They sat on a metal bench. During the day, the children ran riot there, feeding the geese and sliding down the slope. Under the white floodlight, their shadows were projected onto the black surface of the lake. They breathed in the fresh air for a few minutes.
Clarice smiled at him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Sorry about the way I treated you yesterday,” she said. “I’ve been feeling weird.”
“Weird?”
“I thought I’d be in a state, but I feel inexplicably good.”
Teo couldn’t see her face, but he knew the expression on it: eyes closed, lips tight, hesitant. He could tell just from her tone of voice.
“That’s nice to hear.”
“It doesn’t make any sense. I should be scared, shouldn’t I?” She lifted up her head, hands clasped to his. “I’m not sure why . . . I feel safe with you. I know you wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.”
During that whole time, he had been very reasonable with her. Who has never experienced unrequited love? Who wouldn’t have liked to show the other person that their love could be different, that things could work out between them? He had merely done what everyone had wanted to do at one time or another. He’d created a chance for himself to be near Clarice, to allow her to get to know him better before uttering a definitive no. He’d been bold and courageous. Now he was reaping the rewards for his efforts.
He showed Clarice the rings. Solid gold, gleaming in the little box.
“Will you marry me?”
She raised her hands to her mouth.
“I love you, Clarice.”
He immediately regretted having said it. It wasn’t good to tell a woman you were in love with her. It frightened them off. He’d kept his feelings for Clarice under control this whole time, using a rational or ironic tone of voice when speaking to her. But now he’d been disconcertingly sincere and had blurted out his feelings.
“Please give it some thought.”
She looked stunned.
Teo understood that it was a very important moment in a woman’s life.
“Yes,” she said finally.
Delicately, she leaned over, and their lips touched in a tender kiss. He stroked her hair and hugged her tightly, and nothing more needed to be said. Their mouths understood each other in silence.
• • •
They went back to the chalet an hour later. As he walked through the door, Teo was still inebriated by the exchange of caresses. He locked the door and returned the key to his pocket. Clarice had headed straight to the bathroom.
“Wait there,” she said. She was removing her makeup at the sink, her hair pulled back in a shower cap.
He sat on the bed, feeling nervous about what was to come. He took off his shoes and put the revolver in the drawer of the table on his side of the bed. He didn’t think it was appropriate to put on his pajamas. He would wait for Clarice to take the initiative and invite him over to her.
“Oh, Teo, my ring!” she said, lifting up her wet face with a start. “The water—it fell in!”
He raced to the bathroom and tried to spot the ring through the drain hole, then squatted down to examine the pipe underneath. The sound of footsteps startled him. Clarice had dashed to the front door and was rattling the knob in desperation. He walked toward her.
“Get back!” she shouted, leaning against the door. She pointed the revolver at him. “Where’s the key?”
Teo took a step back. The drawer of the bedside table was open.
“Don’t do anything silly, Clarice. Put it down.”
“I’m going to kill you, you fucking bastard! If you don’t give me the key, I’ll kill you!”
Teo was disappointed. He never could have imagined there was room for so much rancor and falseness in that tiny body.
“Is this really called for, Clarice? The last few weeks have been so good! We’ve talked about your screenplay, watched films . . . It’s been—”
“It’s been fucking awful! I don’t need your advice for my screenplay! You’re disgusting! Give me the damned key!”
Her eyes were wide open, her legs slightly bent, hands shaking. The shower cap made her look a little macabre. There was hatred on her face. Fear too.
“I’m not going to give you the key, Clarice.”
“Take another step, and I shoot. Get back. Over there, go.”
“You can’t be talking seriously. We’ve shared such beautiful moments!”
“Stick this ring up your ass!” She took the ring out of her jacket pocket and threw it at his face. “I want the key!”
“I told you I’m not giving it to you. Shoot me if you want.”
“I will. I will, you fucking prick!”
Even holding the revolver, she looked petrified. “This is your last chance.”
“Shoot me. If that’s what I deserve after everything I’ve done, shoot me.”
“Don’t make me—”
“It’s just a phase, Clarice. It’ll pass,” he said. He held his hands out to her.
“Shut the fuck up! Get back.”
“I need you to trust me.”
“I don’t!”
“I’d never hurt you.”
“Fuck you! I want the key! I want to leave this place. I want to go home.”
He smiled at her. “That’s not how it works.”
“Give me the key—or I’ll blow your face off.”
“You wouldn’t have the guts.” Teo moved closer with calculated footsteps, hands raised.
Clarice pulled the trigger. One, two, three, four, five times. The cylinder of the gun did a full 360 degrees, indifferently.
Teo walked forward, feeling a mixture of anxiety and anger. He slapped her.
“I told you I’d never do you any harm! Do you really think I’d go around with a loaded gun?”
He slapped her again.
