Miranda (24 page)

I took the opportunity of the holiday season to visit some acquaintances and to exercise in the evenings. Running cooled the heat I would feel between my legs every time I remembered nights with Eliezer. At home, I did nothing but lie in bed. I liked torturing my mind with ridiculous romance novels: a tasteless cliché, I know. At least it helped me understand my situation. What was the baggage that Eliezer was carrying that weighed him down so? He understood the significance of the presence of his mother in my life perfectly, but how could he be a risk to me?

***

December 31st.

8:45 in the morning

My cell phone rang to tell me that I received a text message.

Sleepy and grumpy, I reached out and grabbed the device.

I’ll see you today at the airport. One in the afternoon. Private flights section. Eliezer.

I re-read the message.
Am I dreaming?

I sat up in bed suddenly, laughing out loud, with hope agitating the butterflies that once again fluttered in my stomach. Oh! How I missed those hyperactive butterflies! They only let me get to the sink, where I vomited over and over. The scene was neither pleasant, nor sexy, and was a prelude to hot and cold flashes… leading to a major worry.

The malaise passed quickly. I went to the kitchen and made coffee. I returned to bed. Should I respond to the message? Confirm the meeting? Turn it down? Leave him waiting?

I got out of bed again. I turned toward the wardrobe, opening it wide. What to wear? What to take? For how many days? Weeks?
No… it couldn’t be a trip lasting for weeks….

The cell phone rang again. I put the cup halfway on the nightstand.

Don’t make it complicated, Miranda. Wear jeans.

I laughed.
And how does he know me so well?

I prepared a carry-on suitcase with a rolled up pair of jeans, toiletries, and various jackets. I would take only one pair of shoes.

After packing, my stomach started making strange noises and my head started spinning. I ran to the bathroom–this time to the toilet. My stomach protested for the second time. Suddenly, an idea crossed from one side of my mind to the other, like a deer crossing a street on a dark night.

No, no, no, Miranda Wise! No!

I left my house in a hurry, on foot, sure that the fresh air would alleviate my discomfort. At the pharmacy, I bought a pregnancy test. I ran back home.

Before starting, I read the instructions exhaustively. I never had to resort to such an instrument. I never before let myself leave it to the spur of the moment; I would always use protection. It was a different story with Eliezer. Neither of us had spoken about the subject–a very irresponsible attitude on both of our parts, not only because of the risk of an unwanted pregnancy, but also because of the risk to our health. He knew nothing of my sexual history, and I knew of his even less.

And if the flirtatious redhead is on his list? God no! Disgusting!

Supernatural agility… I followed the directions. I waited the required minutes, which seemed like hours. How strange life can be! How disruptive the result appearing on a three-inch long white stick can be!

I took the “future changer” in my hands, sat down, and felt like I was being born again.

I closed my eyes and opened them. I closed them again. I opened them. I needed to assure myself that there was only one line on the stick. One line. There was no doubt. I read the instructions on the packaging again. One line: not pregnant. I exhaled–one less worry.

I drank a home remedy for my discomfort and left the house, suitcases in tow. I was arriving at the airport when I got a call from Norman.

“Miranda…” He said… unenthusiastically.

“Hello, Norman. Are you alright?”

“Yes, yes. And you? Where are you?”

And since when does Norman ask so many questions?

“I’m fine…” I had to pause to make up the following statement. “I’m taking advantage of the day to take care of some errands. And you? And why are you asking me these questions?”

“I wanted to be sure that you were ok. You know you are my favorite spoiled girl. And I know that the Christmas luncheon was not what we both hoped. I apologize.”

“Don’t worry, it was fine… I’m fine.”

“Can I ask you one other thing?”

“Another?” I chuckled.

Norman made a sound with his nose. Was it the sound of a suppressed laugh?

“Where are you going to celebrate New Years?”

“Well… at… my home.” I lied. Maybe he suspected something about Eliezer? “And you, what are you going to do?”

