Miranda Read online

“His progress is very slow, but look: the good news is that he’s making progress.”

  I couldn’t handle the joy I felt when hearing those words. I looked at Norman’s face and smiled. New tears rolled down my cheeks. The doctor continued chatting, looking at me with a certain distance. As long as she was giving me news about Norman, I would put up with all of those looks and daily dramas that were certainly products of her imagination.

  “The bleeding has stopped. Giving you a prognosis would be very premature, but it’s undoubtedly a good sign. If it continues like this, and if his brain swelling continues to improve, we can proceed with the operations to repair his bones.”

  I lowered my head as a gesture of appreciation. The doctor marched off and I went back to looking at Norman, combing his unkempt hair a little. He always liked looking presentable.

  Two weeks passed with no change in routine. Norman’s progress was slow–very slow. At first, the nursing staff almost kicked me out when visiting hours were over. A few weeks later, they would become my friends. I would bring them doughnuts, coffee, and chatted with them. I could enter and stay as long as I pleased. Surely they thought I was his fiancée, or his lover. Why would anyone else stay by their boss’ side day and night? I asked myself what kinds of rumors were spreading: their conclusions had to be unspeakable. No one knew the truth. No one knew our past. Doctor Martinez had the questions of a gossip written in her eyes. I never wanted to provide more information than she already had. I never felt like giving her an explanation.

  Even though Norman was a very successful man who had accumulated a great fortune due to his extraordinary capacity for business, he never lost his way: although his negotiation skills earned him many enemies, he contributed to improving the lives of whomever would cross his path. Nevertheless, according to Norman, the only real enemies a person could have are poverty and corruption.

  And there is something more that attracts me to this man, but I wouldn’t know how to describe it…

  ***

  Sleepless nights at the hospital were taxing. Fatigue stayed with me by daytime and not even a ton of makeup hid the darkness that seeped through under my eyes. Luckily, I no longer saw the detective, apart from the two times that we met and he updated me on the steps taken to contact Norman’s family. In short, he was unsuccessful.

  During that time, Ethan and Alex succeeded in calming the media, who did nothing but attempt to obtain information on Norman’s health–perhaps an exclusive would increase their ratings. After a few days, the media stopped trying. Other events in the political realm occupied the front pages of the country. I never thought I would have reason to be thankful for politicians.

  Medika projects continued on their way. Decisions that Norman generally made fell to me instead. I must confess: before making decisions, I would go to his room and tell him about proposals, announcements, and requests. I would consult him first, even though he couldn’t respond. His space in the hospital was converted into my space for peace, for philosophizing, and for making thoughtful decisions.

  When good news arrived that the swelling in his brain had diminished sufficiently to take him off the medication that kept him sedated, it gave me an incomparable happiness and I thanked god a thousand-and-one times.

  One of those evenings, on the third day after taking him off the sedatives, something unexpected happened. I had covered his bed with paperwork. I was looking for a way to increase distribution of our products and services.

  “Do you think that we should do business with the distributor in El Salvador? I think that…”

  He said in a whisper, coughing slightly, “No, no chance in h…ell.”

  The emotion was so overwhelming that the shock made me trip on the IV cart. I almost yanked out his catheters. I kissed his hand. I kissed his cheeks. My tears drenched his face.

  “Calm down.” The cough interrupted him, but I didn’t stop hugging him. “For God’s sake, Miranda, this is harassment.”

  We shared a laugh. My much-loved Norman had returned to life. I pushed the nurse call button and the room filled with people in less than a minute. I had to leave while doctors and nurses gave him thorough evaluations. My emotions were so strong that I wanted to share them with someone.

  I thought about calling Ethan, but I gave up. Once I lose confidence in someone, it’s nearly impossible for that person to restore it. I called the one person I should never have called.

  “Inspector Hernandez,” he answered. His voice was accompanied by the crazy sound of sirens.

  “Hello,” was the only thing I could think of saying.

  “Miranda?” Did he recognize my voice or did he see my number on his cell phone screen?

  “Yes. Sorry, it’s that…” I had doubts about continuing the call.

  “Miranda, is everything fine?” The tone of his voice reflected consternation and surprise.

  “Yes. Norman just woke up.”

  He fell silent. Only the sound of sirens could be heard. When he reacted, his voice sounded more relaxed.

  “That’s very encouraging, Miranda.”

