The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  He accepted that, but after they lived as a married couple for some time, things escalated in a direction he hadn’t expected. The thing that got him the most was Margo’s sudden break on something he liked the most. Sex. It exasperated him so much that he nearly strangled her, but stopped in time. He still saw a bigger prize ahead of him and strangulation of his young wife could bring unpredictable results. He restrained himself. It was difficult, but he did.

  The next day he went to Tampa and fucked a forty-year-old Chinese woman, whom he met two weeks before. He did her so hard that she couldn’t get out of bed. He returned home before he promised Margo. He opened the garage and saw a strange car. He’d actually seen it a couple of times, but couldn’t remember who it belonged to. To the pool boy?

  Frank entered the house through the garage, leaving his car on the street and quietly, barely breathing, walked to the bedroom. The door was open there.

  “Yes, I’ve heard such stories,” his wife Margo said to someone.

  “I want you right now,” a young voice answered. A young, male voice. Frank could swear that he had heard it before. “But I have to go. Fuckers. Why would they need me now? Think about life insurance and I’ll think about my grandmother.”

  “I thought we’d spend more time together. My hubby arrives tomorrow morning.”

  “I’d love to.”

  “What are you doing tonight?”

  “I promised to take Daisy out.”

  “Well, of course, your little Daisy.”

  “I have to go.”

  There were sounds that were difficult to confuse with anything else, except kissing. Frank rushed to the door. He didn’t touch anything and didn’t drop anything, as often happened in scenes like this in movies. He flew out of the house and drove down the road clutching the steering wheel a couple of minutes later. He squeezed the wheel so hard, his fingers were numb, and the veins on his hands swelled up.

  “Bitch! Stupid, ugly bitch!”

  Frank clasped the steering wheel and pounded on it with all his might. He didn’t remember the last time he had been as angry as he was now. He knew it probably happened, but he couldn’t remember when. He started to worry that he might get into an accident. He didn’t know where to go or what to do, so he went to the boat without looking at the site of the burned house.

  “Bitch!”

  Frank couldn’t figure out what really pissed him off. He already suspected that she was cheating on him with the pool boy, didn’t he? But she continued it after they had gotten married, refusing to have sex with him. Was it because it was her assistant’s boyfriend? That’s who he was, wasn’t he? Frank knew he didn’t care about her. He cared only about her money and married her for that reason. Why was he so pissed off then? Money would go to him, not to that jerk. She didn’t even ask to sign the prenup. She could fuck whoever she wanted, right?

  “Why did she marry me?”

  Frank realized that he was infuriated by the fact that she could be insincere in her feelings toward him. She probably didn’t even love him! That was the reason why it was useless humiliating her in her own eyes. She just didn’t respect him enough to care. That was the whole point.

  “No, it can’t be.”

  Frank wandered around the boat, went out to the deck, and went downstairs until he finally realized that he needed a drink. He calmed down after a glass of whiskey and sat on one of the sofas. His head was cool and thoughts stopped running in mad circles, so he could look at the situation without spitting fire.

  His wife had a reason for marrying him and not the one he had projected. He thought he married her by his calculation, but it turned out there was some calculation on her side too. He became too self-assured, didn’t he? He became obnoxious.

  “We’ll see,” Frank said. “We’ll see.”

  He slept all night without waking up once and when he returned home in the morning to Margo, he was already calm and kissed his wife passionately when he saw her. Now they played on an equal footing.

  CHAPTER 12

  Margo left the house a couple of hours after Frank returned, to take care of her business, she said. And Frank, without losing a minute, began rummaging through all the shelves and cabinets in the bedroom. He went on a search spree before they got married, of course, he wasn’t foolish enough to not do that, but all he could find were utility bills, some jewelry and an old safe box that he couldn’t open without a code. Getting that would require performing brain surgery on her. He tried to open her computer, but there was a password and his guesses led him nowhere. So, he had to accept what he already knew about her and proceed with that.

  Now he looked inside all of her shelves and cabinets again, but found nothing except the same old bill and jewelry. Then Frank remembered that Margo put some letters that had come in the mail on one of the shelves in the kitchen. He opened three before finding the right one. There were bills, offers for new credit cards, invitations to store openings and other nonsense like that, but Frank extracted what he was looking for—bank statements. He unfolded the last three and put them next to each other. It was enough for him to glance at them once to understand what was happening. There were no reports of deposits, only transfers from another bank account. Money from this account was only withdrawn. Frank didn’t find any statements from other banks, but judging by the movement on this account, Margo used it all the time. If she had any income from her business, it didn’t come to this account.

  Frank walked through all the shelves once again just to make sure, but didn’t find anything to indicate that she worked at all. There had to be at least something. She said she was selling cosmetics. Where did she keep all the stuff? Why didn’t she have any documents related to her business? Perhaps they were in a more secure place or ...

  “Or she worked just like me,” Frank muttered. “Or maybe she didn’t work at all and lied to me.”

  Frank sat down on the couch in the living room, looking at the expensive furniture, blinds, lamps, sculptures.

