by Diane Baumer
“Believe me – there are millions of Asian girls that are way more attractive.”
“Probably – but still there is something special about the delicacy of this angel.”
“She’s not delicate, just humble. Your passing whim would last a week, at most.”
Mercedes immediately settled the issue.
“Mai isn’t a souvenir. Besides, she is under my protection.”
Under mine, too, François thought to himself.
For dessert, William served some Vietnamese donuts stuffed with bean dough called Bánh Rán Ngọt. François loved them. She knows how much I like these. Did she prepare them to please the guest, or probably to please me?
He left the table feigning he had a call to make. Mai was preparing the dishwasher when she heard him tap delicately at the kitchen door. She remained motionless to avoid making a sound. He knocked again.
“Cherry flower, it’s me. Please open the door – there is something I want to show you,” the Belgian whispered.
How beautiful she looked in her green-and-white print dress! He had never seen her so pretty before. The thought of whether she wore it for him or to please the gallery owner made the Belgian jealous. José is a jerk, little kid... You deserve better. Don’t lose your fear of men. They are predators.
“I want to show you a picture of my parents. Deep inside, François is very traditional, you know?”
He stroked a photograph which had been taken when he was only three. His mother was holding him in her arms, and both she and his father were looking at the child with a joyful smile and their eyes full of love.
“Mai...” he said as he raised a glazed look toward her.
The girl did not even hear. She was staring at the picture as though she had been hypnotized. If at that moment she had been asked to make a wish, Mai would have given anything to have a picture like that one.
Seeing her break apart, François realized that it had been a mistake to show her the picture. He felt really sorry for Mai’s suffering. He gestured oddly. Believing that François wanted to kiss her, the girl closed her eyes, troubled and tense. He was tempted to do so, but quickly left at the sound of William’s footsteps.
At night, the Vietnamese secretly moved her ear closer to the door of the double room. François and Miss Arellanos were doing their thing. Tears began to slip down Mai’s mortified face. Each sex moan was like a lash to her heart. She became really scared as she realized that William was heading upstairs. Dying of embarrassment because she had been caught red-handed, the girl ran to her room to lock herself up. The butler stopped as he nodded worriedly.
This poor naïve girl will end up crying tears of blood for that scoundrel.
In bed, François took pains to please Mercedes. His lips gently pressed her sex, left to right, as he pictured himself dialing the combination of a safe.
“Yes, right there...” she said, on the verge of ecstasy.
40. Reflection
After practicing at Lina’s house for several days, Brother Lucas’ first pieces were ready. The pianist sat on the couch, eager to listen to his playing and singing. Cinnamon curled up beside her.
“Get down!” the friar said.
“No, Brother Lucas, please – let him stay here. He will behave to perfection – he gave me his word.”
“Are you talking about the gentleman’s word or the dog’s word?” the friar asked sharply.
Cinnamon knew for a fact that they were talking about him, but preferred to play clueless.
“Whenever you are ready,” Lina said, calling on him to begin.
The situation gave her goosebumps. Who would have thought that he, precisely he, would end up coming over to play the piano? At first, she had even doubted his very existence!
After placing his fingertips on the first notes of Morgen42, Brother Lucas narrowed his eyes. I hope she won’t regret granting me the privilege of playing here when she listens to this. Warmly lit on the stand, the score reminded him of the offerings that the villagers used to place on the altar by candlelight. When will we finally be able to turn the light off without fearing darkness? When will that day come?
His hands slightly raised before dropping on the first arpeggio. Strauss beautiful melody rose, driven by the delicate counterbalance of the friar’s fingers. Lina felt a cold, almost imperceptible breath on the back of her neck whispering inwardly, “Hold on to music – this will lead you to your father.”
The piano notes floated lightly above her head, as though they were cypselae of a dandelion. Not hesitating for a single second, she clung to them.
“Don’t let go,” said the voice. “I won’t,” she replied inwardly as she began to levitate.
When Brother Lucas reached the fourteenth time, he carried her away with his singing atop her hopes – from there, she would be able to painlessly listen to the words which his father had sung so many times in the past.
And tomorrow the sun will shine again.
Up to four times, the ecstatic music completely vanished.
…as the mute stillness of happiness will sink upon us.
The coveted afterlife reunion was dispelled before it could even materialize. By renouncing the last chord, Richard Strauss had left longing in an eternal suspense.
Brother Lucas was unable to react during the seconds following the end. How could he have done something so extraordinary despite his limited talent?
Lina’s indescribable gesture caused him to doubt his perception. Oh no. I probably played awfully.
“I’m sorry for my poor technique.”
“Oh. It’s not your technique that you use to create art – you create art with your soul.”
