Free The Body Snatcher by Patricia Melo

Sometimes I would get really worked up. I even mentioned the marriage to Dona Lu one afternoon when I took her to the doctor. Nowadays she was constantly seeing doctors because she couldn’t sleep anymore except with pills. I’m very happy for you, Dona Lu said. I so wanted my son to marry Daniela, but Junior didn’t think about serious commitments. A naughty boy. She asked me to inform her when we set a date. We want to give you and your fiancée a gift. We think a lot of you. My husband and I, and Dalva too. You’re overqualified for the position of driver, I’ve said that to José, and he agrees. And you’ve been very good to us at this time. And she stopped. It was always like that: Dona Lu would talk her head off and then fall silent in the back seat, quiet.
    My father-in-law always had a newspaper under his arm, marking ads for land sales. All of them were either too expensive or too far away. That’s what I told him. We’ve got to do the thing right, I repeated.
    Tomorrow, he said, I’m going to talk to a real-estate broker. We’d had lunch and were a bit logy, plopped on the sofa, the entire family, with the television on. I had taken Sulamita home, and we spent the rest of the afternoon watching all that Sunday crap. I fell asleep there, my head leaning on the shoulder of Regina, who was sleeping.
    I woke up at seven and Sulamita had gone to the morgue. It was her day to be on duty.
    I said goodbye to everyone, I’m going to catch some sleep, I said. Tomorrow I start work early.
    Auhnsjfgfl, grunted Regina when I kissed her. How was I supposed to understand that growl?

15
    Sunday night. Moacir bellowed. Eliana bellowed, and the children bellowed.
    I stood in the hallway, wondering whether or not I should interfere.
    Eliana said: She exasperates me. I don’t have to put up with that crazy Indian woman, who almost burned my house down. Moacir: Don’t change the subject; I wanna know who gave you that piece of meat. And those gizzards.
    More shouts. Meats and butcher shops were mentioned. Alceu. Something broke. Glass. And more shouts.
    I scratched my head, lit a cigarette. The devil was on the loose. Things are bad today, said a neighbor when he saw me getting out of the car, a retired guy who was all the time poking his nose in where it didn’t belong. They’ve been yelling like that all afternoon, he said.
    The name-calling went on and on. Tramp. Drunkard. Bastard. Whore. Limp-dick. It was only when I heard the word “trafficker” that I decided to knock on the door.
    Moacir opened the door.
    What’s happening here? I asked. The neighbors are stirred up.
    Moacir came out and closed the door. Eliana continued hurling insults. That woman, he said. Have you heard the rumors? About her and Alceu? You know who Alceu is, the butcher? A kinda cross-eyed guy?
    No, I said.
    I’ve had it, he said. The woman’s driving me crazy.
    I did what I could to calm Moacir, took him for a beer at the corner bar, but to make matters worse, Alceu, the butcher, had the same idea.
    See how he looks at me? Then he says he’s not looking, he’s cross-eyed. Look at him looking over here. I feel like putting out both the bastard’s eyes.
    The guy’s cross-eyed, I said. He’s looking at the door, not at us.
    He is?
    I know those cross-eyed types, I said. You need to calm down. Eliana is an honest woman.
    You think so?
    Without any doubt.
    What about that Alceu guy?
    He sells meat, I said. That’s all. Cross-eyed.
    You think so?
    Of course. Eliana loves you, I replied. That’s what I’m saying.
    We returned home. Moacir seemed to be under control. He said that Ramirez’s agent had run into a problem in Paraguay and still hadn’t come to pick up the shipment. Careful, I said, you’re already talking like a trafficker.
    We laughed. Tomorrow, he said, I’m gonna slip you some dough. I’ve already sold almost a