The Body Snatcher by Patricia Melo Page B

she done wrong? Didn’t I love her anymore?
    Rita was a cynic. Her breasts free under her T-shirt and her nails painted a garish orange, as if she wanted to catch me in a snare.
    Carlão told me you’re pregnant, I said. I know everything. The baby you two are having. A beautiful family, I said. I can’t understand how you can do that to Carlão. Pregnant and coming here after me. I also said she disgusted me. It’s one thing, Rita, for us to have some fun, another for you to have a child with Carlão.
    The child is yours, she replied. Just like that, to my face. And then she explained, confusedly, that she really had talked with Carlão even before speaking with me, despite the child being mine and not his. It’s yours, she said over and over, not his, it’s really yours, I was just preparing the ground. You know it’s not his, but Carlão is a great guy, it’s yours, and you remember how Carlão helped you when you were all screwed up? When that telemarketer woman killed herself because of you? I don’t want to hurt Carlão, she said. She said: We don’t need to do that to people. Goading. Sulamita doesn’t deserve to suffer either. That’s how I am, I don’t like to make anyone suffer. And lately, she concluded, we’ve fought so much, I don’t know what’s happening, it’s like there’s a black cloud hovering over us. You don’t answer my phone calls, I didn’t have the chance to talk about the pregnancy.
    I pushed Rita away, I don’t believe it, I said, get out and leave me alone, and that was when she grabbed my arm, shouting that the child was mine. You idiot, she said, you idiotic piece of shit, whose do you think it is? I was afraid the neighbors would hear.
    Lower your voice, goddammit.
    The child is yours. Get that through your skull. I’m one month pregnant. And now you want to run away from your responsibility? You think you can get me pregnant and just run away?
    We fell silent, lost in thought, at the door to my bedroom. Down below, Moacir was still hammering my car.
    How can I be sure you’re not lying?
    She laughed wearily.
    I’m not joking, I said. You lie so often to Carlão. In fact, what guarantee is there that the child isn’t Carlão’s? Or whoever’s? How many men do you have, Rita?
    And then Rita slapped me; at the time, I remembered my telemarketer who’d committed suicide. It’s not everyone who’s up to taking a slap like that. I’m going to tell you the truth, Rita said, the child isn’t yours. I’d never have a child with a fool like you.
    I wasn’t prepared for that upside-down declaration. I watched Rita leave, coldly, descending the stairs in fury. I didn’t know whether I should shout, run after her and grab her by the hair, whether I should slam the door with all my strength. My desire was to attack and to ask forgiveness at the same time. To strike and retreat. That was why I went looking for Sulamita.
    Did I do the wrong thing coming here? I asked.
    I tried to hug her but she drew back.
    What is it?
    That curse. I already explained it to you, she said. A strange odor impregnates me when I’m here. Can you smell it?
    The smell of shampoo, I said, after sniffing her hair.
    Really?
    Of course. You smell as good as ever, I insisted. But it wasa lie. A putrid and nauseating odor came from everywhere, including from Sulamita.
    She smiled. Want to see something?
    She took me by the hand and led me to the inner chamber of the morgue, an immense room lined with tiles that once had been white but now were merely dingy. In the middle, three ruined stainless-steel tables. On one of them was a cadaver, underneath a sheet that covered almost everything except the feet.
    Sulamita explained that the autopsies were done there. Rapes, homicides, a little of everything, she said. People from around here and throughout the region. We get bodies in