Blood-drenched Beard

She hugs him again. The friendly giant in the suit is watching from the door and says, I’ve never seen her like that.

Do you think I’m pretty?

Yes.

I’m much better without clothes on. Why don’t you want to come to bed with me? They take credit cards here. I know what I’m doing.

How much is it again?

A hundred and fifty.

Are you sure?

Maybe if I talk to them, they’ll come down to a hundred and twenty.

You don’t get it. A hundred and fifty is the price of that disgusting wine.

She thinks a little. Eyes staring straight into his.

Are you giving me a raise?

Tell me what you’re worth.

Two hundred. And fifty.

That’s your price?

Yep.

Let’s go.

Can I take a bottle of champagne for us?

• • •

June ends dry and cold with dead penguins lying all over the sand. It takes days for the dozens of carcasses to be removed. No one touches them, not even the vultures. The plump black and white bodies refuse to decompose and look like plush toys forgotten on the beach. Some penguins appear on the rocks, tired and injured but alive, and are taken away by members of a local animal welfare group. The birds have the grumpy demeanor of passengers forced to vacate a bus that has broken down on a highway. From his window, he sees children throw buckets of water over a penguin that has decided to station itself on Baú Rock, thinking the showers help in some way. The penguin dries itself off by shaking its head and takes two or three steps sideways, resigned, as if hoping they’ll leave it in peace in its new position. A young man stops at his window to ask if he has any antiseptic spray and shows him a bloody finger. He and some other volunteers with an environmental NGO were trying to restrain a penguin, and he got bitten. The penguin’s wing looks broken, and they are going to treat it at a clinic in Campo D’Una. They don’t know why dead penguins show up on this stretch of coast from time to time. It doesn’t happen every year.

The first whales have been spotted down the coast, near Ibiraquera. People have seen males leaping out of the water a few miles offshore and the first pregnant females spouting near the beach, which has started attracting scientists, tourists, and curious locals.

He continues waking up early and sometimes puts on his wetsuit and goes for a swim. It takes him a little under half an hour to cross the entire bay, and when he is really up to it, he swims back. The running group is starting to dissolve. Only Denise showed up to the last two lessons. She is ready to enter ten-kilometer races, and if she keeps it up, she’ll be able to do a half-marathon by the end of the year. Sara has stopped coming and answers his text messages saying she’s been busy and will have to take a break from running. He is living on his paltry wages from the gym, but the rent is paid for the year, and his expenses are minimal. Beta’s surgery and treatment have already cost him three thousand reais, and he will also have extra bills for her stay at the clinic and her medication.