Obsession

by Florencia Bonelli

  She didn’t want him to pick her up from the Ben Gurion Airport, she wanted him to send one of his assistants. She needed time to settle her thoughts. Shiloah disappointed her in that regard. He was there, waiting for her. Juana, struggling with the wheels of her suitcase, looked up to see him a few feet from her. His smile made her stomach flutter. She stared at him, or actually, studied him. He had lost weight and seemed taller. His shorter hair suited him, as did the blue turtleneck and the butter-colored pants. In the end she thought he looked pretty handsome. Spontaneous desire welled up within her, something she hadn’t felt for him before. She dropped her suitcase and ran into his arms. Shiloah, laughing, spun her around in the air. They kissed on the mouth, ignoring the disapproving looks being thrown by the Orthodox Jews around them.

  “God, I missed you!” Moses sighed into Juana’s lips.

  “Thank you for inviting me! The flight was magnificent. I never thought that I would ever get to fly first class!”

  Her statement made Shiloah giggle. He squeezed his body against her and inhaled her scent. They pulled apart to look at each other once more. Juana admired his amber eyes, and was surprised by the beauty of his curved black eyelashes. She fixed her gaze on his mouth, shining with saliva, and yearned to kiss him again.

  “I want you so much,” he confessed.

  This man was another Shiloah, less playful and more sensual. Juana smiled happily and stood on tiptoe to whisper to him, “So what are we waiting for? Let’s go make love.”

  On the way back from Charles de Gaulle airport, Al-Saud tried to forget the phone conversation with Lars Meijer. He had known from the beginning that there would be collateral damage in the struggle with Israel. Why was he being assaulted by guilt? This was the nature of the business he was so passionate about; there were risks, victims and dangers. In this context, a guilty conscience wasn’t just an anachronism, it was unforgivable. He braked at a traffic light and turned his head to look at Matilde, who was sitting so serenely and placidly next to him. He was suddenly moved by her purity. She had the frank, clear gaze of the kindhearted. Sometimes when he saw her enveloped in this halo of gentility, he would think that he didn’t deserve her, and an anxious sensation racked his spirit, forming a ball in the pit of his stomach. How would she react when he confessed what he did? He had asked himself this question many times, without getting an answer. He genuinely lacked the courage to confess it to her.

  He reached out his hand and tipped up her chin to make her look at him. Why aren’t you looking at me? What is there outside that attracts you so much? Why am I not always the center of your attention? He was disconcerted by his jealousy, his feeling of ownership over her and the obsessive love that she inspired in him. He detested this permanent sense of unease, the need to win her affection over and over again. He was so happy when she kissed him spontaneously, or when she said that she was anxious to make love to him. And yet that happiness ended up upsetting his vanity, which Takumi sensei said was wildly excessive, as could be expected from a Horse of Fire. It also wounded him because he didn’t see himself as someone who would beg for affection—rather, he was supposed to be annoyed by too much of it. He was tired of the same old argument! He was like a broken record. And an idiot for not resolving the situation.

  “Embrasse-moi, Matilde,” he asked her, and she took off her seat belt to placate and kiss him.

  Al-Saud stayed in his seat with his hands on the steering wheel. Matilde wove her long surgeon’s fingers through his hair until she got to the back of his head and drew him to her mouth. Al-Saud’s passive reaction provoked her, and she became determined to break him down. She sucked his lips and stuck her tongue inside, but his teeth wouldn’t separate. She licked them, enjoying the smoothness of the enamel, and explored the hilly ground of his gums with the hardened tip of her tongue. The intimacy they shared seemed unreal to her. She knew his body like no one else’s, and he was the master of hers. In the back of her mind she was thinking that she would never again feel the ecstasy that Eliah Al-Saud had taught her to enjoy because, in truth, it was all down to him. Without him, the technique, mechanics and physiology were worth nothing. He turned her body on as if he knew all her secret buttons.

  Inhaling violently, Al-Saud opened his mouth and pushed his tongue into Matilde’s, making her tremble and moan weakly, almost breathless. Cars started honking at them when they didn’t pull away. Al-Saud wrenched at the wheel, making the brakes squeal, and pulled the Aston Martin off to the side. He took off his seat belt and continued to her.

