The Darkest Heart (7 page)

Putting one hand on her, I squinted to see beyond the glare of the bare bulb that hung over us. ‘What is it, Rocky? What's out there?'

She responded with a long, low, snarl.

Then movement in the darkness. Close to the river's edge.

‘You see something?' Carolina asked. ‘Is there something there?'

‘Not sure.' I pushed myself out of the seat and stepped down onto the grass. Rocky followed on my heels. ‘Stay with me, girl.'

Having the light at my back made me feel exposed. Whatever was out there would have the advantage.

I took a step forward and slipped the knife from my waistband, holding it at my side, blade pointed towards the ground.

Rocky stayed with me but I sensed her tension. She stood with her front legs taut, splayed to either side, and her head was down. She lifted her lips to show her teeth, then the growl heightened and she barked at the silhouette that materialised as my eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness.

‘Stay with me.' I reached down to grab the scruff of Rocky's neck in my left hand. I didn't want her racing off into the night until I knew what was out there.

‘What is it, Zico?' Carolina whispered.

I kept my eyes on the figure standing just a few metres away.

‘Boa noite,'
I called out, waiting for a reaction.

‘Boa,'
came the reply, but the figure remained as it was.

‘Is that you, Luis?'

‘Luis? No.' It was a man's voice. ‘You got hold of that dog?'

I tightened my grip on Rocky but she continued to bark.

‘Who are you?' I asked. ‘What you doing out here?'

‘Been fishing,' came the reply. ‘On my way home. You sure you've got hold of that dog?' The man shifted, as if he might be lifting a hand to point at us.

‘It's a bit late for fishing.' I tilted my head, trying to see who it was, and wished I were better armed.

‘I lost track of time. Put my boat up too far along the shore, that's all. Just keep that dog away from me.' In a brief moment of quiet between his last word and Rocky's barking, I heard the unmistakeable click of a pistol being cocked.

‘The dog won't hurt you.' I pulled Rocky back and told her to be quiet. She stopped barking straight away but remained tense in my grip. I didn't think the man intended to shoot me – if that
was his intention, he would have done it already. He was afraid of Rocky. The pistol was for her.

‘I've got her,' I told him. ‘You don't need that.'

‘I'll be on my way, then.' And now the figure moved again. An arm reached up as if to push back a cap, then the man sniffed and moved away, feet scuffing on the sand.

‘Who was it?' Carolina asked as I came back to her. ‘Is everything all right?' Her voice was tight, and when she put a hand on my arm, it was hot and damp.

‘Fisherman.' I sat down.

‘At this time of night?'

‘It's nothing to worry about.' But I kept my eyes on the spot where the man had been, and I rested the knife on my thigh.

Rocky sat beside me, but didn't settle. She remained upright, ears pricked, twitching at every sound.

After a moment, Carolina spoke, saying, ‘Eloiza has been ill. Someone said dengue fever. There's been a few people with it.'

I scanned the darkness for any sign of the man, wondering how many people would risk fishing on the river at night. I didn't believe he had lost track of time, it was too late for that. Whoever had been out there, he was no fisherman. He had been watching us.

‘Zico?'

‘Hm?'

‘Something wrong?'

‘No.' I reached out and rubbed Rocky's ears. She grunted and started to relax. ‘What was that you said about dengue fever?'

‘Eloiza told me a few people have had it.'

‘Not Raul.' I shook my head. ‘He's too strong. But look, if you're worried about him, you should make him stay at home. I'll do his job for him.'

‘I've tried but he won't listen to me. Maybe he'll listen to you.'

‘He never did before.'

‘Then look after him, Zico.'

‘I always do.' I glanced out at the darkness once more but everything was still and Rocky had eased back into a half sleep on
the floor beside me. Somewhere in the river a fish jumped and splashed, but Rocky was so used to that sound, she didn't even stir. ‘I won't let anything happen to him. If he looks bad, I'll bring him straight home.'

‘You promise?'

‘I promise.'

