Where Tigers Are at Home Read Online Free Page B

carriage, starting with the lavatory door.
    “What’s going on?” Mauro asked one of the peasants watching the scene impassively.
    “Nothing. Just a
desgraçado
who’s robbed a woman. He’s shut himself in there and refuses to come out.”
    For a good ten minutes the conductor continued to attack the locked door. He took a step back, struck the door a powerful blow with the ax, sending an aftershock through the fat of his double chin, paused a moment to catch his breath, then continued. Mauro was dumbfounded by the profound serenity of the violence and, even more, by the appreciative nods of the audience.
    When the door had finally been broken down, they saw a poor drunk asleep on the lavatory, a wallet on his knees. After having checked then pocketed the stolen item, the conductor set about extracting the sleeper from his hideout. With the help of one of the passengers, he carried him out onto the open platform at the end of the carriage, waited a few seconds, then pushed him off. Mauro gasped as he saw the body fall onto the embankment like a sandbag. The man turned on his side, as if making himself more comfortable, put his hand over his face and continued to sleep.
    “If I could only get my hands on the bastard who stole my passkey!” the conductor muttered as he replaced the ax. Then, turning to Mauro, he said, “It was a good door, solid, they don’t make them like that anymore.”
FORTALEZA:
Avenida Tiburcío Cavalcante
    Querido, Papa!
    Don’t worry, it’s nothing serious. On the contrary. But I need a little extra this month, just two thousand dollars. (Write me a check, you know I can exchange it at unofficial rates thanks to my Greek in Rio …) The thing is, my friend Thaïs and I have had the idea of opening a nice little bar not far from the beach. A young place with music ao vivo every night (Thaïs knows all the musicians in the town!) and with an ambience that will enable us to attract both students and artists. If it goes as planned we’re even thinking of having poetry evenings and exhibitions of paintings. Brilliant, don’t you think?
    To set ourselves up in the place I’ve found we need precisely the sum I’m asking, half for the first month’s rent, the rest for tables, chairs, drinks, etc. Given the enthusiastic response of everyone we’ve told about it, after that the bar will pay its way, no problem. What’s more, I read the tarot pack three times and three times in a row the Chariot turned up. So there you are!
    I can already hear you grumbling that it’ll affect my studies … Don’t worry, I’ve got into the second year of ethnology and since we’ll take turns at the bar, Thaïs and I, I’ll have all the time I need for classes when the new semester starts
.
    I had a letter from Mama saying she was off to the Pantanal to search for some fossil or other. I’m really envious of her!
    I hope you’re better and that you’re managing all right—you know what I mean. I’ll try to come over and see you some time, promise!
    How’s Heidegger?
    Love and kisses, beijo, beijo, beijo!
    Moéma
    All the visible space outside the French window in the living room was filled by the royal-blue night, which had a strong smell of ozone and jasmine. Sitting, naked, on the large straw mat that covered the floor, Moéma’s teeth chattered as she reread her letter. Sudden shivers ran down her spine; she was sweating copiously. She’d have to do something about that pretty quick. She put the letter in an envelope, stuck on a stamp then wrote her father’s address, forcing herself not to tremble. Going back into the bedroom, she stopped on the threshold a moment to look at Thaïs stretched out, naked as well, on the sheets. Her eyes were closed and her full figure was prey to the same icy waves that were making Moéma’s own skin contract from time to time. Through the Persian blinds, the moon cast soothing stripes over her body.
    Moéma sat down on the edge of the bed; she ran her fingers