The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  Everything that could erect in Michael’s body, erected.

  Margo nodded to the bed and Michael jumped in it as if he was twenty.

  Margo climbed onto the bed after him, gracefully, like a cat. She ran her finger over his lips, across his chest.

  “Yes, yes, come on, baby,” he whispered.

  “Just wait,” Margo answered.

  She put the handcuff on one of his wrists, moved the chain of the handcuffs around the bed rail, and snapped the second one around Michael’s other wrist.

  “Are you comfortable, darling?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes,” he said, moving impatiently.

  Margo ran a hand over his lips and he tried to grab her by the finger, but she shook her head. Then she climbed off the bed and stepped aside.

  “Oh, I can’t stand it,” Michael groaned. “Let’s do it.”

  “Be patient.”

  Margo pulled the gun from under her waistband and pointed it at her hubby.

  “Wow, look at you,” Michael said, twisting his hands in the handcuffs. They were tight. “What an interesting game. I didn’t know you had a gun.”

  “Charles bought it for self-defense,” Margo answered. “It didn’t help him.”

  “What are you going to do with it, baby?”

  “Nothing for now, but later, we’ll see.”

  “Hmm.”

  Michael looked at the gun and Margo, Margo looked at Michael. Both were silent.

  “Are you waiting for something?” Michael asked.

  “I’m waiting for you, idiot, to finally get it.”

  The crease between Michael’s eyebrows became deeper than usual, but his eyes didn’t show more understanding.

  “Well?” Margo asked with hope.

  Something flashed in Michael’s eyes. He seemed to figure it out, but he didn’t seem to believe it.

  “What a strange game,” he muttered thoughtfully. “Something I don’t want to play. Let me out.”

  “Do you think I will do that, Michael? Or do you prefer Frank?”

  Michael looked at Margo for a few seconds without blinking, and then closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Margo spoke.

  “Men. So predictable. If you were thinking with your head and not with your dick, you wouldn’t be in this bed now.”

  Margo went to the chair in the corner of the bedroom, grabbed the robe, and put it on. Then she picked up the things that were stored in Michael’s car and shook them in the air like she was shaking the handcuffs before. Michael jerked, but his hands were secured.

  “How did you …?” he yelled, then stopped and continued in a calm voice. “I’m sure you’ve got the wrong idea.”

  “Interesting,” Margo said. “How will the police perceive this? I’ll show them all of your documents and things. What I’m considering now is whether I want to give you up to the police, or just shoot you. It would be regarded as self-defense against a serial killer. I think the police have already gone astray, looking for you and you’re sitting here, in warm and cozy Florida. I’ll be considered a hero.”

  “Do you think I’m a serial killer?” Michael asked.

  “Do you think I’m an idiot?” Margo asked in turn. “Who do you think you are? How were you going to get money from the insurance? Kill me?”

  “Honey, you are very upset right now,” Michael said, changing his voice again.

  “What did you do to Daisy?” she asked.

  “Daisy?”

  “You know who Daisy is,” Margo said. “She impersonated me in front of the insurance agent, didn’t she? How long has this been going on between the two of you?”

  “Careful, don’t move the gun like that,” Michael warned. “It might go off.”

  “It won’t fire unless I want it to fire and what I want right now is to know everything.”

  “Everything?” Michael shook his handcuffs, but that was as effective as throwing shoes against a hurricane. Just yesterday, he thought he owned the game and marched with confidence over the chessboard to put her in checkmate, but discovered that all his strategy was messed up and all his figures scattered around the board. She played him like a fiddle. He was in shit up to his very ears.

  “From the beginning, dear,” she said. “I just want to cut the initial crap. I realize that you married me for money and I suspect that you don’t have a penny in your pocket. I think it’s pretty safe to say that you make a living by killing women. A worthy profession, I must tell you, requires a lot of brain power to manipulate, but even Homer sometimes nods. You ran into me.”

  “And you ran into me,” Michael sneered.

  Margo’s eyes narrowed.

  “I figured out everything about you and why you married me before you realized anything,” Michael continued.

  “Is that so?”

  “Did you kill your first husband?”

  Margo snorted.

  “It was an accident,” she said.

  “I’m sure. You gave me sleeping pills last night, didn’t you?”

  “I had to take care of myself,” Margo said.

  Michael suddenly started to laugh. Margo looked at him with a gun pointed at his head. Finally, about two minutes later, he calmed down.

  “Do you want to know everything?” he asked.

  “As I said two times already,” Margo confirmed. “We have nowhere to hurry, so don’t skip the details.”

  “Of course … dear. As your little heart desires.”

  And Michael told her everything.

  PART 2

  CHAPTER 1

  FRANK MICHAEL PINS

  There were no easy moments in Frank’s life.

  Actually, that wasn’t true.

  Frank was lucky to be born into a well-to-do family. He was the only child in the family and of course he was spoiled like Prince Albert or any other royalty he compared himself to. His mom, dad, and grandma did everything for him, but kiss his ass.

  Although, that was not totally correct either.

