by Marten, Mimi
“See you in the morning.”
He hung up, and Marie was a little thrown off.
Is he coming? Really? He did say see you in the morning… Who is this VIP that he will be here for in a few hours?
Her curiosity was running, but her body was already in... as Philippe put it ‘full throttle.’ Marie was dressed, on the phone, and out of the door when she got a text: ‘You are not allowed to drive. Take a taxi, please.’
She smiled and grabbed her helmet from her Nautilus; the affectionate name she gave her motorbike.
❖ ❖ ❖
Simona was numb. Dead, as she put it. She felt nothing. No pain. No sadness. Nothing.
This is not bad actually. Being dead is not bad. I feel nothing. Is it shock? Is it the silence before the storm? Is it my magical friend Becherovka? If someone asked me how to describe it, what would I say?
Hmm, it’s lovely. It’s like a million tiny little bitters warming up your inside. It goes down, you have a herby spicy taste in your mouth, it travels down your throat like a warm waterfall that rides by your heart relieving the tension, then down your stomach and intestines. It is like a cave from the Discovery Channel when they light it up with fire and light. It takes a few seconds, but it has a calming effect. It’s like a chief that calms down angry Indians that are shaking the walls. It’s more than two hundred years old medicine. No wonder it does magic!
She would probably continue going on and on about it, but her phone rang.
“Philippe.”
“I am not going to ask you how you are doing. I have a pretty good idea. I just wanted you to know that someone is coming to take care of you.”
She wanted to say something, but he wouldn’t let her.
“This is my turn to speak and to do things. You also asked me to, remember? So, just stay dead. Dead is good for now. You need to have it together in the morning. We have to go get your son. You need to sleep at least an hour or two. Remember who you are doing it for.”
“Being dead is not bad, Philippe.”
“Do you have Becera or whatever that nasty thing is that you used to have in your freezer?”
“It’s Becherovka. And don’t you be talking badly about it. It’s a medicine!”
“Well, how much of that medicine did you have already?”
“I don’t know. I only found a wine glass.”
“Alright. As for numbing the pain, it was the best thing you could have done. It’s enough for now. You want to wake people up at six in the morning. You can’t smell like alcohol. Get up. Go to the minibar, and get a bottle of Pellegrino out.”
“Yes, boss.”
“Move! I’m waiting.”
“Ok, ok, I’m on slow mo... Hold your horses.”
“You don’t ever drink hard alcohol. This could be a disaster.”
“You are right. I will get my shit together.”
“What did you just say? Say it again. You know I have been taping this conversation. This is going on my answering machine.”
“Very funny, Mr. Right. And don’t get used to it either.” All that remained was an attempt to joke about the situation. It was a good sign; he made her smile at least. Marie should be there in no time. Everything was under control.
“Promise me something.”
“You are totally taking advantage of me tonight, and I hope you are fully enjoying it.”
Her sarcasm was back, another good sign. Progress was being made.
“Yes. Absolutely. You are going to do everything Marie asks you or tells you to do. Deal?”
“Hope this is not your black humor to get me to do something stupid.”
“Say it.”
“Fine! I promise.”
“Good. Are you drinking?”
“You said to stop.”
“I meant the Pellegrino, you idiot.”
Simona was laughing. Philippe realized she was pulling his leg.
“I don’t need this abuse. Good night!”
It was 2:30 in the morning, and Philippe was already in the air. He texted Marie and Simona that the car pick up was changed to 5:30 AM.
❖ ❖ ❖
Andre was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out of the window. He felt nauseated, a feeling of being stabbed in the stomach. All he could feel was guilt and regret. The typical feelings of satisfaction and pleasure from sex, the dopamine, were nowhere to be found.
Vinciane moved behind him and touched his back. Andre felt as if an electric current just ran through his whole body. She felt rejection, and the regret on his face wasn’t easy for her to digest either.
“I don’t understand. You are acting like I drugged you. Twisted your arm or something.”
Andre knew all too well that she may not be innocent, but he was the one to blame.
“I’m sorry. You are right. It’s not your fault. I’m disgusted with myself. How did this happen? What have I done?”
He started to have a monologue with himself, walking around naked, looking for his clothes. Vinciane was watching him, getting irritated. She didn’t get what she wanted, and now he was fucking up her mood even more.
“You know you can still go back and save your ass. They are probably still there. Maybe they didn’t even notice that you have been gone for a couple of hours.”
He looked at her with disbelief as if she were speaking Chinese. She thinks this is about their friends? His reputation? Or how to cover this up? This is about him destroying his life and everything he loves. Everybody he loves. The two people that mean the world to him. Simona...
“Oh, my God. What time is it in NY?”
“What? You are going to call her and confess your sins? Wow. You are crazy.”
Andre looked at the naked woman on the bed. She was lovely, and he enjoyed her company. They had a really good time together, but it wasn’t Simona. It wasn’t the woman he loved.
So, what am I still doing here? I have to get out of here. How did I get here in the first place?
“I’m sorry. I really am. I have to go. Good bye, Vinciane.”
