Miranda (19 page)

“Well, children, I brought you a new friend. He is Eliezer and he is eager to play and enjoy the day with us. Treat him well because he is a little grumpy.”

I made an angry face and the children laughed boisterously. They went to Eliezer and they pulled him by the hand taking him to the ball pool. There they pushed him and jumped on top of him, on his sides, and some on top of each other. I heard his laugh among the smaller laughs, which told me that he would be fine.

Grandpa, one of the nuns, and I placed the gifts under the Christmas tree. Then we prepared the table with the sweets. The interior of the playroom had not changed, although there were a few more technologically current games. Inevitably I’d be transported back to my childhood… to those years when I was one of the children waiting eagerly for visiting strangers bearing gifts. One of those Christmases was when I met Norman.

I thought he would never come back again, just like many others, and if he did, that I wouldn’t see him until next year’s holiday season. It didn’t turn out that way. There he was, day after day. He would take me to school and pick me up afterward. Some afternoons he would ask for permission to take me to his office. Every other weekend he would come up with outings, trips, going to the movies.
I couldn’t avoid asking myself: why didn’t he ever make my adoption official?

“Miri! Darling!”

It was Sister Aurora, the nun who’d been in charge of the orphanage for 40 years.

“How are you? I missed you so much...” She hugged me and I felt my blouse becoming damp.

I didn’t think that seeing me there would bring out such emotion in her. I don’t remember ever seeing her that way. I suddenly became worried: what if something was happening that I didn’t know about? Sister Aurora was mercurial: she was either very affectionate or very cold. There was no middle ground for her. She was very strict. As a little girl and as a teenager I tried to play pranks on her, but I never succeeded. She had a knack for always turning the tables on me.

“I’m fine Sister Aurora.” I tried to give her my best smile. I think I gave her the kind I give when I’m tired. She didn’t seem to notice it and remarked mischievously:

“I see you brought company.”

“He’s Norman’s son,” I whispered to her while shielding my mouth with my hand.

Sister Aurora’s big eyes got even bigger.

“My! How did you manage to bring him?”

“It’s such a long story that it calls for good coffee.” I tried not to give her any clues in my tone or my eyes. I’ll never know if I succeeded.

“So then we have a date. I’m definitely interested in that story.” She winked.

We laughed and I looked up. I saw Eliezer almost drowning in the ball pool.

I excused myself and went to rescue him.

“How much have you paid these children to get rid of me for you?”

“If only it were that simple!”

I dived into the pool and started an enthusiastic ball throwing battle with him. Every time a break was near, we’d start up again. When I had a moment of peace, I glanced at Eliezer. I wanted to get a feel for his mood. I figured that it wasn’t too bad. The lines on his forehead were relaxed. That would only happen to him when he had me in his arms.

After the war was over in the ball pool, it was story time. At the insistence of some of the children, Eliezer was pressured into reading
The Lorax
by Dr. Seuss. I had never enjoyed that story much before. His voice, although he tried to soften it, was hoarse and unyielding to the intonations and feelings that a children’s story demanded. At some point it went unnoticed that one of the lines made him look away from the book and at me for a brief moment: “It’s not about what it is. It’s about what it can become.”

The story was over and one of the older children, Rafael, asked me to tell a story.

“Please, Miranda!” the boy begged.

Telling stories is the worst thing I do, but I couldn’t refuse, so I told the only story I knew by heart at that time.

“Okay, okay... Let’s see… There was once a boy. He did not have the opportunity to grow up with love. Because he didn’t know love, and he didn’t know what it felt like to love and be loved, he blamed others for his feelings of unhappiness and for always being so alone.”

One of the younger girls, who must have been around six years old interrupted:

“Did that boy turn into
Shrek
? Is he a real ogre?”

“Well... one would say he is. However, instead of having green skin, he had green eyes.”

I cast a slight glance at Eliezer only to realize he was already staring at me.

One of the other girls asked, “And when he grew up he became old and ugly because he didn’t have love?”

“One could say that. The boy grew up and did a lot in life, although he was never happy and never found love. He had money, homes, and nice clothing. But his heart was a hundred years older than he.”

The children’s jaws dropped and they let out a gasp of surprise. One sitting next to me asked:

“Was his heart ugly and wrinkled?”

“Yes, my boy, ugly and wrinkled.”

I looked up to see the real Shrek in the room, but Eliezer was no longer there. From the doorway, Grandpa motioned to me that he had already left. I said goodbye to the children and hugged Grandpa and each one of the nuns.

Eliezer was smoking outside. I had never seen him smoking before. He was leaning against the trunk of my car. When he heard the sound of my shoes shuffling the pebbles on the dirt road, Eliezer’s eyes met mine. He took one last puff and tossed the remaining cigarette on the ground. He put it out with a stomp, walked toward the passenger door and got in the car. The uncomfortable silence between us confirmed that I had crossed the line. The evening had been a disaster.
Mea culpa
. A few blocks from his home, I broke the silence.

“I’m sorry if the story made you feel uncomfortable. This morning you said something that was very true: creativity is not my forte.”

“Why should it make me uncomfortable?” he asked.

I’m a businesswoman. I know how to read people’s tone of voice, and his conveyed dissatisfaction and a lie.

“Then I hope you had a pleasant day.” I smiled and looked ahead.

“It wasn’t unpleasant.”

My eyes suddenly had a life of their own and they rolled rudely.
Why? Why can’t he ever respond with simple answers?
I broke hard in front of his apartment. I smiled at him again.

