The garden of dead thoughts

by Natasha A. Salnikova

  “Yes,” she answered.

  “You are wrong.”

  “Yeah? What are you going to do?”

  “I’ll think about it.”

  “Listen, gorgeous.” Margo took a step toward Daisy, almost touching her. The girl didn’t move. “You’ve already taken too much of my time. Get out of here before I kick you out.”

  Daisy swallowed again, blinked, and then stepped back.

  “I won’t let it go,” she said. “You think I’m just a little idiot who can’t stand up for herself? You are wrong.”

  “I don’t think so,” Margo replied. “Bye now.”

  “Your husband is an idiot and you are a whore!” Daisy cried out.

  This time the words touched Margo and she raised her hand to slap the bitch in the face, but Daisy was already running through the living room to the door.

  “You don’t know me!” she yelled.

  The front door slammed.

  “Oh, my God. What an idiot,” Margo said, lowering her hand. “Stupid, cheap bitch.”

  She heard another noise. Again it was a door, but not the front one.

  “Is that you, you piece of shit?” she shouted, running up to the back door. She flung it open, but saw no one. It was just a hallucination. She locked the door, marched into the bedroom, found the phone, and dialed Tristan.

  “Don’t tell me you talked to Daisy,” he said right away. “I called you, but you didn’t answer.”

  “Your idiot girlfriend just left. She threatened me.”

  “Oh, come on. Daisy? I said that I was helping you and she believed me.”

  “I don’t think you know her well.”

  “You said she threatened you?”

  Margo sat down on the bed and pulled out a drawer from her bedside table to choose a body cream.

  “I hope she doesn’t tell my husband because I’ll finish her.”

  “She won’t tell.”

  “How can you be sure of that?”

  “I’ll take care of her.”

  Margo pressed the phone with her ear to her shoulder and opened a mango scented cream.

  “I believe you. Now you’ll only think of me.”

  “I’d like you to think only about me too,” Tristan replied.

  “That depends on you.” Margo scooped some cream and began to rub it into her leg.

  “Everything will be all right,” Tristan said. His voice was hoarse. “You have nothing to worry about. I love you.”

  The phone went silent. Margo smiled, put the phone on the bed, took off her dressing gown, and began carefully spreading the cream all over her body. She didn’t think about her husband, Daisy, or even about Tristan. She thought about money, a new car, and an unknown male body that her hand was stroking. Then his hand began to stroke her. Margo picked up some more cream and lay down on the bed, smoothing cream over those parts of her body that she had missed.

  CHAPTER 16

  Michael said he was going to buy some life insurance and Margo hoped he would keep his word, but he didn’t give her any money. He mentioned the insurance, but Margo wanted a lot of money and at once, not only in the future.

  She went to get a massage and manicure, all the while thinking about the mistake she had made with Michael. She’d made such a hasty decision. If she’d had no plans for him, he would be spending his nights in the car today or maybe even in a hotel, because Margo would take the car away from him. She wouldn’t even bother to put his suitcase on the porch, because he hadn’t bought much for himself since the fire. A couple of suits, about six shirts and that was his whole wardrobe. She wanted to complain to her manicurist about her wretched destiny, but chose to keep silent. It would be unwise to share such information with anyone. Perhaps Michael wasn’t one of those who understood hints and she had to tell him directly what she expected from him, but then she would receive only a small win and the main prize, the one she was shooting for all along, could disappear from the horizon. She needed the grand prize. Men didn’t like it when you demanded something from them, unless it was an aphrodisiac for them. Usually people who demanded something and showed discontent about certain situations, planned to stay with the person for a long time, to build relations with him. They wanted these relations to correspond to their expectations. She was far from those people and their positions. Plus, she’d had an unpleasant experience. She demanded a lot from Charles and thought she would get what she wanted until he died and she found that she was wrong.

  After eating sushi at a Japanese restaurant next to the salon, Margo thought that she couldn’t repeat her old strategies, she had to re-plan everything. She drank coffee at Starbucks thinking the same. She stopped at the store and bought a bottle of champagne. On the way home, she opened the address book in her phone while waiting at a red traffic light and dialed the number.

  “Hello?” The person on the other end sounded hesitant.

  “Mr. Mason?” Margo asked, as she immediately recognized his voice. The person who answered her was in a room of an expensive house.

  “Speaking.”

  “Hi, Mr. Mason, my name is Margo. Remember? We met at the restaurant on your birthday.”

  “Oh, hello!” His voice sounded younger. “I thought so, but I wasn’t sure. I rarely receive phone calls these days, but you have such a beautiful, memorable voice.”

  Margo thought he was an old fuck.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “I’m so pleased you’ve called! I didn’t expect it, but it’s very nice of you!”

  “Of course!”

  Margo winced when she saw a young woman with three children on the street. The kids looked very close in age. They were waiting for a bus at the bus stop and Margo drove past them. The kids jumped on the curb, a huge bag swung in their mother’s hand. Poor people had the most offspring, creating even more poverty Margo thought every time she saw a picture like this. She was thinking that now while listening to Mason. She was a very thoughtful person.