Clarice fell onto the bed, shut her eyes, and tried to hide under the covers. A purple mark was beginning to appear next to her mouth. Teo thought about sedating her again. It was what she deserved. He went as far as to get the syringe but changed his mind. He got the arm and leg spreader out of the Samsonite. She whimpered, begging for forgiveness as he put the gag on her, but he had nothing more to say. He pulled her by the hair and cuffed her arms and legs to the ends of the contraption. He closed padlocks, buckles, and Velcro and dragged her in it all onto the cold bathroom floor. He left the light on. Clarice would spend the night there, crucified, thinking about how badly she’d fucked up.
11
As soon as it was light outside, Teo went to get Clarice from the bathroom. He walked arm in arm with her to the bed, as she was stiff all over. He suggested a massage, but her reply was silence. He had left a plate of watermelon slices on the desk.
“Don’t you want to eat?” he asked.
She turned her head away, pressing her lips together like an ornery child.
Teo slipped off her shoes and massaged her dry feet. Whenever he touched Clarice, his hands tingled. He was surprised by the sensations that she caused in him. He tried to smile but was still indignant. If the gun had been loaded, he’d be dead. She was clearly not in her right mind. He felt let down, as well as a certain contempt for her weakness.
“Aren’t you going to talk to me?” he asked.
Over the next few days, Clarice refused to eat or to communicate. She accepted only water but didn’t thank him. She spent the afternoons at the laptop, working on her screenplay.
Teo tried to give her space. He knew she wouldn’t hold out for long. Couples always made up.
Lying on the bed, he watched her in the armchair: her hunched shoulders, her skeletal arms, her apathetic, almost dead stare. The situation was becoming unbearable. He tried to be nice, but she remained aloof. No matter what topic he brought up, she gave him no more than a disdainful look. All affec
tion was refused. The fact that she wasn’t eating also concerned him.
On the Sunday evening, she broke the silence. She was under the covers, ready to sleep, when she said, “I feel really sorry for you, Teo.”
Her words really hurt him. Couldn’t she see he was right? He made an effort to keep the conversation going.
“I feel really sorry for you too, Clarice.”
She pretended to be sleeping, but her eyelids quivered.
“I feel sorry for you because you have someone who loves you and you couldn’t give a damn,” he said.
She opened her eyes and glared at him. “Do you really think you love me?”
“Yes.”
“What you feel is infatuation. It’s an illness, an obsession. It’s anything but love.”
“I don’t believe in the taxonomical classification of emotions, Clarice.”
She shook her head and retreated back into silence.
• • •
Go into town and bring back whatever fucking cigarette you can find,” she said from the armchair.
It was Thursday. Clarice hadn’t smoked for a week and was getting ruder by the day. Teo sought to ignore her. He knew abstinence was painful and had tried to solve the problem some days earlier: he had brought some toothpicks from reception.
“Most former smokers chew on toothpicks the first few days. It’s important to substitute what you put in your mouth,” he had explained.
She had thrown the toothpicks onto the floor, but later she’d taken his advice. Little by little her addiction was passing.
“Go into town and bring back whatever fucking cigarette you can find,” she repeated.
“I’m not going into town today.”
He was folding clothes and organizing them in the suitcases. He picked up her cell.
“Has anyone else sent me a message?”
“No.”
“I’d like to see my cell.”
“No one’s sent any messages.”
“I want to see my cell. You said you’d do anything I asked.”
“Please don’t be impudent. I said there were no messages. Therefore it’s the truth: there are no messages! Now stop badgering me!”
“You treat me like a prisoner,” she said. “You pretend you’re being nice, but you treat me like an animal.”
“You’re not seeing things clearly.”
“Breno,” she said. The name came as a blow, like a buzzard that had been circling a dead body for some time and decided to attack. “You know who I’m talking about. My boyfriend.”
“Ex-boyfriend.”
“He’s my boyfriend. And I miss him.”
“You had a fight, from what I understand.”
“It doesn’t matter. We always fight, and then we make up.”
“That doesn’t seem to be the case this time.” He made a vague gesture with his hands. “Breno sent you a message. He said he didn’t want anything more to do with you.”
“Don’t lie, Teo.”
“I’m not lying. I remember what it said very well. Sorry I didn’t mention it before. I deleted the message because I didn’t want you to be upset.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“We’ve been here for three weeks, and he hasn’t come after you, Clarice. Isn’t it obvious he doesn’t want anything to do with you?”
The question threw her.
“Besides, he was very offensive in his message. I was shocked.” Teo squinted, as if retrieving information from memory. “He said he wasn’t happy with the relationship. And he called you a slut.”
“Liar!”
Her voice faltered, and he knew she wasn’t so sure.
“The slut made an impression on me. He repeated it three or four times.”
Clarice burst into tears. Teo was proud. Before he had deleted the conversation history, he had noticed that Breno didn’t deal well with her extroverted ways.
“Liar! All you’ve done is lie from the start!” she said, hunched over in the armchair. Her head was between her knees, bobbing up and down with her sobs. Her spinal vertebrae moved under her skin like a snake. Clarice had lost around nine pounds over the last few days. She was skeletal but still beautiful. If he could paint, he’d have painted a portrait of that moment. He considered going to get his camera but thought it might be offensive.
