Perfect Days

by Raphael Montes

  Then she blew smoke at him like a naughty child. “I thought you wanted to talk to me.”

  “I want you to take these handcuffs off me.”

  “You know I can’t do that.”

  “You can and will. I refuse to play this game.”

  “I just want to have a bit of fun.”

  She was very comfortable, puffing on her cigarette and chewing her nails irreverently. Teo felt the pain of betrayal for everything he’d done for her and everything he wasn’t receiving in return. He rolled his eyes, and only then did he notice that the satchel wasn’t on the chest of drawers anymore. Its absence was unexpectedly disturbing. The smell of mint in the smoky air transformed his impatience into fury, and he wanted to hurt Clarice too.

  “Don’t be insolent, you slut from hell!”

  She smiled, a sarcastic idiot, and puffed hard on the cigarette. “Fuck me dead—I’ve missed this so much!”

  “Undo these cuffs!”

  “Stop annoying me, or I’ll have to use the separators on you, little rat.”

  He gulped. The thought of himself on the cross terrified him. “I’m sorry . . .”

  “Want a drag?”

  “You know I don’t smoke.”

  “Just one cigarette!”

  “Are you really going to keep up this shit to provoke me?”

  Her face darkened like the sky before a storm, then brightened. “Shit to provoke you? That’s a good one, Teo. Shit to provoke you!”

  Clarice crushed the cigarette in her hand, the smoke escaping through her fingers. Tears poured from her red eyes, as her slender body convulsed with laughter. She tried to control herself, eventually stifling the laughter and fixing her empty eyes on him.

  “The slut from hell is going to do shit to provoke you until you cry with desperation,” she said with an indescribable expression. She touched his nipple with the tip of the cigarette and let his flesh burn. He howled. “You’re just lucky there’s no cell reception here. When that old woman comes back, I’m going to hand you over to the police, and everyone in prison is going to do to you what they do to motherfucking rapists!”

  Clarice got the harness gag from the headboard and put it on him. Teo saw the situation with a mixture of indignation and rage. Rapist? If he could, he would have killed Clarice that very second. He’d have killed her and thrown her pieces into the sea without the slightest remorse. He’d even have taken some pleasure in it.

  • • •

  She didn’t come back to the bedroom the whole afternoon. He saw her moving back and forth with a broom and bucket. The image of Clarice-the-housewife was rather comforting, but the fact that he was cuffed to the bed with a disfigured face, a fresh wound on his chest, and the harnesses pressing on his cheeks made the situation a little sordid.

  Clarice didn’t let up. After the exchange of offenses, he had apologized and begged her to bring his arms down: he could no longer feel his elbows, much less his fingers.

  He racked his brains for arguments to persuade her to release him, but somewhere deep down he believed she would come to the conclusion on her own and walk into the room to remove the cuffs. She’d apologize, say she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Then she’d give him a kiss on the lips and lighten the atmosphere with a funny swear word.

  Teo came to the conclusion that she was treating him like that because intimacy breeds contempt. She was doing it not out of malice but to let out a buildup of anger. Anger was the worst emotion in a relationship. He needed to let her get it out of her system.

  He imagined what they’d call their children. (The boy would be Dante, and the girl, Cora.) He imagined Patricia’s joy when she saw her grandchildren and the career paths the children would take. (Would they be artistic like their mother or methodical like their father?)

  It was strange to think about these things and, at the same time, still be hurt by Clarice’s actions, but he knew how to keep his feelings separate. She was like all women: smiling one minute, only to burst into tears the next. He needed to be understanding. With Gertrude there hadn’t been any clashes, but there hadn’t been love either. Only Clarice had been capable of jolting him out of his university-home-laboratory routine. And he didn’t want to go back. If he could, he’d stay on the road forever. He didn’t need Clarice to love him back. Better to feel unrequited love than not to love at all.

  Later in the afternoon, he heard Clarice typing vigorously on her laptop. Perhaps the screenplay and all his help in the creative process would make her see that her revenge was unfair. He was pleased that she was writing again, as he knew her fury would be channeled into her creative work.

  It was already dark outside when the beeping of the battery indicated that the computer was going to shut down. There was no way to recharge it. Teo heard the laptop being closed, footsteps going into the bedroom next door, water running in the sink. Then silence. When Clarice appeared in the doorway, he moaned, begging her to take off the gag.

  “I hope you behave,” she said, unbuckling it. “Uncomfortable, isn’t it?”

  “I need to go to the toilet.”

  She was wearing a blue dress that suited her figure. Her body was beautiful, that of a grown woman. He realized he’d never told her that. Women liked to receive compliments, although she might not be too open to praise under the circumstances.

  “Please, I need to go to the toilet,” he repeated.

  She gave him a weary look. “I can’t release you before that old woman comes back. Sorry.”

  “Look, I think we got off to a bad start. We were getting along so well. I understand that you want revenge—”

  “I already told you this isn’t revenge.”

  “Okay, it isn’t revenge. I understand you’re doing what you’re doing. But I need you to think a little. And to listen to me. You can’t go on treating me like this. I’m human. I have needs.”

