by J M Leitch
‘This is a bit flash isn’t it?’ Drew said as they took the private lift up to Carlos’s penthouse. ‘You must be doing all right – poncing around in a top of the range Mercedes sports coupe and living it up on top of a converted palace.’
Carlos completed his retina scan and opened the door. He fixed a couple of gin and tonics and left Drew sipping one in the living room while he took the other into the bathroom.
‘So, what’s going on?’ Drew said when Carlos walked back into the room, his hair still wet from the shower. ‘You look like shit...' he reached out to pinch Carlos’s spare tyre, ‘and since when have you put on all this beef?’
Carlos sucked in his gut. ‘Hey – give me a break! What can I do?’ he shrugged with his whole body the way only a Spaniard can. ‘I work too much, travel too much. I get no time to exercise.’
‘But more than enough time to eat?’
Drew hadn’t changed, Carlos thought. Although his sandy hair was flecked with grey, he still had his trademark schoolboy look. And smartass retorts.
‘So where do we start? It’s been… what… over four years since the last time I saw you? Just before you left the States. How’s Vienna?’
‘Different to Maryland, that’s for sure.’
‘You don’t say!’ Drew laughed.
‘But since Elena…’ Carlos looked down as he fixed himself another drink. ‘I never did tell you the whole story.’
‘Come on mate, that was all a long time ago…’
‘Three years, four months.’ Carlos felt his throat tighten. ‘It was horrible. We’d been here a year, exactly a year. And Elena was loving it – after all that drama about leaving the States. We had so many visitors: friends, my Mama and Papa, hers too. It was their first time out of America. You can imagine how excited they were to see Vienna. She joked she’d changed career to tour guide. And I loved the job. Life was perfect. Until that day.’
Drew frowned.
‘We’d gone out to a UN reception the night before and then on to a club. When I woke up the next morning Elena was just bringing the coffee into the bedroom.’
Carlos had watched his wife from under the covers, long legs sidestepping the clothes she’d left scattered over the floor, loopy curls matted from a night’s sleep falling over her shoulders. He caught a peek of her breasts as she leaned over to edge the tray onto an already overloaded table and catching him staring, she flashed him a smile. It was as if the sun had come out.
He studied her face. Taken singly, her features might have been regarded as unattractive. Her mouth was too wide; her lips too full; her big eyes too far apart; and her nose too long, but somehow it all fitted together. It was synergy, Carlos thought. Yes, synergy, where the combined effect exceeded the sum of the individual parts. Even after a late night on the town, one cheek traced with sheet creases and mascara smudged like kohl around her eyes, she couldn’t have looked lovelier.
She walked over to the windows and touched a sensor to open the blinds. Insipid sunlight slid in, highlighting the silhouette of her body through the silk of her nightdress. Carlos felt himself stirring. He wanted her to get back into bed so he could possess her, feel her flesh wrapped around him.
‘¡Querida! Come here. I’ve been waiting for you,’ he called, lifting the quilt and smiling.
‘Ooh!’ giggled Elena, raising an eyebrow, ‘you’re awake!’
Later, as they lay curled up wallowing in the serenity of after-love, Elena ran her fingers through Carlos’s chest hairs.
‘I saw you talking to Charlotte last night, but when I looked for her she’d already gone. How is she?’
‘I forgot to tell you. She and Pierre are expecting.’
‘That’s terrific! I’m real happy for them,’ Elena smiled.
‘That’s when she brought it up. About us having a baby.’
‘You know Carlos, I’ve been thinking,’ she’d lifted herself up onto one elbow and looked down into his eyes. ‘We’ve been in Vienna a year now and I’m starting to get my bearings. I know I’ll never get a job here doing what I used to, so…’ she had the look of a little girl who knew she’d got all her spellings right.
‘… so…’
‘… so… what do you think about us having a baby?’
The muscles in his jaw tensed. ‘What do I think?’
‘Sure. What do you think?’
He forced a smile. ‘No, I don’t think. Not about that. Not today, thank you.’
The expression on her face left Carlos in no doubt he’d given the wrong answer.
