He carried the suitcases into the chalet but left the rug in the trunk. He showered and put on a light-colored shirt so his and Clarice’s clothes would be matching. He got comfortable in the armchair in front of the desk and continued reading Perfect Days. With a pen, he made notes on the printed text. He thought the argument was poorly written, almost sloppy. The screenplay itself was better, but he was going to make a few suggestions.
He went back to reception and asked if he could get something to eat. Clarice still wasn’t feeling well, but he was starving. He returned with a tray of biscuits and homemade strawberry and apricot jam, as well as some potato soup with croutons. He put the screenplay aside and went back to the detective novel he was reading—the classic Tropical Crimes by Amália Castelar.
He didn’t stop reading when Clarice woke up.
“Stop knocking me out,” she said in a hoarse voice. “Please.”
Teo nodded in silence. He put down the book and pointed at the tray on the bedside table.
“You must be hungry. I don’t want you to get weak.”
He had placed the plain biscuits on a plastic plate and replaced the little jam spatulas with teaspoons.
She sat up in bed, her legs hidden under the blanket. She picked up the bowl of soup and held it out to Teo. “I want you to try it first.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry.”
“Just a spoonful.”
“I don’t know what you think of me, Clarice. I swear I didn’t put anything in your soup.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“It’s going to be really hard if you keep this up,” he said, pulling the armchair up to the bed. “I don’t want to fight. I swear there’s nothing in your soup.”
She lifted the spoon to her lips, then pulled it away. “I don’t trust you! I don’t trust you!” She hurled the bowl against the wall.
“Don’t shout,” he said, impatient about having to repeat himself. “No one can hear you from here. What have you got to gain by doing it?”
He got up and went to get some toilet paper from the bathroom. He picked up the pieces of the shattered bowl and the croutons and mopped up the thick beige liquid that was spreading across the floor.
“I’m surprised you refused your food. I didn’t expect that from you. What I do expect is common sense and politeness. It seems I can’t trust you.”
He pretended to be angry, even though he was finding it all a lot of fun. It was normal for couples to fight, after all. Soon they’d be okay again.
“I don’t want you to trust me,” she said.
“That’s a shame.”
Teo went back to the armchair. He pushed her laptop aside and placed the smaller pink Samsonite on the desk.
“If you shout again, I’ll have to use the gags I bought.”
He took the gags out of the suitcase. Right next to them, hidden under some clothes, was the arm and leg spreader, but he kept it hidden so as not to frighten her.
“I’ll avoid using the sedative as much as possible. But I need you to trust me. Eat the biscuits.”
He hoped she’d weigh the situation and decide that it was best to comply with him, rather than disobey.
Clarice reached for the biscuits and spread apricot jam on them. “You said you want me to get to know you better,” she said as she chewed. “What for? We’re not in a relationship.”
“No, we’re not, but we could be. You didn’t have to kiss me at that barbecue if you didn’t feel anything for me. There’s no point denying it now. You’re in no condition to judge for yourself. You need to understand that, Clarice. Think of this trip as an opportunity for us.”
“Do you really think that keeping me locked up and jabbing me with a needle every five minutes is going to make me like you?”
“You left me no choice. It was that or nothing.”
“As long as I’m here, drugged and handcuffed, all I feel is afraid. Really fucking afraid of what you’re capable of.”
Her eyes began to water, but he knew she was just acting.
Clarice returned the biscuits to the plate. “If you want me to trust you, then you have to trust me too,” she said. “I can promise you one thing. I get what you did, and I’m not going to tell anyone. Not the police, not my parents, no one.”
“Don’t talk like that. You’re offending me.”
“You can trust me. Nothing would happen. And we’d be friends. We’d get to know each other gradually. I could help you. We could arrange to go out together, to talk. And I’d introduce you to some of my girlfriends. It’d be great!” She seemed nervous but convinced.
“I think this trip might make you change your mind about the two of us,” he said. “Just don’t be so insolent.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out? Are you going to kill me?”
“I’m not a murderer.”
“What are you, then?”
“In the end, if you don’t feel the same way I do, I’ll let you go. I just need you to give me a chance to show you that we could be happy together. The chance you refused me when I tried to get to know you. . . . I’d never do you any harm, Clarice.”
“You already have! My family must be worried sick!”
“Your mother knows you’re with me. She sent you a text message, and I took the liberty of answering. I told her we were in Teresópolis together and that you’re working on your screenplay.”
“I—”
“It shows that my intentions are good. I’m not going to hurt you. If you were to die, I’d be held responsible.” He was proud to have such irrefutable answers to her questions. Proof that he was right.
“I want to see what you sent my mother.”
He got her cell from the suitcase and let her read the message.
“So I’m fine and happy, am I?” she snorted.
“Don’t take it so seriously, my little rat. It was just to make the old girl happy.”
• • •
Clarice asked questions all afternoon. She wanted to know how many days had passed and how they’d got there. She remembered showering and asked if it had been at his place. She also asked about the rug her mother had mentioned in her message. Teo answered everything.
