Miranda (12 page)

“Why would I have to be like that with you?”

“I was not referring to me. I could care less about how you refer to me. I care about the others. Since you are being so generous now, I ask that you keep this shit you have against me between us. Don’t involve anyone else. Don’t fuck with anyone else’s life.”

“So you mean to say that I’m fucking with your life?” The malice showed in the deep darkness of his green eyes. “This is not going to end well, Wise.”

“I guarantee you that it will not, Clausell.”

***

I reviewed the events of the morning at the office. Eliezer’s strange greeting, his wanting to fire everyone, our confrontation, the invitation, his fingers squeezing my arm, the dream I had just before waking up in the morning.

That man was too… forceful, perhaps? He drained me! I had to choose the words I used with him carefully! His aggressive gesture of taking me forcefully by the arm and squeezing my arm made me feel... threatened... and also... made me ask myself:
How is it possible that someone with eyes like that and a smile like that and skin like that, could have such a cold heart?

His cologne which still lingered on my arm made me feel like he was still with me, close by. The scent was imposing. I lost myself in intrusive thoughts.
And if... and if... perhaps?

“Hey! Where are you?”

To not break the habit, Ethan had entered my office without knocking, had sat in one of the chairs, and he had realized that I was not on this planet, but on another. Good thing he did not figure out that the planet was hostile. It wanted to exterminate me and its name was Eliezer.

“What the hell was that show?”

“Before or after?”

Ethan moved forward, he fixed his sleeves and waited for the rest of the story. Since he realized that silence reigned, he asked, “Something else happened, afterward?”

The door opened and Margaret entered. She was carrying a small bag in her hands.

“I apologize for the interruption.” She approached my desk. “Here is some ice for your arm.”

I looked at Ethan and Margaret. I could not believe what was happening. I could not believe that the madman had told Margaret.

“Eliezer told me that you had hurt yourself with the door and that you would need some ice.”

I tried to hide the reaction of disbelief. Besides being an aggressor, he was a liar.

Ethan, a man of experience, did not buy the story. Margaret left and he took advantage of the opportunity to launch his inquisition. He took my arm and carefully analyzed the marks that were still fresh and painful.

“I take it this is what you were referring to.”

I moved my arm away from his hand.

“It’s not what you think. Nothing happened. I tripped and I hit the edge of the table in the conference room.”

“I thought it had been the door.”

“Yes, with the door and the table too, before hitting myself on the door.”

Ethan let out a laugh, the scary kind.

“Don’t tell me he did this to you, Miranda,” he looked me the in the eyes and when Ethan looks at me that way I’m, sometimes, unable to lie. “What the hell happened, Miranda?” He kept his tone low to conceal his anger and lessen the seriousness of the situation.

I was surprised by how easily I lied.

“I already told you, nothing happened. If you don’t mind, I need to make a phone call. Alone.”

I looked at him annoyed to see if he would leave. I picked up the handset of my desk telephone. Ethan grabbed the handset from me and put it back on its base. He crossed his arms and leaned back in the chair.

“I won’t leave until you confess the truth. If you don’t I’ll go to Mr. Clausell myself and I’ll ask him what the hell he did to you.”

For a few seconds I hesitated to persuade him. I tried to calm him down. I touched his crossed hands. He grimaced in disgust. I didn’t want things to go from bad to worse. I had to lie.

“Ethan, I appreciate that you worry about me, but let me handle this...”

“I don’t care what you want nor if you can or cannot handle the problem. That man cannot do that to you. That’s abuse. I will personally report him if you don’t tell me.”

I stopped the soft approach and raised my voice.

“Don’t threaten me, Ethan. I already told you nothing happened. I’m handling the situation. End of story.”

He remained pensive, inhaling and exhaling deeply, a habit he had to defuse his anger.

“I will keep quiet and calm, but just this time. Do you understand? If I see the slightest sign of this absurd kind of abuse, I’ll be the one to call Norman and the police.”

“That’s not necessary, Ethan. Set aside your distrust. It was an accident. I tripped and hit the table, then I tripped and hit the door. Eliezer was there and he helped me.” I told a lie without even realizing it.

Why the hell do I defend this lout? This is the perfect opportunity to get rid of him just the way he wants to get rid of me: a one-way ticket out with no way back.

I placed the ice pack on my arm. I felt it become numb on contact with the cold. The redness of the marks was turning purple. My fair skin did not help the marks look less visible.

I made the phone call that I owed to an upset client, and I don’t even remember the agreement we arrived at. All I had on my mind was the way Eliezer tried to cover up the incident.

When I saw him go by my office, headed to his, I followed him. I entered, half closed the door, placed my hand on the doorknob, and turned around.

What the hell are you doing, Miranda Wise? If he dared attack you in the conference room, imagine what he could do here.

He was surprised by my presence… or was it that I was fiddling with the doorknob nervously?

“What do you want, International?”

How should I respond? I myself did not know what I wanted, nor why I was there, pawing the doorknob and possessed with anger.

I walked over to where he was standing in front of his desk. We were face to face. Rather, my face was level with his chest, because even with heels I couldn’t match his height. I got even closer, so much so that I felt my body push against his.

“Hear me well, ass, because this will be the only time I say this to you.” I poked my threatening finger against his chest. “Don’t you ever lay a hand on me. This time I helped cover for you to spare your father any distress… to spare him your greater deception.”

