Miranda (14 page)

“We’ll see,” he whispered with a sarcastic smile. He knew that I intended to expose him.

“Perfect, Miranda! So then I’ll wait for you. I don’t think Mr. Clausell will want you to miss the carnival. It’s not held every day, nor in every country.”

He had no other choice than to be polite. Perhaps that’s why he gave us the most sarcastic and phony smile that I’ve ever seen in my life. Once Luis was out of the car, I could feel in the atmosphere that peculiar cumulative weight of the words that had been spoken. Were it not for the nerve I had to look him in the eye while waiting for the light to change, he would not have dared to speak.

“So you’re going to stay for the carnival,” he said as he looked through the window at the cars going in the opposite direction.

“Exactly!” I was loud, but my enthusiasm was unintentional.

“Don’t you think you could have mentioned it earlier?”

“I did. Didn’t Margaret put it in your agenda? Oh, that’s because it was my agenda, not yours. It was the last item and it was not directly related to Medika,” I lied and he gave me a look of disdain. “Clausell, my plans don’t affect your agenda.”

“You’re absolutely right, Wise,” he admitted.

I thought
who understands him?
Then this came out of my mouth: “They invited you too,” I hesitated briefly. Again, my mouth betrayed me. “Have you ever been to a carnival?”

“I’ve not had the need,” and that must have been the truth, because he did not sound interested.

“Why don’t you come?”

There was dead silence. My sixth sense made me realize that we both asked the same question.
What are you doing, Miranda Wise?
Eliezer lifted himself a bit from the seat. He fixed his pants and put the cell phone in his pocket. I looked at him.

“That’s not in my plans. I will return today. The jet is ready.”

It made me uncomfortable that he did not thank me for the courtesy. I’m not someone who extends invitations casually, much less to disturbed bosses who may have been ogres in another life.

“Well, then have a good trip,” I mumbled.

“No doubt,” he replied with that peculiar smile on his lips.

The conversation ended. I said it in my head:
You’re such an idiot, Eliezer...

***

Three hours later, the elevator door opened and there he was, wearing dark blue jeans and a light blue polo shirt. I left the elevator and, having no other choice, I greeted him with a small gesture, but I didn’t stop.

Within seconds, I realized he was walking next to me as if he were escorting me.

“What? Do you need a ride to the airport?”

“No,” he paused, dusted something off his leg, “I’m not leaving.”

I began to believe that I would never understand a human being by the name of Eliezer Clausell.

“Well, where are you going?” I finished asking following a sigh of discomfort.

“To the carnival, where else? Or did the invitation have an expiration date?”

I turned and looked at him with mouth agape.
To the carnival? Today? Tonight? Why? Why are you determined to make my life impossible? Do you really want to play this hate game all night?
I could not imagine Eliezer among the crowds of people that would surely become unbearable with the music and alcohol.

“Are you sure you want to come?” He stopped walking and so did I. “I must warn you that there will be lots and lots of people. You’ll feel hot and suffocated. Your body will rub against other sweaty bodies that may not smell very good, and the smell of alcohol will be nauseating, and you may in fact run the risk of a brawl taking place.

Eliezer tried smiling. I don’t know if he was being sarcastic or merely surprised by my description.

“What makes you think I won’t be able to withstand a carnival jam-packed with smelly, sweaty, drunk people?”

He used his usual defiant tone. I had to disarm him before he tried to insult me.

“Relax, Eliezer. I’ve never underestimated you,” I smiled.

“Well, then, don’t waste more time and let’s go.”

I complied reluctantly.

***

The trip seemed longer than I remembered. Maybe Eliezer’s company had something to do with it. We couldn’t figure out what to talk about. Regardless of the subject I chose to talk about, he paid no attention or wouldn’t respond to any of my questions, until I asked the question he
did
want to hear.

“Why did you decide to come?”

He bit the inside of his cheek–the face he would make when he was about to lose composure, or when my words bothered him.

“Are you going to persist with this subject?” His eyes remained fixed on the road.

“I’m sorry, Clausell, but you just don’t seem to be the kind of person that attend this type of event.”

He scowled.

“Let’s see, Wise. What answer do you want me to give you to satisfy your curiosity so you can focus on the road again? A week ago someone told me that, before making decisions, I should get to know and live Medika’s state of affairs, because any decision would affect the company.” He made one of his strange pauses. “Here you have me, Wise, living the entire experience.” He opened his eyes widely to emphasize the last word. “Am I excited about being in a loud celebration of strangers in a foreign country? No, I don’t like the idea. Nevertheless, I’m here. Can we end this conversation? Can you drive focused on the street and not on my decision-making?”

The ability I had to unhinge him became tempting. It was clear that he was doing it just to prove a point, so that at the next meeting, I couldn’t argue against any of his decisions regarding my department.
Why else would he be here with me?

The blood had stained the back of Eliezer’s baby blue shirt near the left shoulder.

“Take it off so I can see how deep the wound is.”

“That’s not necessary, Wise. I’m taking a shower.” He got up and before I had a chance to respond, he was in the bathroom.

I went to the kitchen. Perhaps my homemade ointments and medicines for these types of accidents had survived the passage of time in the cabinets.

Following the brawl started by two men next to us, the celebrations had stopped and Eliezer ended up with a laceration caused by a broken bottle that was hurled by one of the angry men. The streets were inundated with people. There was no room to move. Coming back to the city was not an option. Luis offered us his home, but Eliezer declined the offer. That’s how I decided to go to my favorite spot in Panama, a place far away from the hustle and bustle, a cabin in the mountains: my cabin.

