Promise Me Eternity (11 page)

Simon slowly followed as Carlo led them
around the house, showing them the furniture. His thoughts were
with Dorothy.
What’s the matter with her again?
When he’d
visited her in the morning, she had seemed weak.
Something’s
wrong. Before I go to bed, I’ll go and see her.

Helen had only ever seen so many beautiful
things in a museum. She kept turning her head and devouring with
pleasure whatever caught her eye. The walls were full of paintings,
a few of them more than six feet across. Some of the walls were
hung with heavy brocade drapes. The furniture, with its curved
contours, was carefully chosen and in good condition. She
particularly liked the sensuous tapestries and artistic porcelain
vases. Every little detail spoke of comfort and luxury.

Carlo Vucci was extremely friendly. He showed
them around the first floor with great pleasure.

He said, “Every year I throw a fancy-dress
party. That’s the only opportunity that my wife and I get to dress
up in those special clothes we have in the closet. I can hardly
wait for that gathering to come round. I’d be delighted if you
could attend too.”

Simon suddenly woke up. “Ah, of course, why
not?”

Helen blushed. “We’d love to come.” She could
hardly wait to tell her co-workers where she had been. She thought
there was nothing better than this kind of life.

When they were in the library a woman entered
who must have been in her early twenties. Simon was moved by her
beauty. She had wonderfully long, naturally blond hair that nicely
complemented her elegant purple evening dress. Her neck was adorned
with a charming gold necklace set with glittering diamonds and
sapphires.

“Here you are at last,” Vucci said. “Dr.
Patterson, Mrs. Patterson, this is my wife Christine.”

When Simon took her well-manicured hand, he
was bewitched. As he stared into her wonderful green eyes, he had
the feeling that he was going to drown in them. He could not
remember when he had last seen such a beautiful woman.

Helen remembered very well. She had to admit
to herself that the dress fit her marvelously, and stared at her
necklace.

Christine smiled sweetly and offered her
hand.

“Now that we’re all here, we can go into the
dining room. I’m already terribly hungry,” Carlo said.

Christine spoke in her gentle voice: “So
you’re the surgeon who saved Carlo’s life. I’m so pleased to meet
you. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to him.” She
looked tenderly at her husband and then again directly at
Simon.

“As I already said, I was just doing my job.
I would do the same for anyone.”

“Didn’t I tell you he was modest?” Carlo said
to his wife.

She smiled endearingly. “My husband and I are
both very grateful.”

Helen envied her. Not only that she looked
like a model, but that she had found the right husband and was now
enjoying a life of idleness. Helen sighed deeply.

“Let’s go into the dining room,” Carlo Vucci
said again.

Simon was feeling hotter all the time. He
rotated his shoulders a few times because it seemed that his jacket
was too tight. In irritation, he watched his wife, who turned her
eyes in every direction as if she could not get enough of the
beauty that surrounded them. Helen could not understand how someone
could possess so many valuable things. Each space offered a new
surprise. Carefully chosen cabinets, chairs, and tables decorated
the enormous rooms.

They entered the spacious dining room, in
which stretched a wide, highly polished table that would seat at
least thirty people and that was surrounded by artistically carved,
upholstered chairs. Carlo picked up a remote control and pressed
one of the buttons. The light in the room diminished by a half.
Then he pressed another button and the window blinds began to
lower.

“It’s getting dark outside. There’s no need
for anyone to see us, is there?”

Helen acted as if it was the most everyday
thing, while inside she was seething with excitement and envy.

A third button followed. Gentle classical
music floated into the room. Carlo Vucci motioned them to sit.

“Is the music too loud?”

Simon and Helen shook their heads. Christine
had not yet sat down. She stood beside a large vase overflowing
with roses. With closed eyes she sniffed first one, then
another.

“Christine, will you sit down? Leave those
flowers,” Carlo said, agitated. He was clearly uncomfortable. “My
wife is obsessed with roses. She’s always sniffing them.”