  Mom said many times that she had kissed his “peaches” when he was an infant. Little Frank’s mom didn’t work, but his dad owned a car business and a bunch of other companies. His grandma, Dad’s mother, lived in a nearby house, but the boy sometimes felt like she was living with them. She immigrated to America from Italy when she was twenty-one and adhered to the traditions instilled in her childhood. Frank mostly saw her in the kitchen, fortunately, where she cooked her calzone and gnocchi.

  “Frankie, amore, what would you like to eat today,” she would ask as soon as he opened his eyes. She did this three times a day, every day with her Italian accent.

  Little Frank was different from other children of his age. For no particular reason, he grew up loving pranks and this love often drove his parents crazy. He put frogs and insects in clothes, shoes, and food. He said their neighbor or his teacher died and later apologized to his parents for humiliating them when they offered condolences. His grandmother almost had a heart attack when she saw a dead neighbor lady alive and healthy and Frank was forbidden to watch TV for a week. Frank apologized, even cried, he cried when he wanted to, but he would never admit how much he enjoyed it. He also liked to make up stories about his life and tell them to his trusting friends. His family came from England, where they were related to the royal family and he was a count. His grandfather was a Russian spy and then a mafia boss. He spent a week on a submarine, he kept a boa constrictor as a pet in his terrarium, one summer he went to Tibet to meditate with monks, and so on. He made up all sorts of things without thinking of what would happen if people found out the truth. He made up stories, but he would never say to anyone that his life was boring, measured, and predictable, like the change of seasons. He woke up in the morning, his grandmother came just at that time, he had breakfast with his family, went to school, then they had dinner and listened to his father’s stories about his business, his father and mother argued about money, later they watched TV, and went to bed. They didn’t travel because his father was al
ways busy and his mother wasn’t interested. She went shopping, watched soap operas, and met with her girlfriends. They didn’t do things outside, didn’t play any type of sports, and rarely invited guests.

  This went on until Frank turned twelve. That was when everything had changed. Frank couldn’t believe that all this shit really happened in his neatly pressed life adorned with little blue bows, in his perfect family with kind Father and Mother, who forgave him for all his tricks, and now he had to live in this very shit.

  It all started with his father’s secretary going on maternity leave and him hiring another one. Temporarily, as he said.

  Temporarily.

  Nobody knew then and, of course, couldn’t assume that she would really work temporarily, but she would stay in their lives forever.

  Frank remembered the night when he went to bed early after a particularly long day: tests at school, football— again at school, getting to know new neighbors, tiramisu for dinner, when he was awakened by loud voices. He lay with his eyes closed and listened, trying to understand whether he was asleep or not because his mom and dad didn’t shout at each other. They argued, mostly about money, but never raised their voices. He listened, motionless until something banged downstairs. His room was on the second floor, like most of his friends, and he crawled down from the bed, opened the door, and listened to the voices that were coming from the kitchen.

  “I didn’t mean it, okay? It was an accident,” Dad said.

  “Don’t touch me!” Mother cried.

  Frank fell to the floor and crept to the rails to look down. First he saw his dad, who was standing with his hands resting on his hips, and then he saw his mother. She sat on the floor with her legs outstretched, her narrow skirt rode up and her legs opened almost up to her hips. Mom smeared something red on her face.

  “Here. This is wet,” Dad said, handing the towel to his wife.

  “I said get away from me!” Mom grabbed the towel and wiped her face, erasing all the red.

  “It will not change anything,” Dad said.

  “So, my father gave you money to open a company, you became successful, and now you can do anything you want? Right? Now you can fuck anyone you want. Why do you need your family? Why do you need this old wife who supported you all the way?”

  “As always, you make everything look dirty! I can’t help myself. I love her.”

  “You are disgusting!” Mom pulled her knees to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and cried. “You took advantage of me. You’ve never loved me.”

  “That’s not true,” Dad protested.

  “Tell it to someone else. Your mother, for example.”

  “She always supports me.”

  “Great! Go to her! Will she support you cheating on your wife?”

  “We can’t control ...”

  “Shut up!” Mom threw the bloodstained towel at her husband and he dodged it. The towel fell to the floor and Frank couldn’t take his eyes off the vague, red pattern.

  When his mother started to get up, his dad tried to help her, but she pushed his hand away and fell, crying again, even louder.

  Dad headed toward the living room, shaking his head, and Frank returned to his bedroom the same way he came out, crawling, closed the door, and climbed into bed. He didn’t know what was happening, he only knew the next morning was going to be different and it was frightening.

  Everything wasn’t as scary as he thought but it was different for sure. He wanted something new to happen in his life every day and he attained his desire.

  His father left home the next day after the conversation, his grandmother stopped coming, and his mother stopped talking. She did breakfast in the morning, usually hard-boiled eggs, and gave Frank money for lunch at school. When he came home, he ate spaghetti or soup from a can. His mom sat in front of the TV almost all the time, never asked Frank about school or his homework until three months later she got a job and everything started to look more cheerful. She became interested in his business, she smiled, and resumed wearing beautiful dresses. A month later, they had a stranger named Nick in the house and Frank hated him at first sight. He hated him even more than Trish, his dad’s new secretary who had become his new wife.

