Obsession

by Florencia Bonelli

  A staircase at the far end of the room led to an internal balcony, which jutted out over the living room. Matilde wondered what the view was like from above and started to climb. Al-Saud’s cell phone rang, and he looked at the screen before answering.

  “I have to take this call,” he said, and Matilde nodded.

  She saw him cross the living room, enter another room and close the door behind him. Kaito smiled at her and gestured for her to go up. Laurette and the Japanese man took care of the luggage.

  “It’s going to snow tonight,” Takumi told her; Matilde could understand his slow, deliberate French. “The house has an excellent heating system, miss.”

  “Monsieur Kaito, please call me Matilde. It would be a pleasure for me.”

  “Well then, Matilde it is.”

  They moved across the balcony. Matilde stopped and looked at the room below her; from there she saw, a few feet from the hearth, a piece of furniture that housed the hi-fi and hundreds of CDs. She smiled. Eliah’s passion for music was starting to have an influence on her. She resumed her tour. On the top floor, Kaito explained, there were four bedrooms and a gymnasium.

  “This is Eliah’s room.”

  “It’s very cozy. What beautiful flowers!” she exclaimed, and went over to the chest of drawers to smell them; there were many bright colors—violet, white, fuchsia—in the bunch. “Oh, what an exquisite smell. What kind of flower are they? I don’t know it.”

  “Jacinthe,” Laurette hurried to answer, and explained that it was very rare to have them at this time of year; she grew them in the greenhouse.

  “Laurette, let’s let Matilde freshen up and settle in. In half an hour we’ll serve lunch. The bathroom is in there.”

  “Thank you, Takumi. Thank you, Laurette.” Matilde smiled at them. She felt wonderful.

  Al-Saud closed the door of the study to answer the call.

  “Talk to me, Tony.”

  “I’m at Lefortovo’s.” He called Vladimir Chevrikov by his nom de guerre. “We have the material ready.”

  “What can you tell me?”

  “It’s even better than we were hoping for. Everything is here. He photographed the laboratory, the substances, the employees handling them, reports, inventory documents, place of origin, the shipping invoices. Basically, it’s a scoop. Do you want me to contact the journalist to start executing the plan?”

  “No. Let’s wait. I want to see about the other evidence before we contact the Dutchman.”

  “Do you want me to take care of it? Or Mike?”

  Al-Saud weighed up the advisability of confronting Roy Blahetter again. He wondered whether he would be able to control his urge to reduce him to a blubbering wreck.

  “Don’t worry, Tony. I’ll take care of it. Keep me posted on everything, any time.”

  Al-Saud went back into the living room. Laurette’s voice floated out from the kitchen, talking about Matilde—so tiny, so beautiful, but how old could she be? She guessed twenty, and wasn’t that a little young for Eliah? She must be a good person; anyone who recognized the beauty of her hyacinths couldn’t be bad—Al-Saud shook his head and smiled. He bounded upstairs. He went into his bedroom and found her on the terrace. She had put on her jacket and gone out to admire the countryside. The wind was tousling her hair. What a beautiful image! He felt her jolt when he wrapped his arms around her from behind and pressed her against his chest to calm her. They stood in silence. From there they could see the stables, two long, thin, parallel constructions with whitewashed walls and gabled roofs covered with Spanish tiles.

  “Do you like riding?”

  “I love it. But I haven’t been on a horse in years.”

  “Do you know how to ride?”

  “I had an instructor when I was little. And when we went to my grandparents’ country house, it was hard to get me off the horse. I just wanted to ride and ride. But then we lost the country house and the horses, and I never rode again.”

  Al-Saud wanted to know everything about her, not just because he yearned to know her profoundly, but also because of what Juana had told him, that Matilde would tell him her sorrows when he had earned her trust.

  “What happened with the country house? Why did they lose it?”

  He thought she wouldn’t answer until he heard her sigh.

