The dishes displayed an appetizing heap of slivered meat and an arranged tower of cubed cheeses. Eva's plate was filled with more food than I could consume in a day.
"Yes, I think we do," said Eva, dismissing the two servants. Then to me she said, "Have a drink. Guert makes the very best."
Guert does make the best drinks.
If the drink in front of me tasted anything like the one from last night, well, I'd be throwing back refills as quickly as she could pour them. I took a sip . . . and it was the same drink, only better. It tingled and slid down my throat in one smooth swallow.
"You look famished," Eva said.
I couldn't remember the last time I had eaten. "I am hungry, actually." I forked a piece of the thin roast--medium rare, lightly seasoned--and chewed slowly, savouring the tender flavour. I lifted my wine glass by the stem, spilling some of it on the cream tablecloth. I slurped like a barbarian, swishing the warm liquid around my mouth, and took another bite.
"This is fantastic," I said. A meat sliver shot out from between my open lips onto my plate whilst working over a chunk of gristle. That's when I saw the tooth. A tooth was pressed in the middle of my slice of meat.
It was cooked inside.
My bowels suddenly loosened, as if they had just turned to jelly and would come seeping out of my anus at any moment.
Oh, Jeffy boy.
"I have to excuse myself," I said as I shot up from the table. "Where's the bathroom?"
Eva pointed at the swinging doors. "Through there," she said. "The bathroom door is on your left. Don't go down the steps, or you'll end up in the kitchen."
24
"That was a human tooth," I said to myself in the bathroom.
In your food. Think about that.
But I could not, would not think about that.
I splashed cold water on my face. My stomach complained; a cyclone agitated inside. The mirror leaning upright against the counter reflected blood-shot blue eyes, mussed hair, skin a sickly hue. The stomach upset had come on as quickly as the hunger--without warning.
A tooth had found its way into my meal.
Didn't the cook, Guert, properly clean the meat? Tatwaba had left in bones, and once she left in one of her own hairs, and . . . It was a human tooth.
Maybe it was mine. I opened my mouth wide, sticking my fingers inside, counting my teeth, wiggling a loose one--damn TMJ.
"You're a mess, Jeffy boy." And I had just made a pig out of myself in front of Eva, wolfing down that food like I hadn't eaten in days. Maybe one of the spices didn't agree with me. Onions never did this body any good, and I'd been trying to cut down on dairy.
Could've been the meat.
My stomach rumbled angrily. "What exactly did I eat? Beef, pork, lamb?" Whatever it was, it had my mouth salivating for more whilst my stomach replied with a churn. The mirror wavered like rippling water, dizzying me. I leaned into the door and opened it, falling onto a small landing.
I listened for one of those women to come running.
There was a staircase just around the corner. "Don't go down the steps," Eva had warned, "or you'll end up in the kitchen." Clanging came from below; something was being dragged across the floor. A heavy door banged. Footsteps clomped up the stairs. The angled wall in front of me blocked the view. I climbed to my feet, panting, and backed through the double doors into the dining room, the doors swinging. They finally rested together on their hinges with a soft click.
Closed for the night. Keep out.
A thick strand of Eva's hair hung across her wide lips stretched to her ears. Her plate was empty. "Siyasebenzela," she mumbled and then a shadow spread across her shoulders.
I blinked and opened my eyes to a composed, beautiful Eva. The scene before me was normal, perfectly normal. I looked down at my meat, and saw that the tooth was gone. I wanted the food; I was hungry.
You're tired. Go home, rest. Everything will be fine.
I was never as confused in my life as I was at that moment.
I gripped the chair's back, leaning against it for support. "Do you have the time? I don't see a clock and my watch stopped."
"Do you need to be somewhere?" Eva asked.
I wanted to go home, but didn't want to insult her. She lived with only her father and a modest staff upon a quiet mountain. Of course she longed for companionship. Friendship. Love. I thought carefully about my response. "Last night you were surrounded by people."
"All subservient," she said in a quick, sharp growl. Yet, there she sat, beautiful and poised. What the hell was the matter with me?
