Promise Me Eternity (48 page)

“Here,” the servant said, pointing.

Christine returned the flowers to the woman
and opened the tiny envelope. The yellow note said:
With all my
love, a former admirer.

She was disappointed because there was no
name. She grabbed the flowers again, dropping the note on the
floor. The servant immediately picked it up.

With a cheerful face, Christine ran into the
garden and admired the red roses, which were magnificent. Finally,
she could no longer resist. She lowered her nose into one of the
flowers and took a deep breath.

“Mmm, they smell so good.”

The young man who had been massaging her
asked, “What should we do now? Do you have anything planned?”

She stood still for a short time and thought.
“I don’t know. I don’t feel like much.” She put her nose in another
rose and took an ever deeper breath. “Unbelievable. These roses
have such a strong scent, but there’s something else there
too.”

“Do you want me to rub sunscreen on you?”

“No, just remove those other roses,” she
said, pointing to a silver vase. “I think these will look better in
there.” She took another long sniff. “Amazing, such a strong scent,
but underneath … it’s strange, like at the dentist’s. It smells a
little like mouthwash. But the roses smell wonderful at the same
time.”

The young man emptied the vase. “Shall I have
a sniff?”

“No, darling, why should we waste time? Let’s
go for a swim in the outdoor pool instead,” she said, still holding
her nose in the flowers.

She grabbed him by his swimming trunks and
tugged hard.

“Look what you did. You ripped my trunks,” he
cried in surprise as he stood before her naked.

She placed the flowers in the vase and rushed
to the pool. “I was naughty. You’re going to have to punish
me.”

“You’ll see, Christine. There’s no helping
you this time.”

A thousand drops of water splashed the edge
of the pool as he dove in after her.

Chapter 108

_______________________

Every day, a little after ten o’clock in the
morning, Edna Weiss made her way to the town market where she
bought fresh fruits and vegetables. She didn’t hold to her schedule
rigorously on account of the apples and cucumbers, but because of
the many acquaintances she met along the way. That day she returned
home rather late. She’d had coffee with two women she knew, who
loved to gossip. One of them had told her that her neighbor’s son
had managed to get three young women pregnant in the space of a
month. The other woman had complained that she no longer
communicated with her husband and that they’d been sleeping in
separate rooms for over a year. Edna of course asked why she didn’t
divorce him, but the woman replied that she was too old.

They chatted and chatted and Edna didn’t
realize that three hours had already passed. She said her good-byes
and quickly dashed home.

She dropped her two carrier bags in front of
the door at Simon Patterson’s house as she looked for her door key.
“Where did I leave it? Ah, here it is.”

She hummed a melody she’d heard that morning.
She placed the bags on the tiled kitchen floor.

She remembered Simon and took a deep breath.
Oh, you poor man. I hope you’re feeling well
.
I’ll take
those photos to him this Thursday.
She tried to remember where
she’d left her camera. She snapped her fingers.
I remember, in
the closet next to the television.

Yes, I was right,
she thought as she
played with it.
Who knows if this thing still actually
works?
She opened the cap at the back with her nail and let the
batteries slide out.
These batteries must be dead by now. I
should pop out to the nearest store and buy some new ones. That way
there won’t be any unpleasant surprises. I wouldn’t want to
disappoint Simon. If he wants to see the roses, he will. I’ll
photograph them from every angle.

She thought back to the previous night, when
she sprayed the roses with a face mask on. She smiled to
herself.

Edna returned home about twenty minutes
later, having bought the batteries. She dumped the old ones in the
trash and inserted the new ones. She took a cloth and wiped the
camera.

“There, that’s done. Now, those bags,” she
said aloud to herself.

She sorted the groceries she’d bought. When
she had finished, she wiped the table she usually ate at with a
cloth. Then she made some herbal tea.
I’ll drink it in the
garden.
It’s a shame Simon isn’t here. It would be nice to
sit in the garden together.

Then it occurred to her. Why not photograph
the roses every day? That way Simon could monitor his flowers
developing day by day. “Yes, that’s what I’ll do,” she said.

Edna held the camera in her left hand, the
cup of tea in her right. The garden door was locked. It wasn’t easy
to unlock the door with only her left hand and not spill the tea,
but she finally managed. She pulled the door behind her and stepped
outside.

Silence filled the air a couple seconds,
followed by the sharp noise of the teacup shattering on the floor.
Edna stood there, transfixed at the sight of the flowerless
rosebushes.
Who could have done such a thing? What do I tell
Simon? He wanted those roses so much.

“Damn troublemakers!” she cried loud enough
to be heard at the end of the street. “Must you destroy
everything?”

She flopped down onto the bamboo lounge chair
and pondered what to do next.

Chapter 109

_______________________

On the next Thursday, Edna Weiss unwillingly
waited for Simon in the visiting room. She forced a smile when she
saw him. She began to take the photographs from her purse. “I hope
you like them. I have no experience with photography.”

Simon was breathless. In shock, he stared at
the pictures of the roses and asked himself how this was possible.
Visibly upset, he said, “They’re very pretty. Where did you take
these pictures?”

She looked at him for an instant and then
lowered her gaze. “At home. These are your roses, can’t you
tell?”

The fence he knew well was clearly visible in
the background.
Therefore the roses must actually be from my
garden
. He couldn’t hide his disappointment.

“Don’t you like them?”

“Of course I do, they’re very pretty. When
did you take them?” he said with a sad face.

“The day after I sprayed them. Is anything
wrong?”

Damn right, it is!
He thought that
Warden Tuttle must have tricked him.
He took the money and never
cut the roses. The liar!
He stared at the roses, while inside
his despair grew.

Edna showed him more pictures that she took
from the street. “I really outdid myself. I took photos from every
possible angle.” She looked at him nervously.