  “We lost everything. The country house, the horses, the family mansion, the jewels, the paintings, the cars, everything, everything.” She turned around in his embrace and put her cheek on his leather jacket. “My father swindled many people. He was a bank director and when it failed, it left many people with nothing at all. We would get insulting phone calls, people abused us outside our house. The lawyers locked themselves in the study with my father and my grandparents. They were so worried. My father was drinking in the morning. My mother was crying in her room. My grandmother Celia called my father every bad name under the sun. One day they came to seize the house and everything inside of it. It was so horrible!” Her voice failed her.

  “Shh. Enough. Don’t tell me more,” he said to her, and tightened his arms around her, trying to bolster her with his strength and energy.

  Matilde lifted her face, and Al-Saud, moved by the sight of her enormous eyes brimming with tears, felt a knot in his throat.

  “Matilde,” he lamented and buried his face in her neck. “Matilde. My love. Matilde.”

  “One morning,” she continued, “my father came to my room and said that he was going out for a few hours, but that he would be back to take me to Juana’s birthday party. I was happy because for once he was sober, well dressed and had even put on cologne. He hugged and kissed me and told me that he loved me with all his heart. I didn’t say anything because I couldn’t speak. How I regretted it! I should have said, ‘I love you so much, Daddy!’ Instead I said nothing. And he never came back. That morning he went to court to plead guilty and they threw him in jail.”

  Al-Saud wasn’t expecting this kind of confession. He didn’t know that his aunt Sofía’s brother had been imprisoned for fraud.

  Matilde stuck out her chin and faced him with a determined look.

  “He was in jail for five years. Since he didn’t have any money at all, he couldn’t pay to get into the VIP section, so he had to see out his time with the common criminals, with the worst kind of people. I don’t want to imagine what he must have gone through!”

  “Don’t think about that! I’m sure that your father knows how to take care of himself.” What a stupid thing to say! He chastised himself, overcome by impotence.

  Matilde shook her head.

  “I don’t know, Eliah, I don’t know. He always seemed so defeated.”

  “You went to visit him?”

  “I was the only one in my family who went to visit him, except for my grandfather Esteban. But my grandfather died—from the pain, I think—soon afterward. After that, I was the only one who visited. Juana and Ezequiel would go with me. Juana’s father brought us. They were my family. They were always my family.” Suddenly, Matilde regained her composure. “Eliah, don’t judge my father harshly. He’s not a bad person. He made a mistake, he got confused, lost, but I know he didn’t do those things intentionally or in bad faith. I promise you!”

  “I know, I know.”

  “I love him so much! I don’t know why. In truth, he wasn’t a very good father. He was an alcoholic, got along terribly with my mother, had lovers and was never at home. But I love him, Eliah. Maybe because I know he loves me with all his heart, just like he told me the day when…” Matilde let out a raw sob, and Al-Saud regretted having reminded her of so much pain. He held her, absorbed her spasms, rocked her in his arms and kissed her head. Between kisses, he whispered, “Matilde, mon amour, ne pleures pas, je t’en prie. Je suis désolé. Ne pleures pas, s’il te plaît.” Minutes later he felt her body relax. He cradled her face in his hands and asked her to look at him.

  “Just for having given life to a creature as magnificent as you, your father deserves all my respect.”<
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  “Thank you,” she said, her voice shaking and her vision blurred.

  Lunch with the Kaito couple—Matilde was surprised to find out that Takumi and Laurette were married—helped to dissipate the last vestiges of the sadness caused by the revelation on the balcony. Matilde was wearing a riding outfit belonging to Yasmín, which was a little big on her. Her boots were also a little large, so Eliah had filled them with cotton.

  “What size do you wear?” he asked in wonder as he knelt in front of her with her foot in his hand.

  “Four and a half.”

  “It’s the smallest adult foot I’ve ever seen in my life.” He kissed her instep, and every toe, and had started moving up her naked calf when Laurette announced, from the bottom floor, that lunch was served.

  “It’s just for this meal,” Al-Saud apologized. “The rest of the time we’ll be completely alone, I promise.”