  A harsh expression came over Clarice’s face. Her bottom lip twitched. “You talk as if I were holding you prisoner.”

  “I am a prisoner!”

  “After our conversation, I came to the conclusion that maybe you were right,” she said, and the accompanying smile made her look even more dangerous. “I should kill you.”

  Teo’s Adam’s apple moved up and down.

  “I was tormented by the idea all afternoon. I even made a list. There are lots of places to dump a dead body around here, if you get my gist.”

  She retrieved a piece of paper and a pen from a drawer.

  “Let’s see if I’ve forgotten anything,” she said, tapping the paper with the pen. “Number one: Kill Teo. I think you deserve a slow death. I ruled out slitting your throat with a knife. And I ruled out the gun too, since we don’t have any ammunition. What do you think of drowning?”

  “Don’t be an idiot.”

  “No? Okay then.” She crossed it out. “How about buried alive? That seems like a good one. It’ll be a bit of work to dig a really deep hole, and I can’t really be bothered today. Maybe tomorrow?”

  “Are you really going to kill me?”

  “Number two: Explain things to the old woman,” she read. “What’s she like? Is she dense? Or will I have to come up with a good excuse?”

  “Stop it.”

  “I thought about telling her the truth, but I don’t think she’d understand. Ditto for numbers three and four: Explain things to my mother and the police. Do you think anyone will come looking for you, Teo? Or will your mother be relieved to be rid of her sick son?”

  “Fuck you, Clarice.”

  She looked up. “Seriously, you really don’t think you’re at all sick? That album of the two of us is totally psycho.”

  She waited for him to reply and shook her head.

  “We’ve come to number five: Things to do with Teo. This was a stroke of genius.” She smiled, running her tongue over
her front teeth. “Let’s do some things to make you see that you’re a total freak.”

  “I won’t do anything to you.”

  Her smile gave way to an expression of displeasure. She left quickly and came back carrying the album and a heavy clay pot. She set the pot on the chest of drawers and pulled the photographs out of the album, rubbing them violently in Teo’s face.

  “This is all a lie. The fantasy world of an asshole. What do you think we should do with it?”

  Sick with panic, he looked at Clarice smiling, felt the gentleness of her gaze and their bodies occasionally coming into contact. How could such a beautiful feeling have become so base and diabolical? He wanted to cry, but he felt dry. He watched in silence as Clarice picked out the photos of the two of them together and tossed them into the pot. Then she took the lighter out of her pocket.

  The flame found the photo paper, which twisted, shriveled, and darkened in a few seconds. The images disappeared in the toxic, oily smoke coming out of the pot. Clarice watched the pyrotechnical display, clapping her hands with delight, Beauty transformed into Beast. She threw the other photos into the pot as she poked and fanned the flames. She blew on sparks as if they were soap bubbles, imitating the crackling sound with her mouth. Pop, pop, pop. The room was awash with the smell of burned paper.

  She stood holding the pot, staring into the still-bright embers. In the doorway she stopped and turned.

  “Happy New Year, Teo!”

  The information came as a blow. It meant that he’d been a prisoner there for seven nights. He’d been sedated most of the time and had calculated three or four nights at the most. It also meant that the old woman would be back to get them in a week. Seven days in which to try to escape. If Clarice didn’t kill him first.

  22

  The smell masked the pain. It was strong and hot. He could feel the sticky blob under his buttocks, like a soft, slimy mattress. He was ashamed. And enraged. Through the closed door, he could hear Clarice moving about in the kitchen. It sounded like she was cooking. She hadn’t shown her face since the previous night. Teo had woken up in the middle of the night and begged to go to the toilet. He had shouted for hours, but now it was done. It felt horrible.

  Clarice opened the door and said good morning. She was wearing nothing but a bikini and had a dirty shovel in her right hand. She was sweating.

  “How are we this first day of the new year?” she asked. She set the shovel aside and gave him a light kiss on the forehead.

  Teo closed his eyes. The smell of death had invaded his nostrils.

  “I made you lunch. You must be hungry, now that there’s room in your stomach,” she said.

  She brought a plate into the room, pulled a chair up to the bed, and sat down with a straight back, like a child watched by a teacher. She rolled some spaghetti onto a fork and served him carefully, catching the sauce that dribbled from the corners of his mouth. He spat out the food.

  “Eat, Teo.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “You’re in no position to be dramatic.”

  “If I’m going to die, I don’t want to.”

  She raised her eyebrows slightly, and a timid smile appeared on her lips. “I’m not going to kill you, silly. You don’t deserve so much peace.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Of course I am. Now, eat.”

  Teo accepted the food. He didn’t know if he could believe Clarice, but the wind seemed to be blowing in his favor. His hostility slowly lifted, and he felt compassion for Clarice, an affinity of sorts. She wasn’t humble enough to apologize, but deciding not to kill him and hand-feeding him spaghetti was a way of saying sorry, wasn’t it?

  “I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart,” he said, and was so happy that he wanted to ask have you ever fallen in love with someone and been certain that you’d do anything for them?

