Nowhere People

The three young men enter the patio, the back door is open. Paulo puts on the knuckleduster, the other two are carrying iron bars, a fifty-centimetre bar each. Paulo goes in first, the only person he meets is an Indian man who introduces himself as the electrician. Paulo asks where the owners of the house are. Understanding the nature of the situation when the other two come in holding their iron bars, the Indian man says that the guy who owns the house and who hired him will be back soon with the bit of wiring that needs to be changed. Paulo says that’s fine and asks him to take a seat on a bench. He gathers up Rener’s tools and the clothes belonging to the couple, trampled on and heaped up in a corner of the living room. He doesn’t find the Walkman. He puts everything into the bags he has brought with him, hands them to the two guys who have come with him. He doesn’t know what he’ll do with the electrician, this guy who, Paulo now sees, has an annoying face. Now isn’t the time to hesitate, he has got this far. He asks how much he’s earning, the man says he charges eighty a day. Paulo takes two fifties out of his wallet and asks to see the other man’s wallet. The electrician hands it over without hesitating, Paulo opens it, removes his travel pass ID. He checks the photo to be sure that it really is the same man, puts it in his pocket, tells him to get another one made at Arsenal Tube station, puts the notes in the part of the wallet where the travel pass was, says that’s for his day plus twenty for the disruption. He holds out his hand in greeting, the Indian man shakes it, and Paulo says he can go. One of his companions asks Paulo if he knows what he’s doing, it’s stupid to let the man go like that, he’ll call the police. Paulo just says that they can go, too. The electrician excuses himself and gathers up his things, he leaves. Paulo explains that he is going to stay, he has a Walkman to claim from the owner of the house, and then he will stop by their place to pick up the big bags. He asks them to leave one of the iron bars. One of them says staying there is madness. Paulo’s ego swells when he hears him say this. The two of them leave. Alone in the house. (What a grotesque stage he has set up.) He puts on his hood and his glasses. He positions himself by the door, he tests the weight of the iron bar, its inertia, its movement. He doesn’t stop to think, doesn’t look for any logic. He hears the noise of the gate and the steps coming down by the side of the house. The shadow, oblivious, moving at the windows, close by, exciting. The sound of the door, the sound of the handle, they’re one and the same, the door opening, the movement already seeking a response. His own movement, the movement of attack, the knot that seems to grip all the knots that hold those two strangers together. The second blow to the back, the same height as the first, he doesn’t think about the cowardice of taking the other man by surprise; the cry, and the single kick that knocks his opponent down to the floor, a kick from the leg with the good knee, a kick to the head, stamping on the right side of his face and a blow straight to the hip. The doubt. The spit. Conquest and then withdrawal. The air that is never fresh for someone who can’t sleep. On the pavement he dares not look back. The bar is hidden inside his jacket, the knuckleduster unused in his pocket; he starts to think again. What make of Walkman was it? He takes off the hood and glasses. He walks on for a few metres. Birthdays. He waves at the passing taxi, the driver stops, asks where he’s headed. Chelsea (where everything seems always to be in order). The driver says he can get in. Paulo gets in and settles himself on the seat, his stomach has already stopped hurting, and when he looks out he spots the cocker spaniel and then the lady.

‌

mosaic

She chooses the name, and two days later he is born.