The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  Frank had no chance. He was far past thirty and had gained weight during his time with Tiffany. He still looked good, but this girl was out of his league.

  “Watch where you’re going!” the beauty shouted. Screaming didn’t make her ugly, strangely enough, as happened with most people.

  “I’m sorry. Please, forgive me.” Frank picked up the shirts from the floor, but he couldn’t take his gaze from the girl. He wanted to yell at her and ask her where she was going. She was a beauty, but she got in his way when he absolutely didn’t need it, and screwed up his plans. The fat one had already disappeared into the fitting room. The chance that she would help him after trying on her clothes was zero. Perhaps he was wrong, he couldn’t know everything.

  “What?” the redhead continued. “Do you want to ask if you broke my arm? Almost!”

  “I apologize. I’m terribly sorry,” Frank stammered, adjusting his shirts and burning with anger. However, he didn’t want to show his character in a way that would make the saleswomen remember him. Most of them probably noticed him already, even though he tried to be careful and not get in their view. “What can I do for you?” he asked.

  “I can’t think of anything,” the girl answered, calmer, assessing Frank with one glance. She checked his clothes, including his expensive watch especially purchased for this purpose, the clothes he held in his hands, and to Frank’s surprise, his hands. She checked to see if he had a wedding band on his finger! What could this mean?

  “It’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention. I’m so clumsy sometimes,” he muttered, trying to evaluate the situation quickly, trying to write a new script.

  “Okay, okay.” The woman smiled to Frank’s surprise. Did he know anything about women at all? Was he as confident as he thought he was?

  Frank bared his teeth. Only recently he became the owner of new veneers.

  “Where are you going? This is the women’s department,” the woman said. By this time, Frank had begun to write not only a new script, but also the tone of his conduct. She had tons of men swarming around her. He had to be different. She noticed him when he crashed into her and showed his simplicity, naivety, and, most importantly, clumsiness. Perhaps she found this attractive?

  “I know!” Frank exclaimed. “I’m going to a meeting with one of my new clients, one very capricious lady, and I need to be ready for anything. I got these shirts for myself, but I need to buy something for her. A girl downstairs suggested getting her a scarf. I have no idea what kind of scarf. I know nothing about scarves or fashion at all, to be honest.”

  The woman laughed and Frank was dumbfounded. This laugh could disarm anyone besides him. Men probably stalked her. Was she shopping here with her money or gifts from her lovers?

  “You’re funny,” she said.

  “Yes, that’s true. Sometimes I laugh at myself.”

  “Margaret, I’m back.”

  It was another girl. She was even younger than the first one and also cute, but she was hunched and had a frightened look on her face. It was an elf in front of a goddess. She didn’t have an ounce of confidence.

  The face of the beauty had changed for a second. She didn’t become ugly, God forbid, but there was something that made Frank take a step back. The change lasted only a moment, not everyone would have noticed it, but the second girl didn’t miss it. She hunched her head into her shoulders even deeper, although she obviously didn’t want to show her reaction. When the beautiful woman looked at him, her face became composed and Frank instantly defined the hierarchy. One was the payee and the other one was paid. So, most likely, it was her money.

  “Please, wait for me in the dressing room,” the one called Margaret said.

  “Okay,” the second girl answered and almost ran toward the dressing room. Margaret returned to Frank again.

  “My assistant,” she said.

  “Mine is also annoying, today is her day off.” Frank found the right answer quickly, as always. He looked into Margaret’s eyes and she curled her eyebrow questioningly. He pretended to be embarrassed, and shook his head.

  “Sorry. You have such ... impeccable taste,” he said. “This scarf. Maybe you could ... I mean, if you have a minute.”

  The girl hesitated for a second, he had the feeling he had foreseen her thoughts, and then she smiled.

  “I’ll help you.”

  Frank cheered. It didn’t matter who she was or whose money she spent, she was interesting to him.

  “My God, this is wonderful!” he exclaimed. He was as excited as if he had drunk three cups of coffee in a row. You saved my life! Please excuse my lack of manners, my name is Michael!”

  “It’s nice to meet you, I’m Margaret,” she said. “You can call me Margo.”

  “Margo? What a beautiful name! It was created for you.”

  Frank always knew what to say, but now he knew what to do. He stretched his hand to Margo for a handshake and his shirts fell back to the floor.

  “Come on now! I’m sorry!” He moaned, gathering the clothes. He saw Margo watching him and smiling. When he straightened up again, she pointed to the right.

  “I’m so happy to have met you,” he muttered, taking the scarf she had chosen from Margo. “Thank you very much. You helped me so much. I wanted to ask the salesgirls, but they are all busy with other customers.”

  “It wasn’t a problem for me. I actually quite enjoyed helping.”

  “Thank you very much.”

  “You’re welcome. Your wife is probably too busy.”

  It was a hook she threw to him. She was really interested in him.

