21
KRUM
I'm sorry to take her away from the art gallery, but it’s late and it's better we go and have lunch. I certainly cannot avoid for her to meet Leonardo. The Father is asking a lot of questions about why I’ve assailed Manuel, but I'm sure the imbecile has already given his version of the facts, though altered by what's convenient for him.
I look at her a little bit more, her face is covered with astonishment. It is as if she was absorbing the beauty of the present objects, taking it all in. For me, there is no element comparable to the joy on her face in this moment. She's so beautiful that the rest goes unnoticed. Her essence is perceptible, it seems to seize all my attention. She is an egoistic presence that keeps me glued to her in a way I’m not yet able to appreciate.
I feel good just because I'm helping her deal with these difficult days. Only now I realize how traumatic it might have been for her to be taken away like that. My style is certainly not something to be proud of, but I'm trying to improve it and the strategy to hold her by hand instead of her wrists seems to work.
Once out of the gallery, we go down the hall and head to the dining room. As long as she is with me, I have no reason to fear that Manuel will approach her, and then, actually, I should start thinking about how to talk to her about him. I have the impression that Ambra has a marked ability to get me pissed off when she understands that I don't like something. She realized that Manuel can make me vulnerable. If she wanted me, she could make me lose my patience talking intentionally with him.
When we get to the large dining room, I see that she looks around stunned. The round table is set with the usual silverware. Oscar, Manuel and Leonardo are already seated, as are other men in the Temple who, instead, dine at a separate table. Ambra seems intimidated by the situation, she certainly has a lot of questions about why we live here.
“Good morning,” she says embarrassed.
“Sorry for the delay. We took a tour of the villa.”
“You did well, Krum,” Leonardo is obviously upset, probably because of my job on Manuel's face. “Come on, Ambra, take a seat by my side.”
When Ambra approaches the Father, he pulls out the chair like a gentleman and lets her sit down. She blushes. When she sits, she changes her expression as she sees Manuel seated in front of her; his face leaves little room for imagination. He has a black eye, his lips cut and his nose healing. He's disgusting.
I sit at Ambra’s left side and I feel her eyes on me. She's probably thinking I was too hard on Manuel (I think I was too cautious). I don’t look at anyone, I hope I won’t be recalled because of my behavior. I stare at the smoked salmon lying on the arugula and I limit myself to be simply present.
“Oh, don’t worry, I'm fine,” Manuel says with false kindness, answering the question Ambra had not asked, but she had clearly written on her face. “Botev has serious problems with anger management.”
“And you have serious problems with language management,” I reply.
“Words are one thing, Botev, and violence is another.”
“Are you now giving me a sermon about violence?”
“Between me and you, you’ve always been the violent one.”
Oscar is exasperated, he exchanges reassuring looks with Ambra.
“And you've always been the one that provokes,” I reply.
“It's not my fault if your father let you be beaten by other people!”
I spring up and push the chair back behind me, I feel Ambra's hand grabbing my arm and inciting me to sit down.
“Repeat what you said,” I growl.
“It’s enough”, Leonardo's fists hit the table. “I’d like to have lunch in peace. Put your differences of immature brothers aside, at least in front of our guest.”
“We aren’t brothers,” I underline.
“In fact,” Manuel follows.
“When you act like that, you really seem like it,” Oscar insinuates.
“Sit down, Krum,” Leonardo orders. “Manuel, don’t bug him. Eat!”
Silence. Ambra hasn’t said a word since we sat at the table. She just eats decorously, bringing the fork to her lips with elegance. I'm sure she has taken note in her head of the millionth question to ask me.
“I suppose we can talk about the Sect among us,” Ambra's statement causes all of our eyes to move to Leonardo, waiting for him to answer her. She realizes she has drawn too much attention and corrects herself. “Or maybe it's better to do it on another occasion.”
Leonardo takes a cloth napkin and cleans his mouth.
“I really wanted to take you out for dinner tonight,” he says, and the bite remains in my throat. I take a long sip of white wine and pretend I hadn't heard it. “I'd like to establish a relationship with you before I reveal such important subjects to you.”
