Lost Hours Page 7

  “What are you doing here? I ask dryly. I try to harden my features, pretending I don´t love her any more, that I couldn´t care less about her, that I don´t want to see her ever again.

  She isn´t wearing any make up at all. She looks tired and sad, as if she were carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

  “I´ve come to pick up my things… If that´s what you want Paul.”

  “Yeah, that´s what I want” I reply looking at the small suitcase at her feet.

  “You don´t want to try to fix this?” She approaches, tries to hug me but I push her away brusquely. “Let´s talk it over Paul. It was a mistake… I… I didn´t want to…”

  “How many times” I interrupt. She keeps silent. “How many times!” I insist, beginning to lose control.

  “Two years.” She stares at the floor.

  “Get out of here. Right now, Ana, get your damned little bag and get out. I don´t want to see you ever again!” Ana hoists her bag, nods her head, her eyes brimming with tears. That muscular, tattooed guy with the bushy beard, probably doesn´t want to have anything to do with her. He won´t put her up. He won´t give her the carefree, comfortable life she had with me for so many years.

  “Goodbye Paul.” She mumbles, stretching her arms, inviting me to hug her one last time. I back away from her. She turns towards the door, hanging her head and shuffles slowly until she reaches the door. She opens it softly, there is great sadness in the way she turns the knob. I know she is waiting for me to change my mind. But I won´t. “Take care.” She whispers with a knot in her throat.

  I try to hold my tears back. The door clicks shut behind me. She´s gone. Out the door and out my life forever.

  Now I let all the pain out.

  Trying to steady myself, after a while, I dial the phone.

  PAULA

  Friday, October 11, 2013

  “Paul…?

  “Hello Paula, so sorry about the time” It´s detective Tischmann on the line.

  “That´s OK, I can´t sleep.”

  But I don´t tell him why.

  When I got home I found a note from Matthew, saying he needed to get away from me for a couple of days. That he needed a breather.

  There´s something else though, he´s hiding something and I´ve known it for a while; I just didn´t want to admit it.

  It´s Joana. I feel betrayed, not only by my husband, but by the woman who used to be a good friend.

  “That makes two us,” he laughs sadly, “Paula, where do you live?

  “In the Soho.”

  “Well, so do I.” She seems happy at the coincidence.

  “I live on Thompson. You?”

  “Right beside you, on Wooster St. Would you like…” She knows he shouldn´t, but I know he´s going to do it anyway, “I don´t know, maybe we could have a drink?”

  “We could meet in about ten minutes at the bar that´s right near my house. It´s called Jimmy´s. Do you know it?”

  “Yes… unfortunately I know it well. I´ll see you there in ten minutes, Paula. Till then.”

  “See you there, Paul.”

  23:32 hrs.

  I´m still wearing the clothes I took to the funeral, so I head for my closet and pull out the dark blue dress Josh liked so much when we went to Joana´s exhibition, a mere ten years ago.

  That was the time I saw Matthew for the first time. This is the dress I wear only in my dreams: when I see myself dressed in it, walking on an empty, arid field, overhead a bubbly sky.

  Without really thinking, I open Matthew´s dresser and notice a lot of clothes missing. Will he be coming back? In the middle of a panic attack, I dial his number, but it sends me to his mailbox. Two, three, four more times… Matthew´s turned off his phone.

  I imagine him, with her, making love in one of the millions of apartments in New York, where he just moved in.

  I don´t have Joana´s number, she changes it constantly. The day we had drinks, we agreed to meet next week at her exhibition.

  «You´re blowing everything out proportion, Paula. Breath in… breathe out… breath in… No. Matthew would never do something like that, not with Joana. She´s the one that introduced him to you, she always said he was not her type. Because of that, and other things, you ended up married to him. No, Paula, no, Matthew is not with Joana».

  I say to myself, trying to calm down. I force a smile and slip into the blue dress. So classic, it never goes out of fashion.

  I don a gray knit jacket and slip into a pair of tan flats.

