In Vilaboinha hardly anyone has a dog, and we’re tired of hearing about it. Not one dog beside Tonho’s. Inside him the dogs are barking inside him trying to get out. They bark, they want him to get out. They bark. They want him to leave his body. They bark for him to get out, so he’ll split, set sail for far away and only when he doesn’t come back will they hush, whining softly, gnawing quietly at a bone, nice and quiet. He is the bone, he knows he’s the bone, what a goddamn shitty bone.

  While Tonho puts up a fight, while he still intends to be Tonho, the dogs keep on barking. They bark bark bark and the sound of their barking gets inside and vibrates through Tonho, through every ounce of liquid Tonho. It hammers on Tonho’s inner walls. Tonho shakes. The dogs bark. Tonho shakes, shakes, shakes, he doesn’t want to be Tonho any more, he hasn’t been Antônio for a long time. The dogs bark bark and burrow into Tonho this desire barking shaking growing until it encompasses Tonho, until this is Tonho, until Tonho can’t bear to go by the name of Tonho.

  Tonho is trapped in the dogs. He’s lashing out. Kicking stones, pulling his hair. He’s beating beating beating with the plank on their backs and his back to the wall and the wall at his feet. He’s beating them, it’s the only way to get the dogs out, they’re abandoning his body the whole pack, beat, beat, beat it’s the dogs doing the beating, it can’t be Antônio, it can’t be Tonho. Blame it on the Devil. But he doesn’t stop there, course he doesn’t. Poor Fátima, isn’t it bad enough having her husband a madman roaming the streets?

  Fátima breathes in the smell of her own death. Scarlett, woman at the ready, she pecks at the stillness, Fátima’s guts, smothers her words with no words. Twenty years of Scarlett Fátima didn’t see, Scarlett is waiting for her to die, waiting for the flesh left over from all that silence. Fátima doesn’t know where daughter ends and vulture begins. She should know. She spent so long imagining the metamorphosis, every fantastical detail, but the gorilla-woman never dissolves like that in front of us, turning slowly into a vulture.

  The gorilla-woman knows the steps to become a gorilla, she breaks her bones turns skin into fur, becomes someone who rolls up her tongue and blinks her eyes and extends her tongue up to her nose. The gorilla-woman turns back, she turns back into a woman for the next show, intact, the gorilla-woman turns back, she knows how to become a gorilla in a minute she knows how to turn back. Goddamnit, was Scarlett once a child? Didn’t seem like it. Her daughter, fully halfway to becoming a vulture-woman, her daughter a monster, not her little Costone girl. Penha’s doing, all of it. She could only be Tonho’s daughter.

  Tonho breaks down the door, good thing I said poor Fátima. Tonho doesn’t see anything at all, he goes straight to his wife. Why the hell did you close that door? He pounds on the table, head craning around. He pounds on the table pounds on the table he’s lost his head. Then he’s beating to escape the dog. He’s beating again: for suffering in others. He’s beating everything under the sun he’s beating. He beats he sees no body, he beats, beats, beats he sees no body, he beats beats beats not a single dog he beats. He doesn’t see any body at all he doesn’t see anything until he stumbles across Fátima he doesn’t see any Fátima in the midst of so much Tonho until he comes across Fátima at death’s door.

  At that moment, there with Fátima ground to a pulp, at that moment before him trying to forget after her wanting to die the whole time at that moment, how he loves this woman, at that moment Tonho thinks who is this son of a bitch that he is. He’ll leave the room vomiting up what he remembers leaving it forgotten on the floor, he’ll leave the room vomiting up Fátima’s gaze it doesn’t agree with him Fátima’s chewed up face it won’t go down the dogs’ barking in Fátima only grows. He throws up heaves up from his throat retches that panic Tonho spits up Fátima’s gaze.

  Fátima survives, she always survives. She rearranges her troubles and goes back to sleep. Goddamn, he loves that woman.

  ‘What’s that, Maria de Fátima?’

  ‘I bumped into the corner of the sink, Grandma…’

  ‘And all those marks on your leg?’

  ‘Must be from scratching…’

  ‘Take care of yourself, Fátima, cut your nails.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Grandma, I’ll cut them…’

  ‘Is that blood on your neck?’