“Such important… subjects?” Ambra seems unconvinced. I hope she doesn’t accept to go out with Leonardo. I'm already hot now. I could burn alive if I knew she was with him.
“I must trust you completely.”
“Is this why you prevent me from going out and meeting my mother? Do you think I will tell everyone that you dragged me away and forced me to stay in a kind of I don’t-know-what… Temple?”
I want to laugh at how pungent she is.
“Ambra,” Leonardo is about to speak with his usual severity, I read it in his eyes, but my girlfriend doesn’t give him time to say a word.
“I'm not a stupid woman. I understand that some secrecy is necessary,” she taps the fork on her plate. Oscar jumps, shocked by her tones. Nobody speaks to Leonardo with such arrogance.
I'm getting excited, shit.
“But I don’t understand why it’s necessary that Krum controls me 24 hours a day.”
This isn’t exciting at all.
“And that I have to be locked in a room without being able to report to my mother that I'm fine. Someone out there is wondering where I am; what became of me and it certainly doesn’t guarantee the secrecy you want.”
Leonardo stares at her enchanted. I don’t like his expression, he should be angry, but he also looks excited.
“I want to have a phone at least. I’d like to be able to contact the people I care about, just to make them sure that I'm fine. I wish I could leave this villa if I want to. It’s not essential that I live here.”
No, no, no. She’s staying with me.
“If you want I'm a correct person, you have to be, too. You can trust me, I’m not gonna tell anyone that you’re a kind of secret Sect conspiring against whatever-you-want, even because they’d consider me crazy.”
“Tonight, at eight o'clock,” Leonardo says. We all look at him questioningly. “I want you to have dinner with me.”
I look down at the dish. If I looked at the way he was watching her, I’d go crazy. Ambra always gets what she wants. She doesn’t realize that her way of acting is fascinating for men. Her stubbornness, her courage, her ability to impose her thoughts, all become elements that intrigue men like us, who are always used to dealing with consensual women who follow every order.
“Will I be able to talk to my mother?” she's contracting. Her wittiness makes me proud.
“I’ve already told you that your mother is aware of your stay in the Temple. Just give me a few more days, so that I can trust you completely, then you can also go out, see who you want and decide to stay here or go home.”
Ambra picks up the glass of wine and brings it to her lips, drinks a long sip and puts it back on the table making it chime.
“Then, instead, I prefer to dine in my room.”
Oh, moeto momiche! Oh, my girl!
Oscar and Manuel smile. I don’t, but I'm proud of her way of replying and making herself respected. It might be because of her unawareness, that she doesn’t know what the Father is capable of or maybe she is just Ambra, a strong woman able to make herself respected, even with me, often. Too often.
Leonardo smiles defeated, but He looks like he’s amused by her straightforwardness. If a man had talked that way to him, he would have asked me to bang his head on the table and then, maybe, stick a knife somewhere. And I’d have done it. But we are talking about Ambra, potential member of the Sect, daughter of one of the founders and heir of one of the most prestigious roles in the Temple. Leonardo has his hands tied with her.
“That's fine,” Leonardo laughs, we're all astonished. Is he surrendering? I wouldn’t be surprised. Who wouldn’t give up with her? Ambra is so pleased that I'm afraid she'll lift her arms up shouting for her victory.
“What’s fine?” she asks.
“Tonight we'll invite someone to the Temple and spend a quiet evening, I understand that you don’t want to spend it alone with me, so if other people are here, you’ll be more relaxed. Krum, call Ivanka too, she can stay with you if she wants.”
I swallow, Ambra turns to me and I have her furious eyes on me. I'm wearing a mischievous smile. I already know what she’s thinking. I told her clearly that I fuck Ivanka.
“Oscar, Manuel, you are free to invite anyone you want. Even you, Ambra, if you want, you can invite a friend.”
Ambra looks incredulous. Oscar almost jumps out of the chair. I imagine he’s gonna invite that girl he took a fancy for.