Rosario interrupted the conversation. It was lunchtime. When Cinnamon heard Lina ask the friar if he was hungry, he jumped off the couch and began to bark, noddingly.
They went into the living room. On the table there was coca de llanda43 with Mexican milled chocolate. On the floor stood a plateful of meatballs for Cinnamon.
The friar said that, as a child, the cook at the monastery used to prepare him milled chocolate for a snack.
“I would always look forward to finishing my class with Brother Simón, the friar who...”
He paused to overcome the pain in his memory. Lina asked him if he was feeling fine.
“Yes, I’m sorry. He recently passed away, and I’ve been feeling homesick lately. Brother Simón was like a father to me. As I said, I would always look forward to finishing my class to eat some chocolate.”
“Didn’t you attend school?”
“No, I didn’t. Actually, I don’t think anything would have happened to me if I had, but the friars were overprotective of me.”
Brother Lucas told her his own story. No one but Lina could better empathize with a child who had grown up without his parents.
“Haven’t you tried to find out who they are?”
“There was a time when I would insist on Brother Simón helping me look into my background. I even got angry with him because he didn’t seem to take any interest in it. Then, I understood he was just trying to keep me away from disappointment. Anyway, my search would most probably have proven fruitless. I think it’d have been easier to find a needle in a haystack.”
“So, didn’t you consider that probably...?”
Lina interrupted the sentence. Maybe it was not suitable to verbalize her latest thoughts. Guessing what was happening, Brother Lucas explained to her that he was not the son of any friar.
“The idea had crossed my mind in the past. However, when I asked Brother Simón, he laid his hand on the Bible and asserted that I was not the son of a friar. Neither his own son, or any other friar’s. I believe him – he wouldn’t have lied to me about something so serious.”
“So he knew who your biological parents were,” she said gravely.
&nbs
p; “What do you mean?” he asked in surprise.
“It is obvious. Brother Simón could only assure you that you weren’t the son of any friar provided he had known who your parents were. Otherwise, he couldn’t have been so sure.”
41. The attack
Mercedes was about to leave on her trip to Paris. One of the partners at the prestigious Galerie Hepatic had sold her his share of the business. Miss Arellanos was wandering all over the place, singing La Vie en rose.
François had agreed to remain in the house, as they were expecting the delivery of the giant sculpture series In Dubiis, Abstine, the work of a young Danish artist whose price was on the rise.
When in doubt, murder... said his inner voice, which had suddenly turned sinister.
The Belgian went into the kitchen. Mai was preparing Phở Cuốn, rice noodle rolls stuffed with fried beef, lettuce, and cilantro. She did not have time to react. He stood beside her to stroke her cheek.
When in doubt, attack.
“Can I ask you a personal question? May I have your permission, cherry blossom? Don’t be scared – I’m just trying to understand you better.”
Mai tried to slip away, but he grabbed both her arms, intimidating the frightened girl with his gaze.
“Have you ever been with a man? Is that what is holding you back?” he asked tenderly.
Mai managed to escape – she was upset. François snorted.
In case of doubt, raze. No, I’m not going to waste my time with a fool, huh? If I don’t care about her...
As soon as Mercedes set off, Mai locked herself up in her room arguing that she was feeling unwell. The only one who had access to the fortress was the butler.
William came in with breakfast.
“I’ve brought you a fruit shake with yogurt and some hot honeybuns. You need to eat healthily,” he said as if she could understand him in English.
The girl nodded. The butler knew that this gesture only meant that she had heard it, not agreed or understood.
On the tray was a package wrapped in beautiful red-and-white paper. It was not exactly a gift, yet he knew that she loved receiving new recipe books in that manner.
He headed for the door not waiting for her to open it, since it was not a Vietnamese custom to do so. He heard her say tank with her soft melodious voice. How could her parents have sold her? I would have given my life to prevent anyone from taking a daughter like this away from me.
Mai asked him with a gesture to lock the room after him. William looked worried. They were just too many coincidences. Mercedes was abroad, the shameless guy was around, and she had decided to entrench herself in her room. As he passed by the door where François was sleeping, he sighed in disgust.
When the Belgian woke up, he went to look for William.
“What are we eating for lunch?”
“Just a handful of ingredients.”
“What?”
“Without a cook, there are only ingredients.”
“Aren’t you going to cook dinner?”
“My wages don’t provide for cooking.”
“Well, then, serve me some toast and coffee. That is simple.”
“Considering it is so simple, you can prepare it yourself. Think of it as a personal challenge.”
François swore that the butler would be fired upon Mercedes’ arrival.
After breakfast, or rather lunch, he went to pay Mai a visit. There was nothing else entertaining about that place. He softly knocked on the door using his knuckles. Since he did not receive a reply from inside, he tried to open the door. That time luck was not on his side either. Why did she lock herself up? I didn’t mean to do anything bad to her, huh?