  All of this could have belonged to her first husband. What happened to her first husband? How, exactly, did he die? Why didn’t he ask these questions before? What was wrong with him? Maybe he suspected it all along and didn’t want to investigate any further because he didn’t want to have a reason to quit. He wanted to proceed with her.

  Suddenly, Frank thought about it and remembered several scenes and conversations and shivers ran down his spine.

  Who was she? His wife? Who?

  “Who did I marry?”

  Frank didn’t know the answer to this question, but he knew that if this woman appeared now in front of him, he would kill her. Maybe he wanted to keep going with her subconsciously, but now the situation had become more or less clear and he didn’t want to look stupid. He needed to calm down and collect his thoughts, but for that he had to stay away from her. That was what Frank did. He couldn’t even talk to her on the phone; instead he sent her a message that he was leaving for urgent business. Margo didn’t reply straightaway.

  “Probably very busy with her work,” Frank said sarcastically.

  When the message came, Frank found out that his wife was going to miss him.

  “Bitch,” he spat out, turning the steering wheel furiously. He headed to the boat, but called one of the old prunes on the way. He met her in the store a couple of weeks ago and she invited him to dinner. Frank immediately agreed. This old lady lived in Palm Beach and rarely left her home, except for shopping. Her children lived in New York and she hadn’t heard from them in more than a year.

  Frank returned home three days later and found Margo deep in thought. He didn’t try to find a reason for her thoughts, but he understood what was happening in his beautiful wife’s head when they went to a restaurant. Fortunately for Margo, by that time he had already calmed down, made conclusions, reformulated his plans, and believed that he could withstand her presence without killing her. The bitch was beautiful and he loved fucking her more than the others. When she let him
do it, of course.

  “You didn’t say much about your trip,” Margo said when the waiter brought their meals.

  “There’s really not much to tell,” Frank said without looking at her. He didn’t want to eat, but that would look strange, so he picked up the fork. “We had a meeting, but unfortunately they didn’t go with my offer. You know how it goes. Idiots.”

  “So what?” she asked.

  Frank swallowed. He had a couple of answers to her question, but he picked up some spaghetti instead.

  “Well, I’ll just keep working as usual,” he said. “What else can I do? Black stripe, white stripe. It’s always been this way. It’s going to continue like this forever.”

  “Very philosophical,” Margo said. “I’m sure there’s some news about the insurance.”

  You want my insurance, bitch, Frank thought with anger.

  “What insurance?” he answered.

  “What do you mean?” For the house of course!”

  “Oh, it’s still in process. It’s crazy how long it takes. They think ... it doesn’t matter. I don’t want to make you worry.”

  Margo lifted her fork over the food and now she put it down.

  “What does that even mean? Say it if you start it.”

  Frank hesitated, examined and chewed a piece of meat, noting that it was tasty despite the fact he didn’t concentrate on the food, and sighed.

  “I will continue with the process, don’t worry about that. They haven’t proved anything yet.”

  “Tell me right now.”

  His wife wanted his money. Only money. She wanted money that he supposedly should get from the insurance company for his cooked house that was never his. Frank thought his plan was perfect. It was time to change it.

  “You are very insistent,” he said.

  “Of course I’m very insistent. I ... I don’t want any secrets between us,” she said.

  Frank nodded. Of course, that was exactly what she wanted. Of course, there couldn’t be any secrets between them.

  “They think it was arson,” he said.

  “What? You didn’t forget to turn off the stove or something like that?”

  “No, they think it was intentional. Someone started the fire from the outside.”

  “That is new. Who could do that? Why?”

  Frank cut another piece of steak, but couldn’t eat it. A breeze from the outside pleasantly touched his neck, which began to sweat for some unknown reason, just like his forehead. He took a napkin and wiped his face. “I think it’s my ex.”

  Margo’s brows drew together.

  “I don’t get it,” she said. “I had the impression you didn’t date anyone after your wife’s death.”

  Frank sighed and told his wife a story about a crazy lover who couldn’t let him go. Of course, she couldn’t. He was a catch, for Christ sake!

  “Now what?” Margo asked. Nothing interested her besides money. This thought didn’t even make her suspect that the whole story was a fake. Where did such confidence come from? “Your insurance is in question?”

  “I’m not going to stop until they actually prove that it was what they said it was. I don’t think she’s that insane.”

  “Do you still hear from her? Does she know where you live now?”

  “No and I don’t think so. No. She’s so ... I don’t think so.”

  Margo took a sip of wine, staring at Frank. He didn’t like her look and picked up the fork again, just to avoid eye contact with her.

  “I have a problem with my work,” she said suddenly. “I was hoping that you would help me out in this situation.”

  Frank put a piece of steak in his mouth and continued to speak with his mouth full, restraining himself from telling her everything he thought about her and about her work. “I’m sorry to hear that. What happened?

  “Sales went down. I hope it’s temporary.”

  “Of course, temporary, don’t worry,” Frank said. He was in doubt again. Maybe she just had problems with her work, but she did work? He wanted, he really, really wanted to believe that she was just stressed and didn’t tell him about it. “I will definitely help you. I’m not a millionaire, but I have savings.”