“Thank you for joining me, Eliezer. I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”

He didn’t respond. He was pensive. His gaze was fixed on the window in front of him. Outside, the world continued in a frenzy as always, cars frantically moving from one place to another, lights flashing in the streets, passersby, the light rain that left drops like decorations here and there. Inside the car there was peace, or at least a strange peacefulness that contrasted with the city. I took a deep breath. I was inebriated by the peculiar scent from Eliezer’s skin. I felt that my heart would stop beating if I didn’t inhale again.

“Do you want to go somewhere with me, Wise?”

Hmmm. That story with the same script: I already knew it.

“Should I keep my pants on?” I asked.

Mischief took over his half smile, and it wasn’t enough to hide his obvious nervousness. He was rubbing the palms of his hands on his thighs. He looked me in the eye.

“Pants are optional, Miranda.”

The warmth that traveled through my neck and settled on my cheeks made it impossible for me to produce any words. Eliezer tried to help me find the words.

“We haven’t had anything to eat... ” He paused, smiled, and clarified, “adult food in the last six hours.”

“Are you inviting me to dinner, Clausell?”

“Don’t expect too much, Wise. I just want you to try the best sandwiches in this city.”

“Always so modest,” I moved the stick shift. “Which way do I go?”

Eliezer signaled to the far right with his finger.

“Towards the visitors sign.”

“Are we walking?”

Eliezer laughed.

“Can you think of a better way to get to the seventeenth floor, Wise?”

My jaw dropped open but there was nothing else to say.

From the parking lot we took the elevator, which took us directly to his apartment door… or rather,
his penthouse door
. As I walked through the door, I got goose bumps. That was familiar to me too. Entering a room alone, any room, always ended in reason going on strike and desire dictating our actions.

The foyer in Eliezer space was modern and showy: roomy, well lit, and white marble floors with two white cushion-less chairs. Further in, the living room opened up with a black sofa, gray loveseat and blank canvases. Unquestionably, it had an atmosphere of solitude and masculinity.

I wanted to see more color, but the kitchen was eerily similar. The cabinets were a true work of art in cabinetmaking, as black as onyx with a black granite countertop. The edges of the furniture, as well as the handles were white. LED lights illuminated the undersides.

I sat on one of the white stools. Eliezer opened the white refrigerator and after slowly and carefully selecting the ingredients he placed them on the counter.

“How do you like your sandwich, Wise?” He exhibited a range of ingredients, which allowed for many possibilities.

“It’s up to you, but no onions or cucumbers.” I hated cucumbers and onions were not appropriate for the occasion.

“So then it won’t be up to me, Wise.” He enjoyed the look of resignation that I gave him. “Perfect… a sandwich the way I want it, but no onions and no cucumbers.”

He took out vegetables, cheese, and cold cuts out of their packages.

“I know. I already said it, but I want to do it again. Thank you for going with me today. It was a lovely afternoon.”

He stopped cutting the bread. I could see his eyes looking for mine and then avoiding them. He sighed and continued slicing the bread and the rest of the ingredients. I thought the conversation would end there. Within seconds, he let out his feelings with a burst of angry words.

“You want to play mind games, Miranda. I noticed. Do you think that exposing me to those children is a type of ‘treatment’ for my illness? Or better yet, ‘my insensitivity,’ as you call it. Do you know why I left before the storytelling ended?” He moved the knife away from the bread that he was cutting with more force than was necessary. “Do you have any idea? Allow me to enlighten you.” He spoke very slowly. “Because I did not want the memory of those children’s faces etched in my mind when we said goodbye.”

He returned to slicing the bread. Suddenly, I felt like I shouldn’t be there, but hiding underneath a rock far away from him instead. I placed my hand on his.

“It was not my intention to make you feel uncomfortable. I just wanted to share something with you that makes me happy and re-energizes me.”

He shook his hand away from mine. He moved it to the tomato and began slicing.

“We are very different. You think you are doing those kids some good when the real reason is your doing it for yourself.”

I couldn’t blink anymore, perhaps because I was stunned by his response. Why was he attacking me for no reason?

“I think that people perform social and community work and service to others as a type of quota to fill to make themselves feel better with respect to others. Tell me the truth, Wise. Do you truly believe that the lives of those people or those children were changed after what we did today? No. To me it’s just plain hypocrisy.” He took a slice of tomato and put it in his mouth.

Although his way of thinking bothered me, I knew that, in the end, he was somewhat right. I had been on the other side of the fence. I had been one of those children, and I saw how strangers would arrive suddenly with gifts and would spend a few hours with us. At the end of the day, after the difficult goodbyes, nothing had changed. Our lives continued on the same as before. Theirs? Who knows? Many never came back. Some perhaps cared a little more and would return every year.

“I had not thought about it that way. But hypocrisy or not, you can’t deny that the children had a great time, that we gave them a few moments of fun and happiness.”

Eliezer laughed again.

“And why give them happiness? You can’t miss what you never had.”

My thoughts weren’t clear. I watched and observed him, trying to understand why I insisted on pretending that he could change… that he could become more humane.

“Would you prefer that those children grow up not having any happiness because that way, they’ll never miss it?”

“Does that make sense or not?”

Anger consumed me. How could Eliezer simplify the children’s experiences into such a cold statement? “What you don’t know, you can’t miss.” The disappointment made me want to leave and feel like it was not worth arguing about.

Eliezer was a lost work of art that I was determined to restore, but not because of the obligation I felt in paying my debt to Norman, but rather because deep down I wanted him restored for myself, and to relieve him of the weight of each of the images on his back. It was impossible to not think of him or of those images. It was too late. I had come to know him too well.