THE COPPER COIL

The bar's tap filled a mug in forty-two seconds, eleven more than at the first opening after the repair. Antônio shut off the flow. Under the grate, the twisted cloth was darkening around the clamp, and a bubble swelled at the joint with every pulse of the pump. Edna arrived with a summons lit on her body device. The mining operation required her presence at the crusher before the worst of the heat. She let the notice vibrate against her wrist and lay down on the floor to reach the pipe. You came back, said Antônio. I owed you. The bubble burst over her fingers. The fabric would last less than a shift. Valdo stopped the truck in the street, where three containers awaited his sold water. He said he had heard, at the loading point, about people arriving to examine the mining's green promises. They talked of harmed communities, of suspicious researchers, perhaps of an environmental authority. He himself did not know whether they were coming that day or whether the story served only to hurry a clean-up. They'll hide the old stuff, said Antônio. Edna withdrew her wet hand. The operation could replace the whole stretch, cover the branch and call the recovered water efficiency. When that happened, the pipe under the bar would no longer admit a local repair. The summons vibrated again. She silenced it with her forearm. Antônio went into the kitchen and pushed aside the bank of units that kept drinks less hot than the air. Behind it stood the bar's first refrigerator, without function for years, preserved because Nael had bought it with the payment for an excavator driven through the valley. The outer metal had spots of rust. At the back, a copper coil kept two whole bends. Antônio was keeping that part to sell. The credit would pay for part of the trip to the capital, though no message sent to his son confirmed that he would be received. For six months he had measured the copper with his eyes and erased the destination before sleeping. Edna pulled the refrigerator out. The rusted foot scored the floor. If you cut it, that's the end, he said. She waited. Antônio brought the thermal blade used to open cargo containers. He set it against the longer bend. The copper reddened, gave way and fell with a sound too small for the price it carried. They worked on the floor. Edna split the bend lengthwise, flattened the edges with an old wrench from the bar and shaped a sleeve around the cracked seal. Antônio removed the cloth, already reduced to fibres. The water trapped in the pipe wet the arms of both of them and disappeared through the hardened sand. In the street, Valdo sold two portions and left the third family waiting while he watched the repair. If the tap held, he would lose a daily delivery. Even so, he offered the pressure strap he kept for the truck's hoses. The sleeve closed over the rubber. Edna tightened it once, then again, then until the copper stopped yielding. The pump pushed water. No bubble formed. The summons expired while she kept her fingers on the joint. At the crusher, someone else would take over the incident and would know that Edna had chosen the bar. Antônio opened the tap. The mug filled in twenty-nine seconds. He set half aside for Valdo and drank the rest without a toast. Then he gathered the bend left over from the refrigerator, crossed the kitchen and hid it under the counter.