She dropped the hand her chin was resting on and placed it on his shoulder. She leaned over him so closely he could smell her coffee scented breath. ‘What do you mean, no? I thought you wanted kids?’
‘Sí. One day.’ Carlos nestled closer into her warmth. ‘But right now I just want to keep you all to myself,’ he said patting her backside.
‘Carlos!’ she yanked his chest hairs, making him wince. ‘You’re forty-six. I’m not working. Now’s the perfect time. A baby’d give me something to do. Why do you wanna wait? Why not now!’
‘You mean try now? Right now?’ he grinned, reaching down to stroke the inside of her thigh.
‘But talking about babies was the last thing on my mind.’
‘Carlos! Stop that!’ She’d shoved his hand away and sat up. ‘This isn’t a joke. We need to talk about it. You need to take me seriously.’ Her voice was creeping up the scale. She was getting angry. Her eyes flashed and her nostrils flared. She crossed her arms over her breasts and tossed her head, jutting out her chin. She looked like a wild mare with her crazy mane of russet hair. Good God, how she turned him on.
He knew they were entering the danger zone – the point of no return. But something in him wanted to push her over the edge, to watch her explode. He didn’t know why, but he loved to bait her, to make her mad. The energy she radiated when she was angry was electric and it aroused him.
He knew he’d pay for it later. He always did. Their rows followed a pattern and it could take days before she’d start talking to him again. It wasn’t worth it. It really wasn’t worth it. But… he just couldn’t seem to help himself.
‘Elena, I am going to take you seriously, very seriously.’ A smile curved his lips. He pushed her back into the pillows and tried to nudge open her thighs whispering, ‘seriously long, seriously slow…’
‘Then she lost it. She kneed me in the balls for Christ’s sake. You know what she was like when she got mad.’
She’d caught him between the legs as she struggled out of bed from under him. Holy Mary, Mother of God – it had hurt. ‘¡Hija de puta!’ he gasped.
She froze. ‘What did you say?’ her words hanging like icicles in the frosty silence. Carlos rolled on his back, cupping his throbbing testicles in his hands.
‘You think that was deliberate, huh?’ she said. ‘Well, it wasn’t. But this is!’
She grabbed a book from the pile by the bed, whacked him round the head with it and hurled it across the room. It hit the wall with a smack, breaking the spine and crumpling the pages.
She stared down at him, hands on hips. ‘Don’t you call my mother a whore – asshole!’
Speechless, Carlos stared up at her, rubbing the lump that was forming on the side of his head.
She nailed him with a killer look, marched to the cupboard, yanked open the doors, and flung on some clothes.
He watched her, furious. He knew he’d provoked her. Pushed her too far. But hitting him with the book – that was way out of line. He took a deep breath trying to override his anger and pacify her before it went too far. Battling to get his own emotions under control he got up off the bed and walked towards her.
‘I wanted to calm her down, but she didn’t let me.’
‘Elena,’ he’d said, using his gentlest, softest tone. When she turned to face him he saw tears streaming down her face and he was stirred to comfort her. He opened his arms wide in front of him. ‘Querida, stop crying. Don’t do this.’ He reste
d his hands on her shoulders, and tried to pull her close, to console her.
‘Let me go!’ Her voice sounded thick through the tears as she squirmed free. She rubbed her eyes dry with the heels of her hands before pulling on the rest of her clothes while Carlos stood there naked, watching.
‘You’re not going to walk out on me again, are you?’ he sighed, crossing his arms.
‘What do you care if I do?’
‘Then she started on about how miserable she was. Started shouting. I didn’t get it. All I saw was her happy; fixing up the apartment, sightseeing, having fun with our visitors.’
‘I gave up everything for you – my family, my friends,’ she’d yelled, and all you do is talk down to me and treat me like… like… like some bimbo trophy wife.’ She looked up at him, ‘but do you really care about me? How I feel? What I think? What I say?’ she took a step towards him. ‘Oh no! I don’t think so.’ Her voice grew louder as she wound herself up, tighter and tighter. ‘Your ego’s gotten so big, you don’t give a shit about anyone any more,’ she was just inches away from him. ‘It’s all about you, you, you,’ her breath hot on his face. ‘Well how about me, goddamn it?’ she screamed, ‘how about us?’
