The Girl in the Photograph Read Online Free PDF Page A

shining shoes nearby would say, What color shoe polish does the
     gentleman prefer?
    “Green.”
    I take the pale green one, which is third down in the pile, from the box. So delicate,
     the handkerchiefs Remo sent from Istanbul, farewell, my little hanky. Lião is capable
     of cleaning her big old shoes with you but think about the “if” for hankies: dust
     is just as noble as tears. It won’t be moon dust, so white and fine, earth dust is
     heavy, especially that on my friend’s shoes. But never mind, BE A HANDKERCHIEF. I
     drop it into space. It opens lightly like a parachute which Lião grabs impatiently.
    “Are you depressed, Lião? Existential anguish?”
    “Exactly. Existential.”
    Oh Lord, she’s furious with me. She’s changed so much, poor thing. Meaning Miguel
     is still in prison? And that Japaneseguy. And Gigi. And others, they’re all going, what madness. Suppose she’s next? Ana
     Clara did see somebody suspicious looking hanging around the gate; Aninha lies all
     the time, of course, but that could be true. Yes, Our Lady of Fatima Roominghouse,
     a name above investigation. But whenever nuns or priests come onto the horizon, everyone’s
     ears perk up.
    “I’ll give it back tomorrow,” she says, folding the handkerchief.
    “Not at all, keep it. Would you like another one?”
    I throw her the pink handkerchief which doesn’t open as the green one did. Why does
     my heart stay closed too? Romulo in Mama’s arms, I looked for a handkerchief and couldn’t
     find one, a handkerchief to wipe up all that blood bubbling out. Bubbling out. “But
     what happened, Lorena!” A game, Mama, they were playing and then Remo went to get
     the shotgun, Run or I’ll shoot, he said taking aim. All right, I don’t want to think
     about this now, now I want sunshine. I sit in the window frame and stretch my legs
     toward the sun.
    “I get red, and I want to get tan, look at me, Fabrízio told me my nickname in the
     Department is Fainting Magnolia, can you imagine?”
    “And the old guy? Nothing yet?”
    I count to ten before answering, grrrrr! Why does she call M.N. old? First of all,
     he is not old. Second, she knows I’m the complicated type, with me things just can’t be resolved so fast. Third—what
     was the third thing? I am making an effort to seem unshakable.
    “He said he’d call me for dinner. Want to come?”
    “What I need is a western movie.”
    Imagine, the movies. A danger zone, there are thousands of danger zones where his
     wife or his cousin … I think the best place for us to meet is in the hospital because
     if the world is big, that hospital is even bigger. Is Dr. Marcus Nemesius in? I ask
     and the head nurse speaks to the subordinate nurse who speaks to the subordinate subordinate,
     who in turn speaks to another one far on down the line, the one who escaped the current,
     her shoes white, her memory white. “By any chance are you the one who’s waiting to
     see Dr. Melloni?” she comes and asks after two and a half hours. No, not that doctor.
     By any chance I’m waiting for Dr. Marcus Nemesius, is he in? “He just left,” she answers.
     “Won’t another doctor do?”
    “If he doesn’t phone, let’s go together, Lião. I’ve got yenom enough for caviar.”
    “Russian?”
    “No, from Iran, dear. The best caviar in the world. My brother Remo sent a can.”
    “I’m moved. But I’ll grab something on the corner.”
    Here there’s the soup, the de-sexed meat the nuns fix, but still it’s better than
     the things she eats in the street. And she doesn’t even take baths any more, poor
     thing. Before, she would fill up my bathtub and soak so happily; one day she even
     asked for the bath salts.
    “You’ve changed, Lião.”
    “For the worse?” she asks, unfolding the handkerchief and blowing her nose.
    Like an open drainpipe. Animals are so much more decent about these things; I never
     saw Astronaut blow his nose in public. Too many holes, too many