“I just wanted to know how you’re feeling.”
The butler emerged unexpectedly from behind with a stern grin. He would not let the raptor assault the girl. She was too nice to fall into the hands of a rogue like that.
“She is sleeping.”
“Can you see through the wood?”
Somebody rang the bell. As William went to see who it was, François took the opportunity to slip a romantic note under the door.
The English bullmastiff reappeared with his usual irritating pose of self-righteousness.
“Mister Monsieur, this is José de Juan, the gallery owner. He came to deliver an artwork.”
“What?” he asked in surprise. Mercedes had not told him anything.
“An artwork, sir or non-sir –that’s another matter now–, is an object produced by an artist.”
“Weren’t you taught any manners?”
“Sure. However, to work that out, first you need to know what those are.”
“I’ll ask Mercedes to kick you out of here.”
“She won’t be able to do that. I am too heavy.”
François went to the hall in a bad mood. I’d like to set the house on fire with the Englishman inside and just sit to watch how he burns.
“Hello, José. Are you coming to deliver something for Mercedes?”
“Yes. She became infatuated with this piece – love at first sight, you know Mercedes. The author is a young man from Bilbao. She claims he has a promising career ahead of him.”
The gallery owner looked at the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.
“I’ll go say hello to Mai. I brought her a gift.”
“She has the flu, so she’s sleeping.”
José asked him to give her the gift. It was a handkerchief painted by him.
François smiled sharply.
“It will be useful, now she has a cold.”
“It’s not a tissue! It’s art.” his offended rival exclaimed.
When the gallery owner finally left, the Belgian asked William to leave the artwork somewhere. The butler gazed at it with his right nostril contorted with fright. You may rather give it to a fakir.
“I’m sorry, Hooray Henry. I cannot touch this. I am not vaccinated against tetanus.”
François pictured himself tearing the face of the man by pressing the spikes of the artwork against it.
He was informed that the sculptures had gone through customs. Mercedes called. She wanted William to go to buy some things before they were delivered.
As soon as François was alone, he went to Mai’s room. He knocked on the door firmly.
“William asked me to bring you your medicine and a glass of milk. I’ll leave the tray on the floor. When you get up, take it. I’ll be in the garden. If there is anything you need, just call my name.”
The Belgian stepped away loudly and then went back barefoot. The girl almost fainted out of fear when she half-opened the door and saw him standing there. She tried to lock the door in haste – vainly. His strength trebled hers.
“Don’t panic. I’ve been so worried about you. I just wanted to know how you are feeling.”
“Better,” she said, crestfallen and trembling, as she walked backward.
François gestured to her to sit down.
“Don’t be afraid – I would never hurt you.”
He approached a little altar.
“Can I light an incense stick, cherry blossom? I want to make an offering.”
He closed his eyes and, after resting the sole of his right foot on his left knee, criss-crossed his fingers in a devout manner. Wasn’t that Karate Kid?
The Belgian had read in the Buddhist doctrine that desire was the root of all suffering. Yes, but the only cure to stop coveting something is to possess it.
He extended his arm toward her, asking her through a gesture to join him in prayer.
“Hãy đi cùng tô.”44
Mai was paralyzed. Inside her, a harsh battle was starting. François, gently pulling at her hand, dragged her close to him. When she was by his side and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fresh, childlike breast swelling and
contorting in agitation, he delicately approached her hand. Brushing it with the tip of his index finger aroused sublime high spirits in his genitals.
“Anh yêu em.”45
François could not resist the temptation. He embraced her by the waist and, after stroking her lips with sensuality, gave the astonished girl a long sweet kiss. Mai felt overwhelmed by an accumulation of conflicting emotions. Being in love did not mean that she wanted to be undressed, or do what so many disgusting men had done to her. She began to mix the past and the present together, horror and love – the former pulling on one side, the latter on the other. So, what about the lady...? She could not betray Mercedes.
Her anguish became so unbearable that her brain, in an attempt to protect her, caused the girl to lose consciousness. François felt sorry for her, but did not stop. Temptation was too strong. It is perfectly normal to be scared being still a virgin. Then it will be over. This is experienced by every girl in the world.
“Don’t worry, my love – François is going to be very considerate.”
The Belgian finished raping her in tears of excitement and shame, pleasure and reverence. As soon as he recovered, he wondered about the lack of bleeding. That’s because she lost her virginity with no tension. She was lucky to be passed out during her first time.
When he realized that Mai would not regain consciousness, he became terrified. What have I done? How could I do something as silly? Should I vanish? That would be like taking the blame.
“Mai, Mai – open your eyes.”
He tried to perform a resuscitation maneuver.
“Mai, you can’t do this to me. Please wake up…”