  ‘I was taking the chicken off the bone…’

  ‘And the graze on your cheek?’

  ‘Must have been the razor…’

  ‘You chipped your tooth again, don’t you look after yourself?’

  ‘I was distracted, Grandma, see.’

  ‘Damn, Fátima, is that all it was?’

  ‘Believe me, Grandma. At least try.’

  Tonho has beaten Fátima so many times it’s not the end of the world, no wife ever died at her husband’s hands, bar the odd dead one who did. Look, barely any bruises. Maria de Fátima will bury her terror in the earth, the blows beneath her skin. She won’t take this, the beatings, the desire to beat her husband, she won’t carry this, the desire to make flour pulverising Tonho with a rock, she won’t take the candles with her to São Paulo to calm her spirit, let alone her prayers.

  But since she had the child in her arms newborn, since the child appeared on earth, Fátima has had this fear of what she may have learned quietly absorbing in her stomach. This fear of the child kept like Fátima in the house hearing Tonho approaching, the quiet fear, Fátima taking it, this fear of the child hidden deep inside, tearing at everything it could with its tiny hands, eating its mother’s dreams in her beaten flesh. This fear.

  Could Scarlett have learned to take a beating like she learned to hide in her mother’s flesh? Why was she not born some other way: she triumphed over Fátima’s body, she came out a bodily silence, quiet, she came out ravenous, softly, she came out whichever way she could, but she was and she turned out a child. A fearful creature, her daughter, a fearful creature lost in her navel and all this time alone Fátima wasn’t taking a beating on her own. This fear of what the childish flesh can remember, this fear there’s no way to bury it. Goddamn. So it goes with them.

  The excavators out there are burrowing burrowing but it’s Scarlett who unearths Fátima, goddamnit, this silence of her daughter’s can only be a curse, misfortune. Ever heard of anyone who wouldn’t say a single word? Arriving all glassy-eyed, quiet as a mouse, with her bundle of clothes, nothing more. Only to try Fátima’s patience. If she wasn’t sure this was her daughter, by the Virgin Mary, she wouldn’t believe it. The world these days is one great devil’s playground. Fátima versus the silence does everything she can: she talks.

  She tries to talk Fátima keeps talking keeps unearthing, but her daughter doesn’t say a word, not a peep, Scarlett doesn’t speak. Fátima is unearthed she keeps unearthing until she can’t dig with her hoe shovel wooden spoon, with determination, with fear, until she can’t dig up with all her talking another way of not having to look into her daughter’s untimely eyes, another way of not having to unearth a plea for forgiveness for everything she did so she could escape from Vilaboinha.

  ‘What did Grandma tell you?’

  ‘What did Grandma tell you?’

  Scarlett, Fátima keeps saying, I did send the letters, Scarlett, I sent them every time I sent them, letters are wild animals we can’t control, Scarlett, I never knew how to write letters. And the buses, I missed the buses, Scarlett, twenty years I swear, Scarlett, I couldn’t do it. She keeps saying I had to leave I couldn’t stay, she keeps saying I had to, saying I couldn’t, saying saying so as not to say I’m sorry, daughter, I’m sorry, twenty years so sorry. Everything else would come out of the earth, bamboo splinters, lengths of liana, everything else, except the courage to tell Scarlett everything.

  Everything else would come out of the earth, even Skin-and-Bones, poor thing, Skinny coming to take what’s hers, bones, cold rice, even Skinny would emerge from the earth and come to seek revenge. But all this we will see later.