“Don’t let the door hit you, asshole!”
❖ ❖ ❖
Marie knocked twice, and Simona opened. The two women looked at each other for a few seconds. Simona with a numb look as Philippe predicted. Marie walked in, immediately assessing the situation. The room set-up threw her off a little, but she made the connection and ignored it.
“I am Marie. I know who you are. Well, I know your name is Simona. That’s all I need to know really...”
Marie left the room, went to the bathroom, started to run hot water in the tub, and came back. She unpacked the food and all the tools she knew would be needed. Simona was watching her without saying a word.
She walked over and unzipped her dress, unhooked her bra, grabbed her by her shoulders, and walked her into the bathroom.
She didn’t trust her to leave her alone in the bathroom. She only left to go get her a glass of wine, but after she saw the Becherovka bottle, she decided not to. She grabbed the Pellegrino instead and walked back to the bathroom. Marie slowly washed her body and her hair. The bathroom was hot and steamy, and it relaxed Simona enough to get into a mellow state.
Marie made her step out of the bathtub and brought her back to the room. Simona refused to lie on the bed and walked over to the cushy lounger by the window. Marie put a towel down and made her lie down. She noticed her body temperature cooling off too quickly, despite the hot bath. She picked up her lotion and started to massage her back, down to her legs. While spreading the lotion, she noticed her smooth skin. She was there to bring life to this woman’s muscles and to relieve her tension, but something else was going on. When she got to her feet, she jumped.
“Oh, my God, your feet are like icicles.”
“Because I’m dead.”
Marie felt compassion for this woman. Her pain was unbearable. She made an assumption, based on the picture around the room, that a man fucked up and broke this woman’s heart.
“Simona, please turn around.”
She started to massage her shoulders, upper chest, abdomen, but then she touched her breasts. Simona had no reaction; she was still submissive. Marie was surprised how soft her breast felt, even with the implants. They had to be under the muscle. She was massaging them gently in a circle motion until her nipples became hard. Finally there was a bodily response. She went all the way down to her thighs, legs, and feet. Then she went back up, massaged her stomach, and started to touch her hips and groin. Marie noticed a reflex, a shiver. The body was moving. Marie was no longer treating a dead body, but a body that was responding to her touch. She caught herself enjoying the soft skin. A skinny, but firm body; it was a first for her, too.
Marie stopped the motion, but kept her hands on. Simona opened her eyes. Her look was not scared or shocked. It was still submissive, but what she said surprised Marie.
“More…”
Marie realized she was dancing on dangerous ground, and it would be like taking advantage of a vulnerable, hurt creature. She put one hand on Simona’s forehead, leaned closer to see her eyes...
“I can’t go there, but you can. You are safe with me. You can trust me.”
She continued to massage her everywhere... She went to get her coconut oil out of the bag and continued massaging every inch of her body. Her mind was still inattentive, but her body was no longer dead. When she got to her vulva, her body was in the full spasm of a climax. Marie stopped, but Simona grabbed her hands and held them firm on her clitoris. It wasn’t just an orgasm; it was a powerful release of emotions.
Marie was finished. She covered her up and held her tight in her arms. Simona was finally able to cry. Grabbing onto Marie like a life raft, holding on for dear life.
It took only a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Then she stopped. Silence. Marie still didn’t move.
“I’m wet.”
Marie smiled, “That means you are not dead. You go shower. I’ll prepare the food.”
❖ ❖ ❖
Andre was walking the streets. He listened to Stephan’s message, but it was too late to call him back or do anything about it. He wished that Stephan punched him last night or beat some sense into him before he left. He couldn’t blame Stephan. He was being a true friend, and surely he didn’t gossip about it.
What now? I want to call Blondie, but I can’t. I can’t even send her a kiss good night. She is going to know. What the fuck am I going to do? Can I just not say it? I can’t risk my life, my family for a stupid mistake!
But how am I going to look at her if I can’t even text her? I can’t. Shit. What now? What the hell happened?! You are a moron. That’s what happened.
Andre was getting tired. It was 3 AM. He had been walking for over an hour.
Francois. I want to hold him and make this bad dream go away. I can’t go to Adam’s. I feel disgusting. I can’t touch my baby boy…
He looked up and realized that he was standing in front of the Intercontinental Hotel. He must have walked down the Prague Castle steps and crossed the Charles Bridge without realizing where he was walking to. He hesitated for a second and then walked in.
“I need a room for tonight, please.”
“Sure, any preference?”
“One with a shower.”
The front desk clerk had a weird look on his face, but he didn’t say anything.
Andre checked in. Minibar first, then shower. He was scrubbing his body as if he wanted to take all the stuff off, make it go down the drain. He stopped only when his skin started hurting.
He stepped out of the shower and finally felt clean again, but the knife in his stomach didn’t go away. It was almost 4 AM. He decided to try to get some sleep.
❖ ❖ ❖
Marie took the soup out, set up the table with a plate and cutlery. She even brought salt and pepper. Simona walked out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel. Marie brought her a bathrobe and held it up.