  They looked at each other. Matilde’s eyes and nose were still red from crying. Al-Saud’s eyes lingered on her heart-shaped mouth, which was the color of a maraschino cherry. He couldn’t remember ever having seen lips this beautiful. He put his hand on her cheek, and she rested her face in its hollow.

  “Forgive me for making you sad. I only want you to be happy.”

  “Eliah, no one has made me happier than you.”

  He wanted to ask her, Why, Matilde? Why do I make you happy? Why am I your savior? Because I showed you how to make love? Do you love me, Matilde? As usual, he remained silent.

  During lunch, Laurette spoke enough for everyone. Little by little, Matilde got used to her accent. She noticed that Takumi Kaito was looking at her and wished Eliah would take his hand off her crotch, because she was sure the Japanese man could see the change in her expression.

  “How old are you, Matilde?” Laurette wanted to know.

  Al-Saud smiled in triumph. He had been wondering how long it would take before she broke.

  “March fourteenth I’ll be twenty-seven.”

  “Twenty-seven!” Laurette was stunned. “I wouldn’t have said twenty.”

  “When she braids her hair in pigtails,” Eliah quoted Juana, “she looks fifteen. And you won’t just be surprised by her age, Laurette, but also when I tell you that Matilde is une chirurgienne pédiatrique.”

  Matilde could feel his pride, and the thrill this gave her mixed with that of hearing him say her profession in French. She wanted to ask him, One more time, Eliah. Say “pediatric surgeon” in French one more time. She found it difficult to pronounce the word herself.

  “You were born in 1971,” Takumi Kaito calculated, and Matilde nodded. “You’re a Pig of Metal.”

  Matilde thought she had misunderstood, so she turned to Eliah for assistance.

  “A Pig of Metal,” he said in Spanish, and then continued in French, “Takumi sensei is an expert on the Chinese zodiac. Because you were born in 1971, you are a Pig and your element is Metal.”

  Matilde laughed. Though she didn’t pay any attention to the zodiac, she knew she was a Pisces. Someone had told her that Pisces were compassionate.

  “In my country, in Japan, we would say that you’re a wild boar, but it’s the same thing.”

  “I didn’t know that I was a Pig. It’s not very nice to be a pig, is it?”

  “Absolutely it is, Pigs are the best and most beautiful people on the planet,” Takumi declared, and Matilde stopped giggling when she realized how seriously the Japanese man took the subject. “They’re the type of people who get along with all the other animals of the zodiac, although the Pig has its preferences. Anyone who gains the Pig’s confidence and friendship is fortunate, because they’ll have a faithful friend for life. The Pig is characterized by patience. They’ll always make you feel comfortable. Their presence is luminous, so much so that when they’re not there, their absence will be felt, and it is only at that moment that you realize how dependent you are on them.”

  My God! Al-Saud exclaimed to himself. Takumi was describing Matilde and what she inspired in him very accurately.

  “As good as they are,” Kaito continued, “they’re easily fooled. Their gullibility is almost as boundless as their hearts.”

  At that point, Eliah took Matilde by the wrist and dragged her out of her chair onto his lap.

  “I’ll have to protect you from those who want to fool you, my love.”

  “You’ll have to, son,” Kaito agreed, “Pigs simply don’t know how to say no.”

  “You’re a liability!” Al-Saud pretended to be scared, and kissed her on the cheek, scratching her with his growing beard.

  “But don’t assume, Eliah, that you’re dealing with an easy creature. Pigs have very well-defined personalities. They’re naturally tenacious. When they set their sights on something, they don’t stop until they achieve it. They’re very good students. Actually, they’re good at everything they embark upon, because nothing distracts them from the path that leads them to their goal. Although they abhor violence and conflict, you should never provoke a Pig, because they react explosively. Since it’s rare to see them angry, their outbursts always surprise and frighten. As for a Pig of Metal, they’re the most intense and passionate of all.” Takumi, who until then had been looking Matilde in the eyes, switched his gaze to Al-Saud. “You couldn’t have chosen a better person, Eliah.”

