The old woman down, just three days, comes to meet me. I think you should watch my step, seems to be the only one old building that lives there. Besides me, of course. Or at least the only one I see. The crackle of the wood will serve as a warning.
"Good evening, young man. The climate is changing, right?
"Good evening, Mrs. Victoria. "I want to go without giving rise to further comment, but it is impossible.
"So you write. Where I can buy a book of yours? She asks, looking at me with eyes of rats.
"I have not posted anything - How would know?, I wonder.
- Ah ... Did I tell you that you occupy the apartment belonged to a woman who had five husbands?
"Yes. Yesterday and the day before I answer without courtesy also.
"Yes ... she was very beautiful, her name was Clarissa, never had children, say they had a reputation as a femme fatale, "he continues, not noticing him.
Why call her a femme fatale? Fall under the enveloping glow of curiosity, bowing to the wishes of the people who like the old woman, wants to tell me something interesting to learn that I write. Fortunately I was telling her life would not have supported. I like writing fiction, not reality. I have too.
- Femme Fatale? He asks, expecting an answer that satisfies my curiosity.
"Yes, those that are unforgettable, the men fall in love and fall exhausted at his feet, for which they are able to commit murders for them ... "The woman let off the hook the last sentence, as if waiting for my reaction.
- Does living up was that kind of woman? I ask, already absorbed in the conversation.
"Yes. Of course, but ... Do not want to have a cup of tea? I could tell you many things of Clarisa. And why the floor is so difficult to lease.
- Could it be because it is too high? "He said smiling. Thanks, but maybe another time, I must review some documents.
-No will take more than a few minutes ... I think will interest you.
"Okay. "I accept with reluctance.
I do not really care much what the old want to tell me, do not believe in ghosts, astrologers, seers. If this is so, as suspect.
"Come, you're at home. Take a seat, please. -Invites ceremonious old Victoria. Your home is as corny as it filled with ornaments to the ceiling on shelves, coffee table, console, and almost everything. The furniture has crocheted tablecloths in the back and arms.
"Thanks" I say, as I'm trying not to move woven mats. The floor is covered by a worn carpet, and walls instead of paintings is framed lithographs appear to have belonged to calendars. The window is closed, but you can hear the traffic noise, despite its thick cover curtain.
- Do you like chocolate chip cookies? Victoria asks while brings a tray with a china tea set white, opaque landscapes gilt-edged blue. At the bottom of the tray, another crochet rug. A small candy dish full of chocolate biscuits I feel breathless. They are my favorite, what a coincidence. "I love
.
" But let this old room and move on to my favorite place, here too noise.
passes in front of me and walks into a hallway, push the tray door and invites me to enter a small room decorated very differently from the first, the windows are always covered with thick red crepe curtains on the sides. I sit on a cushioned chair in the same tone, and observe that the floor is a Persian silk carpet. The part that is not carpeted is polished wood.
-Clarisa Morrison. That was his name. A good day he disappeared and was never heard from her. Since then this building has a relative calm, because before the music and parties were the order of the day. He sprawls on the couch and squints his eyes, his last husband was a pianist, was a very jealous man and, of course, as she had nothing holy, I think their romance ended in tragedy.
- How do you suppose that?
-disappeared. I told you "says she, while swallowing a biscuit.
I stay silent. I think it was a mistake to have accepted the tea. Suddenly, I see a wall in a picture identical to the one I have in my apartment. She is Clarisa
-old reports. Is not she was beautiful?
- How is it that you have a ...?
"Because of the garbage picked up and sent him to frame-stops without letting me finish. I know As there is one above. She took her second husband was a photographer. I appreciate the beauty, I'm not going to deny that looks stunning on the wall. Seats
look, it goes without saying anything.
"When he disappeared was just beautiful," Victoria continued. The weather was kind to her. A Clarisa liked to seances, and it was very devoted to God.
"I do not believe in anything like that.
" Me neither.
- How long has it disappeared?
-thirty years ago. So if she's still alive, should be at least seventy years.
"So, was portrayed in the nineteenth more or less ...
"Yes, because she was married at fifteen, and her first husband died six months, leaving it well positioned. It was a mature man with big money, I think it was a financial arrangement that their parents did. The photographer living lasted six years, was what was portrayed. Then came the writer, who spent more time, but did not get along very well because she liked the social life and he was almost a hermit. The only thing that tied him was, you know, that.
- What? "I guess what she does not want to name, but I'm fooling around.
"They say that he was very gifted, and she liked ... You understand me very well, "explains Victoria, but one day he had a heart attack and left the building with the front foot. "The woman has fingers like remembering. The fourth husband was a university professor, met in a meeting to raise funds, he was a little older, I think we had fifteen years, and when we all thought she had finally settled down, died after two years. Came one night after drinking and drove his car with bad luck who died embedded in a post. It was a very strange event.
- Why?
"He was a teetotaler.
" Oh, I understand. "All the people
who has moved upstairs will soon. They say the place is very heavy, as is rented furnished, there is no way to change the environment.
"Tell me, Mrs. Victoria, how do you know both Clarisa Morrison?
"I was her best friend and confidante. But much time has passed I think there is no secrets to conceal, "replied thoughtfully.