  I go into the bathroom to touch up on my make-up, and as I look into the mirror, I feel surprised at the thought: I want to look attractive for Paul.

  In my thoughts, I am unfaithful to Matthew, I feel I am being unfaithful to Josh too; thought the later makes no sense.

  “Paula… Paula.” A creepy male voice whispers in my ear. I am paralyzed. I know something dismal is going to happen. I am not alone, it´s very likely that Josh´s spirit will pay me another visit, that he will appear out of thin air with his slit throat. A visit from the spirit world. “Look under the bed, Paula… under the bed.”

  My eyes go as wide as they have ever been. I don´t see anything. I just heard a male, raspy voice that doesn´t sound like Josh´s at all. I follow it´s suggestion and trying to appear calm, I kneel by the bedside to take a look.

  I see a ring, but it´s not mine, it´s Matthew´s. I pick it up sadly and place it on his bedside table. I stare at it fixedly, as if that would make Matthew come back.

  As I turn towards the bathroom once more, I see Josh, but this time there is a rope around his neck and his eyes are closed. His bare feet are suspended over an immense pool of blood, swinging placidly. I choke down a scream.

  “Leave me alone! Leave me be!”

  I close my eyes tightly and when I open them again, Josh is gone, as well as the pool of blood.

  I don´t want to come back to this apartment. I don´t want to be alone.

  It´s twenty to twelve. I leave the house and just three steps away from the door is detective Tischmann, waiting. With him I feel safe.

  “Are you alright?” He asks as soon as I step into the bar.

  “What are you drinking?” I avoid answering his question. I don´t want to talk about me, about these crazy thoughts. I want to know about him… everything about him.

  “Whisky”

  “A Bloody Mary for me, please” I ask the barman, as I recall Tuesday night when I was there with Joana. The barman scowls at me, I guess he remembers the other night. “I don´t usually come to this place, thought the other night… the night Josh was murdered, I was here with a friend.”

  Detective Tischmann looks serious and broody.

  “That´s your alibi? That you were having a drink here with a friend?”

  “Do I need an alibi, detective?” I ask as I slide closer to him.

  “No, I was just curious. What time was it?”

  “I met my friend at ten past ten and I remember I was stepping into my building at twenty minutes to midnight.” I smile, “I was quite drunk…”

  “I think I might have seen you” he smiles naughtily. “A few minutes later it was I who came in to get drunk.”

  “Why?” I want to know.

  “I caught my wife in bed with a guy.”

  “I´m so sorry, Paul.” I place my hand on his shoulder and gently stroke his back.

  “Shit happens.” He says trying to make it sound unimportant.

  “If something like that happened to me, I don´t know how I would react.” I feel sorry for the guy. It probably did happen, but as they say, out of sight, out of mind. “I saw you at the funeral today. Did you see anything odd?”

  “No.” He replies tersely.

  “So many things have happened in just a few days… it´s disconcerting.” I look him in the eye.

  He is staring at my lips, I know he wants me. I know that look.

  “It´s turning out to be a pretty intense week.”

  “Paul, why did you
want to meet with me? This has nothing to do with the case, does it?”

  He smiles shyly, and he seems to hesitate before replying.

  “No. I know this is not right. But something about you is very interesting.” He accepts, as he smooths his hair.

  “What about me?”

  “I don´t know. You told me you would like to do whatever you could to help with the investigation.”

  “Then, it is professional, Paul.”

  “Not exactly,” he laughs nervously, “But together, we are going to find out who killed Parker.”

  CHAPTER 7

  PAUL

  Saturday, October 12, 2013

  A reflected beam of sunlight streams through my bedroom window. It´s hard to open my eyes and I have a splitting headache. I think I got plastered last night, and as I turn to look at the other side of the bed, I see Paula staring tenderly at me.

  What the hell happened? I try to smile back at her. I try to remember, but I can´t.

  She´s naked and shamelessly displays her statuesque body.