My breathing was faster than the flow of my thoughts. Eliezer was staring at me. A trace of shame showed in his eyes. Suddenly history seemed to repeat itself with this scene. He grabbed my arms, but this time, although aggressive in the beginning, his touch was delicate. My involuntary reaction was to push him to defend myself. He let go of my arms, and with the force with which I pushed him, my legs became unbalanced and fell. Eliezer half opened his mouth and bent down. He offered me his help, which I rejected. He didn’t care about my rejection. He held me by the arms and stood me up. His voice sounded weak. His face was expressionless.

“That should not have happened.” His voice still weak. I moved away from his touch, “I shouldn’t have grabbed you that way.”

I didn’t know how to look at him anymore. Rage was deep within me.

“Is it that hard for you to apologize?”

He continued speaking in a very low voice.

“You really don’t know how to judge limits when you see them?”

“Apology accepted,” I headed for the door. “See how easy it is?”

I swear that behind so much seriousness in his face an invisible smile was taking shape.

“That doesn’t change anything, Wise.”

“This changes everything, Clausell.”

“
Scheiße
¹
!
,” he muttered. He enjoyed seeing the confusion on my face because I did not know what the hell he said, nor did I know in what language he had said it.

“Coward...” I answered with an invisible smile under my face overloaded with seriousness.

Before leaving... a thought: “And this door, why is it locked? Who...?”

A pause… a headache.
You locked it, Miranda Wise.

Leave her to me. I’ll take care of her.

The journey began in Guatemala. It was uncomfortable and there was excess baggage in the main cabin. Eliezer had brought his demons, which gave me more reason to loathe the corporate aircraft. Most of the words we exchanged were silent. A glance here, another there. Actually, that is how we spoke, or rather, we didn’t speak during the two days following the slip-up with my arm. He limited the conversations and interactions between us. Of course, neither the silence nor the distance bothered me. I felt I had a little room to breathe, to think. He read during the flight; I checked the agenda again and again and again. I couldn’t let anything go wrong, especially not with him as company.

***

In Guatemala, we had lunch with the health minister. The conversation focused on the resources the country needed to take care of the health of its population. Initially, Eliezer continued his usual silence. He spent his time eating and he seemed to pay little or no attention to what I said to the minister.

Once he had his fill, there was a barrage of questions.

I was stunned: first because I couldn’t believe that he would have truly enjoyed the conversation that I had started; and second, because his questions were so valid, creative, and interesting that I could hardly say a few short sentences to note, that, although silent, indeed I was still there.

After lunch, we visited several hospitals of the public health system. In Guatemala, as in most Latin American countries, the government is the main provider of health services. These governments have limited resources, so the primary focus is to do more with less, without apparent care for jeopardizing the safety or quality of service to the patient.

We arrived at the first hospital in one of the busiest areas of the city. At Eliezer’s insistence, and in keeping with company protocol, we had a driver and bodyguards. They left us at the hospital entrance, next to a staircase that people had turned into seating because of the long hours of waiting. That was only a prelude to the main doors. We made our way through the crowd. Of the six doors, only two were open. One served as the entrance; the other as the exit. Two guards with rifles guarded the passage.

We entered the hall of death. Right away, there were rows and rows of people waiting to receive attention and many more rows of people on stretchers, on the verge of death from untreated wounds or infections or diseases that initially received little attention. Some were barefoot. Others, by their appearance, seemed to have not bathed for who knows how many days.

The undernourished children with sad faces and the atmosphere of certain death caused me to choke up. I looked at Eliezer, for such a horrible scene would have shattered any human soul. I was surprised. He was poker faced. There was no sign of empathy, pity, or disapproval at what he was facing. I felt the words becoming a train with no breaks that would zoom out of my mouth at that same speed. I swallowed them. I swallowed them and said nothing. So what if my bias against Eliezer was such that it prevented me from seeing beyond that?

On our way to the hotel, I remembered that the Minister mentioned the country’s current need to help the victims of an earthquake that had taken place a few days ago. Those on the border with Belize deserved special attention.

“How much will you authorize as a donation, Eliezer?”

That was a question I always asked Norman, who without hesitation would give such a high figure that I felt obliged to lower it. Eliezer, on the other hand, looked away from his phone and made a face that I translated as, ‘What the hell are you talking about?’

“Donate to whom and why?”

“To the Red Cross of Guatemala.”

“And why do we have to give them money? We’re not a bank.”

His indifference surprised me and it didn’t surprise me. One thing was to hate me and resent others, but even the most insensitive human being in this universe would have been moved by the scenes we had just encountered and by the collective grief that the country was suffering, as described by the Minister.

“Let me give you some perspective, Eliezer. Medika, the company that by chance you now happen to manage, has a social mission and supports philanthropic causes as well as charities. With that in mind, how much money will you donate to help the earthquake victims?”

“Nothing.” He returned his attention to the iPhone, which he took out of his briefcase. “I won’t donate anything.”

I let out a hysterical laugh.

“Are you joking?”

He gave me his attention again. His face stiff and firm, unfriendly, did not show any traces of the invisible smiles that I had discovered on other occasions.

“Why would I joke about something like that?”

The driver suddenly slammed on the brakes. My face slammed against the back of the seat in front of me. Eliezer motioned to me with his fingers to adjust my seatbelt. I complied with a litany of profanities in my mind. I could see a curve forming in the corner of his mouth that threatened mocking laughter.