The program lasted an hour and a half and Olivia and I didn’t say a word. We stared at the screen in fascination.
Olivia said she was tired. I was also sleepy and, although another episode in the series was coming up, I decided to leave.
When I arrived home, Esther was in the living room. I was surprised to find her watching television because it was late.
“You’re not in bed yet?” I asked as I poured myself a whiskey.
“I got home late. I had to finish planning the campaign for that supermarket brand. Mrs. Morrison prepared dinner trays before she left, and I sat down to watch TV for a while.”
I don’t know why exactly, but I was startled when I glanced at the screen and noticed that Esther was watching the second part of the same show that Olivia and I had been watching. I sat by her side and finished watching it with her. We both sat in silence, absorbed in the screen, lost in thought.
When we switched off the television I was surprised that Esther said good night, kissing me on the cheek.
“Have a good night, Thomas. See you tomorrow.”
—
Some time has passed since Esther, Olivia, and I saw that show on TV. I haven’t forgotten about it; they never talk about it. But since then I haven’t trusted either of them. It was fifteen days after the documentary about poisons that I started to feel bad.
Nausea, headaches, anxiety, arrhythmia, heart pain that spread to my neck and my throat…I started to have little nosebleeds, and I sometimes bleed from my gums when I brush my teeth.
Dr. Douglas said that these episodes are connected to my heart disease, and that they happen because I don’t follow his recommendations. He adjusted my dosage of anticoagulants again. I drink and smoke and eat whatever I want. But I don’t think that whatever’s happening to me is a result of my excesses. Perhaps Esther is not giving me the right dosage of anticoagulants or perhaps Olivia has decided to take revenge on me, and what better way than by poisoning me slowly through my food, via those wonderful stews that I cannot resist?
Yes, I think that one of them has decided to reduce the amount of time I have left. Or perhaps both of them? I don’t know, but one day Esther told me that she had met Olivia for lunch.
“Poor thing,” she said. “She’s going through a lot with the burns on her hands. They’ll never be the same again.”
All I know is that since watching that documentary, they have changed, and I am racked with pains that not even Dr. Douglas can diagnose. He says that every illness is different and I should follow his recommendations. The damn diet. But I know that my wife, or perhaps my mistress, is slipping me something that affects my health.
And Jaime lost everything he had left. He couldn’t even keep his father’s house. I know that Esther sold all the jewelry I’ve given her over the years we’ve been married. A couple of Cartier gold watches, a Van Cleef one with diamonds, a necklace of diamonds and emeralds, a solitaire from Tiffany that cost me one hundred thousand dollars, some sapphire earrings…I’ve been generous to Esther. And she cashed it all in to give money to Jaime. Money that’s now being used to pay the rent on a SoHo apartment. My wife told me this without caring what I might think.
“I’m just glad that you couldn’t sell the firm on a whim, or else we’d be a wreck,” I spat back at her when she told me about selling her jewelry.
“You could have helped him, Thomas. I didn’t have any other options.”
“Of course you have another option: be loyal to me.”
She was silent while she absorbed my attack. I think that it had its effect, that for an instant she felt miserable for not having loved me, for having sacrificed me for Jaime.
“I never cheated on you,” she said finally.
“No, you never did, and what good did it do you?”
“That’s what loyalty is, not cheating on a person,” she said in a thin voice.
“Loyalty means not letting down the person you love, not humiliating him, giving him as much as you receive. That’s what loyalty is,” I said bluntly.
“I’m sorry, Thomas. I’m truly sorry for not living up to your expectations. Perhaps you expect too much…I tried to make things work, to make our marriage worthwhile.”
She was being sincere. She was speaking from her heart, and from her gut. Her eyes showed just how much she regretted everything.
“And it’s been worthwhile. I wouldn’t have exchanged our years together for anything. They’ve been the best years of my life. But once again Jaime has come along and stolen what was mine.” I was speaking sincerely as well.
“No, please don’t say that! It’s not his fault. I…Although it’s hard for you to believe, there’s nothing going on between us. He refuses to…You know he promised your father that he would never meddle in your life and that he would give me up, as much as he loved me. You’ll always be there between us.”
“He did promise John that, but he must have forgotten, or else he wouldn’t be ruining my life.”
“You still don’t want to call John your father? He’s the only one you ever had. And don’t try to blame Jaime. If anyone’s guilty here, it’s me. He…For God’s sake, Thomas, I’m the guilty one, not Jaime! I wanted to help him, I got involved in his life, I insisted on being there for him and his children. Jaime has never asked me for anything.”
“But he accepts everything you give him without a second thought, as if it were his right. He’s used to having people love him and smooth his way for him, to getting everything simply by smiling. He never needed to ask.”
“Thomas…” Esther came to me and put her hand on my shoulder.
I shook her off. I wanted her to feel guilty. I saw how upset she was, but I remained unmoved.
“You know what, Esther? My brother destroyed my life. He ruined my childhood and now he wants to take the only thing I have away from me.”
“It’s me…I’m the guilty one!”
