Page 156 of Koroleva

62

The call

Nikita had just left, and now I could make the calls I needed to.

I had thought a lot about all the feelings that had awakened in me unexpectedly.

I had weighed it before making such a difficult decision because I wasn't completely sure that my father would take it well.

A constant pressure in the pit of my stomach told me I was doing the right thing.

The voice on the other end of the line answered.

"Hello... Yes, it's me... Is everything ready?"

"Perfect." I listened carefully to each directive.

"Yes, exactly, that's what I want."

"Yes, I'm sure."

"Good. She's now at the villa resting and it would have to be in half an hour."

"Yes, of course. And remember, utmost discretion. No one can find out."

I hung up and looked in the direction where my wife had disappeared. It was done.

63

Surprise!

The medication was taking effect, and it seemed like the headache was fading away.

I grabbed the jar of lavender-scented bath salts and dropped a generous handful into the water. Then came the shower gel, which squirted out quickly, splashing a few drops outside the bathtub. The faucet had been running for a while, filling the tub, and it was time to switch to the shower to generate the right amount of foam. When I activated the switch, the showerhead was propelled by the water pressure and sprayed some water onto the floor. I'd clean it up later.

I played with the idea while sitting on the edge of the tub. I watched my nude, blurred reflection, amusing myself with something as mundane as building a fluffy, whitish layer that would disappear as soon as I submerged myself.

With the foam just right, I turned the knob back so the water would come out of the faucet, and I began to arrange the scented candles we had bought yesterday. I would light them when I got in, to avoid slipping and burning myself. I liked to place them on the edge so that the scent would reach my nostrils first.

One of those many smiles that slipped out without permission emerged on my lips. I imagined Romeo in the room, by my side, with his hands behind his back and that imaginary surprise waiting to be delivered.

At home, spontaneous gestures were not common. The only surprises my father provided were the occasional body under the carpet, which made him run away or fail to show up at one birthday party or another.

We never lacked anything material, I must admit that. My mother loved to dress us in the best clothes and ensured that anything we desired we had. But they weren’t unexpected surprises, not the kind you don’t ask for that appear solely so that the other person knows you're thinking of them.

A soft knock on the door interrupted my play with the candles, though not before I brought the last one to my nose for a deep sniff.

I grabbed my robe so as not to go out naked and tied a loose knot at the waist as I walked to the wooden door.

Could it be Romeo? Impossible, it hadn’t been more than half an hour.

"Yes?" I asked with a firm voice.

"Room service," murmured the voice on the other side.

I hadn't ordered anything, though perhaps my husband had done so for me. The voice was sociable and feminine.

I opened the door to find a smiling waitress. She had a cart with an ice bucket and a bottle of my favorite champagne. Undoubtedly, it was another detail from Romeo.

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