greice is in a good mood and greets him with a kiss on the cheek. He asks how Jander is, and she says he is great. What lovely weather we’ve been having. Come see your pup. The kennel is behind the clinic and has a dozen cement compartments with barred fronts. Some are open at the top, and this is where the animals that need more intensive care are kept. Beta is in one of these, lying on her side on a blanket. There are two small bowls containing water and dog food, and the rest of the floor is covered with newspaper. As soon as she sees or smells him, she starts trying to move. One of her front paws is bandaged. Parts of her fur have been shaved and are covered with plasters and crusty bits of healing flesh. She has lost a piece of one ear. Greice says her spine wasn’t fractured. It was swelling around the spinal cord. She opens the barred door and strokes Beta. Look at this. Greice carefully picks her up and sets her on her paws. Beta stands there but doesn’t move.

Her movement’s slowly coming back. I still can’t say if she’ll be able to walk normally. We’ll have to see how she goes. But she’s a fighter, your dog. I didn’t expect this. It’s a tough breed.

Greice steps aside, and he enters the small space, crouches down, and strokes Beta’s neck while murmuring in her ear. She’s going to walk again, aren’t you? I have to make a short trip, but I’ll be back the day after tomorrow, and I’ll come visit you every day, okay?

The vet lays Beta down again.

How much longer will she need to stay here?

About two weeks. At least.

He smiles to himself several times during the ninety-minute bus trip to Florianópolis, thinking about how things go well when you least expect them to. Beta is able to stand. Sara has still been coming to their morning workouts trying hard to act as if nothing happened. The water has been so warm that he has been swimming in just his Speedos. His more dedicated students haven’t abandoned the pool even though winter is coming, and they are swimming better and better. When he is out and about, he is greeted and waved at by people he doesn’t recognize, and whenever he can, he approaches them and strikes up a conversation until he is able to tell who they are. Nights pass in the blink of an eye and are restorative. The day smells of ozone and the salty sea breeze. The green of the vegetation pulsates on the slopes of the Serra do Mar Range, and the mountaintops framed by the bus windows speak of the mystery of unspoiled places. The vibration of the bus is calming, and the landscape sliding past on the other side of the glass makes him think about the obvious things that one never thinks about. How it is incredible that all the things around him are actually there. That he is there. That he can perceive them. He feels as if he is stationary and moving at the same time and remembers his parents telling him how they used to drive him around in the car to get him to sleep when he was a baby. Across the aisle, a few seats ahead of his, a girl is asleep leaning against her boyfriend with her foot stretched out in the middle of the aisle, and he can see her turquoise-painted toenails, a Mayan sun tattoo on her ankle, the boyfriend’s hand caressing the caramel-colored skin of her calf. The whole composition reminds him of something he once had and that he isn’t sure if he misses. He does and he doesn’t at the same time. It is less the melancholy memory of an absence and more the comforting evidence that it exists and is still part of the world.