By the time I had finished my drink, Carolina said it was too late and I was too tired and drunk to go home, so she made up a bed on the sofa. Falling asleep, I wondered how many nights I had slept like this since coming to Piratinga and meeting Raul; how many times I had accepted his hospitality and eaten the food from his table.

The small room I rented was just a dusty box in a house with other workers. It was no place to return the old man's kindness; no place to invite Carolina. I did what I could to earn enough to buy a proper home of my own, maybe even get a small piece of land if there was one to be had, but work was thin and the pay even thinner. Money was so meagre it was worthless almost as soon as it was in my hand, but a job like the one Costa had talked about today might be enough to give me a start. Maybe his offer was an opportunity for me. Maybe he was right.

The alcohol spread itself across my thoughts and feelings, and let me see a good side to this. A place to live with Daniella; something to make me worthy of her and my friends.

For a moment the shadow was forgotten. For a
moment
, I imagined myself with a home and a wife.

Then I remembered the vulture on the roof, and the old man's reaction. I wasn't superstitious like he was but now, in the quiet and lonely hours of darkness, I shivered as I pictured its shabby feathers and curved neck. I had to open my eyes and stare at the ceiling so I didn't see the bird's hooked beak and hear its ominous scream. I saw blood, too, and Antonio lying dead in his apartment, with no one to ask about him or care that he was gone.

I was afraid of being like that; of having nothing and no one.

I was afraid of being forgotten.

10

I didn't sleep well, my mind was filled with images of vultures and forgotten dead men, so I rose before dawn and let myself out of the old man's place. Rocky thumped her tail on the floor and hurried out to relieve herself before following me part of the way into town. I was halfway home when I told her to go back to the old man. It took her a while to understand, so I clapped my hands and shooed her away and she turned in disgust and trotted back.

Nothing stirred in the street. The cicadas creaked their chorus, but theirs was the only sound. Out on the
fazendas
, the
vaqueiros
would be taking their first coffee and mounting up, but Piratinga was like a ghost town as I passed through it.

When I came to my building, I caught myself checking the roof for vultures and had to tell myself to stop thinking about it. It was the old man who believed in signs and omens; I should leave that thinking to him.

Juliana the owner would still be asleep and wouldn't thank me for waking her, so I crept through the front door, keeping as quiet as I could, then eased it shut behind me with a gentle click. The windowless corridor inside was dark and still.

There were four doors, two on either side of the passage, and a flight of stairs leading to the other floor. Juliana occupied one of the apartments, while men like me rented the others. Men without families and belongings. Men without futures. Men like Antonio.

I took off my old, worn flip-flops and headed to the far end of the passage, liking the way the floor cooled the soles of my feet. When I reached the door to my room, though, I was surprised to
find it already unlocked. The key refused to turn any further but the door still stood firm.

Even when I applied a little pressure with my shoulder, it wouldn't budge.

The only way it could be locked was if someone had pulled the bolt inside.

I tried the handle once more, growing frustrated and shoving a little harder, but there was no doubt someone had bolted it from the inside.

I stood back and glared at the door in confusion, feeling a hint of anger building. I told myself to relax, there had to be a reason for this. Maybe something was jamming it. Maybe Juliana had done something because I was late with my rent.

Or perhaps there was someone in there.

Someone like Luis or Wilson.

Someone like the man who had been watching the old man's house last night.

That thought made my skin tingle and the hairs on my arms prickle. It suddenly felt colder inside the passageway and I found myself reaching for the knife.

I would go outside. Head round the back and look through the window. It was safer that way.

But a noise from inside made me stop. Someone was moving inside my room, coming towards the door.

The handle turned, a twisting and scraping as someone tugged to draw the bolt. I took another step away and drew my knife from its place at the small of my back, holding it so the tip was pointing at the tiled floor.

When the bolt finally gave and the door swung open, I raised my right arm, the blade of the knife coming up, my whole body twisting, lifting the weapon towards the silhouette.

‘Zico? Where the hell have you been?'

I dropped my arm, the air coming out of me in a long breath. ‘Daniella? What are you doing here?' I whispered, glancing along the corridor, checking I hadn't woken Juliana.