“There’s nothing wrong with sniffing one now
and then,” she said, elegantly sitting on the chair beside him.

Carlo said, “It went so far that I asked my
doctor if maybe there’s some drug in roses.”

“Don’t exaggerate.” She turned toward Dr.
Patterson. “Your profession is surely very interesting. Tell us
something about yourself.”

Simon felt hot. He would have liked to take
off his jacket and unfasten his tie. “Oh, nothing special. It’s a
job. There’s almost always too much work.”

A young girl in a dark dress entered the
dining room. She asked if she could get them an aperitif and they
all agreed to it.

“What sort of patients do you have?”
Christine asked.

Dr. Patterson thought about it, wrinkling his
brow. “Extremely varied. It can be some kind of injury or a
malignant tumor.”

Though Carlo and Christine didn’t understand
all the technicalities, they listened with interest. Helen was
bored, but she stayed quiet out of politeness. The whole time her
eyes flitted around the room, admiring the furniture.

Christine got up, took a rose from the vase,
and sat down again. Carlo Vucci said nothing, but it was clear he
was not happy about it.

“How many operations do you do in a day?” he
asked.

“It depends. Usually two to three. Some cases
are very tricky and can last quite a few hours. Luckily, there are
few brain operations that have to be done urgently, so we can plan
ahead.”

The whole time, Christine had her nose in the
flower and was staring at it. Simon dared not look into her eyes
for more than a second since with each look, more beads of sweat
formed on his forehead.

Carlo nodded with satisfaction. He wanted to
say something, but his wife got there first.

“And you, Helen, what do you do?”

Helen wanted to tell them what she did, but
it stuck in her throat. She had to drink some water before she
could continue. “I’m a hairdresser, in a salon.”

Silence followed. Carlo searched for words,
but in the end said nothing. He was visibly surprised, wondering
how a brain surgeon could fall for a hairdresser.

“That’s why you looked so familiar,”
Christine said. “I was sure I’d seen you before. Which salon do you
work at?”

“Downtown, at salon Sofia,” she answered
tersely.

“Now I remember. I was there once or twice
and I definitely saw you. See what a small world it is.”

They all laughed. An older man in a jacket
served them wine.

For the next half-hour, Carlo and Christine
asked Dr. Patterson questions and listened with interest to his
answers. They didn’t ask Helen anything.

While hearing their voices, Helen was
thinking about her youth, how her head was filled with nonsense.
Instead of studying she went around enjoying herself. School was
the last thing of interest. She remembered how her mother had
slaved all her life. She worked on a production line and when she
got home she did the housework and cooking, without complaint.
Helen’s father was always drinking and did only casual work. There
were few days when he wasn’t lying on his grubby couch, watching
television.

They never showed much interest in Helen. Her
mother had too much work in the kitchen and her father was always
drunk by the evening. Helen hated the poverty in which she lived,
but didn’t know how to avoid it.

Once, a good friend told her she should find
a rich or influential husband. She advised her: “Find yourself a
lawyer, a politician, or a doctor. They have loads of money.”

Helen had thought about this a lot and when
four years later she met Simon, she knew that he was the right one.
At least he seemed to be, she was thinking bitterly.

Dr. Patterson described various things that
had gone on at work and mopped his brow a number of times.
Christine was staring at him all the while and devouring him with
her eyes—or at least that’s how it seemed to him.

Three waiters started to serve. They carried
large silver platters richly laden with food.

Helen could not conceal her excitement. “Look
how much they’re carrying!”

Carlo said in a friendly voice, “I ordered
beef, poultry, and game. Take as much as you want. And help
yourselves to rice, potatoes, or pasta.”

The aroma of roasted meat and cooked
vegetables mingled in the air. Dr. Patterson only now felt his
stomach rumbling. They started eating.

For some time there was silence, and then
Christine asked, “When do you work? More mornings or
afternoons?”

“I always start early and usually finish by
five or six. Except, of course, if I’m on duty.”