"I think I should retire, thank you very much for the cookies, were exquisite.
-may take a few, I do them every day, "he says handing me a plate with crackers.
" No thanks ...
"Wait. She walks away towards the kitchen and returns with a plastic container with lid, filled with cookies. I offend if they are not bears. Term
climb the last flight of stairs before getting out of breath and open the door with difficulty, the taper in my way. I put the container in the kitchen my eyes and walk around the house. It certainly seems larger than the old Victoria, it must be because it contains fewer ornaments and furniture. The person who decorated it, if it was Clarisa Morrison said the woman, should have very good taste, all there stated elegance. I stand before the portrait of Clarisa. From the first day I found a very attractive woman, and now I know your story, or part of it, that feeling is accentuated. The photo is in sepia tone, but I can almost see in actual colors, I guess her long hair despite being collected in an elaborate hair up, exposing her rounded shoulders. The neckline of the dress falls deep forward, where the breasts meet, and I can imagine, lush and turgid. Seemed to contain a smile as he took the photo. Does the second husband, said Victoria?
Clarisa I no longer think like the unknown woman's portrait, I begin to feel familiar. After all, I am aware of certain issues that go beyond small talk. So she was married to a writer. And as the old woman was who had most loved. I look and I think it would difficult to fall in love with this woman dearly. I imagine her naked and the fire of desire begins to burn my insides. Living in that apartment touching objects that were his own, sleeping in a canopied bed where he made love many times with different husbands ... surrealistic adventure gives connotations of my stay in place. I can not help but feel a desire to travel to see her from time to time, and did not want to leave the floor. But I have to, if I'm in town is because I do a tour postponed several times. I want a publisher to publish my novel. The best novel of all time. Although after a quick run them does not seem to arouse much interest. I wonder, how is it possible? Who could fail to attract the title One killed in the fridge?
"My love ... I want you to ever leave me ... "I hear in my ear. I toss in bed and feel her warm body next to mine, I'm naked and my hands roam her body as if they knew by heart every one of its corners.
-Clarisa, I love you I loved you from the first day ... will not let you ever ... "I whisper over her mouth, lips kissing me since I saw them subjugated.
is the second week since I make love with Clarisa. I try to stay off the floor as quickly as possible. It is no longer important if they want to publish my book, or if any editor looks at me with a smile too comprehensive. All I want is to return home and be with Clarisa.
People behave oddly with me lately, I look like I was sick, but I feel better than ever. I've never been a man so happy and loved. I know it's crazy, but I'm in love, and if only you can see and feel at night in my bed, I agree with that. I make love to her twice, three times each night, and I know she is happy, I know because I was constantly told. Not eating or sleeping, and during the day I walk like a sleepwalker. Almost by inertia term of the last visit of my publishers. My A died in the refrigerator, sits waiting for an approval or rejection in each of them. But I do not care, I just want to go back where Clarissa, she is like a drug, I can not live without her kisses, no words that murmurs and disturb me when we make love. I look forward to the night because I know she will not miss the appointment. Old Victoria
lately does not come very often and prefer it. I know peeps with sinister eyes and kept her mind. I suspect he knows what happens up there. Seen today, back of my journey: I finished delivering the latest copy of my manuscript. I am satisfied because I will not have to get out more. The old comes to me and me looks with his everlasting smile.
"Mr. Vincenzo, I hear you say as if the voice came from far away, some days I try to talk to you, but I hardly feel it coming.
"Good afternoon Mrs. Victoria" I say briefly.
"The last time we talked I forgot to tell you something. Do not want to go to tea?
"Not this time. Thank you very much, almost brusquely interrupt. The woman is getting in my desires.
"Well, then I will tell here. Clarisa ... Remember her? she promised me I would have six husbands, and that the latter never part with it. I thought I knew it would be good, if ... I wanted to write about it ... -Ends the old saying almost in a whisper back to me. Sign in to his house and closes the door.
His gaze hides what his words say. Suddenly I want to ask more of my beloved Clarissa, if it remains his confidant, if you know what's going on up there, if you know me ... I'm crazy for her friend.
back a few steps and knocked on the door. I want to know, the old Victoria should be aware of the details of the intimate life of Clarissa, and I long to tell me more about it. The door remains closed. I spend my skinny whacking knuckles, blood starts running down my wrists. I I'm going crazy. What, is not this the home of Victoria? Where the hell is he? Under to the basement and look for the caretaker, an old worn with a monkey, I can hardly see the cigarette smoke that pervades everything.
- Do you know how I can speak to Mrs. Victoria? I ask.
- Old Victoria? Repeats missed.
"Yes. The first floor.
"He died ten years ago. Its floor is vacant since then.
- How? But I ... was there a few weeks ago, I always intercepted on the stairs, he invited me to tea and gave me some chocolate biscuits ...
- And also told him that on the fifth floor lived a woman named Clarissa Morrison? The man asks with a smile.
"Yes," I say, knowing that mocked.
I do not know what happens to people. You're not the first person that comes with that story.
"It's a story, I swear ... -Stopped talking. I know it's useless, that man knows nothing, and never know anything. I turn and climb to the fifth floor, I know I expected Clarisa and not break the appointment.
B. Miosi
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