Miranda (6 page)

“Oh, good choice!” A half smile appeared on the face that bore the marks of the abuse that he had sustained.

“Good taste comes from a good teacher.” I shrugged my shoulders, even though poetry was something that generally traveled on roads that were totally alien to me.

I began reading
Amar sin Motivos
, or
Loving without Reasons
by De Lorenzo Roman.

I have no reasons to love,

I love because I love,

With no reason to hold onto

The passion that I give and don’t demand.

Loving for something, for a reason,

Is not loving from the soul,

Nor is putting the phrases or their meanings

Where calmness abides.

If you ask me why

I would not know how to reply

Because I don’t know from where there comes

So much and so much love…

Those were my words, feeling confident with each verse to the end. As I raised my eyes, overwhelmed by an innate modesty, I encountered a man lost and nestled in those words. Seven nights passed the same way while poetry and Norman transported me to another world–the world where feelings became verse.

***

One night, while leaving the office, dead tired, I stopped by the hospital to read to Norman a little. What began as therapy for him transformed into therapy for me. Fatigue was wearing me out. Neither MAC nor Sephora could work the miracle of concealing it. At Norman’s insistence, I lay down at his side. The level of discomfort grew and it bothered me until I noticed that a void in me was filled with the closeness. Suddenly, in a hesitant voice, Norman pronounced her name.

“Isabel.”

There she was… his wife: a very elegant woman with dark hair, whose features conveyed a fine lineage. Her skin seemed of Lladro porcelain. Her silhouette did not reflect what must have been her age, about fifty-five, and I had her right in front of me, standing at the doorway to the room contemplating the scene: her husband sharing a hospital bed with a stranger.

My heart beat so rapidly that if it were connected to the monitors that were connected to Norman during the first part of his hospital stay, the alarms would have startled the nursing personnel. I didn’t know what to do. While seconds passed, I hesitated.

I got up, but I remained seated on the bed.

“Wow, Norman, you really are doing much better.” Oh, her tone said it all.

But what right did she have to come here, after so many years?
I looked at Norman, trying to anticipate his reaction, which surprised me more than his wife’s greeting.

“Isabel, this is Miranda.”

“Miranda Wise? The International Business Director?” She asked with a frown, even though no wrinkles appeared on her face.
Could it be the Botox?

“And a good friend,” Norman emphasized.

I extended my hand out to shake hers. She looked at it and ignored my cordiality.

This was definitely one of those moments that I had to add to the list of the
most uncomfortable moments of my life
, a list I secretly maintained because it inspired me to be able to survive similar events.

I admonished myself:
I am such a fool
for trying to be friendly with the woman…

Just as I reached out to her, I pulled back, and grabbed my purse.

“It’s late. Good night.” Without caring about what his wife thought, I kissed his cheek.

From the doorway, when turning to catch a final glimpse of the room and those in it, I perceived the anger on Norman’s peaceful face.

“Good night to you, Miranda. Rest. You need it.” He smiled, and made things worse. “And please, my apologies for Isabel’s lack of manners.”

I said nothing. I didn’t even look at the woman before leaving.

While I was finding my way to the hospital exit, my wandering mind imagined various ways I should have reacted.
Sure, now you can think clearly because you’re not under pressure.
Just as I was in the middle of those thoughts, I tasted the cold, humid floor.

I had tripped on one of those sandwich board signs that advise walking carefully around a wet floor. Reluctantly, I got up and continued walking when someone grabbed my arm. It was a rough hand–not at all delicate.

“You forgot your book,” said the owner of the hand.

There they were in the palm of his other hand… the poems that, on past nights, had further united Norman and me.

“It fell along with you,” he insisted with an invisible smile.

His voice was rough, deep, and attractive. I looked up to put a face on the voice.

I found myself facing a dark gaze, engraved in the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen in my life. The features were of a man of strong character, and he had a beard… oh, darn… a seductive beard, one abundant enough for my taste, which highlighted his mysterious pupils even more! I had before me the kind of man that can intimidate with a look, and no one questions what he says or does. The sensation that it aroused in me felt familiar.

“Thank you,” was the phrase I could muster.

Under other circumstances, maybe I would have stayed to flirt with him, to read to him, possibly some poetry and, perhaps, something more. The opportunity and the prospect were worthy…
but not today, not tonight.

I don’t know what the hell I’m doing here. She drags me around to where I don’t want to be with her damned insistence.

My cell didn’t stop ringing. Something had happened. I adjusted the air conditioning vents toward me while the stewardesses delivered the pre-flight instructions. I turned it off when it rang again. It was Ethan. I didn’t care about what he had to tell me or his recriminations. It took Medika months to arrange this meeting and I couldn’t ruin it. This trip was important–so important that, if we got the expected contracts, Medika would be the biggest in the business. More than business, we would be improving access to health services for people who don’t have the same opportunities as we do–yes, on this side of the map where we mistakenly take so many things for granted.

It’s not every day that one meets with a nation’s health minister.

During the flight, the movie that I chose turned out to be boring. Perhaps because the only thing I did was think about the fact that I never got a chance to speak to Norman about his wife’s visit. I also didn’t feel like I had the confidence to do it. But why did she return? Where had she been for so long? Where had she been for the last two months? Where had she been for the last twenty years?

Did she really think that there was more than a business and friendly relationship between Norman and I? What did she think of me? What did she think of Norman?