  “My wife? My wife. No, I’m a widower.” Frank was talented in different eye expressions. Sad eyes were his specialty.

  “Really?” Margo shook her head. “I’m so sorry. What happened to her?”

  “She was killed in a car accident. She was here one second, and gone in the next..” He wasn’t going into details.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss. What a coincidence, meeting you now. I also recently became a widow. My husband died tragically a little over five months ago. As you said, one second he was here, and the next second he was gone.”

  “Really? What a coincidence.” Frank was genuinely surprised. It was a huge stroke of luck to meet a widow under fifty. “My wife died a little over a year ago, and I still miss her. I’m sure you do too. It’s so fresh for you.”

  “Yes, of course,” Margo sighed. She closed her eyes and Frank examined her clothes. Everything was expensive, fashionable. He knew the difference. “I think about him every day. It’s so tough to be alone, you know? There’s no one to protect me, or to give advice. I’m sorry. You’re right, it’s all so fresh.”

  This hadn’t happened to Frank before. Women didn’t get open and honest with him in the first fifteen minutes of meeting and in a public place. Apparently, this widow had a fresh wound. Was she ready for new love?

  “Please, don’t apologize. Thoughts in Frank’s mind knocked together like bowling pins. He made one decision and then another one after her answer. I can see you are upset. I am actually running terribly late for a meeting right now. May I give you my card? Maybe we can get together later and have coffee. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone to feel better.”

  “Of course, we have a lot in common.”

  Frank printed some cards two weeks ago, finding them a very useful tool in proving his new identity. He reached into his pants pocket and pretended to accidentally drop his things again. After picking them up, he pulled out the entire stack of business cards, grabbed one, and gave it to Margo.

  “Thank you,” she said, holding the card between two of her fingers.

  “Please, call me. Or send me a message! I owe you dinner for your help. Promise?”

  The woman nodded.

  “May I have your number, too, just in case,” Frank pleaded.

  “Yes, you can.”

  Margo looked at the card, tapped the number in her phone, and the phone in Frank’s pants pocket vibr
ated.

  “There,” he said and remembered the incident when he was sitting on the toilet in Starbucks and a beautiful girl walked in. This memory always, without fail, made him blush. “Thank you. Now I have your number,” he said, feeling the heat in his cheeks. His body reacted as it should.

  “Good. Go! I don’t want you to be late for your meeting, Michael.”

  “Of course. Thank you Margaret. Margo.”

  Frank once again remembered that situation in Starbucks. His bare ass. He remembered his feelings, blushing even more.

  It had the desired effect, Margo smiled. She was probably fed up with obnoxious businessmen surrounding her, incapable of any feelings except for the love of money.

  “Fuck! I’m a fucking genius!” Frank mumbled to himself as he went down the escalator to the first floor. He threw everything that was in his hands on the first table he came to, all the clothes except for the scarf. He stuffed the scarf under a pile of shirts so it wouldn’t be found immediately and carried upstairs. Leaving the store, he took out his phone and stopped for a minute to make a new contact in the address book.

  “Margaret,” he announced. “Margo. I’ll rob you blind, baby, I’ll rob you blind.”

  CHAPTER 6

  While Frank hadn’t decided where and how to live in Florida (he hoped to live with his new wife), he spent most of his time on his yacht. Many people in Florida did so, but for him it was a perfect option. If something went wrong, he had no attachments. He could jump on the boat and be in the Bahamas in two hours. Look for him, good luck. There were two bedrooms on his yacht: he kept his clothes in one and slept in the other. He liked to sit on the deck at night, planning his future. He sorted out the women he met, chose the best options, and calculated a line of behavior.

  Today he was thinking about Margaret. She was a remarkable woman and she was interested in him. She seemed intelligent and educated and only a blind man wouldn’t notice her beauty. Something had to be wrong with her. Perhaps she didn’t have money. Or maybe she was a man?

  Frank chuckled.

  “Don’t run ahead of the train,” he told himself.

  He needed to learn more about her.

  He returned to the yacht right after the store to take a shower and think through the steps for at least one day. He always acted this way: one step at a time, no haste. Haste led to mistakes and he had already seen that more than once. Of course, he was going to meet her again as soon as possible. She could meet another clumsy dude in a store, so he needed to root in her garden and get rid of all potential weeds. She had enough money to buy expensive clothes and pay a salary to her assistant. People in need of assistance usually were busy, which meant that she worked. Judging by her questions, her behavior, and her phone number, she wasn’t married.

  Frank went to the galley and took out a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. This became one of his favorite things to do lately, to have a cold drink after being on the deck under the sun for a long time.

  The fact that Margaret was beautiful and young, threw Frank off a little. He didn’t deny the fact that he was irresistible, that he was quite a catch, but he wasn’t particularly lucky with beauties as far as it went.

  Frank entered the bathroom with a bottle of beer and turned sideways to the mirror.

  He didn’t have a six-pack, that was for sure, but it was because he was stressed and overate. He ate constantly and didn’t do any sports activities besides sex. If that was a sport he was in good shape.

