A Million for Eleanor: A Contemporary Story on Love and Money (3 page)

“No one.
That’s why I have a Taser in my pocket.”

He reluctantly took his eyes off her face and examined her attire, baggy grey sweatpants which could conceal a machine-gun, and a tight hacky T-shirt emphasizing all the admirable qualities of her bust, surprisingly voluminous for her fragile constitution.

“
Cause I’ve got one hand in my pocket, and the other one’s prepared to shoot
,” he sang, waiting for her lips to be touched by the first smile of the night. “Now that I know you’re armed, will you let me in?”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, frowning, but then something sparked in her eyes and she did smile, looking almost bashful and relaxing a little.

“All right,” Eleanor said. “Sorry for my lack of hospitality, but you really did take me by surprise.”

“Let’s make sure it’s a nice one, then,” he said casually, grabbing the valises and stepping inside. Crossing the threshold, he caught the smell of her perfume, a scent unfamiliar to him and sweeter than the one he was so accustomed to he could tell whenever she had just been to the room. She wasn’t the only one who used that blend, but somehow he always sensed if it was her who left the trail.

“I need to change.” Eleanor slammed the door, interrupting his internal monologue.

“Do what you have to. I won’t steal anything, I promise.”

“Then why don’t you go to the kitchen and make yourself a cup of something?” she said, already ascending the flight of stairs.

“Shall I make something for
you
?”

“No,” he heard.

Valises in his hands, he moved ahead through the hallway and found himself in a spacious kitchen paved with white tile. The first thing he saw there was a huge transparent glass table that was lit so ingeniously it almost dissolved in the air. The other elements of the interior reminded him of the flat he used to consider home for the first seventeen years of his life: there was everything necessary here, but the imposing utilitarian proportions of the stainless sink, black stove, white fridge and multicolored plastic chairs left no room for creativity.

He shoved the valises under the table, noting how cryptic they looked through the top, filled the kettle with water and searched the cupboards for tea. By the time the water boiled, he had found at least a dozen different boxes and two remarkable cups. One was a horrid pale-green vessel, almost as wide as it was tall; the other was a nice, albeit small, white mug with the name
ELEANOR
monogrammed in peculiar curls.

When she returned, some fifteen minutes later, he had already brewed tea in a brushed-steel teapot which he found on the table, filled both cups and completely forgotten what he was just thinking about. She was wearing black velvet trousers and a white blouse which, given his pathological inability to distinguish between the elements of women’s clothing, could have been a skirt or virtually anything else.

“Did you get bored?” she asked, stopping in the doorway.

“I did not. Your tea smells fantastic.”

“Did you make “Venetian Carnival”? Great choice. My mom gets it for me.”

“It’s convenient that we both like tea. Remember college? The coffee line was always the longest, and the hot water tap was rarely touched at all. We met at that tap at least once a week,” he said without any nostalgia, as if trying to get through the inevitable small talk as soon as possible. Having noticed this, Eleanor stepped into the kitchen and sat down at the opposite end of the table, observing her guest with a temporizing smile and not saying a word. He moved the green cup closer, took a sip from it, looking at her through the steam that was rising up, and said:

“You didn’t think of me at all over the last five and half years, did you?”

“Was I the only thing
you
were thinking about?” she replied without a moment’s hesitation.

“Not all the time, but often. And I also missed you, if you can imagine.”

“Sure. It must have gotten so unbearable in the end that you stopped by on the way from the airport.”

“Why not
to
the airport? What if my flight was delayed due to a rainstorm?”

“Tell me, then: what part of the world is being plagued by such a horrible weather?”

“This world is full of parts and corners. Pick your favorite one.”

“What’s yours?”

“Wherever I am at a given moment.”

“This kitchen,” Eleanor waved her hand, “is not the most amazing place on Earth.”

“It’s your presence that makes it a paradise.”

“Sounds just like another one of your compliments.”

“The first one in many years. Do you question its sincerity, or do you just wish you heard it from someone else? But pray, don’t answer!” he added before her lips parted. “You’ll lie anyway.”

“Sorry, I forgot I’m hosting Honesty itself. What rare luck!”

“Deities should be lucky all the time.”

“You never considered me one.”

“Because I never gave up the hope to sleep with you.”

“I’m glad you finally acknowledged it.”

“I thought I made it clear on the very first day we met. By the way, do you remember it?”

“The day we met? You reminded me enough times.”

“Now it’s your time to remind
me
.”

“I get it!” Eleanor laughed, her head leaning backwards. “You suffered amnesia, forgetting everything about your life except for me, and now you’re here to find out who you are!”

“You’re making it dangerous.” He smiled. “You haven’t even touched the tea yet, and you’re already throwing at me the thing I love most about you.”

“Are you now waiting for me to ask what that thing is?” Eleanor said sharply.

“Not until after I hear about the day we met.”

“All right, if that’ll make you happy. I was walking down the road with a bunch of my friends; you were walking up the same road with a bunch of yours. One of your friends knew one of mine, and we all stopped. You looked at me and said you had never seen such translucent eyes or something. We somehow exchanged phone numbers and kept going.”

“Yes.” He sighed, suppressing the wish to complement the adumbrated story with a few omitted details. “And an hour later you looked me up in the students’ directory and sent me an e-mail inviting to grab lunch together.”