“I’m also going to stay at home. I’m too old for parties and the hustle and bustle.”

I took a deep breath. What stress! Was Norman really suspicious?

“I seems like a good idea to me. After all, you’re still recovering and you have gotten very bold in the last few days.”

“Yes, yes, yes… Well, I’ll let you go before you continue with the sermon. Has anyone ever told you that you seem like an old lady?”

“Yes, a number of times. And yes, if my mind doesn’t fail me, each time it was you. To be precise, you always remind me about it when you don’t want to hear my sermons.”

“Miranda, you’ve had thirty two springs. Live! Happy New Year! Hugs.”

“I wish you the same, Norman…!”

He hung up without giving me the opportunity of refuting his order.

During what little time was left to go, one of his words reverberated in my mind, “Live!” and, on the other hand, the words of his son, “Your life is simple.”

Could it be that the Clausell men were colluding to give me messages? Was it time for my life to become complicated? My time to live? How much longer should I complicate my simple life?

When I arrived, he was already there, in the private lounge, looking out the enormous glass wall of windows facing the runway. I wanted to run to him, to breathe again. I suppressed my impulses.

Eliezer turned around. Upon seeing me, he straightened his posture. He took a few steps and paused when we were face to face. He gave me a gesture that approximated a smile, and pointed the way to the plane.

“Punctual, Wise. Congratulations,” is how he greeted me.

“Surprised?” I responded.

The plane was not the Medika jet, rather another slightly older Gulfstream, which accommodated a larger crew. It had a black leather interior with four seats that formed pairs in front of a sofa for four. I took one of the seats with Eliezer by my side. I observed each detail of the curious plane and, before asking, Eliezer was already giving me an answer.

“It belongs to a friend. It’s not an official trip, so we should not be using the corporate one.”

He was right, but…

“How do we categorize this trip?”

Pensive, rummaging through the nooks and crannies of his mind for an answer, he furrowed his brow. The answers he considered, undoubtedly made him uncomfortable.

“A work of charity?”

I elbowed him in the ribs, and he let out a groan.

He elaborated on his explanation:

“Let’s say that I was moved by the banal wishes of a bored woman.”

“So you assessed your options…”

He leaned in toward me. The plane was taking off, the sound of which was making it difficult to hear him.

“Let’s say I took your advice, Wise. I was friendly that evening. I already knew which option to choose in advance.” He winked.

He went back to reclining in his seat, leaning his head back and letting it rest on the cushioned backrest.

Why can I never find a way to respond to his complements?

He broke the silence and said:

“What size do you wear?”

“Excuse me?”

Eliezer got close again, thinking that I didn’t hear him well because of the noise.

“We need to get you more clothes or you’re going to freeze.”

“Medium,” I answered quickly. “I only need a coat.”

Eliezer leaned back and smiled. His reaction to my confusion was to make another face of confusion.

“What is the matter with you, Miranda?”

“It’s that this is unusual.”

“That you get a trip as a gift?”

“No, that it would not be me buying my clothes.”

I said no more, and then noticed that my comments hit him hard. His face straightened out.

“So you are used to getting trips as gifts?” Sarcasm clothed his words.

“I’ve only received two surprises in my
simple
life, Eliezer.” I emphasized the word “simple,” so that he would not forget that fundamental aspect of my life. “When your father…” I noticed that he became uncomfortable when I mentioned Norman’s relationship to him, so I corrected myself. “… excuse me, when Norman enrolled me in school, and when he paid for college.”

He blew a fleck of dust off his pants, crossed his legs, and gave me a look.

“So, miss Wise, I hope this gift meets the criteria for being included on such an exclusive list.”

I shot a smile at him.

“It’s certainly on the right track. Your last name is Clausell.”

“Fine.” His face shined with an air of pride, because he already knew me so well that he understood the joke. He took out a blanket and a pillow for me from the compartment below his seat. “Why don’t you relax and enjoy the flight.”

I took them as my own.

“Invitation accepted.”

