Had Anselmo’s indignation been genuine, it would have burst forth at that very first sentence. Instead, he waited until she had finished, and then he reacted only very quietly, because the night obliges us to speak softly:
“I can’t believe you could suggest such a thing! You want us to go and ask a favor from that… that woman? Have you no dignity? I would never have expected you, of all people, to come up with such an idea!”
Anselmo was going too far, which would have been fine if, deep down, he did not agree with her suggestion. He didn’t seem to realize that, by speaking in those terms, he was making his eventual acquiescence even more illogical and his wife’s further promotion of the idea near impossible.
Offended, Rosália moved farther off. Between them lay a small space that could have been leagues. Anselmo saw that he had overstepped the mark. The ensuing silence made them both feel awkward. They knew the matter had to be resolved, but said nothing: she was thinking about how best to broach the subject again, and he was struggling to find a way to make surrender easier, despite what he had just said. Meanwhile, they both knew that they would not be able to sleep until some solution had been found. Anselmo made the first move:
“All right, we’ll think about it… I don’t like the idea at all, but…”
15
As comfortably installed as if he were in his own house, Paulino Morais crossed his legs and lit a cigarillo. When Lídia moved the ashtray closer to him, he smiled his thanks and leaned back again in the maroon armchair, which was “his” armchair on the nights when he visited. He sat there in his shirtsleeves. He was plump and red-faced. His small eyes bulged slightly as if under pressure from his fleshy eyelids. His thick, straight eyebrows met over his nose, whose sharpness was softened by a layer of fat. He had large, prominent, bristle-filled ears. He allowed the hair on the side of his head to grow long enough to be combed carefully over his otherwise bald pate. He had the prosperous air of a fifty-year-old in possession of old money and a young wife. Through the cloud of perfumed smoke surrounding him, his whole face oozed smug contentment; he wore the look of someone who has eaten well and is quietly, easily digesting his food.
He had just recounted a particularly amusing anecdote and was enjoying Lídia’s laughter, and not just her laughter. He was in an excellent mood, and this led him mentally to congratulate himself on the idea he’d had, sometime before, about what clothes Lídia should wear when he visited her. Feeling slightly spent and worn down by excess and age, he had decided that he needed some new stimuli and that what his mistress wore could be one such stimulus. No male fantasies, nothing pornographic, as he had known some of his friends to indulge in, just something simple and natural. Lídia was to receive him wearing a low-cut negligee, with her arms bare and her hair loose. The negligee had to be made of silk, not so transparent as to reveal everything, but transparent enough not to hide everything either. The result was a kind of chiaroscuro effect that inflamed his brain on those nights when he was in the mood or merely pleased his eye when he was tired.
Lídia resisted at first, then decided it was best to submit. All men have their eccentricities, and this was certainly not the worst she had known. So she gave in, especially when he bought her an electric heater. In a warm room, she was less likely to catch cold in those skimpy outfits.
She was sitting on a low stool, leaning toward her lover, showing him her braless breasts, which was how he liked them. She knew that the only thing that bound him to her was her body, and so she took every opportunity to show it off, especially now, when her body was still young and shapely. After all, there wasn’t much difference between exhibiting it here or on the beach, apart from the arousing nature of the clothes she was wearing and her provocative position.
When the evening went no further than having to exhibit herself in that flimsy attire, she thought the sacrifice well worth the bother and Paulino Morais’s tastes perfectly reasonable. And if things did go further, as she always hoped they would not, she simply resigned herself to it.
She had been living at his expense for three years now. She knew all his tics and idiosyncrasies and gestures. The gesture she feared most was when he, still seated, unbuttoned both his braces at the same time. Lídia knew what this meant. She was quite relaxed at the moment, though: Paulino Morais was smoking, and for as long as his cigarillo lasted, his braces would remain safely buttoned.
In a graceful gesture that emphasized the beauty of her neck and shoulders, Lídia turned to look at the small faience clock. Then she got up, saying:
“It’s time for your coffee.”
Paulino Morais nodded. On the marble-topped dressing table, the coffeepot stood ready and waiting. Lídia lit the little burner and placed it underneath the pot, then prepared the cup and the sugar bowl. While she was walking to and fro in the room, Paulino Morais followed her with his eyes, ogling her long legs, which were visible beneath the light fabric that clung voluptuously to her hips. He mentally yawned and stretched. He had nearly finished his cigarillo.
“Guess who asked me for a favor today,” Lídia said.
“A favor?”
“Yes, my upstairs neighbors.”
“What did they want you to do?”
Lídia was waiting for the water to rise up the funnel into the coffee grounds.
“Not me, you.”
“Oh, please! What do they want, Lili?”
Lídia shuddered. Lili was the pet name he used when he was feeling amorous. The water began to boil, and as if being sucked up from above, it rose into the upper chamber of the pot. Lídia filled his cup, added just the right amount of sugar and gave it to him. Then she sat down again on the stool and said:
“You may not know it, but they have a nineteen-year-old daughter. She has a job, but according to her mother, she doesn’t earn very much. They asked me to ask you if you could find her something better.”
Paulino put his cup down on the arm of his chair and lit another cigarillo.
“And you’d like me to grant this favor, would you?”
“I wouldn’t be talking to you about it if I didn’t.”
“It’s just that I have all the staff I need… too many, in fact. Besides, I’m not the only one who makes these decisions.”
“But if you wanted to…”
“There’s the board of directors…”
“But if you really wanted to…”
Paulino picked up his cup again and took a sip. It seemed to Lídia that he wasn’t very keen to help. She felt rather hurt. This was the first time she had ever asked him for such a favor and she could see no reason why he should refuse. Besides, given her irregular situation and the fact that everyone in the building looked down their noses at her, she would like to find a job for Maria Cláudia, because Rosália would be so pleased she’d be sure to tell everyone, and that would give Lídia a certain prestige among the other neighbors. The near isolation in which she lived weighed on her, and although, to be honest, she hadn’t shown much interest when Rosália first came to her with the request, now, given her lover’s resistance, she became determined to get his agreement. She leaned further forward, as if to stroke the pink leather of her slippers, and in doing so revealed her bare breasts.
“I’ve never asked you for anything like this before. If you can find her a job, then you should. It would please me immensely, plus you’d be helping a family in need.”
Lídia was exaggerating her interest and, as far as she could judge, she was exaggerating the neediness of her neighbors too, but once launched along the path of exaggeration, she made a gesture that, by its very rarity, surprised Paulino Morais: she placed one hand on her lover’s round, plump knee. Paulino’s nostrils quivered as he said: