by Diane Baumer
Several days had passed since she last talked to the pianist, yet Belén had not still received her friend’s call confirming her breakup with François. No doubt he sweet-talked her again, I’m sure – This is the last straw... What the heck is she waiting for? I never thought I’d witness my friend being manipulated by such a wretch… It’s just too hard.
As she was walking along the path bordering the peaceful pond, she tried to picture the same place a century before, with Bostonian painter Arthur Clifton Goodwin strolling over there. If Lina comes for a visit, we’ll take a tour around the settings of his canvases. Belén was wondering if her friend would be mentally ready to travel without François. It would be good for us both. Come on, Lina, get rid of that tick. Two letters is all it takes… – «N» plus «O.» No one knows better than you do that life always goes on, despite the absences.
She stopped to do some push-ups on the lawn. 1-2, 1-2-3-4. Good-bye, flac-ci-di-ty...
Two young girls passed by next to her. The physician resumed her jogging. They must be the age of my husband’s girlfriend. I’m still puzzled. Sergio Comares dating a girl younger than his own daughter – yet brainless? Sergio Comares, the man of deep thoughts, the admirer of the Mulier Sapiens? She burst out laughing. In the end, it might even be funny.
She noticed a slender lonely swan that seemed to be keeping her company from the water.
Oops! I’d dare to say it’s following me. It’s so beautiful…
“Good morning, my friendly pretty swan!”
The animal dipped its head into the water for a few seconds. It’s so cute! It looks shy, though. I don’t think it is aware of its beauty. Same as Lina... – She’ll always hide away every time she gets a compliment. Oh dear... You are still with François. Why deny what’s obvious? Probably, she is not calling because she feels too embarrassed to tell me. Well, I can’t wait to update her on Sergio. I need to get it all off my chest.
The sky turned gray. The weather in Boston was fickle. Under a compact cloud, the swan lost some of its grandeur. The animal turned around and walked away. Wait – I still find you just as beautiful...
She felt a slight vibration coming from her purse. On the phone appeared a message – “Sorry I didn’t write before. François is sick. The doctor advised him to rest. I’m sorry to disappoint you one more time.”
Well, after all a doctor had believed him... Yet, was that not a troubling coincidence – him getting sick just when Lina was about to kick him out? He really makes me mad. He’s such a phallocratic, rotten man... Sergio couldn’t stand the Belgian either. Indeed, my husband is no saint. He hurt me, deceived me, but that’s another matter. No one is to blame for falling in love. Until then, he had been a wonderful husband.
She put on the hood. The scene began to display some little colorful umbrellas of children who were heading to school. Belén missed the times when her daughter was a little girl. The drizzle, commonplace in Clifton Goodwin’s paintings, blurred the lines between the past and the present.
Our unexpected relationship was so beautiful right from the start... I remember the morning Sergio visited the company where I was doing my physics internship. He would bring them a patent case. A multinational corporation stealing the work of an unimportant research company could certainly be regarded as something indecent. Sergio detests the tricks of the powerful. He lost the trial, the appeal, went to Luxembourg, and won. I didn’t want a partner, let alone marriage. You dragged me into it, Sergio Comares!
The brilliant intern had captivated the determined lawyer from the moment their lives had crossed paths. Belén Molina had won prices, spoke five languages, was mostly pleasant, and her big brown eyes would exude intelligence. The more he would get to know her, the more Comares would fall in love with her, and the more determined he was to choose that brilliant girl as his life partner. Unlike him, she had decided to focus on her research, so her plans did not include having a fiancé. After realizing their dates had become more and more regular and she had been staying over on weekends out of habit, she was fearing the worst and decided to start keeping her distance. Accustomed to using arguments in thorny cases, the lawyer had tried to persuade her against interrupting their relationship. There was no way he could lose the lawsuit – yet he did in the first and last appeal. How had everything gotten out of control, against all odds? It would have been so different if she didn’t have any feelings for him, yet that was certainly not the case – the physician was indeed drawn to him! She had, however, jilted him! An outstanding woman regarding love as sacrifice, both on a personal and a professional level, clearly signaled a symptom of an unfortunate social reality. He decided to do his part. The first criminal lawsuit that Comares had ever assumed was that of a human resources manager against the multinational corporation for which she was working at that time – she claimed she had been forced to hire women in categories clearly below their actual profiles. What was devious about the case was the fact that the company had deliberately hired a woman for the position, just to avoid potential sex bias accusations. Against all odds, Sergio Comares won this trial as well as the appeal. For a while, his contact with Belén was restricted to coffee. One day, she received an offer from the German multinational corporation which had lost the patent lawsuit. The physician did not want to work for an unethical company, so she decided to turn down the offer. They insisted. Apparently, they had made changes regarding management and business policies. Belén asked Sergio to check the contract for her – everything seemed to be in place.
“Don’t hesitate to call me if there is anything else I may help you with. I wish you nothing but great things. You deserve it. I’m so happy for you.”
“You see? Since we are just friends, you can congratulate me. Otherwise, if you and I were together, we would be having a situation right now.”
“You never know what’s going on. Things are as follows, Miss Molina – since I admire you dearly and I’m in love with you, I’m happy that your talent and effort are recognized.”
Once again, Belén Molina felt temptation, a wobble, ecstasy...
They married a year later. They spent their salaries on trips to visit each other. As soon as she was offered the chance to lead the Spanish associate company, she returned. They had a daughter, whom they named Elena, now a student residing in Germany.
Belén speeded up. It was literally pouring down. She took her MP4 player and picked Scriabin’s Concert in F-sharp minor, Op. 20. It began with a rapturous, romantic tempo.
The swan returned. They kept each other company for a few feet.
19. Second meeting
Lina Maldonado flew to Rome by herself on a Thursday early morning. There, she would give a concert and teach classes on the occasion of the International Days for Young Talents. She would return on Sunday. The pianist had worried about leaving François on his own. A major depression with no surveillance could lead to tragedy. She never thought he would ever be in such a situation! Lina wondered if she might have added to his depression inadvertently. François was like a goldfinch – he would come in every morning for breadcrumbs, yet with no intention whatsoever of staying. On the other hand, I, who didn’t understand a thing about wild birds, misinterpreted his behavior. Now, he needs my crumbs, and I need him to come take them – but that’s not real love, is it?
That day, she had barely eaten. François’ last message had made her uneasy. How dared he ask her not to worry when he never answers his phone? What was left of feeling drowsy and sleepy all the time? Was he probably planning on avoiding her until she returned on Sunday? What if he was thinking of doing something crazy?
Is it only cold, or did I just feel the icy breath of death? Get out, now! Go away! Leave me alone!
She thought she had just seen a sinister shadow slipping away from the piano case. I’m sure that was the Grim Reaper, looking out for him. I shouldn’t have left him alone. He’ll get taken away. How cou
ld I be so unconscious and selfish at the beginning of our relationship, knowing my love would sentence him to death!?
“Miss Maldonado, do you like to carry out the performance of a living composer differently from that of a dead one?” a student asked before starting performing Chaconne, a piece by Sofia Gubaidulina.17
In the entire sentence, Lina had only paid attention to one single word – dead.
“Excuse me for a second,” she said in a broken voice.
The pianist left the room carrying her purse. What should I do? Call him? If he doesn’t answer, then panic will keep me from reasoning. He may well have told me the truth, and most probably he just wants to be calm and sleep. François doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who would kill himself. Yet, no one would have believed he’d now be that demoralized. François Remy, the same old eternal optimist… I’d better report it to the police. However, no wonder he would get furious with me if the police showed up following a suicide warning and yet everything was fine. My tangled-up mind is preventing me from thinking straight. What if these crazy things just happened to be the ones that destabilized him in the first place? How can one tell neurosis from a simple hunch? I’ll text and ask him to give me a call every time he wakes up.
For the remainder of that day and on the following, there was still no sign of François. On Saturday, Lina entered the auditorium looking emaciated, nervous, not having eaten anything since the previous Friday. I look terrible. I have the feeling I can hardly survive another day, and tomorrow it’ll just start over. I can’t go on like this.
The attendant knocked on the door of the dressing room.
“The audience is already coming in, Miss Maldonado.”
“I’ll be right out there. Thanks.”
After she inspected her purse, she was startled in fright. The little box... I left it back in the hotel. Lina would never go onstage without first performing her ritual. Since her childhood, she had been feeding the illusion that, upon her opening the box, the souls of those gone would show up to give her encouragement during concerts. Lina needed to feel their protection. If she remained clinging to the world of the living, it was just out of hope that the dead would still be a part of it. I need to go find it.
The conductor’s voice came up just to thwart her intentions.
“Ten minutes to go, Miss Maldonado.”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I don’t have enough time to go back to the hotel. I feel such an anguishing sense of helplessness, like I was reliving that terrible day when I was told I wouldn’t see my parents anymore. Today, I’m going to find out for sure whether their souls have been by my side all these years, or everything has just been the result of my imagination. What a paradox! A disastrous concert would prove that I owe them my success, that it wasn’t a paranoia of mine, that they have always been here with me. However, as I want to know once and for all, today I should try to play as skillfully as I can. Otherwise, my failures might just have been the result of my wrecked emotions, not of their absence.
When the pianist took a seat, she had a feeling that the instrument was lifeless. To her touch, the keys felt as cold as the skin of a corpse. François, François... Is that the state of your body right now?
The audience waited in silence for Mozart’s Sonata No. 11 in A major. Instead, what they heard –or, rather, what emerged from Lina’s hands– was the solo version for piano of Liszt’s Totentanz, the Dance of the Dead, based on the Dies Irae18. Looking gaunt and ghastly, strictly dressed for mourning, she deliriously managed to perform the piece with such a strength that, if the deceased were truly listening, the audience would have been filled with spirits by then.
After dropping her arms on the octaves at the very intense end, she withdrew her hands prematurely. Those present remained silent for a moment, as though Lina had not only interrupted the music, but also the breathing of all of them.
She immediately turned to the orchestra.
“As you may have probably noticed by now, what I just performed is not Mozart, to whom I am sending him my apologies from here. With so many concerts, I got confused about the program,” the pianist said shyly, embarrassed by how silly she had just been.
As a penance, the audience gave her a long-lasting ovation.
As soon as the concert ended, she headed for the hotel. After seeing in relief that the box was actually there, Lina packed her bags hurriedly and departed for the airport. She had found a seat on a night flight, so she was going to expedite her return. François, François, François...
At six in the morning, a cab dropped her off at her house. She had not eaten anything on the plane or slept a wink for two days. I hope he’s not dead, not dead, not dead...
The afflicted woman could hear the Belgian’s cheerful laughter. He was in the piano study with… a woman? Probably two? His voice sounded like him – frivolous, exhilarated. Lina climbed the stairs stealthily. Pressing her ear to the door, she witnessed what appeared to be an embarrassing situation. What’s all this about? What about his depression, attacks, and ravings? Did he fake it all?
François’ stupid laughter resembled the sound of a jackhammer, mercilessly demolishing guilt, suspicion, and lies.
People having been through a near-death experience claim that, in that situation, pain is nonexistent, as one grows apart from the world with an endless sense of peace and freedom. Lina felt as if her loving-woman soul had left her body and vanished in the air.
She opened the door resolutely. François and two girls leapt out in surprise. Seemingly, they were performing a threesome at the piano. Lina ordered him to pack his stuff and leave the house.
“I’m giving you three hours. When I come back, I don’t want to see any trace of you in here.”
Spurred by anger, Lina started her car, not caring about exhaustion or her empty stomach.
“I curse my own hands for having drawn a hustler like François Remy. Damn fingers of mine! Damn them!”
Approximately forty-five minutes later, the pianist had to admit she had no idea where she was. All those devilish roads looked virtually the same.
When she realized she was beginning to spin around in an endless series of interconnected heart-stopping curves, her heart started to race. Oh no, where did I end up? Now there’s no way I can turn around. I have no choice but to climb up this hell.
She was scared to death, seeing the road so slippery. This is crazy. My legs are trembling so much I can barely step on the pedals. By the way, this place reminds me of... No way!
There was a traffic sign announcing a lookout less than half a mile away. This is the place where I met the friar! I’m absolutely certain. And that area there was where...
The pianist became distracted by gazing at the mountain area where she had crashed in the past – not realizing this time the car had gotten violently stranded in the same place.
In the monastery, Cinnamon began to bark in despair, looking through the outer fence. What’s wrong with the dog? the friars asked during their reading service. Brother Lucas went to ask him to be quiet. Overexcited, Cinnamon tried to persuade his friend to open the fence. The Mexican spoke out seriously.
“We’re not going for a walk right now. Be a good boy and stop barking.”
Before reentering the building, the friar stopped. Cinnamon had begun to scratch the fence impulsively. He seems desperate. There might be an injured animal outside – let’s take a look... As he turned around, the dog pounced on him. No doubt he was trying to tell him something.
“What’s going on?”
Cinnamon shot away, enticing the friar to follow him. As the friar kept still, the dog pulled his clothes using its teeth.
“Well, I hope you have a good reason for this.”
The friar walked behind him, shivering with cold – he was only wearing his habit.
“I hope you won’t make me catc
h a pneumonia, or else...”
Cinnamon guided the Mexican down the mountain, prompting him to hurry up.
No doubt he wants something.
As he was climbing the hill, the friar spotted a wrecked car. Oh my God, the dog was right!
Once they arrived there, they found Lina Maldonado motionless and covered in blood. Brother Lucas became shocked as he recognized the woman that Cinnamon had led to him in the past.
PART TWO:
The Cannon
20. New life
Endzela panicked as François came trembling. He looked deathly pale, his facial muscles contracting involuntarily, glassy-eyed, as though he had seen a ghost. He had just heard on his car radio that Lina Maldonado was fighting for her life following an accident.
“Is everything okay?” she asked uneasily.
“Yes.”
“I can feel there’s something going on.”
“Nothing to worry about. I just saw a dog run over on the road. I’m still in shock at the thought of its tiny body.”
Why did I just say that?
François urged her to pack. He wanted to arrive in Madrid, the sooner the better.
“What’s all this rushing about? Why are we moving?”
“There’s some work I need to do over there, okay?”
“And where am I going to live?”
“With me…”
“Are you serious?” she said, with such a funny gesture of astonishment that François could not help but kiss her. Endzela was lovely. Several clients were head over heels in love with the Georgian. If he did not take care of her, one or another would steal that girl from him.