  “Tomorrow is your birthday and I’m not going to share you with anyone. I’m going to hide you so you’ll be just for me.”

  “Hide me in your estate in Rouen.”

  “No, my siblings would come to wish you a happy birthday. I’m going to take you somewhere else.”

  Matilde came back from the institute and finished packing her change of clothes and the other things she would need. Leila helped her with Eliah’s clothes and, at eight at night, she sat down to wait on a high stool next to the island in the kitchen, with her bag and suitcase at her feet. Yasmín arrived and sat down next to her. Matilde was amused by the girl’s clumsy attempts to find something out about Sándor. Leila had taken refuge in silence, but Matilde took pity on her and reported that he had moved back to his apartment the previous Friday.

  “But he hasn’t fully recovered!”

  Leila let out a snort and left the kitchen.

  “I think Leila blames you for her brother leaving,” she said.

  “We argued last Friday.” She was taken by surprise by how easily she was able to express her pain. She had been carrying it around with her for a week; it had even taken physical form as a pain in her chest that only disappeared when she was asleep. It overwhelmed her and she was anxious to share it with someone. “We said terrible things to each other, him especially. I’m not saying that I didn’t deserve it, but it hurt me so much.” She squeezed her eyes shut to stop herself from crying. When she felt Matilde hugging her, she crumpled onto the counter and burst into tears like a little girl.

  “Shhh. Don’t cry, your brother’s coming and he’ll want to know why. Come on, sit up.” Matilde helped her upright and dried her tears with a paper towel. “We’re going on a trip now, but would you like to have lunch on Monday so we can chat about Sándor?”

  “Matilde, now I understand why my brother is so crazy about you. I want you to know that I’ve never seen him so much in love. Where are you going on your trip?”

  “It’s a secret,” Al-Saud said as he stepped into the kitchen. He went over to Matilde and kissed her on the mouth. Then he deposited a kiss on his sister’s cheek. “Are you ready?” Matilde nodded. “We’re leaving in five minutes.”

  “Where are you going?” Yasmín whispered.

  “I have no idea. Tomorrow is my birthday and he wants to spend it somewhere secret. So I’ll see you on Monday at midday?”

  “Yes, I would love that. I’ll pick you up here at twelve thirty?”

  “Perfect.”

  Medes drove them to Le Bourget Airport. They were playing a guessing game; Eliah gave her clues in French to make them harder for her, and Matilde had to guess the name of the place they were traveling. She only had three chances and he would get a prize if she lost. Matilde’s guesses were Brussels, Marseille and Amsterdam, and as the answer was London, Al-Saud got to choose the prize.

  “That was a trick! You gave me misleading clues on purpose.”

  “Yes, they were misleading because I wanted my prize.”

  “What is it?”

  “No, not now. Later. Tomorrow. Do you like London?”

  “I’ve never been. When I was a child, I took an English course at Eton, but I never visited London.”

  “You’re going to love it. I like it a lot. I would have preferred to take you to the Caribbean, Polynesia or Hawaii, and spend two weeks baking in the sun on the beach, but I thought that you wouldn’t want to miss more classes at the i
nstitute. And I can’t leave Mercure for so much time right now. We’ll do it in the future, when you get back from the Congo.”

  Matilde spent the rest of the trip to Le Bourget in silence, snuggled into Al-Saud’s chest. In two phrases, he had mentioned much that tormented her: the true nature of Mercure, the future, and the Congo. He had asked her not to keep secrets from him and yet she suspected that he had many. She urged herself not to think about it right now; she wanted to let herself get carried away by the magic of the moment. Eliah was kidnapping her because he wanted to have her all to himself, as he had said on the morning of the convention for the two-nation state. She treasured every word, every gesture; she would keep them in her heart forever and be made happy by the memory.

  It shouldn’t have surprised her that Eliah owned a plane; he had mentioned it the first night they had made love, but at that point she hadn’t been able to take in much information and she hadn’t thought about it again. It was a Gulfstream V, he informed her with a self-satisfied smile as he enjoyed her reaction to the impressive machine. Her shock continued when she entered the cabin; it was luxurious but more cozy than ostentatious, with seats similar to those in first class, upholstered in chalk-colored leather, with mahogany lining and folding tables and a lavender carpet. Matilde breathed in deeply to take in the smell of verbena that flooded the interior of the plane, as did a melody by Mozart. They were received by Captain Paloméro and the crew. The flight attendant was very solicitous to Matilde, and she and the rest of the crew concealed their curiosity at finding a female passenger other than Diana on board.