Swallowing down an acidic burp, I said, "Caroline; she's not well and I think I may be coming down with whatever she has. Dinner . . ." I looked down at my full plate. Yuck. "I can't eat."
"Have another drink," Eva said, reaching for my glass. "It will help."
"No, thank you. My apologies to Mena and Guert. Thank you for the tour."
"You'll have to come over again," Eva said, standing.
My words had not lacked sincerity, but I wasn't sure I wanted to come back.
Eva drifted up to me, lowering her dress's neck. "Your father's things are still here. You can come over and use that room any time you want." She tilted her head and lowered her eyelids. Pulling her neckline down further, she caressed her collarbone with her middle finger. "I'm your client now. You should realize that I'll keep you very busy."
"Yes." I cleared my throat.
"Do you understand what I'm offering you?" she asked.
"I think so," I said. "You're offering exclusivity."
"I'm offering what you desire most. Everything. Anything. It may mean that you have to give up certain things."
"Of course," I said.
Caroline.
I'd have less time to spend with Caroline.
Freedom.
I'd have to make myself more available to Eva, so I'd have less freedom.
Soul.
My soul? Hmm. Would she really be that demanding?
You want what she has to offer. You can have it ALL back, Jeffrey, and more.
The voice sounded rational and insistent. "Well, as your legal counsel I suppose I'll have to come back soon."
Releasing her hold on her neckline, the elastic snapped back into place high on her throat. "Excellent. You'll come tomorrow. That is, if you're feeling all right."
"Feeling better already," I said. And I was. The pain I'd felt had left me, replaced with a sense of pride. "Caroline is a fan of your work. She'd love to come, but she wasn't feeling well. Oh--I forgot to bring in her book. She wanted you to sign it."
Eva folded her hands. "You have my book?"
"It's in the car. I can go get it," I said, all too eager to run out and lug in that volume.
"You said Caroline was ill. If she's been handling it . . . I have to be careful."
"Of course," I said, partially relieved, somewhat dejected. Not that it was my book. "Of course. So sorry. Business tomorrow night? Very good."
"Goodnight," I said.
"Totsiens," she said.
I sat in my car and noticed the sky. It was overcast and the clouds were moving fast, but there was no wind. Beyond her home the sky looked bright and clear. Perfect conditions, I thought, for a terrible storm.
25--GUERT AND MENA
The anticipation of the oncoming storm and what it brought on its wind tails sent Eva's household to their rooms.
Guert and Mena flittered nervously like two wild blackbirds behind a glass window, desperate to escape their transparent trap.
Death traveled in that weather.
26--JEFFREY
I pulled into Caroline's driveway before the rain hit. Her house was empty, and I was surprised and relieved that they weren't back from the hospital. At least I didn't have to hide the guilt on my face. I considered going home, but Caroline had given me a key for a reason--she trusted me.
Or, she wanted you at her beck and call.
She trusted me, and would be disappointed to
arrive home and not find me there.
Waiting for her.
Anxious to be assured that she was okay.
Then why not go to the hospital?
She wouldn't want me to see her like that. Besides, her mother was with her.
I washed a couple aspirin down with a full pitcher of water. I fell asleep on the couch, reading.
When I woke, the grass outside looked like it had been combed in one direction with leaves and branches scattered through the street. The roof had a few shingles missing.
She travels in that weather. She was there. For you.
Lindsey brought Caroline home from the hospital early that next morning. She slammed doors and banged around in the kitchen, presumably at work over breakfast. I heard her loud instructions for Tatwaba, "Tatwaba, would you take care of the bedrooms first?" she asked. "They need airing. The rooms are a bit musty."
"That was one bloody storm last night," I said, entering the kitchen. "Got any shingles missing off your roof?"
"What storm?" she asked.
She was there, in the storm. For you.
I wasn't crazy. I might not have heard the storm, but it happened. I saw evidence of it outside. So out I went and looked again at the grass's comb-over, the downed branches. I collected a shingle from the yard and brought it in. "Look," I said, offering it as evidence. "Didn't you notice the windblown mess outside?"