I put the pillow behind the nape of my neck, and the blanket over my legs. I took my tablet out of my suitcase, in case I could concentrate with him by my side and read something. In minutes, I restarted the conversation, more to ask a question than to break the tension.

“Eliezer, when are we coming back?”

“We haven’t arrived yet, and you already want to come back? I know that I could never have better company, but…. is being with me so bad?”

I wanted to tell him, “If you knew that if it were up to me, we’d never come back,” but I thought that would be imprudent.

“Can we reach an agreement?” I had to make an attempt to guarantee that the hours or days to come would be tolerable.

“We are at an altitude of fifteen thousand feet on the way to fulfill your dream, with me engaging in the most charitable act of my life, and you want to negotiate? Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

“Is it possible for you to put sarcasm aside for the duration of this charitable act of yours?”

His smile faded. He bit the inside of his cheeks and his lips several times. For a moment, an expression of resolution appeared on his face as he weighing the alternatives.

“And what do I get in return, Wise?”

Let’s see… What can I offer him? Sex, passion, lust? Fucking?
For God’s sake! What am I becoming?!

“I’ll try to look at life through some glasses that aren’t rose-colored.”

That rose-color that you detest
, I completed in my mind. I would have wanted to express those words out loud too, still it was difficult to know how far to go with him. It was too hard to keep myself on the other side of the line beyond which the most intense emotions could be triggered in him. It was like the tide: constantly changing. A few hours in one place, and then somewhere else.

But there was a crucial difference between the tides and Eliezer Clausell. The tide lives in an eternal love triangle between the sun, the moon, and the Earth. Eliezer still had not succeeded in figuring out what controlled him, what moved him, and what made him live.

“And why in hell do you want to do that?” The man analyzed me, as though that way he could try to understand the nature of my words or understand, perhaps, where the conversation would take us.

“Because I want to complicate my life a little.”

He laughed silently.

“You don’t know what you are saying, Wise. You don’t have the slightest fucking idea how your life can be complicated by the simple act of being here with me, at this instant.”

An alarm rang in my subconscious, an alarm with screeching and sinister sounds that was fighting to overtake me. Was it part of his act, or did he really intend for me to know about those details?

“I regret to inform you, miss Wise, that at this time, the terms of your proposal are not appropriate to reach an agreement that would benefit both parties.”

With those words, he tried to smooth over the warning that he inadvertently let out without really understanding the consequences. A whirlpool of questions formed in my mind. I could swear that my face did not show any expression.

“Hey!” he suddenly screamed. It made me return to my senses, my mind clear, back to reality, to the plane that was flying over the Atlantic Ocean.

“And how much more can my life be complicated? I ask so that I can have the fucking slightest idea.”

“Oh, please, Miranda.” He raised his hands up to his head. “Don’t do this. Not now. Not on this trip.”

“Don’t you think it was a very vulgar thing to say? Do you hear me say vulgar things like that?”

His gorgeous eyes became like that of a puppy dog scolded for breaking his owner’s most precious possession.

“I’m sorry.” He reached out and put his hand on my leg and, in a low tone of voice, said “Let’s come to another agreement. I’ll try to control my sarcasm and vulgarity. In return, you forget about everything else.”

I thought about it a little.

“Before responding to your proposal, tell me something else. Why would being with you here and now complicate my life?” While I spoke, I looked at his eyes without wavering. I wanted to verify the answer, whatever it may be.”

“Come on, Miranda, you’re not so naïve. I’m your boss–the one who would make up any excuse to fire you. Remember? Moreover, you know that Isabel detests you. Ah! And let’s not forget about the redhead. Do you think that your dear Norman would approve of this?”

I couldn’t stand it, and I hit him in the arm with my fist.

“Damn! That definitely hurt.”

“I don’t give a shit what other people think about me.” My voice stumbled between breaths because I was trying to talk while alleviating the pain in my hand. “Agreement accepted.”

He took the hand in question and placed it between his hands, caressing it.

“You need to recognize your limits,” he said.