  Clarice skewered two pieces of filet mignon at the bottom of the dish and offered them to Teo on the fork.

  “I don’t eat meat.”

  “It’s good for you. You will eat it, and you’ll get used to it.”

  He closed his mouth.

  “If you don’t try it, I’ll be offended,” she said reprovingly. “I made it with love.”

  “I don’t want it.”

  She returned the meat to the plate and stabbed the fork into his nipple until it bled. “I want you to eat. Don’t force me to be impolite.”

  “That meat must be rotten. It hasn’t been refrigerated for days!”

  “Eat!”

  He chewed against his will. It tasted rancid. The generosity that had made him buy the mignon for Clarice now seemed pathetic.

  “Delicious, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew you’d like it.” She hand-fed him until she’d scraped the plate clean.

  “Please, put my arms down, cuff them to the bed frame,” he asked finally. “I can’t bear it like this anymore. I can hardly feel my fingers.”

  She tilted her head to one side and stopped for a moment in the doorway, as if considering it. Then she left.

  • • •

  Clarice didn’t return until late afternoon. A cold breeze was blowing through the window, and Teo had tried to wrap himself in the squalid sheet. The filth in his underwear was solid. The room stank unbearably, making his urge to vomit stronger. Vomiting would only make things worse. He made a great effort to stifle his retching.

  “Take this,” she said, jamming a pill down his throat.

  His lips stiffened: his dry tongue tasted foul. He hadn’t brushed his teeth in days.

  “It’s for your queasiness. We need to talk.”

  “Talk?”

  “One hundred percent honesty. What do you say?”

  “I’ve always been honest with you, Clarice.”

  She laughed and lit her Vogue cigarette. She was wearing a dress that was too short for the weather and too sparkly for the occasion. Around her neck was the necklace of precious stones he’d bought in town but hadn’t had the opportunity to give to her. Clarice had found the package, which made him proud and bitter at the same time.

  She crossed her legs and made herself comfortable. “You know that Woody Allen film? Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex But Were Afraid to Ask? Let’s play our own version: Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Me But Were Afraid to Ask.”

  “Huh?”

  “Something for something. You ask me something, I ask you something. Quid pro quo, Teo.”

  “I haven’t got any questions.”

  “I said one hundred percent honesty.”

  “You’re wrong.”

  “Laura and the kisses you saw,” she said. “We’ve never talked about that.”

  “It’s in the past. I’d rather not know.”

  “You sound like my mother sometimes. She’d also rather pretend that certain things never happened.”

  “Certain things are too painful.”

  “Like seeing me kiss another woman?” She blew smoke onto him.

  Teo couldn’t stand Laura. He could barely bring himself to think about her, and his feeling of nausea was growing.

  “It’s not her fault,” said Clarice. “I like women.”

  The statement gnawed at Teo’s soul. Clarice had a knack for hurting him when she wanted to.

  “And what does your mother think about it?”

  “It really bothers her.” Now there was pain in her voice. “I don’t know if I want to talk about it.”

  They sank into a melancholy silence. Teo didn’t know if he wanted to talk about it either.

  “Finding out that her precious little daughter liked someone of the same sex was just one more disappointment. The worst,” she said finally. “But I don’t know how to hide who I am.”

  Clarice’s irresponsible
freedom had fascinated Teo at first. It was unthinkable to someone like him, who calculated every move before he made it, weighed every word before he spoke it. She wasn’t ashamed to be like that. He wanted to be like that too.

  “Did your mother catch you doing something?”

  “She caught me with a girl from school. We were drunk and had gone to my place to hook up. She found the girl hiding under my bed.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Horrible is what came next.” She frowned as if she were still bitter about it. “They took me to a psychologist. Can you believe it? In the twenty-first century, they thought I could be cured.”

  “I hope you’re not a lesbian, Clarice. I still have hopes that you’ll come to like me.”

  She tied her hair back. For the first time, he noticed some fine lines on her face. Tiny signs of age.

  “Did you really think you’d manage to win me over like that?” she said. Her tone of voice was affirmative, perhaps contemplative. He realized it was all still very new for her.

  “There was no other way.”

  “Believing in me was stupid.”

  “I needed to try. I couldn’t hold you forever. Little by little you had to be free again. We came to this island, and I needed to see how you’d react.”

  “I don’t think I reacted very well.”

  The smoke from the cigarette created a subtle fog between them. She got up and shut the window. Then she got the key to the handcuffs from the kitchen. She turned the key in the right lock, and the metallic click sounded liberating.

  “Don’t try anything,” she said.

  She slowly brought Teo’s arms down and cuffed them to the bed frame.

  He was in no condition to strike out. His distended muscles shook and quickly cramped up.

  “I’m sorry I don’t like you the way you like me,” she said, and put the key on the bedside table.

  Teo didn’t know what to say. Saying he loved her would sound too repetitive, even to him. He wanted to say something unusual and shocking, but couldn’t think of anything. Clarice left the room for a moment and returned holding the satchel.