  “Will you be doing the takeoff, Monsieur Al-Saud?” asked Paloméro, and Matilde’s heart started to race when Eliah said that he would. He told Matilde to sit in the seat next to the cockpit. The door would stay open so she could see the runway lights. Simple things, like the image of Al-Saud’s bottom and legs as he settled in the pilot’s seat, and the way he put on his headphones, excited her; even the precise, confident way he moved his hands over the endless number of buttons and levers made her flush.

  “Look at the runway, my love,” Eliah instructed her, and she leaned forward to see the path made by two parallel rows of lights stretching out into the night.

  The roar of the engines hit her with a wall of sound and took her breath away. Al-Saud turned his head and winked at her before starting out down the runway. She returned his smile. She felt ethereal, free and happy. The plane took off but Matilde barely noticed; it had been so smooth that her stomach didn’t even register it. Minutes later the flight attendant, who had introduced herself as Natalie, left the jump seat and sat in front of her.

  “Monsieur Al-Saud is the best pilot I know. Later on, you’ll barely notice when we touch down at London City Airport, either.” She turned around and went to the tiny kitchen to prepare drinks.

  As Matilde watched her stride off down the aisle, she felt a pang of jealousy. The flight attendant was very pretty, tall and thin, and she couldn’t help wondering if Eliah had slept with her. She cheered up a little once he came back to join her. They moved to an area where four chairs formed a little living room. They drank Eliah’s favorite juice—orange and carrot—ate canapés and sandwiches and chatted. It was a short trip, so it wasn’t long before Eliah returned to the cockpit, took the controls and landed the Gulfstream in London City Airport, where he taxied the plane into a hangar. A Jaguar and chauffeur were waiting for them.

  They drove to the Savoy along the edge of the Thames. Matilde preferred the bridges of Paris, but these were nonetheless a beautiful sight lit up and reflected in the river water. She had to admit that Tower Bridge was rather splendid. Matilde’s enthusiasm, which Al-Saud enjoyed so much, bubbled out when she saw the magnificence of the Savoy, which was located on the Strand. Matilde wasn’t particularly moved by the luxury or decoration, but the history exuded by every inch of the lobby, stairs, and elevators. The suite on the fifth floor amazed her. It had three rooms and a superb view of the river and the city.

  “I want to make love to you in every room,” Eliah whispered into her ear, without touching her, while the bellboy brought in their luggage.

  Al-Saud tipped him generously and said good-bye. Before he locked the door and closed the latch, he hung the Do Not Disturb sign on the handle. Matilde saw him coming toward her and laughed nervously. He didn’t return the laughter, but stared at her with such an intense fire burning in his eyes that she began to scamper away across the room. He caught up with her in no time and trapped her by the waist. Then he lifted her into the air as easily as if she were a piece of luggage.

  They made love in all three rooms in the suite, on the chairs, against the walls, on the floor and on top of the circular table. They started out dressed and, as the night went on, the debauchery and excitement incited them to scatter their clothes as they went until they finally ended up naked in bed.

  “It will always be like this for us,” Eliah panted in French, still inside Matilde, who was struggling to breathe under his weight. “I don’t know how I know, Matilde. I just know that the insanity that was unleashed within me the day I met you will die with me.”

  The next morning, when she woke up, Matilde wondered where she was. She had slept deeply, in a way that she hadn’t been able to since the attack in the chapel. She didn’t know why that attack had affected her more than the one outside the institute. Sometimes, when she closed her eyes to go to sleep, she would see the giant who had grabbed her by the waist. She was frightened by the lascivious way he had looked at her; she was disturbed by the memory of his smile, the smile of a madman, completely inhuman. She sat up among the feather pillows and sat there listening to the silence. She heard murmurs and the click of a door closing. Eliah appeared, wrapped in a hotel robe, and smiled at her.

  “Happy birthday, my love,” he said into her lips, drawing Matilde to him.