In the beginning, it had two bedrooms but I had asked for the wall that divided them to be taken down and turned the space into one huge bedroom. The living room area and the kitchen were charming, decorated with huge wooden beams that gave them a rustic touch. The balcony was my favorite. I could spend hours… days there in complete solitude enjoying the green countryside and the way the sun would caress the trees when it wasn’t raining. It was my refuge and my only private space. Only two people knew of this place: Norman and Luis. Add one more to the list: Eliezer Clausell, my favorite person in the whole world.

I found the alcohol, triple antibiotic and gauze. When I returned to the room, the bathroom door was still closed. I heard the shower was still on. I waited at the edge of the bed.
He’s been in there a long time. What if something happened to him? What if he bled to death?

I jumped towards the door. I knocked.

“Eliezer.” He didn’t respond. I knocked again. “Eliezer!”

Just when I began to turn the doorknob, I was yanked inside as the door suddenly swung open. I exited as fast as I had entered.

“What’s going on?” The shower had not helped quell his bad mood.

“I wanted to know if you were alright. You had been in there a long time and....” As I tried to explain, I got more confused.
What are you trying to prove, Miranda? Forget it.

“You’re not that lucky, Wise. I’m still alive,” he said with a sarcastic smile on his lips. I ignored that.

“The shower is still on, Clausell,” I said.

His smile vanished. He moved away and he shut it off.

The muscle on his forearm moved when he did that.

“Take these,” he said as he threw his jeans, which I was able to catch in the air. Then I realized that his torso was uncovered and the towel only covered his privates. “The least you can do is wash my pants.”

“What did you say?” I paused and thought:
He’s got to be taught some manners.
“Oh! You meant to ask me to please wash your pants. That’s what you meant to say, right?”

I waited for the response of abrupt, unfiltered words–the kind only he can use. The answer never came. It never came because I read in his eyes how uncomfortable he was in my presence. I placed the jeans on the chair next to the wardrobe, and I remembered that somewhere I had seen a pair of pants that he may be able to use.

“I think they may fit you.” I threw them like he had thrown his and he caught them just as I had.

Suddenly, thinking I closed my eyes.
What are you doing, Miranda?

He inspected them for a moment.

“I only hope that the owner doesn’t have a broken bottle in his hand when he comes looking for them.” His wry tone prompted me to explain.

“They belong to your father.” He took the pants and placed them on the bed as if touching them would give him the bubonic plague. “He comes here when he wants to be away from everything.”

“You don’t have to provide any details, Wise. Let me draw my own conclusions.”

It was a confusing moment. I was bewildered by the expression on his face when he heard whom they belonged to, and by the many explanations that I conjured in my mind to make him understand why I had his father’s pants in my cabin.

“Sit down. I’m going to check the wound,” I ordered with authority. He analyzed me for a few seconds. I showed him the gauze and the bottle of alcohol. “Let this be added to the payment for your heroic deed.”

The way in which he rose revealed that his ego had not suffered any damage from the wound. I continued talking because so much silence at such a remote location in his company put my nerves on edge.

“I don’t like to admit it, but if it weren’t for you, I would have been the one wounded.”

His gaze relented when he sat at the edge of the bed. I had to look at the AC panel to make sure it was turned on. The room felt hot… too hot.

“Thank you,” I said.

His fair skin radiated light. The sun had not touched it in a long time. Eliezer was not muscular but he had a very well defined physique. I suddenly felt an itching on the tip of my fingers, which I had to relieve by rubbing them against the rifts in his muscle. As I moved towards his back, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. Every one of the images of Norman’s paintings were captured in miniature on his son’s backside. Silence drowned the moment. Eliezer allowed me the necessary time to contemplate the images. He knew I was overwhelmed with confusion.

“Just one, Wise. You may ask me just one question,” he said finally.

“Why do you have those paintings tattooed? What’s the relation? If you like them too, why did you lose your mind that time?” Before I was able to come up with other questions, he raised his hand.

“Silence, Wise. I said you could ask me only one question,” he warned.

“What do you have to do with those paintings?” I raised my tone of voice, but that did not cause Eliezer to lose the control in his voice.

He sighed with fatigue.

“I painted them when I was in high school. I have no idea how the hell he got his hands on them, let alone on his walls. Satisfied?”

“Satisfied? How could I be satisfied?” That terse answer only prompted more questions that piled up like an anthill.
Maybe after I treat his wounds, he’ll feel more at ease and willing to talk about the subject.
I focused on the wound: it was quite deep but only in a small area–nothing that couldn’t be fixed with butterfly bandages. The rest was superficial.

“This will burn,” I warned him as I poured the alcohol from the container.

“Shit!”

He grabbed my left wrist with his right hand. He squeezed so hard and he did it so aggressively that he pulled me towards him and I ended up right in front of him–very close. The bottle of alcohol fell to the floor. What was left spilled out. I froze at his touch and at the smell of the alcohol. My nerves betrayed me. Our eyes locked, his with anger and mine with fear. I looked down at the hand holding my wrist and little by little Eliezer let go.

I looked at his eyes again. Without realizing what I was doing, I began tracing the expression marks on his forehead with my index finger. His skin was hot. I imagined that those lines were from the memories of a life he had lived far away, a life of which I knew nothing, and that no one really knew what experiences he had. I looked into his eyes and discovered that they looked at me with a certain astonishment and confusion.

“I imagine these were more painful.” I couldn’t avoid having those words coming out of my mouth.

I prepared for Eliezer to throw me across the room for invading his personal space and making such a comment. That didn’t happen. I eased my anxiety by tracing each line with my fingers. Eliezer shut his eyes. His jaw grew tense and he made an intimidating sound with is teeth. Again he aggressively grabbed my hand that was touching his forehead. Again I froze at his rough touch. He opened his eyes. His irises radiated a different green, one I’d never seen before. Unaware of how I had reached that point, I lost myself in them. His chest heaved with every rapid breath.