The Manuscript I the Secret Read Free

wife. And now I had to turn to her once again; I had no other options.
    I went to pick her up at the flower shop where she worked. With imported flowers from Colombia her shop specialized in weddings, baptisms, and all kinds of social events, including funerals. It had never occurred to me that money could spring from something so delicate and ephemeral as a flower. It was just one more thing I admired about Irene.
    She saw me arrive and her full lips spread into a smile that disarmed me. How in the world can I ask her? I wondered. We went up to her apartment, a modern flat decorated with elegant simplicity, just like her. She kicked off her shoes, flopped onto the couch, and stretched out her legs. She took good care of her feet and always had her nails painted fuchsia. Always.
    “I was standing up all day,” she said, gesturing with her hand for me to sit. I did so, and she shifted her legs to rest them over my knees.
    “I need to go to Rome,” I said, giving her a quick kiss on the lips.
    “When?”
    “As soon as I can. Uncle Claudio is very sick, almost at the end, and I’m his only direct nephew.”
    “Will you get an inheritance?” I knew she was not asking to be greedy or out of simple curiosity. She was a practical woman who wanted to help me.
    “I imagine so. My mother has called twice now saying I really need to be there.”
    “Well, of course you should go, sweetie. Whenever you talk about him it’s like he’s your dad. I can help you. I know you’re going through a rough patch.”
    I studied her smooth features wondering what in the world I had done to deserve a woman like this.
    “I’ll leave you Quentin as collateral,” I offered, kissing her again.
    “I’ll settle for having you return,” she answered with a wink. “Promise me that when you come back rich, you won’t go investing in any more sketchy bonds.”
    “They warned me about the risks before I invested, and I did it anyway. I’m the idiot, and I know it.”
    “It was an expensive lesson! Two million dollars!” she exclaimed.
    “They told me it was a somewhat risky endeavor, but I looked into it and learned about how bonds for the Argentine public debt paid really high short-term dividends. The problem was I got hasty and didn’t listen to Jorge Rodríguez’s advice.”
    “He’s a trustworthy person, but I’m afraid he’s not so convincing. I regret having introduced you.”
“It’s not your fault, Irene. You shouldn’t feel responsible for my actions.”
    Without answering, she drew her legs in and rested her feet on the carpet.
    “Come here,” she said with that tone that held out a promise.
    I followed her to the little study-library. She took out a checkbook that was far thicker than any of mine and began to fill one out in her round script. After signing it, she deftly ripped it out. That sound has always fascinated me, as if I were programed to feel euphoria at the sound of paper ripping, especially the smooth, thick paper of a check. She reached across the desk and handed it to me.
    “You’re not even going to look at it?” she asked when I slid it immediately into my jacket pocket.
    “No, but I’ll pay you back double.”
    “I know, love.” The surety of her tone put me slightly on edge, and for a brief second an alarm went off in my head. But I was just being suspicious. A lack of money sharpens one’s senses, and lately I had been extremely sensitive.
     
    The following hours made me forget whatever resentment I might have attributed to my recent sensitivity. I gave myself to Irene body and soul, and I believe she did the same. This time the long scar that ran from her left buttock up to her waist did not even phase me. The first time I saw it I confess I was a bit put off, but I got used to it.
    “What happened there?” I asked her once.
    “I’ll tell you later,” was her answer. And we never went back to it.
    When I saw her naked for the first time, I admired her even more because I realized