Simona started to eat, so Marie went to clean up. The hot soup felt good. She was making slow, mechanical movements with no expression at all. Marie was watching her, debating whether she should feed her to get more food in her. When she stopped moving, and only stared, Marie sat down across from her.
“I know you can’t taste the food. I know you are exhausted. But I was told you need to be ready in the morning. I don’t know why or for what, but you need to eat and sleep at least for an hour.”
“My son.”
“What?”
“I have to get ready to go get my son.”
“Focus on him then. You need to eat to be able to go get your son. You need to look normal. And we are running out of time. I have to wake you up at 5 AM. Do you want me to feed you?”
Simona looked at Marie and handed her the fork.
What has happened to me? Who is this woman? How do I trust a stranger? What a strange feeling… Where are my boundaries? Why is my brain operating in simple-sentence mode only? Is it my jet-lag? Is it shock? Why am I so tired? I can’t lift my hands. Is it temporary or permanent? Is my brain fried?
Francois! Ok, I get it. I can’t be dead. What did she say? I have to eat and sleep. I HAVE TO! I’m going to get Francois in a few hours…
Simona snapped out of her daydreaming, took the fork back, and started to eat on her own. Her stomach shrunk despite her determination. She was able to have only few more bites. Marie nodded with understanding in her eyes and handed her the water bottle.
“Time to sleep now.”
Simona went to brush her teeth, and Marie cleared the plate away. She came out of the bathroom wearing a shirt and undies. There was something very sexy in that absentminded look, combined with the simplicity of the outfit. Marie was aiming for the bed, but Simona made a strong gesture not to.
“Okay... That is a ‘no way.’ So back to the sofa lounger?”
She nodded in agreement and walked over, looking outside. Prague was waking up. It was 4 AM.
Simona was sleeping, and Marie was packing her suitcase. She was in the walk-in closet when her phone rang. It was Philippe.
“Marie, I won’t be able to land until 5:15 AM due to weather.”
“You are really coming, huh?”
Philippe ignored that and continued, “Let’s make it a 6 AM pick-up.”
“Perfect. That will give her over an hour of sleep.”
“Can she do it?”
“She is going to be ready, no worries. Where is she going to get her son?”
“Her brother-in-law.”
“And she is going to show up at 6:30 AM on a Saturday morning, and say what?”
“He has kids. She would never go there empty-handed. Should I pick something up?”
Marie quickly scanned around Simona’s luggage, then she looked up. On the top shelf in the closet, she discovered three bags.
“Nope, she is ahead of you. Looks like three presents are ready.”
“You are right. She was planning on going there anyway.”
“That is still not solving the problem. She is going to show up with three presents from…?”
“New York.”
“…right. From New York for the kids. But it’s still a little alarming to barge in at that early hour to pick up your child with really no better reason than an emergency, don’t you think?”
“Good point. Let me think for a second. We have to think like her...”
“I don’t know her, so you think like her. Do you know her that well?”
Philippe noticed Marie’s remark, but decided to ignore it.
“I got it. She would bring breakfast. We need breakfast, Marie. Fresh fruit, pastries, some cold cuts, and cheese. Smoothies for the kids.”
“Slow down, we still don’t know which way we are going.”
“I don’t know Adam’s address.”
Marie picked up Simona’s phone and went back to the closet. She left the door open to have a visual on Simona.
“What’s the asshole’s name?”
/> “What do you mean?”
“I mean it’s not her mother or a friend who did this to her. What’s his name?”
“Ha. Why do you think it was him? Did she say anything?”
“Do we really have to do this? One look at this room and you get the picture. Name!”
Philippe didn’t understand, but Marie was right. Time was of the essence.
“Andre Zatopek.”
“Thank you. I will get it from her phone.”
“What? No!”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean? What do you mean no?!”
“Are you going to hack into her phone? Please don’t. It’s morally wrong. We can’t do that.”
“Since when? Says who? You? You are kidding, right?!”
“No, not kidding. I have changed. I have moral boundaries now.”
“In your business? Yeah, right. Or is it just for certain people?..or better yet, is it just her?”
Marie was venturing on dangerous ground where even Philippe didn’t fully go.
“No, not her phone. You are the guru; you can get it on your own. What the heck am I paying you for?”
Marie smiled. She knew she hit a nerve, but she wasn’t going to press it.
“Zatopek, in Prague? Great. It’s like Smith or Johnson in New York. You got any numbers? Date of birth, social security, passport, anything like that?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Seriously? You care about this woman more than anybody I have seen, and you didn’t check him out? Whatever…”
“You are awful, Marie. Of course I did. But it was a long time ago. I don’t have the file here.”
“Does she have a Facebook account? What’s her last name?”
“She doesn’t, actually.”
“Really? I like her even better now. Well, I’m sure he does, so let’s see… I’m running all the Zatopek accounts through your phone. When you see his picture, tap on it.”
“Tap on the picture on my phone? How are you going to see it?”
“Ok, genius, it’s time for your refreshment course in technology. Call me any time for an appointment.”