  They ate breakfast in the connecting room. Al-Saud voraciously ate a full English breakfast; the exercise from the night before and the lack of dinner had awakened his appetite, and he wolfed down his sausages, baked beans and bacon like a teenager. Matilde, in contrast, picked at her toast and scrambled eggs and sipped her coffee. Once they were bathed and dressed, they got ready to go out and see the city. When she went into the hall, Matilde was stupefied to find bags and packages filling the room.

  “What is this?”

  “What does it look like? They’re your birthday presents.”

  “Eliah…” she murmured. “This is too much.”

  “Nothing is too much for you.”

  They hugged happily, until Matilde pulled away to open her presents.

  “Where did you put all this?”

  “Medes put them in the hold of the plane. Natalie brought them to the hotel today.”

  They spent an hour opening packages and bags until the floor was littered with wrapping papers, ribbons, boxes and tags. Matilde didn’t even want to guess at the cost of all those clothes, shoes, purses and accessories.

  “You’ve bought me so many things that I could open a store.”

  “I should say that Yasmín helped me to choose almost everything. Do you like it?”

  Sometimes Al-Saud’s worldly expression would disappear, replaced by one that made her think of a little boy trying to please his mother or teacher. She put the Louboutin shoe down on the little reception table and walked toward him. She hugged him and kissed him on the mouth.

  “Thank you for showering me with such beautiful things. I love them.”

  “You don’t appreciate them like Juana would,” he suggested provocatively.

  “Juana wouldn’t appreciate them like I do, because you don’t mean to Juana what you mean to me.”

  “What do I mean to you, Matilde?”

  “Everything, Eliah.”

  They didn’t get back to the Savoy until seven in the evening because they spent the whole day visiting the most iconic sights in London. They had lunch in a pub near Piccadilly Circus, and while they w
ere eating fish and chips, Al-Saud’s cell phone rang. It was Juana; she wanted to wish Matilde a happy birthday.

  “Half the world is ringing my number to wish you a happy birthday, Mat. Your old man, Eze, your aunt Sofía, your aunt Enriqueta.”

  “My mother didn’t call?”

  “No, Mat. But you always forget that there’s a huge time difference with Miami.”

  “With Argentina too. But my aunt Enriqueta already called.”

  “It’s even more in Miami,” Juana insisted.

  “She’s going to forget just like last year.”

  “What should I do with everyone if they call back? Should I give them the phone number to the stud’s house?”

  “We’re not in Paris. We’re in London.”

  Matilde held the phone away from her head as her friend shrieked with happiness. Eliah, who had been eavesdropping on the exchange about Matilde’s mother, wanted to fly to Miami and force her to call her daughter at gunpoint. Matilde cheered up once Juana told her what a good time she was having in Israel. In her enthusiastic, over-the-top way, she said that Shiloah was one of the most famous people in his country, that his face was all over the cities, that people stopped him on the street to greet him and the majority of the polls said that Tsabar, his political party, would win at least two banks of seats in the Knesset.

  “Not bad for a newborn party!” Juana proclaimed, and Matilde sensed her friend’s pride as she said so.

  They finished eating and continued their tour down the Mall until they got to Buckingham Palace. On the way back, they crossed Green Park and went into Fortnum & Mason, because Matilde said that her grandmother Celia always talked about the store. They had tea big enough to feed five people on the top floor. When they got back to the hotel, they collapsed on the bed and passed out. When they woke up it was almost ten. Since they weren’t hungry, they decided to skip dinner. They bathed together and got dressed to go to a club, the Ministry of Sound. The idea of going out dancing didn’t really appeal to Matilde; she agreed because Al-Saud had spoken so enthusiastically about the place. The Jaguar stopped at 103 Gaunt Street, where a small crowd had gathered. They didn’t have to stand in line. It became obvious that Al-Saud was a regular, because the guards greeted him in a friendly manner and ushered him in immediately. Once they were inside, Matilde felt a pulsing in her chest, as if her thoracic cavity were being used as a bongo. The music boomed and the air grew thick. They took off their coats and left them in the coat check. She looked at Al-Saud and saw an avid glint in his eyes, as if this crowd, all jumping in unison, the music, the lights and the smoke excited him.