Christine nodded with satisfaction and gave a
thoughtful pout.

When they had finished, they got on to
politics. Carlo Vucci expressed his dissatisfaction with the
current government. Here, Helen could join in because she was
surprisingly well-informed. Most days she watched the evening news.
She also liked to read magazines that dealt with political issues.
Now Simon could take a rest since he didn’t care to talk
politics.

From politics they moved on to the local
authorities. They began to criticize the mayor, who they thought
was totally incapable. When they had finished that debate, Helen
took the opportunity to start complaining about the health system.
She said that doctors’ salaries were too low and that there were
not enough private hospitals. She added that there were not enough
opportunities in their town for specialists like Simon. Carlo
agreed with her, nodding seriously. The whole time, Simon cast
angry looks at his wife, for he knew what she was driving at.

The waiters served dessert.

Silence once more.

When they had eaten dessert, Simon began to
thank them for a wonderful dinner. He said he had to get up early
in the morning.

“Oh, that’s a real pity. Stay a bit longer,”
Christine said.

Fever again. He looked aside, helplessly
nodding.

After a while, Carlo Vucci stood up and said,
“I don’t know how to thank you for saving my life. I’ll never
forget it.”

Helen and Simon stared at the plump man, who
had evidently decided that he would deliver a speech.

“I’ve been thinking about how to express my
gratitude.”

The older waiter who had earlier served the
wine brought a salver bearing a white envelope and placed it before
Dr. Patterson.

Carlo chuckled. “I wrote you a check for
fifty thousand dollars. I hope that it will in some small measure
repay all your endeavors and acknowledge my thanks.”

Helen’s heart missed a beat. In a moment, her
face was radiant. With open mouth and shining eyes she looked at
her husband.

For several moments Simon stared in surprise
at the salver with the envelope. He had so much wanted to say
good-bye and go home, and now this. He didn’t know what to do. Ever
since entering the house, he had felt ill at ease. He didn’t like
this display of wealth and power. And however much he tried, he
couldn’t shake off his fear of Carlo Vucci. He was aware that the
man was grateful to him for saving his life, but nevertheless he
felt afraid and didn’t know why. Something about Carlo chilled him
to the bone.

As no one was saying anything, Helen felt the
need to break the tension that hung in the air. “Oh, that is so
kind of you.” With a slightly distorted face that expressed
unbelievable surprise, she looked first at Carlo, then at
Simon.

Simon’s expression did not change. He was
still staring at the envelope and contemplating what to say. He
chose his words carefully: “By wanting to give me this check you
have truly expressed your sincere gratitude. I can’t tell you how
moved I am.” He stopped for a moment. His stomach was churning with
fear and anger. “But as I already said, I was only doing my job. I
would have done the same for anyone. For that reason, I simply
cannot take your check.”

When Helen heard this, it was as if her
insides caught on fire. She could feel the blood burning in her
veins, causing her to bang the floor with her heel. She put her
hand to her throat and prayed to God that what she had heard was
not true.

Carlo and Christine were also visibly
surprised. Nobody had ever refused their money before.

“You must take it,” Vucci said. In a
perplexed voice he went on: “My wife and I are truly grateful to
you. You saved my life.”

Helen, her hand on her throat, stared at
Simon. If in that moment he had looked at her even once he would
have seen in her eyes so much hatred and anger that he would have
immediately understood that it was better to take the check, as
later there would be no salvation. But Simon didn’t even glance at
her. He kept staring at the salver and shaking his head.

Carlo said, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Simon raised his eyes, opened the envelope,
and held the check between his fingers. Helen prayed that he would
change his mind.

Simon thought,
No one is going to buy me.
I don’t want to have anything to do with this man.
With his
other hand he took hold of the other side of the check and tore it
in two. “As I already told you, by offering me this enormous sum of
money you have expressed your most profound gratitude. But I regret
that I cannot take your money.” Then he looked Carlo Vucci in the
eye.