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Maria Cláudia had her eyes closed so tightly that tiny lines marked the spot where crow’s-feet would one day appear. Her full lips still bore traces of yesterday’s lipstick. Her short brown hair gave her the look of a young ruffian, which only made her beauty more piquant and provoking, almost equivocal.
    Rosália glanced at her daughter, not quite trusting that deep but strangely unconvincing sleep. She gave a little sigh. Then, with a maternal gesture, she drew the bedclothes up around her daughter’s neck. The reaction was immediate. Maria Cláudia opened her eyes and chuckled. She tried to suppress her laughter, but it was too late.
    â€œYou tickled me!”
    Furious because she had been tricked and, even more, because she had been caught showing her daughter some motherly affection, Rosália said irritably:
    â€œSo you were sleeping, were you? The headache’s gone, has it? Your trouble is you don’t want to work, you lazy so-and-so!”
    As if to prove her mother right, the girl stretched slowly and luxuriously, and, as she did so, her lace-trimmed nightdress gaped open to reveal two small, round breasts. Although Rosália did not know why that careless gesture offended her, she could not conceal her displeasure and muttered:
    â€œCover yourself up, will you? Young women nowadays aren’t even embarrassed in the presence of their own mothers!”
    Maria Cláudia opened her eyes wide. She had blue eyes, a very brilliant blue, but cold, like the distant stars whose light we see only because they are far, far away.
    â€œWhat does it matter? Anyway, I’m decent now!”
    â€œIf I’d shown myself to my mother like that when I was your age, I’d have gotten a slap in the face.”
    â€œThat seems a bit extreme.”
    â€œYou think so, do you? Well, I reckon
you
could do with a good slap too.”
    Maria Cláudia raised her arms again, pretending to stretch. Then she yawned.
    â€œTimes have changed.”
    Rosália opened the window and said:
    â€œThey have indeed, and for the worse.” Then she went back over to the bed. “So, are you going to work or not?”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œNearly ten o’clock.”
    â€œIt’s too late now.”
    â€œIt wasn’t a little while ago.”
    â€œI had a headache then.”
    This short, sharp exchange indicated irritation on both sides. Rosália was seething with suppressed anger, and Maria Cláudia was annoyed by her mother’s moralizing.
    â€œA headache indeed! You’re a malingerer, that’s what you are!”
    â€œIs it my fault I have a headache?”
    Rosália exploded:
    â€œDon’t you talk to me like that, young lady. I’m your mother, remember.”
    The girl was unimpressed. She merely shrugged, as if to say that this last point was hardly worth discussing, then she jumped out of bed and stood there, barefoot, her silk nightdress draped about her soft, shapely body. Her daughter’s youthful beauty cooled Rosália’s irritation, which vanished like water into dry sand. Rosália felt proud of Maria Cláudia and her lovely body. Indeed, what she said next was tantamount to a surrender:
    â€œYou’d better tell the office.”
    Maria Cláudia, apparently oblivious to that subtle change of tone, replied dully:
    â€œI’ll ask Dona Lídia if I can use her phone.”
    Rosália grew irritated again, perhaps because her daughter had put on a housecoat, and her more discreetly clothed body had lost its power to enchant.
    â€œYou know I don’t like you going to see Dona Lídia.”
    Maria Cláudia’s eyes were even more innocent than usual.
    â€œWhy ever not?”
    If the conversation was to continue, Rosália would have to say things she would prefer not to. She knew that her daughter understood perfectly well what she meant, but she nonetheless felt that there were subjects best