THREE SPOONS OF WATER

The cartridge fins made the buzz of a big fly behind the bar. Ilva heard the noise while she scraped the hardened film from Célia's bowl with the tip of a spoon. The portion had spent the night in the shade and reached morning as a yellow slab, cracked into four parts. She opened the common jug. She measured three spoons of water. The first loosened the edge of the angu. The second went into the cracks. The third stayed on the surface, waiting for heat. Ilva took the bowl to the stove, turned the flame down until it no longer struck the bottom violently and stirred slowly. When the mass gave way again, she put the empty pot back in the kitchen compartment. There was water left for one short meal. Célia came in through the side door with her hand on the wood. The strap around her ankle was grey with road. Her face had dust in the eyebrows and a paler line of sun where the visor used to rest. You came back, said Ilva. I came back because the road went up in price. Célia sat near the counter and took off her sandal. She did not ask for help. Ilva brought a dry basin, a clean membrane and the decontaminant. She cut the membrane into two narrow strips. She cleaned the skin around the blister without touching the open centre. She waited for the liquid to lose its shine. She covered the wound, fixed one strip under the foot and the other above the ankle. The membrane left over would do for a small cut, as long as no one needed it before night. On the climb, the loads went first, said Célia. The road panel cut civilian passage until the dust settled. Did you see the route. I saw trucks that weren't from the mine. She took the bowl and blew once over the angu. She ate fast, then more slowly, as if the body had understood that the food would end before the hunger. Nael appeared at the door with his hair still marked by sleep. He looked at Célia, at the bowl, at the two new strips on her foot. Nael ran his thumb over the cracked sole of his own foot. Célia laughed with her mouth closed. Nael pointed at the cartridge. The can's still shaking, he said. It made three drops, answered Ilva. Then it's doing better than the Lajes. The three laughed low. The bar was closed for food, kept the refrigerator locked and had no customers, but for a few seconds Nael imitated the noise of the fins with his throat. Célia tried to join in. She missed the note twice. On the third, she sounded like an angry hen. Her laugh came out whole and stayed in the room, serving nothing. The bar panel lit up over the counter. Family contact awaiting person responsible for the address. Ilva stopped with the spoon in the air. Célia lowered her eyes to the bowl. Nael went to the window, where the road dust had settled on the buriti leaves. The projection asked for facial recognition. Ilva brought her face close. The kitchen was accepted as a temporary extension of her custody. A line appeared below Antônio's name. Your father has reached the waypoint. She read it again. There was no audio. There was a question converted into text and a low urgency mark. Is he continuing to the capital or coming back. Célia put down the spoon. He reached where. The first shelter on the road, said Ilva. That's not much of the way. It's more than he had water for. The panel opened two replies. Confirm journey. Request return. Ilva looked at the closed common jug, at the bowl Célia held with both hands, at the membrane cut in half on the worktop. Antônio had left with less than half of what he needed and had left the house the way someone leaves a sentence half finished. Outside, a truck took the high bend. The side display announced mineral priority and advance route payment. Ilva touched the open reply. He's continuing, she said. The confirmation rose on the panel. Then another line appeared. Voice contact released for six minutes at the waypoint shelter. Nael turned from the window. He's going to talk. Ilva put the cold mirror away under her blouse. Célia finished the angu, scraping the bottom with care. The cartridge vibrated behind the wall, working to give back to the machine a water the house had just spent in three spoons.