They came to an agreement about the handcuffs: if she behaved, she’d only have to wear them when she was alone or when it was time to sleep. They would sleep together in the double bed. She would wear the gag with the harness when showering and in exceptional circumstances, when he had to go out. He agreed that it was humiliating, but he didn’t see any alternative. He still didn’t trust her enough to leave her ungagged in the bathroom: directly above the toilet was a small window facing the back of the chalet.
It was already dark when he told Clarice to get dressed to go out. She chose a lovely gold dress and put a denim jacket over the top. While she was in the bathroom, Teo tucked the revolver into his waistband, hidden under his shirt. He took the doctor’s satchel with the syringe and ampoules of Thyolax with him.
They drove to the outskirts of the city, where Teo parked on a dark, steep street and made sure there was cell phone reception there. He dialed his home number. Because no one answered, he tried Marli’s number. Patricia’s friend took a while to pick up and said they were watching a film. He asked to speak to his mother.
It was a short call and Clarice stayed quiet during their conversation, her head leaning against the headrest, eyes closed. Before hanging up, he explained again that there was no cell reception at the hotel and that he didn’t know when he’d be back. He said good-bye to his mother with a “love you too.” He wanted to show Clarice that he was from a good family.
Then he handed her the phone and told her to call home.
“My home?”
“Yes. A text message isn’t enough to stop a mother from worrying. Do what I did. Say you’re with me, the trip is
great, and there’s no phone reception at the hotel. You can also say that you’re going to communicate via text messages, as you want to limit your contact with the outside world in order to work. And leave the speaker on.”
She agreed and dialed the number.
“Don’t do anything silly, please. I don’t want the night to end badly,” he said, pulling the revolver out of his waistband and placing it on his lap. She turned her face, pretending not to have seen it. Her hands shook.
Helena answered quickly. Clarice balked when her mother said, “Hello, who is it?” on the other end of the line.
Teo took the phone from her and hung up. “What’s going on?”
“I—” Her eyes were red, and he found the detail beautiful: different from the crocodile tears she had almost shed earlier. These genuine tears made her a real person. A certain amount of intimacy is required in order to cry in front of someone. He had never cried in front of anyone himself.
“Stay calm, my little rat. It’s important that you make the call.”
Clarice wiped her face with a tissue.
“Come on, try again. I need you to make an effort.”
She took a deep breath, staring at the revolver.
“I’m not going to use it. If you obey me, I won’t use it.”
He handed the cell back to her, and the sound of the speakerphone invaded the car.
Helena was quick to pick up again.
“It’s Clarice,” she said. “How are you?”
“Hi, honey! What miracle is this?”
“Teo just called his mum and insisted I call you too.”
“Wow, so someone’s finally putting you on the straight and narrow! How are things in Teresópolis?”
“Fine. Teo’s here with me, and . . . he sends his regards.”
“Send mine to him. I like this guy, you know. Much better than the last one.”
“The trip is . . . different. How’s Dad?”
“Still away, as usual. Invite Teo over for dinner when you get back. I’d like to get to know him better.”
“I don’t have a date yet, but we won’t be too long,” she said. Her eyes filled with water again but no tears spilled over.
“Be back by Christmas.”
Teo tried to reassure Clarice. With gestures, he reminded her to mention the lack of cellphone reception at the hotel.
“It might be a while before I call again,” she said. “If I need to, I’ll text you.”
“Okay. Now tell me, what did you do with the living room rug?”
Clarice looked at Teo. She was chewing on her nails and cuticles.
“It’s no big deal . . . I . . .” She spat a piece of cuticle through the window. “I spilled something on it as I was leaving, and Teo thought we should take it to a dry cleaner.”
“I hope this Teo is the right one. To put some sense into you. The last one would’ve left the dirty rug right where it was.”
They said good-bye without much enthusiasm.
• • •
A fifteen-minute drive, and they were back at the hotel. Teo got out of the car to open the gate. He especially liked the smell of wet grass and the sound of the crickets at night. When they got to the chalet, he opened the passenger door for Clarice, and they walked inside together.
In the bathroom, she quickly pulled on her orange pajamas. She lay on her side on the bed, eyes closed, pretending to be asleep. Teo turned on the heater. When they had passed reception, he had noticed a single light on. The flickering light projected onto the curtain the shadow of a tiny body typing at the computer on the counter. He was pleased that the dwarf family was discreet.
He cuffed Clarice’s arms and legs and studied her closely in the lamplight. She was pale, snow white.
9
The hotel served a hearty breakfast. There was a spread of juices, yogurt, coffee, fruit, cereals, and cakes arranged on a table, buffet style. The room smelled of freshly baked bread and had large windows overlooking the lake. A dwarf in an apron was serving the hot dishes: scrambled eggs and sliced sausage. Teo got a cappuccino and some toasted whole-grain bread with oats and chose a corner table facing the trees.
If Clarice were able to scream, it would be impossible to hear her from there.