“It’s very nice of you, Edna. I’m grateful
for what you’ve done.” Thinking of someone sniffing them gave him
the shivers.

“Listen, last time I forgot to tell you
something. For the roses to be really beautiful, you need to rinse
them with water after a week.”

She listened to him with interest. “How do I
do that?”

“After a week, that stuff starts to damage
them. With the hose, douse them with water. Especially the buds.
Best you do it when you get home. You must do this every day, at
least for a week. You understand?”

“Of course, Simon. I’ll spray them every
day.”

“Not just spray. You need to wash them well,
as if it was raining. It’s very important.”

“Don’t worry.”

Then they changed the subject. Edna told him
the week’s news. Simon nodded his head, but it was clear he wasn’t
listening. Finally the time came for Edna to say good-bye.

On the way home she wondered whether she
should have told him the truth or not. Not wanting to let him down,
she had bought some beautiful roses with especially long stalks.
She attached them to the rosebushes with sticky tape and then
photographed them so the tape wasn’t visible. At the time, her idea
had seemed great. But now, after seeing his disappointment, she was
afraid that she’d done something wrong.

After racking her brains for over half an
hour, she waved her hand and decided to forget about the whole
thing.

Chapter 110

_______________________

Simon was angry with Tuttle, certain he’d
pulled a fast one over on him. Simon couldn’t take it any longer,
so he said to the guard, “Listen, Paul, what were my roses
like?”

Tuttle was glad Simon had finally asked him
about what he’d done. He’d been wanting to talk to him for a while,
but Simon Patterson had just stared at his books.

“My heart ached when I cut them. I haven’t
seen such magnificent roses in a long time. The blooms were so
large.”

How can he be such a good liar?
“What
time did you do it?”

Tuttle touched his forehead. “It was very
early. I think it was before six o’clock.” The guard gave him a
worried look. “Is something wrong? Did anyone see me and report me
to the police?”

“No, no one called the police. I’m just
interested. What did you do then?”

“Then, since the florist wasn’t open yet, I
went home. When they opened, I went and told them where to send
them, like you said. They weren’t very happy about having to
deliver flowers that weren’t bought there, but I gave them some
extra money. I hope you don’t mind. Oh, damn, now I know why you’re
asking me all this. I didn’t return your change. I totally forgot.”
He put his hand in his pocket. “Here it is. I’ve been carrying it.
Sorry, Doctor, I totally forgot.”

Simon took the receipt and examined it. The
florist’s address was on it. “I’ll keep this, if you don’t
mind.”

“Of course, no, it’s yours. I hope I didn’t
do anything wrong,” Paul added.

Simon’s face broke into a quick smile. He
shook his head. “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m very
thankful. Again, thanks for the favor. I owe you one.”

The guard was relieved. “Whenever.”

Why jeopardize their friendship?
After
all, my idea was utopian, anyway.

After lying down on his bed that evening, he
thought:
Christine is obviously extremely lucky.

Chapter 111

_______________________

A week later, Edna was sitting in the garden
when her eyes stopped on a patch of grass. In an irregular circle,
about fifteen inches in diameter, the grass had turned a light
brown and it was obviously dead.
How can that be possible?
she wondered.

Then she remembered that that was where she’d
poured the remainder of the spray, like Simon had told her to do.
She got up and walked over to the patch.
Maybe I didn’t add
enough water.
She shook her head.
No, no, I did exactly what
Simon told me to.

She kept staring at the patch.
Poor Simon.
Maybe he figured the amount of vitamins wrong. Who knows?

Edna went to get the water hose and turned it
on. She stood there aiming it at the patch for more than ten
minutes, washing the ground.
I won’t mention this. It would just
worry him for no reason.

Chapter 112

_______________________

Time flew by. Simon Patterson had been in
prison for nearly three years. During this time, he’d talked to
many prisoners and realized that many of them weren’t bad people at
all. He’d heard many life stories and had been astonished by how
far some of them had fallen. “It’s all society’s fault,” he often
said.

“There are more and more criminals on
television and people don’t know how to enjoy life.”

“What about you, Simon? Did society make you
cut your wife’s throat?” one of the prisoners asked him.

Hesitantly, Simon answered, “My story … is
too complicated.”

“All our stories are complicated. No one
planned to end up in prison. It just happened.”

Dr. Patterson found it interesting how some
of the prisoners socialized with each other according to what crime
they had committed. For instance, there was a mainly African
American group who had been involved in minor thefts. The prisoners
who had been drug dealers also hung out together. Two arsonists
stuck together all the time. And so Simon Patterson had to put up
with prisoners who had also been accused of murdering their wives.
They wouldn’t leave him alone.

Since Simon Patterson spent a lot of his time
in the library, Paul Tuttle once had suggested, “We could organize
book meetings. We could talk about individual books or
authors.”

At first, Simon didn’t like the idea. He had
never run any kind of club. But some days he got fed up with
reading books and wished for proper company. He submitted to the
prison administration a proposal for book meetings, which would
take place twice a week in the library. At these meetings,
prisoners could exchange views on various books and authors.

The administration was glad to accept his
suggestion. They called him in and explained to him exactly what he
could and couldn’t say at these meetings. Any kind of gathering in
prison was dangerous. It could present the prisoners with an
opportunity to plan a mass breakout.

They placed a round table in the library,
under which they fixed microphones. All the meetings were
recorded.

After being shut out from the rest of the
world for so long, Simon started thinking differently than before.
It seemed to him that there wasn’t such a big difference between
his life before and now. Now, the prison walls were restricting him
from going anywhere, whereas before he didn’t do anything but go to
work and do research in his basement. So in a way, he had been the
prisoner of his ambitions.