"It must have been a quiet storm," Lindsey said. "Because I was up all night with Caroline."
Her insinuation--where were you whilst I was up all night?--irritated me. I did not want to fight. I flopped the shingle into the rubbish can. "Have you heard from Edward?" I asked, peeking out the door at Caroline. She was slumped in a wicker chair, bathrobe cinched tight around her waist.
Lindsey shook her head and put her finger to her lips, motioning for me to keep quiet. Damn, Caroline was still unaware that her father had never come back from Eva's. Lindsey walked out on the patio and sat next to Caroline. All right, so this is how Lindsey is going to play. Trying to make me feel guilty, of course.
After I moved to South Africa, Caroline and I began dating. Edward had been out of office for ten years. Her mother and father argued regularly, right in front of me, over money. The gold mines they owned had begun to dry up and the prices investors were willing to pay had fallen. Her mother wanted to sell the mines, divesting in metals before prices plummeted, allowing her to keep the remaining strong hold she had in Hout Bay's community. Edward disagreed, foreseeing advances in technology and machinery that would allow them to dig deeper, to hit billions of Rand worth of deposits. To the best of my knowledge, they never sold.
Lindsey gathered Caroline's loose ringlets into a ponytail. She offered Caroline some coffee steaming in a thin porcelain teacup. The china was a family heirloom.
I could've moved back to London after Father ran off, but that wouldn't have solved my money problems. I loved Cape Town and the suburb where we lived. South Africa was beautiful despite its civil wars, sanctions, and droughts. Hout Bay, a moneyed, leisurely town just outside the highly exclusive Llandudno, made forgetting the country's sordid history quite an easy thing to do. My best bet was in South Africa, with Caroline.
With Eva.
Lindsey also offered me a cup, but I declined, and told her I had to go. "I've got a client I need to see."
27
I left in the afternoon, but returned every morning for the next few days to sit on the patio at Caroline's side for breakfast. Tatwaba kept busy cleaning Caroline's bedroom, scrubbing and disinfecting. The fresh scent never lasted, and Lindsey, annoyed that Tatwaba couldn't find what was rotting in the air duct or bathroom sink or wherever that smell came from, began to suspect that the smell came from Eva's house. I had asked her to explain what she meant by that, but all I received in answer was a dirty look. Like this was my fault. Maybe Tatwaba was planting dead animal parts as Talismans. Wouldn't surprise me if after cleaning Tatwaba left some festering chicken leg--all feathered and "blessed"--under the bed.
Caroline's strange illness led to numerous trips to the hospital. Blood tests and CAT scans, MRIs and EEGs, medications and evaluations. I drove along a couple of times, but my increasing workload usually kept me at the office, even late into the night. I was glad for the distraction. I would be gladder after I received my first paycheck from Eva.
I had worked at Eva's only a few times. Her house was quiet and I found little elegance on display. The furniture, all solid and heavy, was impersonal. Eva hid her wealth quite well, and I liked that about her. It was rare to meet a person who had so much that she didn't care what anyone thought. On those nights at Eva's, Guert had led me upstairs to a room where I sat comfortably at a desk under a draped window. This had been where father had sat and worked.
Two paper piles waited for me on the desk's edge. One pile was from a South African bank, the other from an American bank. Reconciling the bank statements required concentration, but it was boring, tedious work.
My first night there, I leaned up out of the armchair and pulled aside the heavy red damask that covered the window. To my surprise the window faced the sea. My view spanned an immensity of sky and water. I cranked the window handle to try and open it, but it wouldn't budge, so I climbed back into the chair and stared. Damn, that view went on and on.
Sinking back into the chair, eyes facing the window, another thought entered my mind; when Eva had pointed at this same window, telling me that it had been my father's, I had stood with her in the yard. This window should overlook trees and flowers and bushes. I leaned closer to the glass, climbing on top of the desk. Sky and water.
