Raised from the Ground

like Domingos in whatever year it was he died, who remembers now and who cares. Some lives are erased more completely than others, but that’s because we have so many things to think about, we end up not noticing those lives until there comes a day when we regret our neglect, I was wrong, we say, I should have paid more attention, exactly, if only we’d had those feelings earlier, but these are merely twinges of remorse that arise and, fortunately, are almost immediately forgotten. His daughter Amélia will not be there either, as we know, she has worked as a maid in a house in Montemor ever since she was a girl, she was lucky, though, to have been able to visit him in the hospital and keep him company, and she has been able to save enough money to buy false teeth, her one little luxury, alas, her smile came too late to save her. Some friends will be missing too, Tomás Espada, who long withstood the absence of his wife Flor Martinha, no one ever saw their wrists bound together by a piece of string, but then some things that are invisible nevertheless exist, perhaps the people themselves would be unable to explain how, but Sigismundo Canastro, the oldest friend of all, will come, and Joana Canastra will help as much as she can, if only to console Faustina, for they have known each other so long they do not even need to speak, but will simply exchange a look, with no tears shed, because Faustina won’t be able to cry and Joana never has, these are mysteries of nature, who can say why it is that this woman can’t weep and the other doesn’t know how.

António Mau-Tempo, my son, will be here too, he has just got up and is still barefoot, How are you feeling, Father, and I, who know that today is the day of my death, answer, Fine, perhaps he’ll believe me, he’s leaning on the frame at the foot of the bed, looking at me, he obviously doesn’t believe me, you can’t convince someone of something if you don’t believe it yourself, he’s still a long way from fifty, but France really finished him off, as everything does in the end, this pain, this pang, or perhaps it isn’t the pang of pain itself but some underlying ache, even I don’t know. And my son-in-law Manuel Espada will come, and my daughter Gracinda, they will both be here at my bedside, beside this bed from which I will be carried out, probably by Manuel and António, because they have more strength, but the women will wash me, that’s usually women’s work, to wash the corpse, ah, the things women have to do, at least I won’t hear them crying. And there’ll be my granddaughter Maria Adelaide, who has the same blue eyes as me, well, not quite, why am I boasting, my eyes are like dull ashes compared to hers, perhaps when I was younger, when I used to go to dances and was courting Faustina, when I stole her from her parents’ house, then my eyes must have been as blue as those that have just walked into the room, Your blessing, Grandfather, how are you feeling, better, I hope, and I make a gesture with my hand, that’s all that remains of blessings, none of us believes in them, but it’s the custom, and I answer that I’m feeling fine and turn my head toward her so as to see her better, Ah, Maria Adelaide, my granddaughter, although I don’t say those words, I think them, it does me good to see her, she’s wearing a scarf on her head and a little knitted jacket, her skirt is wet, the umbrella didn’t protect her entirely from the rain, and suddenly I feel a terrible urge to weep, because Maria Adelaide took my hand in hers, it was as if we had exchanged eyes, what a daft idea, but a man who is about to die can have whatever ideas he likes, that’s his prerogative, he’s not going to have many more opportunities to have new ideas or repeat old ones, I wonder what time I will die. And now Faustina is coming over with my bowl of milk, she’s going to spoon-feed it to me, I might as well stay hungry today, I would leave the world more lightly, and someone else could drink the milk, what I would really like is for my granddaughter to feed me, but I can’t ask that, I can’t upset Faustina on my last day, who would console her afterward, when she said, Ah, my dear husband, I didn’t give him his milk to drink on the day he died, the grandmother might resent the granddaughter for the rest of her days, perhaps in a little while Maria Adelaide can give me my medicine, according to the doctor’s instructions, half an hour after eating, but these are impossible desires. Maria Adelaide is leaving, she just looked in to see how I am, and I’m fine, her father and mother will be here soon, but she’s gone already, she’s still too young to be a witness to such spectacles, she’s only seventeen and has the same blue eyes as me, or have I said that already.

When João Mau-Tempo wakes from the torpor into which he slipped after taking his medicine, which was a real boon, affording him a prolonged respite from the pain and allowing him to sink into what seemed like a natural sleep, but now the pain has returned, and he wakes up moaning, it’s like a stake piercing his side, when he recovers full consciousness, he finds himself surrounded by people, there isn’t room for anyone else, Faustina and Gracinda are bending over him, Amélia too, so she did come after all, it was the moan that summoned them, and Joana Canastra is standing farther back because she’s not a family member,