Miranda (22 page)

“Nothing. That’s a day like any other. My life at midnight and one second on the morning of the first of January will continue being the same as it was at eleven fifty nine on December 31st.”

For the others, those words were the typical arrogant and conceited Eliezer, but not for me. I felt every trace of pain and unhappiness that served as a canvas for what he was expressing.

“Colorado promises to be too interesting a place for your life to go on unaffected. Don’t you think?”

The redhead had proposed an invitation to him in public. The evening was becoming more interesting every time. Thinking that I knew him more than the others, I tried to imagine the possible affirmative and accepting answers that Eliezer could give her.

What an idiot! Having sex like an animal can’t bring you to really know someone…

“Perhaps. I’ll consider the three options, as well as a fourth, if it arises,” he said.

Wine splattered the faces and clothes of the two turtledoves, but unfortunately, the cup that fell from my hand onto the table didn’t injure anyone. I could have been in worse trouble.

Eliezer shot a deadly stare at me. He grabbed the closest napkin and wiped his face with it. At least he swallowed the insults. The redhead didn’t. Isabel rose and also joined her with her rude shrieking while she helped wipe him down. I said nothing; rather I lost myself in illogical thoughts.

Norman’s voice brought me back to reality. My subconscious, moreover, ordered me to. My reason sometimes prevailed, even though, in reality, it hadn’t been that way during recent days as long as there was a bed and Eliezer around at the same time. Norman had to have noticed the tones of sarcasm and the word games. He became the voice of harmony for the rest of the luncheon, setting the subjects of conversation, and marginalizing Isabel’s intrusions.

I became desperate to leave such a horrible date. Seeing the redhead act like Eliezer’s sidekick–following his every move–made me nauseous. I hated the looks of anger she threw at me even more. When Ethan and his wife were saying their goodbyes, I took advantage of their exit and did the same.

I approached my car. Instead of going home, I went to a restaurant with a bar. Contrary to my expectations, the place was almost empty. I took a stool and ordered one craft beer after another. Sometimes, after work, I would go there, and not only because they had a good selection of craft beers that I so love for their distinctive flavors that awaken the senses, but also because I knew the bartender from the home where I was raised, so we always had pleasant topics of conversation between us. That evening we talked sporadically about the basketball game on the TV screens.

Shortly before nightfall, after befriending another waiter and some men that sat next to me, I heard someone say my name. No, it wouldn’t have been the voice that I wanted to hear, so I didn’t turn around to look. The voice repeated my name. I turned my eyes to toward the direction of the voice. I couldn’t contain my laughter.

“Would you mind if I ask you what’s so funny?”

“Hello, officer.”

There was no doubt. Definitely, hell had taken upon itself to send a fallen angel of temptation at a very delicate time: inspector Carlos Hernandez. He began speaking again, this time, more seriously:

“How many of those have you had, Miranda?”

“However many I needed to make it hard to stop laughing.”

He took the vacant seat next to me and got comfortable. Not a trace of contagious laughter could be seen on his face. Hernandez looked so serious, I took a gulp of air to dilute the alcohol in my blood. When I exhaled, my inclination to laughter intensified.

“At some point will you tell me what is making you laugh so hard?” His eyes relaxed. He was beginning to feel comfortable.

“You, me, here, this place… what brought me here. Everything is so funny! But let’s forget about what’s making me laugh.” I wanted to guide the conversation toward another topic, far from what could bring me to tell him my heartbreak over Eliezer, or, worse still, make me have a romp with him as though he were really Eliezer. “How are you, inspector?”

He let loose a smile.

“Very good, Miranda.” He played along. “And you?”

“Perfectly fine, thanks. Will you join me?”

He analyzed the possibilities before answering.

“Sure, but only to assure myself that you get home safely.”

Oh, now I had to negotiate.
For God’s sake, Miranda. How could you have drunk so much?
It was only one beer… I didn’t like it when I was subject to conditions. Growing up with Norman had exposed me to being in power, enjoying it, to be the one to set the rules and conditions. A few beers were not going to shake my pride.

“Great! So, what will you have to drink?”

“Whatever you’re having would be fine.”

My friend, the bartender, served us the beers and placed them on the counter in front of us. I took my glass and, with a gesture, prompted Hernandez to take his.

“A toast to chance.” It was the best my intoxicated mouth could say.

“A toast to people who believe in chance.”

That was cute.

An hour later we were still there, with three more beers on our tab. The attraction was showing. He was also a basketball fan, and he couldn’t believe that he was having such a pleasant and complex conversation with a female.

Suddenly, he took his cell phone out of his back pocket. The tight jeans certainly fit him really, really well. He looked at the screen and made a gesture of annoyance.

“I have to go. I forgot that I have an engagement.” He got up.

“In that case, it was a pleasure to talk with you and thank you for sharing a few beers with me.”

“Not so fast, Miranda. Did you forget that we have a deal?”

The truth is that I did, in fact, forget about that. I didn’t want him to know.

“Don’t worry, Carlos. That’s not necessary.”

He put on his serious face again.

“A deal is a deal, Wise.”

“I can go alone. Calm down, because I’m not drunk.”

Hernandez confronted me like a member of a SWAT team. He fixed his eyes on my pupils. His tone of voice was low and firm.

“I know that you are a good person, and it would be hard for you to do someone harm.”

Where does this guy want to take me? What is he talking about?

He continued.

“I’m an officer charged with preserving the public order, and protecting and looking after others is my responsibility. If I turn around and leave, I would not be doing my duty and I’d be in trouble.” He turned his head lightly. “You don’t want to cause problems for me, right?”