  “I hope you’re calling to say that you’re coming to see the old man?”

  “Stop it! You’re not old! Are you sure we won’t disturb you?” Margo asked.

  “Are you kidding? You and your husband are wonderful people! I knew it the minute I saw you! I want to get to know you better! I’ll order the most amazing meal!”

  “You said you cook the best meat.”

  Mason paused for a couple of seconds.

  “I might have boasted again. I said that and I don’t remember. That happens a lot lately. My wife scolded me for constantly showing off. It’s true, I prepare fine meat, but I’m afraid my guests won’t like it.”

  “I’m sure I will.”

  “Good! Excellent! I’ll prepare steaks for you! When will you come? This weekend?”

  “I don’t know if Michael will be free,” she said. “I think I can come.”

  “Oh, please ask him! You have a wonderful husband and he’s so lucky to have you!”

  “Sure. Thank you.” Margo hid the disappointment in her voice. “I’ll ask him and call you right away.”

  “How wonderful! Can’t wait to see you. You are such a great couple.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Mason.”

  “Please, just call me Mason.”

  “Okay Mason, I’ll call you. Have a great day.”

  “Thank you! I’ll be looking forward to your call!”

  Margo pressed the button on the steering wheel, turning off the Bluetooth.

  “Step-by-step,” don’t rush,” she told herself. “You need to see if it’s true what he said about his wealth. Maybe he doesn’t have a dime to his name.”

  When Margo got back home, it was already dark. Michael’s car was parked near the entrance and the living room windows were lit. It was her house and now there was a man who considered it as his own and could come in whenever he pleased. It was her choice, she allowed him. He could do it, but not for long. Not for long. Margo drove into the garage and entered the house from there.

 
Michael was sitting in the living room in front of the TV, drinking beer.

  “You are early,” Margo said. She threw her bag on the couch and sat next to him.

  Her husband didn’t answer. He took a sip of beer and looked at the screen. As if he hadn’t noticed her.

  “Michael?”

  He flinched, the bottle twitched in his hand, spraying beer over the leather surface of the couch. Margo grimaced, thinking about telling Daisy to wipe everything off before it started to smell, then she remembered that Daisy wasn’t here anymore.

  “You scared me!’ Michael put the bottle on the table, took a napkin from the box on the table, and cleaned the sofa. There was a box of napkins in every room. Daisy took care of this in case of a cold and snot, or just like this, in case of spilled alcohol.

  “What were you thinking about?” Margo asked, watching her husband’s manipulations. She watched him wiping the table, the bottle, and then putting the wet napkin on the table.

  “Nothing special. Just watching the news.”

  Margo listened to what was happening on the screen. As always: murders, accidents, political protests. Nothing new or interesting. Margo couldn’t imagine what could be interesting in the news.

  “How are you?” she asked.

  Michael took a sip of beer. There was a wet stain from the beer on his blue shirt. He had his suit pants on and didn’t even take off his shoes.

  “I lost the client,” Michael said, turning back to the TV.

  Margo took a deep breath, slowly exhaled through her teeth, trying to make it sound silently. Then again.

  “That’s not good,” she said in a low, but even tone when everything inside her began to boil. This idiot lived in her house like it was his own without paying her a penny. He couldn’t get insurance money for his house, and now his clients were dropping like flies. What was this all about? Did he think he could go on like this? Sit on her couch, sleep in her bed, drink alcohol to feel make himself feel better, and not worry about anything? He certainly wasn’t going to live long, Margo knew that.

  “Tell me about it,” Michael answered. “Don’t worry though.”

  “What do you mean don’t worry?” Margo asked, still maintaining a calm voice, without expressing her true emotion. “We are in a position where we have to start worrying.”

  “Don’t worry,” Michael repeated and put his empty bottle on the table. Then he pulled his jacket, which lay next to him, closer, rummaged in its inner pocket, and took out a thick envelope. “Here you go.”

  “What is it?” Margo’s hand itched when she saw the envelope. It had the best smell in the world. Her heart started beating faster from a good premonition.

  “Take a look.”

  Margo carefully removed the envelope from Michael’s outstretched hand. It wasn’t sealed and she opened it to look inside. Hundred dollar bills were neatly stacked, filling Margo’s nostrils with the exceptional smell of new money. She looked at Michael and he broke into a smile, and then picked up the bottle.

  “One client is gone, but another came right on time. I’m celebrating. I hope you’re happy.”

  “Michael, you tricked me!” Margo joked.

  “Well, we have to have some fun. This is only the first payment, but it will be better and more. Not right away, nothing happens right away. We have to wait even though it’s difficult sometimes. As you see, I kept my word. You have nothing to worry about.”

  Margo smiled then sat closer to Michael and kissed him.

  “You are awesome.”

  “I’m doing my best. Plus, I talked to the insurance agent and he will help us choose the best plan.”

  “Are you sure about it?”

  “Of course, dear. I want you to live as you used to live and have peace of mind.”

  “I love you so much.”

  The telephone emitted a sound in Margo’s bag, but she thought it wasn’t the best time to respond. It was probably Tristan. Even though she had a separate phone for him, she set up the same ring tone. If it was him, he would have to wait.