  ‘Let’s just say there was something I had to do. What it was doesn’t even matter. Senhora, Aunty, you understand, a man gotta do what he gotta do, not all women make good wives, bloody hell, I’m sure you understand. Have you seen old Penha’s granddaughter? She was there on the earth with her legs spread wide, she’s so young and making me suddenly want to spread those legs. I told her, I know your little girl game, that game of no means yes, I know just what it is you want. I told her, I’m a good guy, goddamnit, you know you’d have starved to death if I hadn’t taken care of you and your mother Aparecida. I was telling her, but you know the darkness that was happening those days? I was telling her and suddenly in the darkness suddenly I couldn’t see anything at all, Aunty, the darkness came on and I didn’t even know where she was, goddamnit, let alone her mother. Now you can thank me, I took my chance and I told her. She got a bit angry, can you believe it Aunty? She got antsy and went off trampling over things and the dog went with her, must belong to that crazy old Penha, goddamn, the dog wouldn’t stop barking. Since she was small sitting on the ground with those legs, and now I was going to get what’s mine isn’t that right? I’ve been a father to her, Aunty, I don’t want her to think I’m a bad person, so I explained I said come here I shouted, even in the darkness I explained, she’s mine it’s my right, I felt for the wretch with my hands I found her bumping into things, I couldn’t see a thing just managed to catch a glimpse of Fátima, even with the little bitch dog barking damn thing. I know these women’s ways, saying they don’t want it no means yes, Aunty, but life isn’t just about what you want, I told her, I told her when she started to struggle, the little dog hanging on to my shin. Life is hard, Maria de Fátima, what are you thinking? I know this is a game women play, no means yes, I know you want it or you wouldn’t have had your legs half-open like that, goddamnit, with your breasts like that under your clothes, come on, while your mother isn’t watching, yes I know what you want. It’s normal to be scared, I told her as she struggled, the dog biting my shin, it’s normal for it to hurt, I said as she struggled with me inside her, goddamn, it felt so good. At the start I thought she’d understood, but the girl was telling me to stop, Aunty, Cida was going to be here any minute and she was asking me to stop, I mean goddamnit, you can’t change your mind half-way through, I told her without stopping course not, you went about leaving your legs open with your chest half out of your clothes goddamn those little tits so close to me and me so crazy about women, what did you expect? That’s not right, after all this time with your flesh close by all this time putting on longer skirts and me so hungry, d’you believe me, Aunty? I decided to carry on, she couldn’t change her mind halfway through, the goddamn dog at my shin, it had to be one of those games women play no means yes, that fucking dog. Truth is I wanted to go even longer, goddamn, there are things a man can’t not do, I didn’t even know where her mother was. She started she struggled like a dog, and I wanted it even more, goddamn, the more she struggled, the bitch, the deeper I went in her. That other bitch wouldn’t let go of my shin. That’s when I lost it I really saw red, because she really deserved it, the bitch, it was just the way a bitch would want it. At the start I told her not to worry, that I’d be quick, that she’d end up liking it, but the girl was struggling, so I gave her what she deserved. It must have been her bitch way of wanting me even more. Goddamn, I’d have liked to see her face, but it was dark, Aunty, it was in the darkness that was happening those days. She started crying, the wretch, as though I was hurting her. All the time I was putting up with the little bitch’s teeth hooked in my leg, I was putting up with it not reacting, goddamn, and she thinking I was the devil. I’m not a bad person, I’d never do anything to hurt her. The way she was crying even seemed like the way she was crying I was actually enjoying it. I kicked the dog aside. Easy now, I pounded real deep inside her, quit pretending you don’t like it, I felt it in her whore legs this is what she likes, felt in my hands her girl’s face, and she thought she’d go changing her mind? That women’s game of no means yes, goddamn, just like her mother. I told her, I’m not going to hurt you, quit pretending you don’t like it or I’ll hurt you, I know you like it, goddamnit, I told her. The dog latched back onto my leg and I gave her another kick. She was crying, lashing out with her legs, sneaky now, that’s how I like it. The girl knows what she’s doing, shut your mouth, I told her, this is how I like you struggling like crazy, I told her. Goddamnit, you understand Senhora, I know she isn’t a good woman, no she struggles like a packhorse at the knackers, she’s rabid, digging in her nails, trying to slip away around the edges, goddamn, it just felt so good. I was all that time waiting seeing the little girl there in the earth sitting with her legs open while I was taking sucking swallowing her mother against the sink, all that time I was waiting because I thought she couldn’t hear. But the girl can struggle like nobody’s business, Aunty, I ended up liking this way she had of squirming around with me right there inside her, wild, that’s what a man wants, to devour the whore buried in her, not a whiny little bitch, with her little legs open on the earth outside. I told her that her mother would be angry if she found out what a little whore she was. But me, I went nuts, Aunty. Goddamn. I thought she was different, quiet, but no, she struggled like crazy in me, goddamn, just felt so good. Well then the sun came back and I saw her face her eyes looking at me, I saw Fátima in those eyes, she wouldn’t stop looking at me, I mean seriously? That was when they banged on the door saying Cida had died. I was just crazy thinking about it, I was crazy, Aunty. With Fátima’s mother dead, she wasn’t my daughter any more. I was crazy just thinking about another man eating my little bitch, and thinking about her struggling with a dick that wasn’t mine. Girls don’t want to know about good guys, Aunty, I had to find a way that wretch I had to find a way to make her mine. I got out of there I left her and the other bitch lying on the floor pretending to be dead the little whore and I went to see her grandma. I got straight to the point: she won’t do for a decent man any more, I even rimmed her. They say old Penha’s crazy, but she’s a good woman, she told me, Tonho, do what you need to do, just leave Cida’s baby with me. Seems Cida died giving birth to a daughter. Can you believe it? I’m getting married, Aunty.