“You can call your mother if it makes you feel better. I don’t know how to prove that you are safe here and that we haven’t kidnapped you. I hope this idea is an important step for you and for the reliability I expect you to have.”
“Okay, I didn’t… I didn’t think you'd give me the chance to invite somebody.”
“The Temple is frequented by ordinary people; it isn’t a secret that I live here. The secret is another, Ambra, and you know perfectly that what we are mustn’t be mentioned, not even to your mother.”
“Then, what does my mother know?”
“The bare essentials.”
“Okay,” Ambra seems to have lost a bit of her straightforwardness.
She is repeating in her head the questions she wants to ask me, so she doesn't forget them.
“Now can we finish lunch in peace?” Leonardo asks.
With the tail of my eye I see Ambra is meditating so intensely that I almost hear the buzz of her thoughts. Suddenly we hear her saying: “Where's the scam?”
“What?” The Father rests the fork on his dish, in an exasperated gesture. I hope he doesn’t ask me to reproach her for her insolence. After all, it's so fun to see her questioning.
“It seems too easy,” Ambra insists. “You’re giving me permission to call my mother and bring someone to the Temple… What do you want in return? Is it your way to shorten the time?”
For God’s sake! Her intelligence scares me. I can’t wait to finish this fuckin' lunch, take her behind a door and reward her for being simply herself.
Leonardo is obviously embarrassed.
“There is no scam. I just want you to feel comfortable and stay here until the reason for the summoning will be revealed.”
Ambra sighs, plays with food and then eats a bite with little emphasis.
“I'll call my friend Emma,” she says, staring at Oscar whose eyes are shining with… joy? Yay!
“Are you calling Ivanka?” Manuel asks me.
“Maybe,” I answer.
“And you Manuel?” Ambra asks. I get a pain in my chest. “Who are you bringing? Why don’t you accompany me?”
Here we go. Damn asshole-whore-bastard and… Shit!
I throw the napkin on the table angrily. Manuel is enjoying it like a pig. He has set a trap for me and I fell for it.
Maybe, why did I say that?
I stare at Manuel, trying to make him understand that if he accepts he dies, but he was waiting for that and replies: “It would be a pleasure for me.” Smart, he asks for permission from Leonardo. “Can I accompany Ambra tonight?”
I have my fist clasped behind the back of Ambra's chair, I'm seriously holding back from pulling her hair. She is so satisfied, that bitch. I just said maybe, damn it!
Oscar understands my discomfort and supports me.
“Maybe, Krum should accompany her. He is her guardian…”
“I prefer to get to know Manuel,” Ambra's voice has suddenly become a torture to my ears.
I'm imagining a series of scenes in which I spank her and she cries lying belly down on my legs. I could really hurt her, bitch.
“Let Ambra choose who to come to dinner with,” Leonardo snorts.
I realize I haven’t said a word, but I'm charging myself to spit out what I think to that slut.
“In fact, I chose Manuel,” she says, with that aggravating tone of hers.
Kurva! Whore.
“You don't mind, do you, Krum?” Manuel is really exaggerating.
“Why should I mind. Ivanka will be with me,” I say maliciously.
Here you go. Well done!
Ambra leans her back on the back of the chair and does it so abruptly she crushes my fingers.
“After all,” Manuel says, “you have known Ambra for a short time. With Ivanka you are much more intimate.”
“May I be excused?” Ambra irrupts, staring at Leonardo.
We all are silent. I feel I have had my little revenge. If Ivanka annoys her as Manuel annoys me, spending time with my fellow countrywoman is already a vengeance against Ambra.
I don’t care about it anymore. Let her do what she wants! I worry too much about her. Fuck off, Ambra and Manuel!
“Krum, accompany Ambra to her room,” Leonardo orders.
“I have a request,” Ambra says, standing up. Leonardo nods his head and gives her permission to speak. She doesn’t realize that this is a way of granting permission, but we know it here. “I wish I could have the key to my room. I give you my word that I won’t flee. I’ll stay here the time you want, but I’d like my stay in the Temple to be slacked.”
“You are asking for too much,” the Father replies. “Krum, what do you think?
