Araon was divinely tasting the savour of that beautiful reality again. He knew that somebody was talking to him and that was his conscience. It took him some time before taking a decision on what to do. He went for a shower and then he dressed with his smartest suit. He had no clear plans for the day and he hoped not to have his mind filled up with all those bloody suggestions from his conscience. He picked up the newspaper and had a glance at the latest breaking news just to be in tune with what was happening in the world. Now he was a different man facing big issues. He wanted to have some time to go to the grocery to buy new batteries for his alarm clock before managing the bigger matters of the day. He went to the sitting room to kiss Jill and tell her that he would be away all day long. Jill was not happy about that, of course. But to be accomplice with her husband was the reason why their marriage worked. To come back to reality was not an easy task for Araon. Headache and panic were now his worst enemies. Jill’s presence always made him free from heavy burdens. A kiss to his wife was enough to revolutionize his entire state of mind.
Jill was sort of absent that day. There was not a specific reason that made her so gloomy. It was as if she had listened to what Aaron’s conscience told him. Or maybe she just wanted to make a naive spite to her husband. When Araon mentioned their distance by telling her he would be out all day long, tears of sorrow arose from Jill’s eyes. She needed her companion next to her to be in tune with the fact that she would be pregnant very soon. But, in the end, she happened to be more understanding and rejoiced at Araon’s kiss to her forehead. Araon left the tiny flat speechless. He didn’t know if it was a good thing to follow his conscience. He didn’t want to seem a bit crazy whatever the occasion. Sure, he would never chalk to leave a mark next to the Sunflower painting in the Van Gogh museum. Why should he give people hints of what happened? And what about Jill? He thought that his conscience had spoken nonsense. But now he was happy to be in the street going where his instinct was driving him. His loneliness struck his heart deeply. He was all alone going from one thought to another according to his conscience. The candor of the spring didn’t endow him with the rejuvenating effect it was supposed to have. Only after half an hour walk, he had a good idea. He decided to go to the Van Gogh Museum to check if the colours of the Sunflowers had faded. compared to the previous month. Paintings were supposed to be protected against the fading of the colour and, in the case of Van Gogh’s Sunflowers, they had used an Italianate technique. This was a nice idea but it had nothing to reveal about the mystery of the murder. But Araon considered the option that the disrupted corpse was an excuse to replace the Sunflowers original with some puzzling smell that would change the whole atmosphere. He was a bit perplexed but he followed his instinct.
He arrived at the museum exactly when there was a guided tour of all the greatest masterpieces. He entered from the back door so that nobody would notice his strange presence. People of every walk of life and from different parts of the world gathered there in awe. That was the efficacy of the system as Araon used to think. It was wonderful to be entrapped in that wicked snare. He was conscious of the fact that whatever happened was his responsibility only. He chased the English guide. Araon loved the English language as well as the British way of life. Englishmen in particular were attracted by the Sunflowers having a copy of it at the London National Gallery. They hid in their heart the secret wisdom of a man who became mad and killed himself because of his schizophrenia. The success of the guided tour was down to the explanation of those particulars. But for Araon it was not enough. It was schizophrenia that made Van Gogh so creative. Araon had a flesh of genius. Schizophrenia. That was the drive of the unnamed murderer. They wanted to figure out a sort of schizophrenic demolition. of a dead body That was the reason why they had brought it out of the museum in such a rush not noticing that some blood in a handkerchief had been dropped on the floor. They wanted to change the view of people as regard to the desires hidden deep down in their heart. They had devised a way to split their mind to share Van Gogh’s genius by going away from the museum with a dead body. But Araon was going further away with his imagination so far. It was a trivial puzzle. Leaving alone the beauty of the place which made him feel at ease despite the circumstances. Being face to face with the famous painting stopped all his fears and spurred him to think of Jill. Why should she be aware of what happened in his life? A secret is sometimes a bond of love. He spilled a tear on his spotless reputation and changed utterly his mood for the so coveted love of his life. She was not there and that allowed him to carry on with his investigation undeterred. He needed a camera to shoot some photos. He asked a tourist if he could have a picture with him and all was done. He offered an ice cream to the tourist as a form of gratitude. Now he had all he needed: a shot of the precious painting. He immediately thought of taking it to his cellar and hide it among the other stuff. It was his own way to bring to life flashes of genius in order to divert Jill’s attention from his detective story. It seemed to him that his way of doing it was the consequence of a student’s prank. He went to the exit of the museum. He left some coins to support the modernization of the place and said momentarily goodbye to his explorations. To be clandestine was not an option but a command of his soul. This was what he repeated solemnly in his mind.
His stomach rumbled. He missed the fantastic meals his wife always cooked for him. To eat well was a joy he wanted to share with his wife. So he went to the nearby butcher’s to buy some pork steaks. He was looking forward to meeting his wife and enjoying together a tasty meal after their gestures of fondness. There was no way he would skip dinner. And Jill’s kisses too. He was far from his flat so he decided to take a taxi home. A yellow one was just in front of him. He stopped the driver with a proper gesture and asked him to drive him to St. Luciensteeg St. It was seven pm. Just on time to reach Jill at home as anticipated.