  The joist lying across the earth with its splinters, desecrating fingers, shards of bamboo, creepers sprouting from the muddy ground, it likes it, this is what the earth likes. The hoes machines people digging into the earth, biting at the earth like teeth, scraping at the earth-warm hole. The shovels show no mercy, drive stamp heave drive stamp heave this drive go and stamp quick heave heave heave, go on, go on, go on, tear until we find it. It likes it, the earth likes it.

  Come on let’s get on with all this, let’s unearth it, stick in the shovel, come on, stick in the shovel, stick in the shovel til the earth gets tired. We won’t go home with nothing, come on, grind down the earth until it gives it up. Look over there, look there, in the desecrated earth, look, over there, a structure I said we’d only to give the earth a rest. Take a photo, come on, what more does the earth have to give? Holy shit, there’s no body at all, no crime without a body, still no body, holy shit, we still got nothing, stop taking photos, it’s nothing it’s just a house, unearthed in the middle of Vila Marta.

  Snore: to put words in the mouth of your belly.

  Vulture: a creature that blossoms from the death of others.

  A mouthful of fingernails

  ‘Come here, girl, move it. Didn’t I tell you don’t go about with your arms hanging loose, that it don’t look right? And don’t sit with your legs apart like that, like some hired gun; don’t sit up straight and people will be asking why. And shut that mouth, don’t you know it only takes one shock you bite your tongue and then what? Acting like it’s no big deal, you’re not listening well you should know better. I’m not gonna be around forever, take those fingers out your mouth little beast, I ain’t gonna be here forever and you think the world gonna treat you like I do, showing you the ropes day in day out? You better learn, girl, learn fast or the world gonna chew you up and spit you out. Lucky Fátima’s here to look out for you. Knees together now, quick, didn’t I just tell you square up those feet? What’s that face for, now? Listen I’ll straighten you out with the plank if I have to, you hear me? Stand up straight, goddammit. Where d’you think you’re going? The wind’s coming, get inside, shut the windows, quick, and your mouth while you’re at it, what’d I just say? Don’t say I’m your grandma, brat! And quit talking like that, didn’t I tell you people have names, you little savage? Don’t look at me like that, goddamn, and don’t get smart with me girl, you should know better. Quit your whistling, go and close the window, go on quick, little beast. If the dog gets out let the wind deal with her.’

  Old Penha’s granddaughter crouches she watches the wind cavorting outside through the gap under the door, her dress lifting, legs bare. The wind is rising rising rising, my God, it leaves nothing on the ground. It beats against the windows the walls beats fear into us too, my God, what was that banging on the door? Skin-and-Bones barks at the wall, unhappy with the wind she barks, shut up, goddamn mutt, says Dona Penha, but the wind keeps blowing that awful wind makes Dona Penha sit her full weight down in the chair to rest once and for all, goddammit, to rest enough for a lifetime.

  Penha’s youngest granddaughter, goddamn wretch, seizes her chance her only chance to do what she wants. Grandma’s so still, my God, only the wind can make Grandma sit so still. And the girl so restless, my God, the girl always restless can at last make fun of her, with Skin-and-Bones between her legs like a leaf dancing on the tail of the wind, the two of them one blissful being, banging on windows on the door on pans and the wind answering earth, dead leaf, bone, corpse.