I stepped inside, closing the door behind me, pushing the bolt back in to place.

‘Where have you been all night?' Daniella looked down at the knife in my hand. ‘And what are you going to do with that?'

‘I was at the old man's place, where else would I be?'

‘I don't know, Zico, where else
would
you be?'

I put the knife on the chest of drawers and rubbed my face, shaking my head. ‘We drank too much. Carolina fed me and I slept on the sofa. How did you get in?'

‘Juliana.'

I nodded and looked at her standing in front of the window, the first light of the day creeping around the shutter and settling over her, shining through her tousled hair.

Daniella was wearing one of my T-shirts, the white cotton falling to the top of her thighs. It was big on her, the material at the front falling loose around her breasts, the sleeves baggy and to her elbows. Her legs were naked.

‘You slept here?' I asked. ‘How come?'

Daniella threw a hand in the air and sat down on the bed. ‘My mother.'

Taking off my own T-shirt, I tossed it into the corner of the room and went to the sink. ‘Your mother?' I splashed cold water onto my face, my chest, across my shoulders, not caring that it was falling on the floor. ‘What did she do this time?'

‘You're not the only one who had too much to drink last night.'

‘Oh yeah,' I said, taking a towel and drying myself. ‘You went to Valdenora's. She was trying to set you up with her son. What's his name?'

‘Paulo.'

‘Yeah. Paulo. How did it go?'

‘Awful. All night she was telling me what a nice boy he is, what a clever boy he is, what a good husband he was going to make for someone, not like—'

‘Not like me?'

Daniella nodded.

‘So what did you say?'

‘I left.'

I sat down beside her. ‘You mean you just got up and left?'

‘Yes.'

I couldn't help smiling. ‘Well, good for you. I bet that pissed them off. You tell them you were coming here?'

‘Yes.'

‘Even better.' My smile broadened and I turned to her, pushing her hair from her face. ‘Maybe we should make the most of it, then.' I lifted the hem of the T-shirt. ‘Maybe we should take this off.'

Daniella was still for a moment, then she crossed her arms and pulled the shirt off, shuffling away, lying back on the bed and waiting for me.

I took off my trousers and looked down at her shadowy form, the darkness beneath the swell of her breasts, around the bones of her hips, her stomach, the place between her legs. ‘At least this way you can go to work with a smile on your face.'

‘Work? I'm not going to work.'

‘You'll have to.'

‘I don't want to talk to her.'

‘She's your mother.'

‘So what?'

‘OK, then don't talk to her. But you still have to go to work.'

Daniella giggled.

‘What?'

She began to laugh now.

‘Shh. You'll wake Juliana. What's so funny?'

‘You,' she said, controlling the laugh. ‘Standing there like that, naked, talking about my mother. Can you imagine her face?'

‘Don't,' I said. ‘Don't make me imagine that. Not now.'

She laughed again and reached up to pull me down on the bed, burying her face in my neck, the laughter subsiding as I ran my hands over her skin, our lips coming together, her fingers on my back, our bodies joining.

*

Daniella stayed for a while afterwards, lying on my arm, drifting in a sleepy haze. I stared at the ceiling and listened to her breathing, trying not to think about Antonio in the room upstairs. I concentrated on Daniella instead, feeling the way her chest rose and fell against me with each breath, the way her skin was warm against mine. I looked at her, moving my head to get her in focus, seeing her eyelashes against the top of her cheek. It was a good moment and I thought about how it would be to have this every morning, every night, and whether it would feel stale or if it would change. But I would need a place and money. I wasn't a farmer. Like Costa said, I had other talents. I could provide if I needed to. If I
wanted
to. I was trying to escape that shadow, but if I let it smother me one more time, maybe it could be the last.

Just one more life.

Something at the back of my mind was telling me it was
always
the last time, though; that Costa was a trickster who used his words to twist my thoughts and play games. He was like Anhangá, but instead of provoking me with terrible visions of hell, he was taunting me with visions of what could be heaven.