  “Good morning, Detective.” She greets me with a soft caress on my cheek.

  She rises from the bed and I can feel myself blushing, startled by the perfection of her feminine profile. She sways her hips as she walks in a way I have never seen anyone do it, so sensual yet natural, as if she were in her own parlor. I think she´s gone out to the kitchen.

  There are two used condoms on my bedside table. I press my hands to my temples, trying to remember this first time with Paula, but it´s useless. I wish I could remember every detail of what went on last night.

  I get up slipping on some underwear I find laying by the bed and stumble towards the kitchen. Paula is standing by the counter, making coffee, totally naked.

  “Coffee?” she offers with an ample, charming smile.

  “Yes, please.” I sit on one of the bar stools. “Paula, what happened last night?”

  “You can´t remember anything?” She asks, pouting disappointedly.

  “Too much whisky, I´m afraid.”

  “I can remind you if you want.” She approaches me and kisses me provocatively, her full lips on mine, her tongue holding me captive, playing with me, or rather playing me, she teases me by distancing her face a fraction of an inch.

  “We made love. Twice.” Her voice husky and still a bit sleepy.

  “I´m sorry I can´t remember.” I bemoan humorously.

  She pours some coffee and sits beside me. My God! She is so perfect, delicate and regal. I still regard her as an unapproachable goddess. Yet she is here, with me, staring sweetly into my eyes and smiling eagerly.

  I can´t believe my luck at having found her.

  I feel uneasy, her nakedness is overwhelming.

  “Paula, please put something on, I can´t concentrate if you are…”

  “Naked?”

  “Yeah, that´s right.”

  She laughs and goes towards the bedroom.

  When she returns, she is wearing the navy-blue dress, gray jacket and flats she had on last night. A marked contrast to the femme fatale she emulates at work.

  “I dreamt about Josh last night.” She appears upset.

  “This whole deal is having a strong effect on you, isn´t it?

  “Yes.”

  “Tell me: what was there really between you two Paula?”

  “I´ve told you. A couple of dates, a one night fling. That was it. He chose Charlotte and I moved on with my life.”

  “And, how did that life of yours get on?”

  She lowers her gaze, takes a quick sip of coffee, and when I think she is ready to tell me her story, she gives me a quick peck, smiles and heads for the door. Once there, she smiles seductively. I don´t know what to think. She totally throws me off kilter, she traps me, I´m obsessed by her.

  PAULA

  Friday, August 20, 2004

  Since Josh left me for Charlotte, going to work at DIC each morning became a real pain. Josh seemed to enjoy watching me suffer and would rub my nose in the fact that it was the skinny blonde, with interminable legs who went to his bed each night, and would stay at the office all hours to “work”.

  I know he was humping her on the copy machine, making love to her savagely as he had done with me only a few months back.

  Lisa and Nicole, apparently oblivious to what was going on, turned out to be my best support. I suppose they suspected something had happened, but they were discrete and good coworkers.

  It was scorching in New York City and I kept dreaming about my two week vacation. I didn´t know where I was going yet. My friends already had plans and Joana was in Paris. For all purposes, I was alone. This didn´t bother me as I have always been the kind of person who can sit alone at a restaurant or catch a movie with popcorn and a Coke for company.

  As happened every Friday, Josh was meeting Samantha in her office. But that day I witnessed a heated argument; Josh waving his arms, and though

  I couldn´t hear their conversation, it was obvious that she was furious, raising her voice.

  Nicole and Charlotte were on vacation, so Charlotte and I were swamped with work, yearning for our Spring Break.

  I made up my mind to take the lift down to the cafeteria in the lobby of the building and treat myself to a latte. I needed to take a break.

  Being naturally curious, I wondered the reason for the argument I had just witnessed. I stirred my coffee distractedly when a masculine voice I had forgotten, greeted me.

  “Paula?”

  Looking up from my coffee I saw the man Joana had introduced me to at the exhibition I went to with Josh, back in February. I couldn´t quite remember his name but I recalled I had been attracted to him.