Suddenly, Clarice jumped at Teo. She scratched him and tried to bite him. She hit him in the face with the pillow. Teo held her wrists and managed to handcuff her. He was most annoyed at her actions. She was proving to be quite uncouth. He got the Thyolax from the minibar and injected her amid her breathless protests.
• • •
Teo lost track of time as he tended to Clarice’s arms. He massaged her sores with moisturizer. Her ashen skin was marked with purple blotches and scratches. She was deep in a restful sleep, her body a territory to be discovered. Her arms handcuffed over her head made her look sensual, and her white thighs poked out of her pajamas. He knew those thoughts were inevitable and went to have a shower.
It was already after midnight when someone knocked at the door. Three quick raps. He got out of bed and glanced at Clarice, who was still asleep. He pulled back the curtains of the side window. The sky was black, with dark clouds slicing up the moon. The light from the lamppost by the lake was weak, showing only the silhouette of the visitor. It wasn’t a dwarf.
Teo got the revolver from the suitcase, kicking himself for not having bought any ammunition. There was more knocking.
“Who is it?”
No answer came.
“Who is it?”
With the revolver in his waistband, he opened the door. It didn’t take him long to recognize the tall young man from the Cecília Meireles Concert Hall, dressed in jeans, a green polo shirt, a leather jacket, and rectangular-rimmed glasses.
“What do you want?”
Breno looked him up and down with an idiotic expression. “Who are you?”
“You knocked on my door in the middle of the night.”
“Look, I just want to talk to Clarice. Is she here?”
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
“I need to talk to her. She always stays in this chalet.”
Teo thought about saying he didn’t know what he was talking about but didn’t want to come across as cowardly or submissive. “She’s asleep. How did you get here?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I’m her boyfriend,” said Teo, noticing that Breno’s breath reeked of alcohol. He was shaking his head, and his eyes looked as if they were going to pop out of their orbits. “I’m not going to let you bother her anymore. We’re together now. Get lost.”
“I don’t want to make a scene. I just want to talk to her. I’m begging you.”
“You’ve already talked more than enough with those ridiculous messages!”
“You saw them?”
“Clarice showed me. She didn’t know what else to do to get you to understand that it’s over.”
“Please, I don’t know what’s going on. She won’t answer me properly. I’m desperate,” said Breno with the ruefulness of a drunk. “I need to hear from her mouth that it’s over. That’s all, and then I’ll go.”
Teo looked at Clarice’s bedraggled ex and found him pathetic. How could she have liked someone like that?
“I know you’re her new boyfriend and—”
“I told you, she’s asleep.”
“She never goes to bed early. She can’t have changed that much.”
Breno was calmer now. His gaze came to rest on the long scratch Clarice had made earlier on Teo’s neck.
“I’m not leaving here without seeing Clarice.”
“Get out!” said Teo, closing the door.
Breno stopped him, pushing his way in. In
the semidarkness, he saw Clarice lying on the bed and ran to her. He went as far as to say “I’m sorry, my love” before he noticed the handcuffs. He turned to Teo, confused. The first blow with the butt of the gun sent his glasses skidding under the bed. Teo continued to beat him about the head and neck.
Breno reeled back and lost his footing but managed to strike back. He knocked Teo to the ground. Clarice continued sleeping, oblivious to the scene.
Teo kicked his legs, trying to dodge the punches to his face. He managed to grab Breno’s hair and smash his head against the corner of the bed. The impact made a cut, and blood ran through his hair down to his ear. Breno writhed; he was losing consciousness. Teo repeated the movement over and over, making a deep indentation in Breno’s head. His body went limp and flopped to the ground. His bloody head met the floor with a thud.
Teo felt weary to the bone. He looked at Breno’s large unmoving body. He examined his glassy eyes, wide open, directly beneath his shattered forehead. Was he really dead?
He hesitated, then got the syringe and an ampoule of Thyolax. He was afraid to touch him and get a nasty surprise. He kicked the body lightly. No reaction. With the speed of a busy nurse, he injected a dose of Thyolax into Breno’s inert arm. Then another. And another. And then one more.
Four doses—there was no way he could still be alive.
• • •
Teo paced back and forth. He had killed a person. The body was lying there, horrendous and red. What did he know about Breno? That he was Clarice’s jealous ex-boyfriend and played the violin. He riffled through his pockets. An old cell phone, turned off. A key ring with three keys on it. In the jacket pocket, a wallet. One hundred and ten reais in cash. Two credit cards. An expired driver’s licence, which showed that he was twenty-six. Together with the licence was a used bus ticket from Rio de Janeiro to Teresópolis. Did anyone know he had come after Clarice? Had a guest seen him arriving? There was no time to speculate. He needed to get rid of the body. The pool of blood was spreading, threatening to reach a corner of the sheet. He hoped Clarice didn’t wake up for another few hours.
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