  Margo smiled. Something was in that smile. Was she grateful to him?

  “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you!”

  Frank turned to the singing. Three waiters gathered around the table of some lonely old man. One of them put a piece of cake with a single candle on the table in front of him.

  “Happy birthday, dear Ma-son! Happy birthday to you!”

  They clapped their hands, not looking at the birthday boy, and two immediately left, continuing to clap, while the third one bent to the old man and told him something. To Frank’s surprise, when the waiters left, the old man suddenly looked at their table, and then got up and moved in their direction.

  “Happy birthday,” Margo said when the old man stopped by their table. She looked dumbfounded or irritated.

  “Thank you,” he nodded. “Do you mind? For a minute?”

  “Of course not!” Frank exclaimed. The old man interrupted their sincere conversation and that was good. On the other hand, why did they need a stranger at their table? What if Margo did have her business and really had problems that she was trying to solve? He wasn’t a person affected by wishful thinking, but now he wanted to believe in something he wanted to believe.

  “You are such a beautiful couple,” the old man said. “I see how you look at each other. It’s true love.”

  He obviously wasn’t going to leave, he even ordered a bottle of expensive wine, and then began to whine about his wife and loneliness.

  Frank heard bits and pieces of the conversation, even gave correct answers, but he barely heard anything and the meaning of what was said was instantly gone. Margo looked friendly, obviously didn’t want to offend the old man. Perhaps not everything was lost with her.

  At one point, the old man mentioned Phoebe and Frank was startled. It was a mistake he made and successfully bypassed. It turned out that Phoebe was the name of the old man’s deceased wife. It was a popular name, Frank had to admit.

  He was glad that he hadn’t gone too far in his thoughts and hadn’t missed the name exchange. He intended to behave like an idiot and succeeded at it. First, he held out his hand, which showed traces of fat slipping from the steak. He immediately wiped his hand and the old man shook it without frowning. He had never left. He probably went a little cuckoo from old age and loneliness.

  Then, for some strange reason, the old man went completely kaboom and invited them to visit him in his house. Margo lost it too and agreed. Frank couldn’t understand it. His wife was all about money, but what if she was also compassionate for old people?

  “It’s kinda weird,” he said, getting into the car. “Okay, he sat at our table, but why should we go to his house?”

  “Because we have to treat the elderly, lonely people with kindness.”

  Frank nearly called her crazy. The only thing he wanted from the elderly, single people, women in his case, was their money.

  “Is that all you have in mind?” he asked.

  “What else do you think I have in mind?” Margo exclaimed.

  Frank shook his head.

  “Enough about him. Tell me about your crazy girlfriend!” Margo asked and Frank almost growled. He had to tell her a pre-made fairy tale and all he wanted to do now was get some sleep. He hoped though that this story would calm his wife down and she would stop asking him about the insurance. It was a wrong assumption.

  “Sorry, I have a question.” Margo coughed. “If they prove arson, what happens to the insurance?”

  Frank unfastened his seatbelt mentally, opened the door, and gave his wife a kick under her ass, sending her flying out of the car.

  “Don’t worry about that.” he said. “We have a place to live and I’ll always make enough for our needs.”

  “For our needs?”

  “I have three huge deals coming,�
� Frank said. “Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Let’s just not talk about it or I’ll think you married me because of money” Frank chuckled and followed Margo’s reaction.

  “I love you, dear. I married you because I love you,” she said. She told the truth or she was a good actress. He wanted it to be the truth.

  When they arrived home and went to bed, Frank started to feel his wife, hoping that she would sufficiently fulfill her marital duty. These last few days were long and full of stress, he needed to relax and wine wasn’t enough.

  “I have a headache,” Margo said.

  Frank’s hand froze, squeezing her firm breasts, but his wife’s tone didn’t show any promise. He wanted to strangle her, but controlled himself. He slowly took his hand away and went to the kitchen to drink cold water, away from the temptation of fulfilling his murderous desire. He could also take a cold shower, but he hoped that drinking water would be enough.

  CHAPTER 13

  Frank barely slept and his energy in the morning was just enough to make coffee. He couldn’t even wish good morning to his wife, who had left him without sex once again. He made coffee and drank it next to the coffeemaker, looking at the bitch and silently hating her.

  “Didn’t sleep well?” Margo asked. She looked cheerful, rested, and in a good mood, unlike him. She was sitting at the table, eating oatmeal. She didn’t even offer him breakfast. Tiffany always did. Did he miss Tiffany? Frank wanted to strangle Margo, he knew that. He even saw in his mind’s eye how he approached her, clasped her thin, long neck, and squeezed it with all his might. She waved her hands, tried to moo something, but she could only wheeze with her eyes popping out, oatmeal came out of her mouth, spoiling the beauty ...

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I slept, but not a lot,” Frank said, removing a pleasant image from of his head. “I just had a lot on my mind.”

  “What exactly?” Margo scraped the remnants of oatmeal, drumming with the spoon on the bottom of the ceramic bowl.