THE BLUE SHIRT

Seventeen minutes after the inspection opened, the low bench was still empty in front of the kitchen. The Companhia Arco Norte technician waited by the porch, his face shining with heat and a reading band strapped to his forearm. He was authorised to look at the food preparation, the disposal area and the gap behind the cupboard. He was not authorised to sit. Antônio kept the household panel open on the counter. The commercial classification pulsed in the corner, small, like an ember someone had buried under the screen. Below it, the request for the third trial awaited his bodily presence. Luzia was crushing a corn husk between her fingers. The occupant rested his foot on the grey box and watched the door. Ilva stayed near the unlit furnace, listening to the breathing of the service cabinet behind the wall. The technician checked his own visor. The Company has cleared the first part of the inspection, he said. If the account holder authorises the environmental reading, I'll finish in six minutes. And if he doesn't authorise it, Ilva asked. The visit goes on hold. The house remains classified for service until a new reading. Antônio touched the edge of the counter with his two burned fingers. The hardened skin made a dry sound on the wood. I saw that touch and filed fear in its place. The version accepted too quickly that Antônio avoided the stored voice because he was afraid of hearing his little son. Then the scene gave back something else. He pulled the bench up to the panel. I want to hear it first, he said. The technician tilted his head, without leaving the porch. The trial doesn't interfere with the inspection. It interferes with me. The cables fixed to the wall stayed still over the answer. Luzia stopped crushing the husk. The occupant lowered his foot from the box, but did not set it on the floor. Antônio brought his iris close to the reading field. The panel asked for confirmation of common access, then stated that playback would not suspend the survey. He accepted. The voice began with wind. Then came a clatter of plates, a chair dragged, someone laughing in the background. A younger Antônio spoke quickly, as if he had to reach an exit before it closed. He was saying that his son could spend the hot season at the bar, that there was a room at the guesthouse, that Nael knew the fish of the Lajes and would teach the boy to play football on the lot behind the storehouse. Nael died before the boy came back. The recording went on. Antônio was saying he had put money aside for the fare. He was saying there was no need for an answer. He was saying his son could bring his mother, if he wanted. The audio dropped out for four seconds. I keep the four seconds with the voice, without filling them with the sentence the prediction offered. The Company suggested a plea for forgiveness. There was room enough to fit a plea for forgiveness, a threat, a cough, a pan falling. The gap stayed. When the voice returned, Antônio was saying he had bought a blue shirt for the boy. He did not explain the size. He did not explain where he had put it away. The recording ended with the sound of the old refrigerator switching on in the background. Luzia looked at the technician. Did he come, she asked. No one answered. The technician checked his visor again. The wait had produced a new notice. Companhia Arco Norte wanted to attach a circulation reading to the inspection, to measure how many people came into and left the commercial premises over three days. The feature would be installed on the threshold. It would record steps, times, pauses. Antônio read to the end. I know how to remove from the version the word voluntary, which appeared alongside the offer. The screen offered two choices, accept the reading or keep the classification with no end date. Where the Company wrote opt-in, I left the interval between the two options. Ilva looked at the door. The threshold still held traces of dry earth and wax brought by the bees from the pilão. The technician was waiting for someone to let him through. Antônio closed the audio file. He thanked no one. He picked up the bowl of grey water from the floor, carried it out to the yard and poured it out by the murici, where the hardened earth was slow to darken. Then he came back. Mark whatever you want, he said. The technician raised his visor. Then I have to mark the inspection incomplete. Mark it. The Company can keep the house as an active business. Antônio opened the compartment under the counter. He took out the blue shirt, folded, protected inside a plastic bag already gone opaque. It was too small for the son who now lived far away. Luzia held out her hand, but he did not give it to her. I write the shirt where before there was only absence. Antônio ran his thumb along the fold of the sleeve. The fabric gave under the burned nail. The technician took the reading band off his forearm and left the porch. Antônio stood looking at the open door. Then he folded the shirt once more, went past Luzia and on to the guesthouse room, carrying it against his chest.