Esther also confessed to me that, because Jaime had lost his office as well, she had rented for him not only his apartment but a couple of rooms in an office building up near Harlem. And so Jaime’s clients had stopped being Manhattan brokers and had become local tradesmen. I didn’t feel any sympathy for him or for her. She was trapped in a spider’s web, and she didn’t know how to break free.
I didn’t ask her what she wanted to do. I was afraid that she would ask for a divorce. I didn’t want to hear her say that she loved Jaime. I knew it already, but I couldn’t bear to hear her say it.
“Your nephews will spend the summer with their grandfather. He’ll take them to Europe. Paris, London, Madrid, Rome…And when they get back they’ll go to the Hudsons’ house near Newport.”
“And then what?” I wanted to know.
“I don’t know…Mr. Hudson says his grandchildren will live with him. It depends on whether Jaime can pull himself together. He can’t take care of the kids by himself.”
No, my brother couldn’t take care of his children, but my wife could. I realized that if the children weren’t around, it wouldn’t take long before Esther went to Jaime’s bed. They had waited many years. Once it happened, even though Jaime would feel remorse for breaking his promise to his father, he would end up accepting Esther into his home, his life.
“I’ve got a deal for you,” I said without thinking too much about it.
“A deal?”
“Yes. I’ll help Jaime, but you have to give him up.”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. I’ll help him financially, but whatever happens, you’ll stay with me. We’ll rent him a decent house where he can live with his kids, we’ll pay for a woman to take care of them, I’ll send clients his way.”
“And the price is me.” Esther’s voice left no doubt that she would accept.
“Yes. The price is you.”
“I’m not a child anymore, and whether…”
“Yes, I know, whether you go now or later doesn’t make any differen
ce. But you have to make up your mind.”
Her eyes clouded. It was hard for her to hold back her tears. I knew then that she had decided to leave me. I kept the pressure on her; I was prepared to win.
For a few seconds she was quiet, distant, fighting with herself. When she replied, she did so in a whisper: “All right, Thomas. You win. Help Jaime.”
“I will. But I’ll keep my hands on the controls. I’m not so stupid as to sacrifice ourselves for him.”
—
I kept my word. All this time I’ve kept my word and I will keep it till the end. I pay Jaime’s bills and make his situation easier. But I haven’t saved him from everything. The banks still have my parents’ home, and my grandparents’ houses, and Aunt Emma’s. But at least he has money to keep his children comfortable.
When was it? I can remember the day I realized I was starting to die, that all the sickness I had felt up to this moment was turning into something more.
That day, as always, I had breakfast with Esther. Whole wheat bread and decaffeinated coffee. She made it every morning and then forced me to take the pills for my ruined heart. Then, despite her continued protests, I would smoke a cigarette. In fact, it wasn’t the first one of the day, because I had already smoked two before sitting down to breakfast. I started to feel odd at midmorning. Nothing hurt, but I wasn’t feeling well. I went to the bathroom and was scared to see that my urine contained threads of blood. I didn’t say anything. I barely ate lunch. I couldn’t get anything down.
“Are you all right? You don’t look too good,” Esther said when she came by the office in the middle of the afternoon to tell me that she would be home late because she had a meeting with the creatives.
“I don’t know…the coffee didn’t go down all that well this morning.”
“You should watch what you eat; it’ll do you good. I saw a bottle of whiskey this morning in the living room, nearly empty, and a bunch of leftover pizza. You know you can’t eat that stuff. Dr. Douglas told you that it’s just pouring fat into your arteries.”
Anyone who overheard her would have thought that she was just being a worried wife, but I knew her well and could sense the coldness in her gaze and her annoyed tone of voice.
I said nothing. I wasn’t going to give up drinking, let alone eating.
I left the agency and decided to go to Olivia’s. Esther wouldn’t be home for a while, so I would be able to have my fun. Also, I liked turning up at the apartment unexpectedly. I knew it upset Olivia, even though she seemed to be resigned to sticking with me. I asked myself why. She had suddenly become as docile as she used to be cold in her dealings with me. And yes, when we talked, it was plain to see that she was trying to conceal her boredom. She didn’t care about anything I might say to her. She had turned into purely a piece of meat that I could mistreat without her protesting. Nothing she said ever showed a flicker of wit. She was silent whenever I asked for her opinion on anything. She wasn’t present at all.
She kept making meals for me that I could not resist. She should have trained as a chef instead of wasting so much energy on becoming an actress. She even made such amazing dressings for the simplest salads that there was no way I could pass them up, even though I thought that one of the herbs she used was bound to affect my heart problem.
“And Jerry?” I asked her that evening.
“Jerry will wait for me. We’ll be together soon enough,” she said.
I was scared. Yes, her certainty scared me. She looked at me haughtily even though she knew what my response would be. She didn’t turn her face away when she saw me lift my hand to strike her. She didn’t care. She didn’t bother to say anything, she just poured me another whiskey.
I felt dizzy again that night when I left her apartment. Too much whiskey, I thought, because I had drunk four or five glasses as well as smoking a whole pack of cigarettes.