When he arrived home, he was worn out. But satisfied enough for the upshot of the day. Jill giggled when she saw him looking like a ghost. A frightening voice was present in Araon’s mind. He was split between the old and the new Araon. The new one was there, next to his wife that never stopped showing affection. He would have liked to cry like a child but his common sense refrained him from doing so. Jill watched him with the same amazement. She was not that kind of wife who would have refused a kiss to an imploring husband. Araon was so sweet that she forgot immediately the initial grudge she had for having been alone almost all day. Araon, in his turn, was watching her steadily. A composure of emotions was very visible in her eyes. He took her hand to pick her wedding ring. He wanted to be in touch with his own feelings for her with harmony and symbolic gestures. He would have liked to spend hours savouring those moments. Romance was finished: a burst of rain from outside enchanted them with delirium. But after the rain came the rainbow to mitigate all the confused souls.
They were serene again and they looked at each other with utter joy. It was the right occasion to burst out their anger that harbored in their heart so quickly. Araon found pleasure in kissing her in such a way that they seemed to live in a fairy tale. Jill couldn’t blame him for any reason and started to utter some words, “You know, Araon,, I love you more than my life. I live as if in a chaos when you are not here. I miss you so much that I forget the moments when I have eaten butterflies because of whatever. I love you, I swear it, I’m constantly in search of you: where are you? What are you doing? I puzzle myself with the craziest thoughts that can come into my mind. You suggest to me that you deserve the sort of attention a foreigner can need. You might be amazed for my mentioning your state as a foreigner, but these are the only words that I’m able to utter now. Don’t call me crazy. I am a woman in pain. Thank God you are here now and I am in the top of a happy pile,” said Jill.
“What are you muttering nice woman? I obviously also miss you when I am away. I feel like a rascal in his first act of rebellion against his parents. Do you know what was funny this morning? I was surrounded by people who run after me as fast
as lizards. I consider it a sign of the destiny. Let me explain myself better. When I am in the middle of a crowd, I make comparisons between myself and all the other people. When I see somebody similar to me, I decide to continue to do what I’m doing. When I am near somebody faster than me, I change behaviour and stop keeping up what I was doing. I’m in trouble: I’m addressing to you as if I was a madhouse case. I am absolutely speaking nonsense. Just to be short: forget it all. The problem is that I am in the middle of an identity crisis and you are my saviour. Good night Jill. Tomorrow will be another day.”
The two went to bed straight away, skipping dinner. Araon was so agitated that during the night he turned over and over in his bed on the contrary to Jill who was fast asleep. Araon got up to take some sleeping pills which were very efficient.
The sun rising appeared in its all splendour when the couple woke up. The day was likely to be very busy but Araon decided to stay with Jill all the time this time. He was fuming at the thought of being troubled by his conscience again. He was eased by his wife who brought breakfast in bed to him. The smell of croissant sweetened Araon nerves. Milk and coffee were another reason for his being greedy. He was attracted by the presence of their cat near the bed. It didn’t help him fill his stomach of course. It just was funny. Their little pet, however, was a source of joy and fondness. He entered into his thoughts about the plan for the day. They maybe would go to their yard to have a look at the workers job. Jill had forgotten that she had an appointment with the hairdresser at ten am. and Araon had to go to the local grocer for the weekly supplies. They had a lot of free time to spend together. Dressing was very quick and the couple sure wouldn’t die for starvation after another continental breakfast consumed after the traditional one. St Luciensteeg was in fact the nest of love of the meek and happy couple. They left their house in a hurry, walked a bit before getting on the first train and went to their respective destinations. The hairdresser’s was a cosy place and a den for gossips. It was there that Jill came to know about the British royal baby. It was a baby girl who had been named after her grandmother. Jill was annoyed by the news which made her feel jealous: it was such a strain for her to become pregnant. She was forced to listen to the remarks of the other ladies’ present. She didn’t comment and waited for her turn silently. She had some stories to tell but she was sure nobody there would listen.
Jill was struck by a tiny lady with red hair, dressed in pink. She had a foreign accent and it was difficult to guess her place of origin. “You are wonderful, let me tell you,” said the lady to an embarrassed Jill. “I’m still concerned with my looks, at my age when I shouldn’t bother. From what I see you are very young and beautiful, so you must have mismatched the place you need to stay at.” The lady’s flattering remarks upset Jill a bit. “Let me introduce myself: I am lady Boer, as my friends call me. I work as a waiter at the restaurant around the corner. I noticed you immediately when you arrived here. The man with you must be your husband. You are a gorgeous couple. Unfortunately, I had never had the occasion to marry in my life. You have no idea how much I feel I can be a good mother. But life has been ungenerous to me. What about you? It’s the first time I’ve seen you here.”
Jill tried to conceal her embarrassment. She couldn’t decline to communicate with that lady. “Well, my name is Jill. It’s the first time I’ve been here because I live far away from this place. My husband was with me at my arrival earlier. We have been married for over ten years. I like to chat with you because I’m also embittered by my desire to become a mum. I am not pregnant after a few attempts so far. Oh! I see time is passing quickly. The hairdresser is gesturing to me that it is my turn. It has been a pleasure to meet you. Now I apologize, I have to go,” said Jill with a sense of relief.