Carlos Hernandez didn’t have the slightest idea what kind of problems he was tempting me to cause him. I smiled.

“Have they told you that you have an admirable power for persuasion and negotiation?” I frowned while I looked for the key to my car in my purse.

“I live off that, my dear Miranda,” he said with a look of sweetness.

“If you ever find yourself out of work one day, or you want a change of scenery, let me know. You’d be really usefull on my team.”

His smile exposed the dimple on his right cheek.

I called out to my friend at the other end of the bar and gave him the key to my car.

“They’ll come for it in a bit.”

He nodded his head and gave me a smile that I returned. I raised an arm toward Carlos.

“You’re in charge, Mr. Officer. Shall we go?”

We walked in total silence. The situation ended up a bit uncomfortable, but fun. We got close to an all-terrain truck and Hernandez, in a gesture of chivalry, opened the passenger door.

“Where do I go, Miranda?” he said when he got in.

“Do I really have to tell you?” He looked at me like he wanted to understand the question. “Isn’t it understood that you know where I live? Isn’t that part of your job?”

He laughed. He had an attractive, contagious laugh.

“You haven’t answered my question.” I stopped laughing. I accept a certain level of responsibility. “So, I leave myself in your hands.”

What the hell did I just say? That I’m in his hands? How many ways could he interpret those words? Let’s see… that I trust him, that I appreciate the gesture of making sure that I wouldn’t leave my thirty two years of life hanging from a tree or at the bottom of a ravine… or, perhaps, I was indeed in his hands, literally, and that he could do with me what he wanted. Everything he wanted…

I raised my hands to my head.

Shit! Another event to add to my list of embarrassing moments!

Hernandez deciphered my thoughts and the redness of my face, because the heat that was rising in me was definitely from embarrassment. He laughed a milder laugh than before. He imitated my comforting words.

“Easy, Miranda. This isn’t my first time. I’m an expert in bringing people home who have had too much to drink.”

What an ability he had to ease the tension during suffocating moments! Fifteen minutes later and we were in front of my home. If the man didn’t want to spend the night with me, at least I had an excuse to have him with me for a few more minutes.

“Do you have any news on the Norman Clausell case?”

I didn’t take my eyes off him so as to analyze his reaction.

“The case is closed.”

When he spoke, his tone was controlled. I took note of a look of annoyance in his eyes. He didn’t convince me, because he also looked away toward the steering wheel.

“Why would there be no longer any interest in knowing what caused the accident?” Hooray for me: I definitely caught him unprepared.

Something made him feel uncomfortable. Since I met him that morning in the trauma waiting room, the way he would look around worried me. I could understand the constant state of alert because of the nature of his work and the number of enemies that I imagine the years have given him. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe not. The reality was that, at that moment, I noticed a significant increase in the frequency of those scans of his surroundings.

“I’m sorry, Miranda, but I can’t give you information about that.” He still wasn’t looking me in the eye.

“If you discovered the truth,” I leaned forward in an effort to come into his view. Why is it that silence allows the soul to hear words better? “I don’t think that telling me would do anyone any harm.”

“Clausell is very important to you?” he asked, cautiously. That time, he made it a point to have his eyes fixed firmly on mine.

“Are you referring to Norman?”

Without thinking about it in advance, I let slip that commentary that ended up being more illuminating and revealing for me than for him. Now there wasn’t one Clausell in my life, rather there were two, and both, one way or another, in different ways, were important. I concluded with a vague response.

“Yes, Clausell is very important.”

“I can’t give you details,” he paused and hesitated to continue, “but I can tell you that you also are for him. Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

There was no more to say. Norman knew the reason for his accident and didn’t tell me about it. A feeling of disappointment came over me. I was no longer that important to him. Why did he profess otherwise?

Hernandez was in a bad situation. I didn’t want him to risk himself for me, nor did I want to be left with so many unanswered questions, much less put him in an even more uncomfortable situation. Though, how should I say goodbye? The truth is that I didn’t want to, and that, in particular, was not good.

Why did I have the two Clausell men on my mind?

“Thank you for driving me.” I managed to say, finally.

The heat of his lips burned me before I could touch them with mine. It was a brief kiss – one of those that feels good… until reason enters the consciousness.

“Oh! Oh! Sorry!” I squealed.

My chest and my face heated up from so much embarrassment. Hernandez didn’t take his eyes off me. He kept savoring the sensation that my lips left on his.

“Miranda,” he sighed, “you are a beautiful woman, and you have a heart of gold…”

I was taken aback. That opening was evidently the beginning of a rejection.

“I would have been delighted to get to know you at another time in my life, but now I am engaged to a marvelous woman. I can’t reciprocate.”

Remorse made its smug and triumphal entrance.
What a bitch you are, Miranda! How could you think of tempting such a decent man?

“I… I’m so sorry.” In a move of desperation, I grabbed the good man’s hand. His hand, even though it looked rough, had delicate and tender skin. It took me by surprise. “Please forgive me.” I scolded myself in my mind:
But what are you doing, idiot? You keep provoking him?
I let go of his hand. “I have to go home now.”

I reached out to give him a regular handshake. He did the same.

“Taking me home was kind of you. I regret my indiscretion.”

The dimple returned to his cheek.

“It was a pleasure to be sure that you got home in one piece. I also ask that you forgive me for my part in this.”

I stopped looking at him and shaking his hand. I left the vehicle as fast as I could.

“Miranda!” I turned to look.