  “Yes…” I repeated, and I found myself at a loss for words. “The doctors are conducting a routine evaluation on him. I need to hang up. I only wanted to share the great news with someone. Thank you.”

  He must have imagined that I was smiling.

  “No, no. Thank you for sharing this with me! We’ll see each other later at the hospital. I still need to interview Mr. Clausell.”

  When he hung up, a thought invaded my mind and bothered me for the rest of the evening. Should I have called Hernandez?

  ***

  I couldn’t stand it, when I realized that Norman was fine and that he seemed to be out of danger, I pressed him for an explanation. At first, I did it subtly, with the passing of days there was less subtlety in my insistence. I needed to know what happened. What caused the accident that almost sent him to his next life? He never lost his cool. Every time I asked him, he always responded with the same words: “It was an accident, Miranda. Accidents happen and one happened to me. Let’s forget the past and live in the present.” There was no trace of worry in his words, so, why should I worry? Probably because there was something in his eyes that I could not decipher with certainty. Could it be guilt?

  The pace of Norman’s improvement slowed over the passing days. On various occasions I had to inform Hernandez that my friend was still not ready for an interview, and that doctor Martinez didn’t approve either.

  He surprised me at the entrance to Norman’s room where entry was restricted. Hernandez was a lawman, and wouldn’t do it without the necessary authorization. You could see determination in his face. His eyes told me that he already had been patient, that he deserved answers and, that morning, he was willing to get them.

  “I don’t want to intrude, Miranda, but I have a duty to perform.”

  That sweet voice that he used could easily convince me if I didn’t maintain my guard. If you told me to drop my pants or lift my skirt, I wouldn’t think twice.

  “I understand, but…” I paused, “understand me. My duty is to look out for Norman’s health.”

  “And why is that your duty?”

  A real answer was overdue. Hernandez was another one on the list of those that did not understand what it was that united Norman and I: an intimate relationship, of course, but not that kind. It wasn’t easy to remain fixed on his eyes, nor confess the truth.

  “Because that man is the only family I know. He has looked after me, he has been my mentor, my friend, and almost my father… for more than twenty years.” His eyes still looked for another answer. “And no! I am not his fiancée, nor his lover, nor his…!” I didn’t say the last word that I was thinking. Even though that was the response that he expected, it surprised him. I felt the presence of some curious eyes on us. I didn’t look at anyone. I lowered my voice. “Are you satisfied?” The expression on his face was like gold. The words choked him. “You have no reason to look at me that w
ay. That is the big question that everyone here asks. Congratulations! You have the exclusive. Now, if you’ll allow me, I must get back to Mr. Clausell.”

  Without giving him time to let out the words that got stuck in his throat, I moved away. I expect that he understood that the man who had been on the verge of going to a better place was one of the two people whom I trusted completely, who, as far as I knew, behind all of those machines, had the most noble heart on the planet, who had always believed in me, and had given me opportunities that would have otherwise been impossible if he hadn’t been there.

  ***

  Norman spent more time awake than sedated. The surgeries were successful, but the titanium rods in each leg caused him so much pain that they sometimes had to give him powerful painkillers.

  “How are things going at the office?” The question conveyed a complaint.

  “Why does the office matter, Norman? Everything is under control.”

  He laughed.

  “I know that you must have everything under control. It’s just that I can’t stop worrying. You must go rest. You know? Look at the time!”

  He embellished his authoritative tone. He definitely was getting better every time.

  “I’m fine,” but the yawn gave me away.

  He laughed again.

  “Have you seen the circles under your eyes?”

  “Thanks for the compliment, Norman. I don’t know why I’m inclined to keep you company, if you’ve gone back to being as insufferable as you were before…”

  The criticisms were silenced by a cough and another even more irritating complaint.

  “Miranda, go get some rest.”

  “See? You can’t even speak very much. Don’t worry. You are the one who needs rest. Get comfortable. Do you want me to look for more blankets? I brought a book to read to you.”

  This time, he didn’t laugh.

  “Perfect! Now I am back to being a boy.” He was about to lose. He had nothing to gain by arguing further. He had nowhere to go.

  Making myself comfortable in the chair that had become my friend, I put up my feet and rested them on the edge of the bed.

  “Look, Margaret says that these are your favorites.” I showed him the cover of the book that Margaret gave me. I remembered that on various occasions, she mentioned that what he most liked doing in the little free time he had was to enjoy some good wine and read poetry.

  “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.

  Eliezer

  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 ran
g 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?”