  “You don’t want to check who it is?” Michael asked.

  “I don’t want to spoil the moment,” Margo replied.

  “What if it’s something important? Listen, I’m going to pour you a glass of wine and grab another bottle of beer for myself. Later we can go out if you want. We have a reason to celebrate.”

  “Great idea.”

  Michael got up from the couch, taking the empty bottle with him and Margo took her phone out of her purse.

  The message came from her new friend, the old dude named Mason, who begged her not to forget to ask her husband about his schedule. Margo pondered. Should she see him now? What if Michael began making good money? What if the old man had millions and was going to die any day? Margo never put all her eggs in one basket and she wasn’t going to do it now.

  “Who was it?”

  Margo was startled.

  “It’s that old man. Mason. He invited us to his house again.”

  “Well, let's go.”

  Michael handed Margo a glass of white wine.

  “Are you okay with it?” she asked as she took the glass.

  “Why not? What if he likes us so much that he puts our names in his will? Then we won’t have to worry about money at all. He could kick off any day.”

  “He looks pretty healthy.”

  “Let’s go.”

  “I mean, if you insist.” Margo took a sip of wine. It was cool, sweet. Her favorite.

  “I don’t insist. It’s your decision, but we can go. As I said, he could turn out to be very useful.”

  “Then I’ll call him and tell him we are coming this Sunday. Fine with you?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Margo saluted with her glass, took a couple of sips, returned the glass to Michael, and dialed Mason’s number. He wasn’t just happy to hear her, Margo was afraid he would have a heart attack from the excitement.

  “You said this Sunday? That should be enough time to buy all the necessary items. I’ll send my housekeeper. I have a lot of wine in stock, as I said. I have a wine room, actually. I’ll show it to you! It’s my pride!”

  “I can’t wait to see it, but you shouldn’t go to so much trouble. We’re not a royal family.” Margo sat down on the couch, crossed her legs, and continued talking while looking at the yacht, passing behind the window. Michael stood next to her and drank beer.

  “Stop it! You are more important to me than any kings! I’m so glad I met you. I’m so glad I’ll have guests in my house.”

  “Thank you. We are also glad to have met you.”

  Old man’s enthusiasm started to wear off on her.

  “Good! See you on Sunday then. About four o’clock?”

  “Done deal!”

  Margo said goodbye to the man and turned off the phone.

  “I heard him screaming with happiness from here,” Michael said, returning the glass to Margo.

  “A poor, lonely creature.”

  “This poor creature doesn’t know what to do with his money.”

  Margo looked at Michael. He’d never talked like that. Margo had no plans to share money with him if she could get her hands on it.

  “I like the way you think,” she said. “Do you want to continue the conversation in the bedroom?”

  “Is something good expecting me there?” Michael moved his brows flirtatiously and Margo shuddered inwardly. She thought he could expect something, but for the last time.

  “You deserve it, babe,” she said, then took a sip of wine and beckoned her husband to follow her.

  CHAPTER 17

  Margo was awakened by a sound. It was still dark under her eyelids, so she tried to figure out what it was without opening her eyes. The thought began to disappear in just a couple of seconds and Margo started falling back asleep, only to hear the same sound again. This time, she opened her eyes and saw a blinking, blue light in front of her. Somebody sent her a message. At night. This hadn’t happened si
nce Margo put an end to her promising career as an escort, got married, and changed her phone number. Margo strained her ears. Michael slept motionless and soundless behind her. Moving slowly, Margo held out her hand and took the phone from the nightstand. She covered one eye when the phone screen splashed light in her face, opened the message, but couldn’t read the text. Her eyes refused to adapt to the light. All she saw was that the message came without an attached name. It had no number, just private.

  Margo put the phone back on the nightstand, deciding that nothing was urgent. A silhouette appeared in front of her in the dim light of the screen and Margo screamed.

  “Did I scare you?” Michael stopped dead.

  “Yes, you did! I thought you were in bed!”

  “It’s my revenge because you scared me before. I mean, sorry, dear. I went to get some water. I can bring you some.”

  Margo gritted her teeth.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Almost six.”

  Margo fell on her back, closed her eyes, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again.

  “I’ll get it myself. Are you going back to bed?”

  “Yes, I don’t have much to do today.”

  Margo thought that was just great. Why would he do anything? Why would he work? No need for that! They had the house!

  “Sleep then,” she said. “I’ll get coffee or juice and do yoga.”

  While Michael climbed back under the blanket, Margo got out of the bed, grabbed her phone, and left the room.

  The living room and the kitchen were cool from the air conditioner and Margo was content in her cotton pajamas, although she hated sleeping in them. She would prefer to sleep naked, but she wouldn’t enjoy Michael touching her bare skin. She took out a pouch of juice, filled a glass, and opened the message while drinking juice.

  Bitch.

  That was the first.

  You’re dead.

  The second message.

  Margo shook her head, stopped right under the lamp, although she could see the messages perfectly without it, and read them again.

  “Bitch. You’re dead. No, my dear Daisy, my gentle flower, it’s you who are dead.”