Carlos snatched his dressing gown from the chair, dragged it on and knotted the belt as if he were garrotting a cat.
‘For Christ’s sake, Elena, you drag up the same old things every time.’
She turned away to rummage in her wardrobe and started flinging stuff into a bag. Then she searched for her hat and gloves and on finding them spun around to face him again.
‘Next she started crying, saying she had nothing to do in Vienna. That’s when I lost it and it turned into a horrible fight.’
Her eyes had glistened red and swollen. Her tears left wavy tracks down her face and dripped off her nose and chin, staining dark circles on her maroon, mohair scarf.
‘You’re always working. Or away. Or out at some function. I’ve got nothing to do here. My career’s over, and I wanna have a baby. Before you get too old,’ she was pleading now. ‘Is that so very much to ask? What is it with you?’ her voice cracked. ‘Why won’t you even talk about it?’ She rocked her head in her hands sobbing. She was transformed from passionate, powerful woman to pathetic whimpering child.
Carlos couldn’t stand that little girl whining voice. Restraint forgotten, he let fly.
‘You say you got nothing to do,’ he barked. ‘Well here’s an idea. Forget the yoga; the gym; the gossip magazines; the soap operas; the shopping,’ he counted each one off on his fingers, ‘and spend some time on the apartment. Look at this place. It’s a mess!’
He strode towards Elena’s dressing table kicking at her clothes lying in his path and ran his arm across the cluttered top, clearing it in one swoop.
She didn’t try to stop him, she just watched him, her face vacant of any emotion.
Furious now, he turned on her. ‘You talk about wanting a baby. Well, you need to grow up first! You want to walk out, hey? You really want to go?’ His arms were in the air, gesticulating wildly. ‘Well that’s just fine with me señora – I won’t stop you.’
Elena kept her voice low, her tone controlled and menacing. ‘Stop me? You can’t stop me!’ She pulled herself up to her full five foot nine. ‘You know something? I used to think you were so special. A strong man, decisive, loving, passionate, but over the past year, well, I’m just starting to see you for what you really are. You’ve pushed “macho” so far to the extreme you’ve made it an art form. You’re an anal, controlling, selfish, arrogant prick and I’m not putting up with your crap any longer.’
Carlos opened his mouth to reply, but Elena just kept right on, her voice getting louder. ‘I’m sick of the way you treat me. You’re hardly ever here, and when you are, you’re always on your iTab or plugged in to music. It’s like I don’t exist! You have no respect for me at all. Well, I tell you, I’m not putting up with it any longer. I’m not putting up with you any longer. I’m outta here and I’m outta here for good. You and me? It’s over. Do you hear? It’s over!’
Carlos rolled his eyes. ‘Here we go again!’
Her shriek was feral. It jarred him into silence. ‘I TELL YOU, I MEAN IT.’
She nailed him with a glare, jaws clenched so tightly he could see the snake of a blue vein pulsing under the skin at her temple. ‘Don’t bother running after me this time.’ She jabbed Carlos in the chest with her forefinger, ‘you, you Spanish asshole… you’re fucking history!’
The look she fired at him could have torched a building. He stood paralysed as she turned and strode out of the bedroom, her hair a blazing cloud.
He heard the zizz of the zippers of her boots. Then a bang – no mistaking that noise – she’d nearly slammed the front door off its hinges. Ping – that was the lift. She’d be in there drumming on the door with the heel of her fist, impatient for it to open at the basement car park. He could picture her marching towards her car, wrenching the driver’s door open and hurling herself into the seat. He could imagine her throwing it round the ramps while the tyres squealed and the engine whined and gunning it up the slope to fly out of the garage and skid onto the snowy street. Goodbye, Elena. Goodbye.
‘She stormed out. When she didn’t come back, I went after her.’