I intended to work at Eva's as rarely as possible, and the house call had been unnecessary, in my mind. I could easily have done the paperwork at the office, or even at my own home. But, Eva had asked, and she was my paying client; I wanted the money and the referrals.
A floorboard creaked above my head. The attic. Though curious, I didn't dare wander the house. Picking up a pen and lifting a paper from each pile, my main desire was to finish the task. It was getting late and I was tired. I had to get up early to have breakfast with Caroline. I didn't really want to, and found myself pushing aside the thought as one suppresses a bad memory.
I dropped the pen and put my head in my hand--I didn't want to think of Caroline as a bad memory. I had loved her. Hadn't I? Did I? I tried thinking back to what I felt when I first met her.
My stomach dipped when I saw Caroline for the first time.
Like it did when you first met Eva.
With Caroline, the feeling had been a happy anticipation of what life had in store for us.
Like when you first met Eva.
"But not the same," I said aloud. Caroline van Hollinsworth was quite younger when we met--sixteen. I had met her almost three years ago at a Ritz Carlton lobby in London, having stayed overnight for a law convention. I was checking out at the front desk, the young attendant swiping my credit card through the machine. Doormen and bellhops lingered with hands folded across their hips, smiling, ready to assist. A striking, copper skinned girl poked around in her shoulder bag. Dark hair curled in ringlets around her face. She wasn't dressed for London's weather and the rain had just begun to fall outside.
I turned back to the desk attendant, "What do you mean you can't accept this card? I just used it last night."
"My apologies, Mr. Thurmont."
"Try it again."
An older lady bumped into the girl I'd been checking out, knocking her bag upside down. The older lady walked away, oblivious to the commotion she had caused.
"Let me help you, miss," said a portly doorman.
She crouched on the tiled floor, sandaled heels tucked under her pink eyelet dress, picking up the contents of her bag. Disgruntled guests, forced to open the entrance door by themselves, huffed as they passed.
"Are you all right?" I asked her.
She looked up at me. Her hazel eyes twinkled from the gold that rimmed her irises
and I said, "If not, I know a good lawyer."
Our meeting had been accidental and innocent. My attraction to Caroline had been natural; wholesome. With Eva, our meeting felt contrived and I had been drawn to her out of desire and curiosity. I never envisioned myself ripping Caroline's clothes off in a fury; I dreamt about making love to her. I wasn't thinking about what she could do to make my life better and whether she brought her weight--or more--to the union. I had thought about how we could bring fulfillment into each other's lives.
I reshuffled the papers on the desk, forcing myself to concentrate. "Damn it," I said, standing. Lindsey had asked me to pick up Caroline's medication, and the chemist would be closed . . . when? "What time is it?" I asked, looking at my watch. Not working, again. I headed out Eva's door without a goodbye.
28
I pulled onto Victoria Road and drove towards Caroline's. Windows down, the fresh sea-salt air helped clear my mind as I drove, tires hugging each curve.
You want to hug those curves, the ones Eva's flimsy dress revealed, each curve tighter than the next.
"Stop," I told myself. Shit. I was thinking like my father; he'd slip between the sheets with any beautiful woman.
I arrived at Caroline's, and dropped my briefcase on the floor by the kitchen table. Caroline was wrapped in a bathrobe and leaning over the sink. "Hello," I said. She was busy scrubbing with a scouring pad, her hair flopping in her face as her forearm moved in mad circles. "Caroline?"
I held a brown sack that Lindsey asked me to pick up from the chemist and placed it on the counter beside Caroline. "The chemist said no more than four pills a day." She leaned deeper into the sink, her elbow banging against the stainless steel. I placed a hand on her shoulder. "Where's your mother?"
"Eish." Caroline dropped the green pad in the sink. The pad was worn thin and the sink had one wide, circular scratch. Her fingers were cracked and bleeding. "I've been working this same spot over and over. I can't seem to get it clean."
"Have Tatwaba take care of it in the morning." I took her by the swollen hand and turned her towards me. "Let me put something on your cuts."
Seeking Samiel Page 8