  “I know, sensei. I don’t feel worthy of her,” he admitted in Japanese.

  “What did you say?” Matilde wanted to know.

  “That you’re as beautiful as you are pigheaded.”

  Matilde looked at him dubiously and turned back to Takumi.

  “Takumi, what is Eliah in the Chinese zodiac?”

  Takumi’s expression changed. He inhaled deeply, raised his eyebrows and put his hands on the table.

  Matilde urged, “Don’t try to scare me, Takumi. What is he?”

  “He’s a Horse of Fire. In China, they try to avoid their birth.”

  “Thanks for your help, sensei! I very much appreciate it, but perhaps it’d be better if you didn’t say anything.”

  “Let him speak,” Matilde interrupted. “Tell me, Takumi. Why do they avoid having Horses of Fire?”

  “The last lunar year of the Horse of Fire ran from 1966 to 1967. That year the birthrate in China fell spectacularly and abortions soared.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. The Chinese consider the Horse of Fire to be a harbinger of doom.”

  Matilde looked at Eliah and, seeing that his eyes were full of distress, took him by the cheeks and kissed him on the lips. She assured him in Spanish, “You’re a blessing in my life, not a misfortune. Never forget that.”

  Al-Saud’s smile affected Takumi Kaito. Whatever the girl had said had gone straight through his pupil’s hardened shell and reached his most intimate side, the soft, generous, sentimental and sensitive layer that he knew existed, but rarely saw. Matilde was perhaps unaware of how easily she had gained access to his soul, maybe because she didn’t know what kind of man she was dealing with. Kaito was starting to understand the immense love that his pupil felt for her. He had surprised them by introducing her as ma femme, my woman, but it was only at that moment that Kaito was able to assimilate the declaration of ma femme, the smile, the way he looked at her and his need to keep her close by, the urgency to have his skin touching hers. At times he had wondered if Eliah was capable of loving a woman completely and deeply. Although he had loved Samara very much, it had been an immature love that died before it had a chance to flourish. And Takumi doubted whether it ever would have flourished. Samara, insecure and timid, would have weighed Eliah down.

  “You should know, Matilde, that if you hope to keep a Horse at your side, and especially a Horse of Fire, you should never, ever threaten his freedom. Give him as much space as he needs, because there’s nothing a Horse of Fire appreciates more than being free. In general, Horses are popular and attractive. Wherever they go, they’ll get attention.”

  “I believe that,” Matilde agreed.


  “They’re egocentric and use their magnetism to get what they want from everyone else.”

  “You’re painting a wonderful picture, sensei,” Al-Saud complained.

  “Their generosity knows no limits and they’re careless with money.”

  “You’ll have to be in charge of the accounts then, my love,” Eliah whispered to her and Matilde pretended not to be listening and kept her gaze on the Japanese man. What did that comment mean? That she had a place in his future? She didn’t dare to ask because, in fact, there was no future. Plus, as Kaito had said, a Horse of Fire loves his liberty.

  “The Horse is a tireless wanderer. No place is his place in particular. Everywhere is.”

  Matilde, since you arrived in Paris, that has been my place.

  “Because they are generally brilliant, sharply intelligent animals, they get impatient with those that aren’t and it can seem as though they lack compassion, or even that they’re cruel. They won’t listen to advice or orders. Rarely are they able to work for a boss. They know no fear or limits. They lack safety nets and they throw themselves into achieving whatever they want, with a determination similar to the Pig’s. They are capable of taking on ten projects at the same time. They’re hardworking and industrious; they detest laziness. However, once they’ve obtained their goal, they’re immediately bored again. Routine suffocates and frightens them. For the Horse, every day should be different from the day before. Still”—his voice changed a little—“when he finds his soul mate, the Horse’s roaming heart becomes eager to settle down and find a bit of peace.”

  “Wow!” Matilde had listened to Kaito in a state of perplexity and rapture; she had generally understood what he had said, although a few words had escaped her. “Is that what you’re like, Eliah?”