  Frank chuckled.

  Other than that, he walked along the ocean shoreline sometimes if he needed to think or just wanted to gawk around. Perhaps this attracted her? His visual ordinariness? He looked like a normal, average man who didn’t spend a lot of time in front of the mirror, not more than a woman anyway, but he was well-groomed and dressed with taste at the same time.

  “Yes, that’s it,” Frank said and left the bathroom completely satisfied.

  He finished his beer before dialing her number, did a couple of breathing exercises to get into his new role.

  “Margaret?”

  “Please, call me Margo. Margaret is too formal and I use my full name only for work. We’re not going to do business together, right?”

  “Probably not,” Frank chuckled. She was confident and smart. She could be potentially difficult. He was used to dealing with insecure women. It didn’t matter if a woman was rich or not, insecurities overpowered everyone and he played on them like on a musical instrument. This one had to have at least one thing she was anxious about, he just had to find it. He hoped she wasn’t like Rosen, but it didn’t matter. He had become much better since then.

  “Did your client appreciate the scarf?” Margo asked.

  It took Frank a few seconds to remember what she was talking about, although he included this detail in his outline of the conversation. Don’t forget to thank her for the scarf.

  “Oh yeah! I’m calling to say how much you helped me out! She really liked it and we signed a deal!”

  “I always work as a lucky charm, remember that. Congratulations!”

  “Thank you. You really helped me a lot.”

  “Did you just call to say that?”

  “No, of course not.” Frank took a deliberate pause, giving the girl an opportunity to think and then spoke, hiccupping a couple of times during his speech. “I understand that you are a busy woman, but I would like to ask if there is a window in your busy schedule to meet me.”

  “How formal.”

  “Probably. I’m usually not like that, but, I don’t know. It’s just that…”

  “All right, I understand. I’m a little busy right now, but let me call you back later and tell you exactly.”

  “Oh sure!”

  They finished the conversation and Frank went to get another bottle of beer.

  What if he overplayed? What if she had already met someone else? What if, what if?

  He didn’t enjoy the state he was in right now. It was an unusual condition for him, so when a message came on his phone an hour later, he nearly broke it, hurrying to see who it was.

  The message was affirmative and Frank shrugged his shoulders, finishing his beer.

  “I knew it,” he said. “She couldn’t resist my charm.”

  There was no humor in his words. He didn’t make fun of himself.

  He had chosen an expensive restaurant for their date, so she wouldn’t think he was a cheapskate. He sent her the name of the restaurant, asking if that was all right with her and she agreed, stroking Frank’s self-assurance again.

  The restaurant in Boca Raton was expensive and snobbish, with white tablecloths and a grand piano. However, he was sure that she wouldn’t have agreed to anything less. He arrived first and the hostess seated him at a table by the wall. When Margo appeared, Frank felt a little dizzy. She burst into the room like a fury, dressed in a tight dress with her hair in loose bright curls. Everyone, men and women included, turned their heads to her. Frank doubted himself for a second, even doubted if it happened to him, but calmed down quickly, remembering his goal. He couldn’t lose his cool.

  “I've been thinking about you all this time,” he blurted out as soon as she sat down. His face turned red even without remembering the scene in the restroom.

  Margo sat down, straightened her dress, and ran her finger along the low neckline. Everything was perfect there.

  “Me too,” she said, looking into Frank’s eyes. She saw something in his face, something she certainly liked, and he wiped his face with a napkin, in case he was sweating. He opened the menu, but didn’t look at it.

  “Thank you for meeting me, Margo. How did you ... How was your day?” Frank stuttered and fiddled with the open menu.

  “It was great! I got so much done. It was a productive day.”

  “I’m flattered that you found time for me in your busy schedule.” Frank began to blush again.

  “Stop it.” Margo waved her hand and smiled haughtily. “I’ll always find time for a
n interesting person.”

  “Such a beautiful woman on ...”

  The waiter came up to the table and interrupted Frank’s next stammering compliment.

  “Would you like something to drink before your order?” he asked.

  Frank looked at Margo. It was a test for her. In these first minutes he determined where a woman stood in her material habits: was she modest or extravagant, and what did she expect?

  She glanced at the wine list and Frank did the same. Margo didn’t hesitate with her order and asked the waiter to bring the most expensive wine on the list. He would have to fork it out today. In the modesty department, this woman demonstrated the absence of the latter. He didn’t blink an eye and ordered the same thing.

  “We have the same taste in wine,” she said.

  After a couple of sips of an expensive, but perfectly ordinary drink, Frank pretended that he was drunk and this wine liberated him. He smiled and didn’t blush anymore.

  “This is how it happens. You don’t expect to meet anyone, but life has different plans,” he said without stammering. “I went to the store to buy something and a few hours later, I’m in a restaurant with a beautiful woman.”

  “That’s how it goes,” Margo said.