our work, we would get forty days to settle our debt.
I took Moacir aside. Have you gone mad? I asked. Thatâs not what we agreed.
Stay cool, he said. Everythingâs okay.
I panicked.
I went into the bathroom, my urge was to dump Moacir and the van right there, and then Moacir came after me and said, You think Iâd put everybody, Eliana, my kids, my mother, at risk? Think Iâm crazy? Trust me, he said. Itâs gonna work out.
When Ramirez explained to us how crossing the border would be, I thought he had to be joking. Itâs just that, Ramirez said, the less you two know, the better. Stay calm. Cross the border like it isnât nothing.
What if they stop us? Arrest us?
None of thatâs gonna happen, Moacir said. Ramirez guarantees it.
On the trip back, I was trembling from head to toe. You donât have the slightest notion of what weâre doing, I told Moacir, youâre a nutcase, clueless, in your tribe thereâs nothing like this, you think youâre clever but youâre nothing but a clueless Indian. He laughed, calmly. Look at Juan there, he said, pointing, when we were about to cross the border, heâs gonna help us. I saw Juan parking the car, from which the terrified rodent and the young man with their bellies stuffed with drugs got out. Juan fled.
We were about to pass by the guards when the two unfortunates practically cut us off. And then seven cops, along with those in the guard post, appeared and surrounded the couple, who were handcuffed and dragged off somewhere.
As for us, we werenât even searched. A piece of cake. Seeing the two of them screwed.
As soon as we were at a safe distance, I stopped the car. You stupid Indian, I yelled, feeling my legs shaking.
Everythingâs been all right from the beginning, said Moacir. I knew.
Knew what?
Ramirez and Juan ratted out the couple. They do that, itâs normal. They turned them in so we could get through.
You fucker, I said. You knew?
I started the car. You shitass Indian, I said. Youâre not worth a damn.
On the rest of the way, I didnât even look at Moacir. He started telling a long story, how Ramirez had five brothers, and that he knew the second oldest, and how one of them was in prison. Shut up, I said, youâre making me even more nervous.
13
What are you doing here? Sulamita asked as soon as I entered the morgue. I had the feeling that she didnât want me to kiss her.
Sulamita had asked me several times not to go there, not even to pick her up after work. That place isnât like a precinct, she had said, or a government office. Sometimes I feel like Iâm in the devilâs kitchen. And thatâs where I work. Where the devil cooks up misfortune. We have a huge refrigerator, rusty, and every morning my heart races when I think of what Iâm going to find in those drawers. You canât imagine the smell that impregnates our clothes and hair. The smell of carrion, sulfur, garbage. Think of any kind of stench youâre familiar with, itâs worse there, she had said. Itâs rancid and thick, you can almost pick it up with your hands. I donât want you to visit me. Not you, not anyone.
I didnât think about any of that when I went to get her. I had phoned twice, but apparently answering calls wasnât the morgueâs forte. My head was boiling, I tried to calm down, I needed a bit of the comfort that Sulamitaâs mere presence brought me, and thatâs why I was there.
An hour earlier, Iâd been in bed listening to Moacir dismantling my car in his workshop, nervous because I knew ten kilos of cocaine were there, when Rita knocked at the door. In shorts, boots, with braids in her hair. She couldnât have chosen a worse moment, I thought. Smoking. Enormous gallon her part. Rita was incredible. She wanted to know what âweird businessâ was âgoing downâ between us. Why didnât I answer my cell phone? What had
I took Moacir aside. Have you gone mad? I asked. Thatâs not what we agreed.
Stay cool, he said. Everythingâs okay.
I panicked.
I went into the bathroom, my urge was to dump Moacir and the van right there, and then Moacir came after me and said, You think Iâd put everybody, Eliana, my kids, my mother, at risk? Think Iâm crazy? Trust me, he said. Itâs gonna work out.
When Ramirez explained to us how crossing the border would be, I thought he had to be joking. Itâs just that, Ramirez said, the less you two know, the better. Stay calm. Cross the border like it isnât nothing.
What if they stop us? Arrest us?
None of thatâs gonna happen, Moacir said. Ramirez guarantees it.
On the trip back, I was trembling from head to toe. You donât have the slightest notion of what weâre doing, I told Moacir, youâre a nutcase, clueless, in your tribe thereâs nothing like this, you think youâre clever but youâre nothing but a clueless Indian. He laughed, calmly. Look at Juan there, he said, pointing, when we were about to cross the border, heâs gonna help us. I saw Juan parking the car, from which the terrified rodent and the young man with their bellies stuffed with drugs got out. Juan fled.
We were about to pass by the guards when the two unfortunates practically cut us off. And then seven cops, along with those in the guard post, appeared and surrounded the couple, who were handcuffed and dragged off somewhere.
As for us, we werenât even searched. A piece of cake. Seeing the two of them screwed.
As soon as we were at a safe distance, I stopped the car. You stupid Indian, I yelled, feeling my legs shaking.
Everythingâs been all right from the beginning, said Moacir. I knew.
Knew what?
Ramirez and Juan ratted out the couple. They do that, itâs normal. They turned them in so we could get through.
You fucker, I said. You knew?
I started the car. You shitass Indian, I said. Youâre not worth a damn.
On the rest of the way, I didnât even look at Moacir. He started telling a long story, how Ramirez had five brothers, and that he knew the second oldest, and how one of them was in prison. Shut up, I said, youâre making me even more nervous.
13
What are you doing here? Sulamita asked as soon as I entered the morgue. I had the feeling that she didnât want me to kiss her.
Sulamita had asked me several times not to go there, not even to pick her up after work. That place isnât like a precinct, she had said, or a government office. Sometimes I feel like Iâm in the devilâs kitchen. And thatâs where I work. Where the devil cooks up misfortune. We have a huge refrigerator, rusty, and every morning my heart races when I think of what Iâm going to find in those drawers. You canât imagine the smell that impregnates our clothes and hair. The smell of carrion, sulfur, garbage. Think of any kind of stench youâre familiar with, itâs worse there, she had said. Itâs rancid and thick, you can almost pick it up with your hands. I donât want you to visit me. Not you, not anyone.
I didnât think about any of that when I went to get her. I had phoned twice, but apparently answering calls wasnât the morgueâs forte. My head was boiling, I tried to calm down, I needed a bit of the comfort that Sulamitaâs mere presence brought me, and thatâs why I was there.
An hour earlier, Iâd been in bed listening to Moacir dismantling my car in his workshop, nervous because I knew ten kilos of cocaine were there, when Rita knocked at the door. In shorts, boots, with braids in her hair. She couldnât have chosen a worse moment, I thought. Smoking. Enormous gallon her part. Rita was incredible. She wanted to know what âweird businessâ was âgoing downâ between us. Why didnât I answer my cell phone? What had
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