  Frank stopped playing pranks. It didn’t even occur to him. The world had ceased to be predictable like day and night or bright like the beach in Miami. Frank expected dirty tricks from everyone. He had many friends before his parents divorce and he lost all of them within the next two years because of his sudden isolation. No one could understand him. Frank became irritable and attacked people for any word that hinted that his father fucked his secretary. It was difficult to come up with a more classic, stereotypical scenario. Frank was afraid this old dude named Nick, whom he hated, would stay in their house and they would have to see each other every day. Frank woke up every night in a panic, he skipped school, and he constantly fought with his mother.

  He was fourteen and a half when, during one of his regular visits to his father’s house (once every two weeks), he saw his father’s new wife leaving the garage in a brand new Porsche. It was just one of the cars his father gave her. Suddenly Frank noticed what he hadn’t noticed before. Father’s new house, which was twice as large as the one where they lived together a few years ago, his cars and clothes. He also compared what he had not compared before. Houses, cars, and clothes. His mother hadn’t changed her Range Rover for several years, and she also didn’t spoil her son with new outfits. All of a sudden Frank realized that he didn’t dress as cool as the others in his class when, before the divorce, he was one of the best dressed. So he decided to get new jeans and sneakers. He hadn’t thought about it before because all this time his mother complained about her lack of money and how everything was going into his schooling. He didn’t want to ask his father, because he had another son and also, his father said he paid his wife enough money to take care of Frank’s pocket expenses. In fact (and Frank was certain of this), his parents were selfish bastards and thought only of themselves and their new lives, but not about him. They also thought about boobs. His father thought about his secretary/wife’s and his mother about her own. By that time his mother had split with Nick and started seeing Sam, who, according to Frank, was even worse than Nick. He didn’t do anything bad, but he pretended he wanted to become a good daddy and Frank hated it. He already had one daddy who left him after fucking his secretary and making her pregnant. So, right after she began dating Sam, or maybe it was just before, Frank couldn’t remember, his mother developed huge breasts out of nowhere. Her ass also became bigger. She went on an alleged vacation for three days and when she returned, her face was swollen, and she had black circles under her eyes. Frank didn’t realize right away that besides her boobs and ass, her nose also changed. Frank didn’t care what she did or why she did these things to herself, but he knew that if she had gotten a new body and face, he also deserved to have what he wanted. In this case, it was sneakers and jeans. He believed that if he just asked for money, they would give it to him, but that was boring. Suddenly, Frank felt like he had jumped back into his skin. He didn’t want just to ask for money, he wanted to get the forgotten feeling of the forbidden, of a good, old adrenaline rush. That feeling of being smarter than others, sneakier than others, and more unique than others.

  “Mom, my class is going on a fieldtrip and I need two hundred bucks.”

  “Wow,” his mother answered as she covered her eyelashes with mascara, which for some reason required that she hold her mouth open, and she agreed with everything Frank said.

  “Yes, and I asked my dad, but he said that he already pays you alimony and child support.”

  Mom closed her mouth, and closed it tightly, lowered her hand holding the mascara, and looked at her son.

  “Oh, that’s just great. He forgets that I pay for school, food, the roof over your head.”

  “I can ask him again.”

  “That’s a good idea,” his mother said.

  “Okay. I still don’
t agree with him that he pays for you and your lover.”

  Mother turned away from the mirror and stared at Frank.

  “Did he say that?” she asked with anger. “Did he?”

  “Mom, I understand,” Frank said, looking down. “You have to live your life. I’ll ask him again and if he sends me back to you, it’s not a big deal. School will be over soon anyway, I will manage without a trip.”

  “That’s enough!” Mother said. “Your father is just ... I’ll give you the two hundred bucks. Do you need me to sign something?

  When his school organized trips, teachers always gave students special forms that needed to be completed and signed. Parents had to put their contact information, doctors’ telephones, understand the cost of the trip, and sign it, meaning there was no objection.

  Frank found one of the old forms, whited out the unnecessary fields, and printed a duplicate. He went to his father with the copy.

  “I already pay her child support and alimony,” his father protested.

  “I know.” Frank shook his head sadly. “You don’t need to give me anything. I don’t care if I’m the only one in my class who can’t go. It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they say.”

  “Do they say something?” Father pricked his ears.

  They were sitting on the veranda of Frank’s father’s house, which he said his wife demanded. Frank drank cola that he couldn’t drink at home because his mother would never allow it, and his father drank beer. Grasshoppers chirped, a bird sang overhead in the dark. The evening was quiet. Frank’s father’s new wife and his new son were inside the house. Trish had never said anything about Frank being at their house, but she also didn’t try to be his mother and didn’t spend more than a few minutes with him. Maybe because Frank had never played with his half-brother and didn’t even call him a brother. He treated him as he would treat any small child who got in his way. He greeted him, asked about his day, and went away.