When I got home, I vomited. My heart was beating wildly and I felt ill. I went to bed. The next day I woke up a little woozy, but not so bad as to stop me from going in to the agency. I thought about calling Dr. Douglas, but I didn’t. He would just ask me what I had been eating and drinking instead of really looking into my condition. My cardiologist seemed to blame everything on my bad habits. But I did go to see him the next day. I told him about the blood in my urine and he changed my dosage of Coumadin, the anticoagulant I took every day. He insisted that I come in every week for a checkup. I found ways to ignore his advice, even under Esther’s watch.
Esther has kept her promise, but still sees Jaime and takes care of his children as often as she can. She decided to get rid of Mrs. Morrison, who now lives with them. We have to make do with a maid who comes in the morning and leaves at night and who, if Esther gets home late, makes sure I eat and take the pills my wife has left out for me. The worst of it is that the woman scarcely knows how to cook.
Doris, dear sweet little Doris, says that even though I eat a lot, I don’t look well and should take care of myself. I spend more and more time with her. Sometimes I see a little spark of disgust in her eyes. My body has grown old, I have flab hanging around my waist, my flesh is soft as butter, and I have found the smell of my own breath disgusting for some time now. But she puts up with me without complaining. I pay her well to pretend that she likes me, and one day she even said that she loved me, but I gave her a good slap and warned her not to take me for a fool.
“I said it to please you, Thomas. Of course I don’t love you. I’m with you for your money, but sometimes you have to put a bit of romance into your relationships. Other men like it, but if you don’t then there’s no need to worry.”
I know that when she looks into my eyes she’s seeing my wallet stuffed full of bills. I know that when she smiles she doesn’t see me. I know that she thinks of other bodies whenever her body comes close to mine. I know that when she moans she’s faking it. But that’s the deal and I keep my side of it.
I really do despise men who think they’ve managed to seduce young and attractive women, and who think that they’re admired or even loved. Poor fools!
But let’s go back to that day. I’ve thought, more than once, that my sickness—the same illness I’ve had ever since—was not like anything I had felt before.
I’ve been back to the doctor a few times since that day, and he’s given me a couple of exhaustive checkups, insisting that the pills he prescribes are not enough for me to maintain my health. He scolds me as if I were a child because I won’t give up smoking, or bacon and eggs, or drinking half a bottle of whiskey a day. But what would my life be without those little pleasures?
Dr. Douglas says that I work too hard as well.
“You’re stressed, like all the executives in Manhattan. I can give you a checkup whenever you want, but the conclusion will always be the same: your main enemy is yourself, Thomas. I’ll tell you again: stop drinking, stop smoking, and eat vegetables, grilled meat, and fish. And no desserts. And go on vacation! You need to rest.”
He adjusted the dosage of anticoagulants again, because I kept having nosebleeds and bleeding gums, as well as blood in my urine.
The doctor is optimistic, or perhaps useless. I don’t dare to ask him to check my blood for poison. He’d laugh at me, say that I was paranoid. I haven’t said anything for the time being and I haven’t shared my suspicions with anyone, but if things go on like this…I know I’m dying slowly, and not from natural causes.
There are days when I feel better, others when I feel my stomach turning, but I never throw up.
Esther is solicitous. She asks me how I feel every day, as if she were waiting for me to tell her that I was going to die. And Olivia too, she asks me about my health every day. She says it’s because my skin is turning yellow. Even so, I take the pills Esther gives me for my heart and eat the food that Olivia makes for me. Ever since Mrs. Morrison left there hasn’t been much in the refrigerator. I go to Olivia’s apartment for lunch, and she feeds me her ever more sophisticated culinary creations.
O
livia’s hands are covered in scars and have lost both their beauty and their former smoothness. I can’t stop myself from looking at them and she never hides them. In fact she makes a point of showing them off so I never forget that I am the cause of this damage.
She hasn’t had work in months, but she doesn’t seem worried. I keep paying her bills and she keeps herself busy by project managing the house Jerry is renovating. She hasn’t given up on marrying him, although she hasn’t mentioned it again.
Actually, I feel good only when I’m with Doris. Little Doris, whom I recently managed to get a part for in a low-budget movie: she knew how to thank me for that.
Olivia knows that Doris exists, and I think Esther does too. They both realized who she was during the Effie Awards ceremony at the Waldorf Astoria. Doris wanted to come and I got invitations for her and a friend. I didn’t worry about the boy; he’s gay and works occasionally as a model.
Doris was wearing one of those over-the-top Versace dresses. It was impossible not to look at her. Anyway, she came over to where I was standing with Esther. Doris put on her best smile and said to Esther that she admired her work as an executive a great deal and was thankful that Esther had taken her on for the cat food ad. Esther said she would be sure to count on Doris again in the future.
Olivia interrupted us. She and Esther greeted each other affectionately, as if they were old friends with shared secrets. They moved away from us and whispered between themselves. They left Doris to one side. I heard them laugh. The laughter was enough to make me uneasy. Then I saw everything clearly. They were poisoning me. Sometimes I think it’s Esther who gives me the poison, and at other times I think it’s Olivia, but maybe both of them have decided to gang up on me and get rid of me.
Story of a Sociopath Page 79