“Did I? I don’t remember having lunches with you until later.”

“That’s because I rejected that invitation.”

“Oh, that’s right! You suggested taking a walk to the hills instead.”

“I can’t stand canteen dates,” he confessed with a smile.

“I wasn’t thinking about dates back then.”

“You thought about them all the time. Just not with me.”

“I don’t know if you heard about it, but there is such a thing as friendship in this world.”

“Not between you and me. I loved you too much to have friendly chats with you knowing you are sleeping with someone else.”

“Are you here to remind me of your feelings? I’m afraid we won’t get too far if you keep singing the same tune,” Eleanor said tiredly.

“How can I keep
from
singing?” He laughed. “But don’t worry: this is an interlude. I do have something you’ll find interesting.”

“You better. There are crackers in this bowl.” Eleanor’s finger pointed at a miniature porcelain article next to the teapot.

“Tea will suffice. Will you finally join me?”

“I’m fine for now. So, what is it?”

“It’s about these guys.” He knocked on the table top with his fingernail.

“You mean the bags?” Eleanor cast a quick look down.

“Certainly not the crackers.” He pushed one of the valises from under the table and put it on an empty chair next to her. “Open it.”

“It has locks.”

“Twenty O-one on the left, twenty-ten on the right.”

Eleanor fiddled with the locks that refused to give in at first, but then two clicks heralded the success of the operation. For a moment she stared at the revealed contents as if thinking about everything except for what she saw,
then she looked at him and said:

“What is it?”

“Money,” he admitted, noting to himself that he had never heard her voice sound so coarsely. “Would you like some tea
now
?”

“What money?”

“One million, if you are wondering about the total count.”

“Please, Richard, don’t be difficult!” she exclaimed. “Why did you bring it here?”

“Because it will be yours if you agree to do me a favor.”

“Favor?
What favor? What are you talking about?”

Now her voice was ice-cold, and he marveled at the ease with which it changed. The diapason of intonations available to her in a conversation was staggering, but he never knew if she herself was aware of what miraculous timbres she came up with. Still wondering, he sustained a theatrical pause, along with her heavy gaze, and delivered his next line with such disarming honesty as if she wanted him to declare something self-evident:

“You must agree to marry me tomorrow, at two fifty-two in the afternoon.”

“What?”

This word was exhaled with as much disbelief as anger while the corners of her lips curved up, making her face resemble a wax mask. He did not like what he saw but was curious how long she’d be able to keep the expression so perfectly frozen.

“It’s simple. If you agree to marry me tomorrow, October twentieth, at eight to three p.m., this money will become yours. You can choose to divorce me on the very next day, if you like.”

“Your wedding’s scheduled for tomorrow and the guests are invited, but your bride ran away so you urgently need a substitute?”

Her face remained unchanged even after she said that.

“Second time. Now I have to tell you what I love most about you.”

“You better tell me about the money.”

“It’s your guesses,” he continued, unfazed. “I absolutely adore your ability to instantly come up with a least evident and yet perfectly sensible version of anything. It doesn’t even matter that you’re always wrong. It’s like being wrong in a novel you’re writing: everyone will think that’s how it was supposed to be anyway.”

“Oh really?” she said. “Was I
always
wrong?”

He kept silence, waiting for her to continue. Eleanor looked around, as if searching for something, and then said:

“Are you actually serious about this?”

“Quite. There isn’t a single fake bill in either of these guys.”

“What guarantees do I have?” Eleanor said after a pause. “I can’t believe someone will give away one million dollars, even if that’s you.”

“I am not giving it away,” he reminded. “I am paying for a favor. And my guarantees are simple: the money will become yours as soon as you agree.”

“Listen, it’s silly!” Eleanor exclaimed, as if overwhelmed. “It contradicts everything I can imagine. It’s nonsense!”

She got up, folded her arms on her chest and began staring into the window.

“I see no contradiction here. You know I always loved you, and we both know why you never loved me back. Now that I finally have the only thing I was missing, why not consider getting married?”

“Are you really talking about love again?” she said, her intonation fluttering so peculiarly that the mood behind it could have been mistaken in a million different ways.

“I always want to talk about love, it’s the only thing in the whole world I profess to understand,” he said earnestly and realized she was watching his reflection in the window, dark and shiny like an ancient mirror.

Suddenly Eleanor turned around and looked at him as if it were only now that she noticed his presence.

“Good evening, Mr. Socrates. Should I be honest with you and say you are the last person I wished to see tonight?”

“Honesty is the only thing I shall accept from you, Dr. Nietzsche,” he replied.

“You didn’t change at all,” Eleanor said with sudden resignation, smiling in a way that differed from everything he saw so far.

“Manche Leute
ändern sich nie
,” he reminded.

“I never thought
you
were one of them.”

“My whole life is a proof of it.”

“Speaking of which.” Eleanor’s face lit up. “How is it? I still have no clue of what you’ve been up to. Will you educate me?”

“You want extra time to think? Okay. But tell me, are you actually interested?”

“How can I not be? You catch the woman you haven’t seen in five years in her house and offer her a million dollars in return for a one-day marriage. I am all ears!”

“Then sit down, will you?” he said. “And drink your damn tea.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Eleanor said, still smiling and not moving. “Tell me about yourself.”

He took a pause, sipped some more tea and finally began.