THE FOURTH BOWL

The lid of the smaller container clicked before the water began to boil. Nael lifted it with two fingers and poured the maize into the pan, leaving a layer of grains at the bottom for the morning. Tiago followed the operation sitting against the wall, the protected palm resting on his thigh. The house had four shallow bowls. Nael placed three on the floor, near the stove, and put the fourth away in the high cupboard. That one stays dry, he said. Ilva washed two pequi leaves in a gourd. The water took on the colour of dust and was used to moisten the dough. Nael did not let her pour it away. He pulled the smaller pan over, gathered the liquid in it and covered it with an aluminium plate. In the morning it would serve to loosen hardened maize or to bring down someone's fever. The aluminium plate vibrated once on the pan. From the yard came the noise of the buriti roots scraping the dry earth. Before, Nael used to fall asleep listening to frogs on the low stretch of the Lajes. Now he could make out the sound of the mine's pipework through the room, even when the pump was far away. The metal vibrated inside the walls and seemed to be looking for a place at the table. Tiago looked at the fourth bowl. Is it Mariana's, he asked. It is, said Ilva. She's not coming. The spoon stopped over the dough. Mariana was on the fourth compensation shift, but the portion remained reserved. Nael divided the food into three smaller parts, one for each body present, and left the fourth bowl empty on the stove. The heat of the flame reached the rim, without cooking anything. The audited channel by Ilva's ear gave a short note. She raised her hand to the device, but did not listen to the message. The discreet light repeated the notice. Tiago stared at the dough. Nael scraped the bottom of the pan with the wooden spoon. It's about the sequence, he said. She nodded. The answer about the origin would expire before dawn. The interval on the household line could disappear along with Edna's name on the roster, and the water would go back to passing through the house in thinner threads. Ilva took her bowl off the floor. She separated half the dough and passed it into the fourth. Tiago raised his eyes. What are you going to eat. Whatever's left in the pan. There won't be any left, said Nael. The sentence stayed among the three of them. Tiago pulled his bowl to the centre and pushed a portion into Ilva's. The membrane on his palm creaked against the clay of the floor. She tried to give it back, he covered the food with his good hand. I ate at the clinic, he said. Nael recognised the lie by the way the young man avoided looking at the pan. Even so, he placed a sliver of pequi on Tiago's portion. It was little pulp, stuck to the stone like a yellow fingernail. No one argued. Sales, envoy of the technical convergence, passed in front of the porch with two people in light clothes. He was speaking quietly, pointing to the hill where the datacenter would be accommodated between the road and the crushing area. He did not come in. His companions looked at the house like someone assessing a distance. Ilva waited for them to disappear round the bend. Then she took the fourth bowl and put it in the high cupboard, beside the reused water. Mariana would receive that food or find the bowl dry. Ilva closed the high cupboard until the wood knocked lightly. Later, the parallel ledger received four portions. One of them had no body in front of it.