After two hours Araon was in the shop to pick Jill up. “You look terrific!” he said to a frightened Jill. And they disappeared among the throng.
The following day was a special one at St. Luciensteeg. Jill had to receive, at home, a not very welcome guest. It was the fat old lady she had met accidentally in the past and who bombarded her with stories about her niece’s life as a prostitute. The woman knocked on the door three times before she got an answer. Finally, Jill opened the door. She was untidy, quite dirty and with a funny look. She was shocked and surprised to see the lady there. In fact, she pinpointed the target. She wouldn’t believe it but it was going to start a bad day full with gossip. She was tempted to tell the woman she was in the bog, that was why it took so long to open the door. But rude manners were not appropriate to Jill. She let the lady in and looked at the ceiling in a sign of awe for God above. She definitely had to pray that that was not the beginning of a difficult situation.
“Hi love,” the woman said “I do not want to annoy you but I need your help.”
“Hi, how are you? Where did you find my address?” answered Jill.
“Oh! It’s a long story I have troubled half world to reach you. It is a miracle I finally managed to find your location,” the woman said.
“Please, come in. You look like a ghost. What happened?”
“Thank you for your reception. I am so forlorn and lonely these days. What a beautiful flat! You are very lucky to live in this wonderful part of Amsterdam.”
“Please sit here,” Jill interrupted the lady, “Would you like a cup of tea or some coffee?”
“I would like an orange juice if this is OK for you.”
“I’ll bring it to you straight away. I wonder what’s going on in your mind. You look so agitated.”
“You are right. In fact, I’m in serious trouble now. Do you remember what I told you about my niece? She is a prostitute if you remember. She is now facing a serious calamity. She is receiving death threats from some customers who have been forced to accept a receipt of their payment for her sexual performance. They just don’t want to be identified as low life haunters. And there is something more. She had to struggle to get her bread and butter because of the competition of younger colleagues. When she has a window from work, she goes to the beautician to get some facials and body massages. Her standard day is easy to be depicted. She gets up at seven o’ clock in the morning, she has a shower, he covers herself with oil and perfume and then she goes to her place in the window waiting for clients to arrive. You don’t know how much effort I have gone to convince her to leave that dirty job. Since she has been receiving those bloody threats, she has changed policy but she doesn’t seem to be interested in leaving the job. She has contacted me crying for help and I have pledged to help her rebuild her life if she walks out of the brothel. Recently she has overcame the fears of the death threats having spoken to the guardian of the brothel who has promised her further protection. They even had a laugh about that situation. I beg you help me. Rescue me. I do not know what to do to bring my niece back to a more ordinary life. I got your advice which turned out to be very useful but now I need more. Tell me, what is the beginning and what is the end of my safety claim on behalf of poor Jo. That is her name I’m revealing to you only now,” told the woman impetuously.
Jill hesitated a while before she could give an answer. She brought the orange juice to her guest and asked her to kindly to sit on the sofa. “You know,” she said, “the first time saw you I thought you would become a person of a certain importance in my life. I believe in destiny and I believe it is not a casualness that you are here now. I am still shocked by the gossip I have heard at the hairdresser’s yesterday. But let me say some wise words. I think that the story of the death threats is just an excuse. Your niece needs money, which is what she likes most in her life. Leave alone her fondness for her own job. You have told me about her standard day, which doesn’t help me too much to better understand her state of mind. She doesn’t seem to care a lot for the prejudices of people, nor she is interested in a respectable marriage. She teases you a lot since she sees you care. But she is cunning enough to confuse you: she doesn’t want you realize she wants to extort some money from you. I don’t thin
k she will ever leave her job even if, by accident, among her clients she would meet Prince Charming. She is a true material girl. What do you think is the meaning of the death threats? Have you ever had the evidence that these threats really exist? She has told you about their menace but she hasn’t shown you even the most evident ones. You might have contacted the police to undertake an investigation but you have no element to do it. Nobody can start patrolling the place without a reason to do it. I suggest to you that you should pretend you have heard nothing from your niece. At the end she will stop harassing you with her fake requests for help. Prostitution is lawful in this country and it doesn’t seem to conceal any sort of lack of dignity from the prostitutes. Give it one month and you’ll learn that your niece is in another part of the city fornicating with a rich man. Only an amazing catch will make her change her perspective of her job. But afterwards she will be in the trade again. She will, as we can say, rise through the ranks. Have you ever considered how much pleasure your beloved niece will get in fornication? We are all sinners, and I don’t believe there is a slight difference between mortal and venial sins. There is a huge gap between lack of common sense and lack of morality. Do not misunderstand me. I am not denying you help, I just want you to be mindful. Your niece is very cunning. She is a gold digger. To be rich to her is to have reached the wanted status. If I were you, I would stop thinking of her,” said Jill with all the strength she could get.
The Red Box Page 19