I’d like to keep her prisoner forever, in a room where only I can get in.
Ambra strikes me with a glance. I’m under pressure. If I say that it’s not a good idea, she’ll hate me; if I say that it is ok, Manuel will have free access.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” I say firmly.
Leonardo shrugs, as if my word was law. Ambra turns and, without greeting anyone, goes away angrily.
Well, I can’t wait to argue with her.
“I'm leaving!” I say, and I leave.
She doesn’t walk; she almost runs. I follow her silently, knowing she is heading to her room and she doesn’t want my company.
Walking there, I think about our relationship: I force her, then I take her with delicacy. I make her angry, then I make her feel good; I cradle her in her sleep and the day after I deny her an orgasm; I implore her to kiss me and then I pull her hair. We argue, but I give her an unforgettable morning, showing her what she loves most. Then I just say a fucking word, maybe, and she revenges in the worst way.
When we reach the floor and she stops in front of her room, hesitating in my typical silence, I put the key in without looking at her. She doesn’t give me time to open the door that she goes in, closing it in my face and pushing it not to let me in.
I put out the usual foot, ready to avoid another kick.
“Get out of here, Krum!”
“Can I know what’s the matter with you?” I don’t press too much as she could fall down. I wait until she stops pushing the door against me.
“Nothing, I'm just nervous, go away!”
“You are nervous?” I burst. I can’t believe it! She is nervous. She! “And how do you think I am at this moment?”
“I don’t care what you feel,” her reproach hurts me.
“You don’t care what I feel, but you let me hold your hand, you look for my chest and I hug you. You want to stay with me and…”
“Shut up,” she screams. “And get out of here!”
She looks exhausted, she keeps the door half closed. My foot is hurting now. I decide to stop letting her believe she’s strong and I push the door with a sharp blow. She steps back frightened.
I slam the door behind me and lock it. Then I hide the key in my pocket. I roll the cuffs of my shirt up to my elbows and the gesture seems to shake her. It's as if I'm preparing my hands to use them on her.
She steps back.
“Don’t run away!” I hiss. “We need to talk.”
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“You asked Manuel to accompany you tonight,” I scold her.
“So? You said you are coming with Ivanka,” she pronounces that name with contempt. It makes me laugh because it’s too evident. She is jealous.
“I said maybe. Do you know what maybe means? I know your language well.”
“If you hadn’t intended to come with Ivanka, you wouldn’t have said maybe. I know my language well It often hides unequivocal meanings.”
She pouts and crosses her arms. I like this discussion. I like it a lot. I want to fill her with insults. I want to jump on her and force her to let herself be taken as my mind plots; furiously.
I tighten my fists and I sigh due to the immense physical strain my body is under. Holding back has never been so hard. I shut my eyes and puff, exhausted by her insolence. Sometimes she's exciting; at others she is bothering. Now she’s bothering.
“What's the problem, Ambra?”
“There is no problem. I'm just tired of being controlled by you.”
“You're wrong if you think I can control you. I can’t do it at all. You always do whatever you like!”
My voice tone begins to rise.
“You don’t realize I try to make you happy in everything, always!”
“You make me happy?” she repeats shocked. “You could have done so when I asked for the key to this room. Instead you preferred to deny it to me. As always.”
“Maybe it's better to get back to the main problem.”
“You're the main problem.”
“And you are for me.”
I step toward her and she points her finger at me.
“Don’t come near me and don’t touch me.”
“You don’t want me to come with Ivanka to dinner? Don’t come with Manuel and I won’t call Ivanka.”
“No… this is not the point,” she stutters. Now she wants to avoid being considered jealous.
“So what's the point? You shouldn’t have asked that idiot to accompany you.”
“You said you'd go with Ivanka!”
Now, she's moving toward me.
“Did you do it to punish me?”
She massages her neck and breathes as if she was trying to hold back the truth that she wants to spit out of her mouth.
“You shouldn’t have said that you would call her.”
“I did not say that, damn it!”
I raise my hands and hold my fists, to stop the incessant desire to pinch her cheeks and bring my mouth onto hers. I know that it's not the right time. I’d only get the fifth slap.