  He smiled at me in a friendly way, obviously happy at the casual encounter.

  “You don´t remember by name, do you?” he asked amused. “Matthew Hawkins.”

  “Matthew! Would you like to sit and join me for a cuppa?”

  “Sounds great!”

  He sat in front of me, not quite sure where to start.

  “Have you heard anything from Joana?” He asked.

  Joana was the only thing we had in common, so I guess it was a good way of breaking the ice.

  “I guess she´s still in Paris, but she hasn´t been in touch.”

  “That is pretty typical of her.”

  “Do you know her well?”

  “Not really. Not much. About a year ago she hired me to build her webpage. We got along well and went out a couple of times. She´s eccentric and a bit crazy, isn´t she?”

  “That´s Joana!” I agreed laughing. “What do you do? Design webpages?”

  “I work for many companies as a freelance designer. Very often I get hired by people – professionals -,who need a webpage.” It was easy to tell he enjoyed his job. “What about you Paula?”

  “I work at DIC, the agency that own this building. I am assistant to one of idea men at the office.”

  “Sounds interesting.”

  “I guess so. I´ve been there for a year and so far it seems good. It´s creative, which I´m thankful for.”

  “And what about the guy I saw you with…” He began, nervously stirring his coffee.

  “Josh. He´s my boss.”

  “Not your boyfriend?”

  “Josh? Oh, no! Not at all. There´s nothing there.”

  He smiled. You could see relief in that smile.

  “Well then, if Josh is not your boyfriend, and no one is waiting for you at home, we could go out for dinner tonight.” I was stunned by his bright, smiling green eyes.

  “I have just one condition,” I said flirting, twisting one of my curls provocatively.

  Which is…?”

  “Just don´t take me to a restaurant up high. I hate heights.”

  “Done.”

  Opportunity had come a´knocking, and I was as excited as a teenager. I surprised myself dressing and putting on make up to look my best for someone other than Josh. He was still on my mind, messing with it, but
a part of me kept telling me that Matthew was the right kind of guy, that Josh was only a corrupt shadow I needed to get away from. The time had come: it was my turn to be happy.

  We agreed to meet at seven that evening at 510 Broome St., in the Soho. Matthew lived close by, and being passionate about that area in New York, I envied him; there was no way I could afford an apartment in that area.

  We were to have dinner at the Aurora, an Italian restaurant I had been to with Joana a couple of times. Her place was close by.

  “You look amazing.” He greeted me, surprising me when he bent over and kissed me warmly on the cheek.

  “You too. I mean, you look really handsome.” I replied awkwardly.

  I could feel myself blushing. I put my hand on his shoulder, hard as steel under his navy blue shirt. His auburn hair was no longer messy as it had been some hours earlier, he´d styled it fashionably and trimmed his bushy beard. It was clear he´d taken the time to look good for me and I found that flattering. The way he was looking at me was very provocative and strongly influenced my desire to take my clothes off.

  Bawdy thoughts aside, we had a marvelous evening, it had been a great opportunity to get to know each other.

  “My parents live in San Francisco,” he explained, “about five years ago I decided to move to New York. I´ve always loved this city, there´s a lot more work for me here.”

  “I have never been to San Francisco, I only know the city from what I´ve seen in movies.” I laugh. Gazing into his smiling eyes, I wonder if I should ask the question that´s been going around in my heart from the moment we met at the cafeteria. Why not? I have nothing to lose: “So, tell me, is there something between you and Joana?” Matthew seemed thrown by the question, he looked up, sucking up a spaghetti and shook his head.

  “Nope… nothing.”

  I smiled. That´s what I wanted to hear, but I had my doubts. I know he was lying to me; there had been something there, even if it was a one night thing. But it was better that way. It was better to believe there had been nothing between them, that left the road free for me. At any rate, Joana was in Paris for an indefinite time and I knew she was as anxious to commit as I was to run around naked around Central Park in the middle of winter.