Teo ate his toast quickly. Even though the chalet was farther up the slope, he didn’t like to leave her alone. He returned to the chalet with croissants and hot chocolate. He reconnected the telephone and told her to call reception before she ate. If Clarice was a regular at the hotel, and it would be strange if she didn’t at least say hi.
She chatted for more than ten minutes with the head dwarf, whose name was Gulliver, and explained that she was writing a screenplay and didn’t want to be bothered during her stay. Teo was pleased. Clarice had done very well, and he hadn’t even needed to show her the revolver. He praised her for her composure and let her eat in silence.
He was reading his detective novel when she said she felt nauseated.
“Lean back, and don’t put your head down. It’ll pass.”
Clarice nodded. She raised the mug of hot chocolate to her mouth and managed to take two sips, then choked. She bent over, coughed, and vomited onto the sheet. Chocolate, croissants. She started to cry again, paralyzed by the filth on her pajamas.
He took her by the arm, told her to wash her face in the bathroom sink, and handcuffed her to the pipe behind the toilet. The smell was unbearable. He left the chalet and headed down the stone path until he found a dwarf who looked like a chambermaid: she was carrying a pile of pillowcases in her little arms.
“I’m staying in the Sleepy Chalet,” he said. He felt pathetic having to refer to his accommodation like that. “I need a change of bedding and towels.”
“I’m just finishing cleaning Happy Chalet and I’ll be right there, okay?”
“That won’t be necessary. My girlfriend—”
“Clarice.”
“Yes, Clarice. She’s putting the finishing touches on her screenplay. And artists—you know how it is. She’s on a kind of retreat for a few days. To write. She asked me to come get a change of sheets and tidy up the room myself. . . . It’s tough being a writer’s boyfriend!”
The dwarf didn’t seem to mind. She asked Teo to follow her to the little linen room behind reception lined with shelves and baskets of clothes. The place smelled of lavender. A washing machine was purring in a corner.
“When you come to get fresh towels, don’t forget to bring back the used ones,” she said. She climbed up a little ladder to get some towels and sheets for him. “Here you go.”
He thanked her and helped her get a black plastic bag down from the top shelf.
“I need to collect the rubbish,” she said. “If you can’t find me, you can leave whatever’s dirty in the basket and get fresh towels from the shelf. This room is never locked.”
“I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no problem at all.”
They took the path back together, making small talk. He secretly had fun trying to synchronize his footsteps with the dwarf’s. They stopped at the place where the path forked off to the Happy and Sleepy Chalets.
“Thanks again,” he said.
“Tell Clarice I said hi. And good luck with her screenplay—I love that girl.”
• • •
Over the next few days, Teo and Clarice fell into a routine. He would wake up before her and go for a run around the lake while there was still no one around. The Dwarf Lake Farm Hotel came to life at around eight o’clock, with children churning up piles of earth and couples lining up to ride in the pedal boats. He’d head back to the chalet with Clarice’s breakfast. He tried to vary the menu so she wouldn’t get sick of the same food all the time: milk pudding, cheeses, rye bread, homemade papaya and pumpkin compote.
While she ate, he changed the
bedclothes and towels. Clarice was in charge of cleaning the room. Teo didn’t want her to think she was going to live like a princess, as he knew that women were better suited to domestic chores.
They’d talk until lunchtime. Those were the most pleasurable hours of the day and, unfortunately, the ones that passed the quickest. Little by little they got to know each other. He loved passion fruit mousse; she loved chocolate fudge. He wasn’t interested in politics; she was left wing. He liked the Coen brothers; she preferred Michael Haneke and Woody Allen. He listened only to Brazilian music, especially Wilson Simonal, Filipe Catto, Caetano Veloso and Jorge Ben Jor. She liked everything but preferred American pop and English rock. They were both only children.
Other traits of Clarice’s gradually came to the fore. When discussing her favorite subjects, she was as precise as a historian; she knew dates, times, names, and surnames. When talking about the future, she would narrow her eyes as if she were projecting projects and dreams onto a big screen. He liked seeing her do it and would encourage her to keep talking.
Clarice also wanted to know about him, and Teo felt very comfortable talking about himself: he told her about medical school and his plans for the future.
He even mentioned Gertrude. “She’s my best friend.”
“Where did you meet?”
“In a pretty unusual place. Anatomy class.”
He told her a serious of funny anecdotes about things he’d done with Gertrude. Clarice found it interesting that he was friends with a much older woman and said she wanted to meet her. Teo agreed and smiled. He said his friend would love to meet her too. It made him a little ill at ease, as he didn’t want to spoil things by telling her that Gertrude was a corpse.
• • •
There were days when time would get away from them and they wouldn’t eat lunch until three in the afternoon. Teo would come back from the dining room with plates of food, and they’d eat together at the desk. She preferred red meat—which Teo brought already cut up—and had a penchant for pasta and cheesy sauces. He ate lots of salad and had the best eggplant lasagna of his life. He made a point of going to see the cook—invariably, another dwarf—to congratulate her on the dish.
Perfect Days Page 7