***

It was my second day in a Latin American country. When the meeting was over, I dialed Ethan’s number. He picked up, but didn’t begin speaking to me right away; rather he apologized to those at his meeting, which wasn’t as important as mine, of course.

“Ah! Took you long enough!” I smiled, because he didn’t abandon his sarcastic tone even at long distance.

“What’s going on, Ethan? I was with the Minister…” He interrupted me.

“I don’t care, Miranda. You need to come back immediately!” Something important was definitely happening, and it was not the meeting that he had arranged, that I repeat, was not as important as my own.

“Why? Has Norman gotten worse?”

“Norman has gone crazy! Does that count?” He paused his speaking to think, to explain as well as his stress could allow. “Miranda, Medika has undergone a form of coup d’etat!”

For a few seconds, confusion dominated my thoughts.

“What are you saying, Ethan?”

“Your beloved Norman has named his son, Eliezer, President of the company! That stranger bastard is our boss!” He announced, finally, and because I couldn’t seem to react, he started talking again. “The jet is on its way to pick you up. Be sure to be at the airport at six o’clock. Please, Miranda, be punctual.”

Alone, my thoughts attacked me.
But what can you do, Miranda? He’s his son, and moreover, Norman is the principal shareholder in the company. He can name whomever he wants to any position, even though that might put his mental capacity in question.

I called Norman.

He picked up on the first ring.

“Hello, Miranda. How are you?”

“I’m fine, Norman.” I lied. “How are you?”

I noticed relief in his voice.

“Much better, thank you. Tomorrow they’ll be releasing me. They are going to transfer me to the rehabilitation center to begin therapy.”

“Then I’m going to come by in the morning to help you.” It wasn’t a question, it was an assertion.

“No, Miranda, don’t worry, Isabel will help me.”

Isabel? His wife?
It took me a few seconds to continue the conversation. I must admit that it took some work for me to get used to hearing him pronounce that name: Isabel.

“Say no more. Let me know if you need me.”

“As I always do, Miranda. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

That he would hang up so quickly surprised me. Norman is not one of those people that presses the “END CALL” button while saying goodbye. He likes to take a few seconds, even if only as a courtesy.

He didn’t ask me the obligatory question, a habit that, in reality, was his personal way of saying hello. He didn’t ask me where I was as far as the country. He didn’t say those words that always managed to make me feel at home. “Hello, traveler. In what part of the world do you find yourself today?” The events seemed more confusing to me each time–much more confusing.

***

The return flight was like a dream. It came so quickly, barely the next day after my arrival, at the end of the day of meetings. Everything seemed distant… hazy. It had been months that I hadn’t been using the Medika private jet. Commercial flights seemed more pleasant and safe, but I couldn’t deny the comfort of the Gulfstream G650. It’s not that I’m an expert on airplane models, but Norman required me to memorize the model name so that every time I was overwhelmed by the hassle of commercial flight, I would remember the comfort that I was rejecting. It was a beautiful jet, with a white leather interior, an eight passenger maximum, and four crewmembers. I prefer commercial flights to maintain a lower profile. Norman, on the other hand, would, at times, lose his patience with me for preferring commercial flights. “This toy has cost me sixty million dollars and you prefer the hassle,” he would tell me.

I couldn’t overcome the exhaustion that had become my faithful companion during the past two months. I remained in the arms of Morpheus until landing.

I awoke with a jolt from an untimely source of turbulence: the plane touching down on the runway. I did no more than step down the small metal stairs and got into my car with a destination fixed in my mind: the hospital.

I wanted to see Norman, and moreover, give him another opportunity to confess the truth about what was happening.

I arrived at his room and he was reading a book at the edge of the bed. When hearing my greeting, he set it aside.

“Miranda?”

It was so strange! Each time that he spoke my name, it made me feel good, including when the reason he mentioned it was not pleasant.

“Hello, Norman.”

The calmness in his voice was confirmation that he felt peaceful… very peaceful…too peaceful… and that scared me.

“Come, sit down.” He indicated a space next to him on his bed.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose on anyone.”

“Calm down. If you’re saying that about Isabel, don’t worry. Come!”

I hesitated, but I ultimately sat down.

“Weren’t you in El Salvador?” he asked, putting a hand on one of my shoulders.

Who told him where I was?

“I just landed.” I took the book that he had in his hands.
I Won’t Go Without Telling You Where
by Laurent Gounelle.“How’s the reading?”

“Inspirational.” A sigh accompanied his response. “And how were the meetings? How’s the Minister?”

“The meetings… very good… productive. We were on the verge of sealing the deal. The Minister is fine. He sends you greetings and wishes for a prompt recovery. He said, by the way, that you still owe him a visit to the ranch. Can you believe that he dared say that he wanted to introduce me to one of his sons?”

Norman laughed.

“That man never changes. Be careful on those adventures. You know how they can end.”

That advice was a way of saying, “Don’t even think about it, Miranda Wise!” The truth is that it wasn’t the first time that I was made that kind of offer in a business context. Norman had taught me to take them as compliments, so that’s how I took them.

“You know that I don’t play with fire.”

“Weren’t you supposed to be back on Friday?” He fixed his eyes on mine. He wanted to capture my physical and verbal reaction: the whole response.

“Yes. Some unforeseen events arose and I had to advance my schedule.” I tried to maintain my poker face… so
Ethan
.