“You, you and her…” I can’t believe we are keeping a conversation like this.
“Me and her, what?”
“Are you two a couple?” she doesn’t look at my eyes and I don’t ask.
“Sometimes we’re together. I told you, I fuck her.”
She looks at me disgusted. Her eyes search me from head to toe as if they were scanning something terrible.
“When was the last time you were together?”
“Why are you asking?” I smell a trap.
“Answer!”
“I don’t think it's your business!”
“I want to know.”
“Why?”
“It's just a question, Krum,” she yells. “We're talking.”
“We are not talking; we’re arguing and I don't understand why. I always do something wrong in your opinion, I don’t know how to behave. I'm not clear headed when you are around. I’m always afraid of making you angry or disappointing you. I don’t know what to do, Ambra. I'm not used to letting someone into my life.”
“All right, that’s enough, shut up!”
She closes her eyes and plugs her ears. What I’m saying seems to hurt her. Why?
“Tell me what the problem is,” I move toward her, but she moves back, overcoming me and giving me her back. “Ambra…”
She is silent. I have her rigid back under my eyes. I would like to reach her and hug her from behind, as I did this morning. I would like to experience that feeling of peace again. She is the personification of calmness. That serenity I’ve always missed.
She ignores me now, wandering in the room as if I weren’t there. It seems disrespectful, as I’ve given her the opportunity to speak without forcing explanations. If I wanted, I could have all the answers I want, trampling her and banging her against the wall. But I'm seriously, and I say seriously, restraining myself.
“Last time was the night I brought you here,” I confess.
That night I fucked Ivanka from behind, only from behind. It was the only way not to see that I had eyes before me other than the ones I wanted. I always wanted her, but it has always been this way, after all. I don’t understand why the bitch doesn’t realize it!
She looks at me with that disappointed expression, I feel guilty and I don’t know why. It’s like I’ve confessed a betrayal to her and for her it doesn't matter; it's as if I’ve told her that I wanted another woman, when the only one I really wanted was her.
“Okay,” she whispers. I almost don’t hear her.
“Okay?” I'm confused.
“Will you go now, please?”
“No, you're angry.”
“I'm not angry,” she sits on the bed and sighs. I approach her and kneel down at her feet, entering her peripheral view.
“I'm not leaving until you tell me why you're angry with me.”
I've never been so calm, but, inside, I'm shouting like a demon.
I don’t understand this woman. I can’t figure her out. I don’t understand why she should be angry. If she isn’t jealous, what the hell did I do?
“I'm not angry with you,” she looks elsewhere.
“Look at me,” maybe I asked it too demandingly and I correct myself. “Please.”
“I'm just angry with myself.”
“Why?”
“Because I should despise you.”
“Don’t you despise me anymore?”
My heart is full of relief. I feel it heavy and full of joy.
“Yes, I despise you, but I don’t show it and I should,” she seems to play a role, I don’t believe her.
I get up and she follows my eyes, raising her head.
“I understand,” I feel defeated. She speaks to me unfairly and cruelly.
“What did you understand?”
“That there is no room for me in your life.”
“And I'll never forgive you,” she adds.
“And you’ll never forgive me,” I repeat to taste the poisonous meaning.
I turn around and I don’t hear her replying. Her silence is a reality too hard to accept. I wish she would insult me. She argued with me but she’s ignoring me. It's terrible.
I have to go. I don’t want to stay here listening to her insults.
I’ll never have her forgiveness or respect, nor will I be able to have a future in her life. I'm nothing for her.
I, again, feel that no one I've always been. Since I’ve found her, I felt the right to try to be happy. Now I know I cannot feel well, making her feel bad. I cannot. I'm not so selfish.
I pull the key from my pocket and open the door. I don’t take the key. I leave it in the lock.
I go out and close the door. I hope this helps. Now that I know I have no chance, I can even let her go.
As I go back to my room, I repeat a series of words hoping they can help. I repeat, I repeat and I repeat endlessly…
Die thoughts. Die desire. I want the need of her to die. Die.