It had taken half an hour for Carlos’s adrenaline to subside. He forced himself to drink the cold coffee and pretended to read the paper. Then he showered and dressed and went out in his car to search for her. He knew all her usual haunts, but she wasn’t at any of them.
As he ran out of places to look, it struck him she might have gone further than he thought. He sped back to the penthouse in a frenzy and burst through the front door to check her things. It was always a nightmare trying to find anything in Elena’s mess, but although he searched and searched he couldn’t see her passport anywhere. Perhaps she’d taken it with her. Perhaps she’d gone to the airport to run back to her family in the States.
She’d have missed both the direct morning flights to Washington DC but perhaps she’d taken another route. Or perhaps she didn’t plan to go to DC at all. Every time he called her mobile it rang out but that didn’t mean she was still on the ground – he always had to remind her to turn off her phone when she flew.
He thought about calling her parents but he didn’t want to worry them. He didn’t know what to do. He pounded his head with his fists as he paced the floor of their bedroom, unaware he was trampling everything he’d swept off her dressing table into the rug. Why had he pushed her so far… why hadn’t he stopped her storming off? She was a loose cannon when she was mad and he was scared what she might do. If only he knew where she was. If only he could just talk to her.
‘The police called me the following day…’ Carlos said, topping up their drinks. He swallowed and blinked away the tears welling up in his eyes before turning round to give Drew his glass, ‘… after they found her. She’d bought a ticket for DC the next morning and booked into the NH Vienna Airport Hotel for the night. Early evening she went down to the lounge bar. The barman remembered her. The police interviewed him. She told him she’d broken up with her husband and was going back to the States. He said… he said she was very flirtatious.’ Carlos screwed up his eyes and shook his head. ‘She had a glass of wine then a well-dressed swarthy man sent her over a cocktail – a Long Island Iced Tea. He joined her and they talked. She said how good the drink was and the man bought her another and another.’ Carlos shrugged. ‘She never drank much – she wouldn’t know how strong those things are. In a couple of hours she was hammered. The barman said she nearly fell off her stool and the man helped her into the elevator.’
The last time Carlos saw Elena she was lying naked on a mortuary slab covered with a creaseless, white sheet. The cloying smell of formaldehyde was overpowering. It made him more nauseous than he already felt. Although he was alone there with the pathologist, the room felt claustrophobic. It was so cold he was shivering and the autopsy report fluttered like a
sail in his hands as he read it from cover to cover.
The cause of her death was multiple fractures to the skull. She had a broken nose, three broken ribs, a broken arm and extensive bruising to the pelvic area where she’d been kicked repeatedly. And semen deposits had been found inside her ruptured anus.
When he peeled back the sheet it was hard to believe the body he was looking at was his wife. He couldn’t recognise a single feature in what was once her face. But he knew it was her. He touched her hand, now cold and stiff and white and lifeless, the nails ripped and the fingers ragged from where she’d tried to escape her assailant. He kissed it and started to sob. He couldn’t have felt any more guilty had he been the one to hold her by the hair, to pound her head into the wall, to sodomise her, to kick her and to use his fists to beat her once beautiful face into a swollen, bloody pulp.
‘And they never caught the bastard?’ Drew asked.
The knuckles of Carlos’s hand turned white as he gripped his glass, practically crushing it. ‘No.’
Drew sucked in a breath and stood up. ‘Mate, I am so, so sorry. I… I tried to make the piss up but I got stranded in that storm that shut everything down. I couldn’t get out of DC.’
‘Hey,’ Carlos said shrugging. ‘It’s… it’s…’
Drew put a big hand on Carlos’s arm and gave it a squeeze. ‘Come on mate.’
Carlos nodded and sighed. ‘I need to check my e-mail. Then we go.’ He walked out of the living room and set up his iTab in the usual place on the kitchen counter. The screen sprang open when he slid it out of its custom pocket and he up-ended the iTab and turned on the laser to create a virtual keyboard. Using his RFId tag he logged into the UN network to check if there was any response to the report he’d sent earlier. There was nothing from the Network Administrator but he saw a second e-mail from the Galactic Federation. Once again the body of the e-mail was empty and this time a video file was attached.
