Читать книгу Vestavia Hills - Christian Perego - Страница 9

Johnathan Abblepot opened his eyes. It was Tuesday morning.

Only one night had passed, but the impression he had was that he had crossed unimaginable distances and geological eras to get to that moment.

He felt utterly dizzy as if he had an iron circle around his forehead of a much smaller size than his head. The pain barely left him the chance to focus on the first awakening operations.

He rinsed his face with cold water, as abundantly as possible. He quickly dressed, casually choosing clothes. And of course, he avoided Elizabeth.

Then he went to church.

Sometimes he did not like the sense of emptiness that was perceived in there when there was nobody: the light that came in through the windows was too much; he seemed to call someone at a party who did not want to introduce himself and therefore gave a feeling of abandonment.

Automatically, he took his place on the first bench in front of the altar, knelt and rested his forehead on the knuckles of the clasped hands.

It was still Reverend Johnathan Abblepot after all, and that was always his church. With his God.

The previous evening he had let Martyn Trischer leave.

After the disgusting scene he had witnessed, Abblepot had run to hide in the trees that were immediately beyond the fence, also to recover from the extreme sense of nausea he felt. He was astounded: with all the anger he felt in his body, would have loved to rush into the house, but a physical sickness had caught him, almost taking his breath away, and he just run away.

Once recovered, he waited a bit more time, daydreaming.

He saw the shape of Martyn Trischer going towards the city. So he decided to go into the house to let out all his resentment and hurt.

Elizabeth was shocked to hear someone knocking on the door. It was as if the whole house collapsed on her head when, once she opened the door, she found her husband's gloomy and flushed face in front of her.

The few moments after that were so confusing that it almost seemed as they never happened. Elizabeth wondered why her husband came back early, without luggage, and if he had by any chance seen Martyn leaving their house. Johnathan spent a few minutes undecided on what to do, begging himself to remain calm, but at the same time eager to throw on his wife all the suffering he felt.

In the end, they said each other everything, or at least what was left to say.

After that terrible event, Johnathan had earned the right to not justify himself for his lie and for spying on his wife: he told her the whole truth about his plan. Elizabeth listened indignantly but, submerged as she was by the weight of her guilt, she said almost nothing.

While Abblepot made his legitimate outburst, asking his wife the reasons for her action, as if this could have soothed his pain, Elizabeth confessed her love for young Martyn Trischer and the circumstances in which it was born.

Abblepot left his wife without saying a word, and he went up the stairs as if he was carrying excessive weight on his back. Elizabeth burst into tears: she fell on the sofa and only after many hours, overcome by exhaustion, she finally closed her eyes.

She didn't know or cared what her husband was doing upstairs, nor did he worry about his wife anymore.

Johnathan Abblepot thought about all these things, while with his head down, he tried to concentrate on prayer.

He looked up at the crucifix. A question echoed in his head, but he did not dare ask it out loud, for he knew that "you should not tempt the Lord."

"Anyway, He can read inside us," he thought immediately after, with resentment.

However, he refrained from speaking. He stared with greater determination at the wooden cross above the altar, and tears rose to his eyes. He felt prey to intense depression, yet a constant tingling ran through his limbs; he clasped his hands tightly together.

Then he got up, determined to go back to the house.

Once in the living room, he called, "Elizabeth", in a low tone. He knew he would find her in there.

She was sitting in the armchair, looking out the window, as if she had been still for who knows how long, just waiting for him to appear somewhere. She didn't turn around, but Abblepot understood that she had heard him calling and was paying attention to him.

The reverend said, "We didn't talk like decent spouses last night."

The girl replied, "And how can we be, John?"

"What I mean is that I was only able to speak by throwing at you all my frustration. And it can't be the only way to deal with this. "

Her husband's calm and apparent complacency almost annoyed her. Elizabeth said nothing.

Abblepot continued: "Please look at me."

So she did. Her eyes were sad.

"John," her voice almost turns into a sigh. New tears came to her eyes as if the previous evening ones hadn't been enough.

"Do you love that boy?" Johnathan's voice was firm.

"I do not know anymore. When it all started, I was almost convinced. Now I don't know anymore."

"Elizabeth, I would like to ask you the reasons. I would like to know why it happened ... but I will not ask you. I thought about it, and I don't think it would help me."

"John," she said again.

"Please let me finish. If this has happened, there must be many reasons. But we all make mistakes. Who knows how many times I did. I cannot tell you how long it will take me to regain the trust that used to bind us, but I am convinced that it is possible. If you want to, if you don't love Martyn Trischer so much that you'll want to sacrifice our relationship for him, maybe we can start again. In a different way, but together."

Elizabeth couldn't understand the emotions stirring inside her; she didn't know what to say.

"Elizabeth, I'm telling you that I want to try to move forward beyond this affair. I prayed: last night and this morning. I prayed for answers. Well, unfortunately, I didn't get any. But I decided to follow what I felt during all of last night's sleepless hours."

The young woman was silent.

Then she said, "John, I don't know what to say right now, honestly.

When we decided to live together, I wouldn't have ever imagined that something like this could happen. Now, something else is happening that I hadn't thought about last night while I was awake. I need some time."

Her husband looked at her, almost impassive. Elizabeth continued: "I just want the storm that I feel inside to calm down. And I promise you we'll talk. Only, not now. Please."

Johnathan Abblepot agreed to his wife's request. He left the room and went for a walk, letting her wife know as thoughtfully as he could.

The days had passed, almost usually. Johnathan and Elizabeth seemed to have somehow managed to go beyond what had happened to leave it behind.

Of course, when they fell asleep together, they no longer did so by holding their hands as they used to. At times, when they were in the same room, a feeling of coldness and tension crept into the walls of the house.

Yet they had managed to move forward: Johnathan by being as thoughtful as he could, and by never mentioning to her the new feelings that indeed started growing inside of him; Elizabeth by letting things take a strange turn, somewhat unnatural, but more than decent.

In reality, the young woman felt the weight of that situation very much. Even if before she felt guilty for her actions and lies towards her husband, she was in a stronger position. She was the only one aware of the truth, and a young, attractive boy loved her.

Now, however, the strong position was her husband's, who had forgiven her, still accepted at home, to whom she owed everything, the food, the accommodation, and the excellent reputation that people always credited her.

Then, it occurred to her, amazed that she had forgotten about it, that she, her husband, and Martyn were not the only ones aware of the scandal that had happened in the vicarage.

The slim figure, slightly curved, and the ambiguous look of Evelyn Archer came to mind.

She had a precise role in the matter. She was the first one to talk to Elizabeth about her nephew, and Elizabeth had met him for the first time right in that shop.

Evelyn Archer had gone even further. More than once, she invited the reverend's wife to the shop at a specific time, the same time when Martyn would also come by; as she was organizing their meetings intentionally.

Until one day, despite every sense of decency, Mrs. Archer had dared to propose to Elizabeth Abblepot to go to a house she owned, on the outskirts of Vestavia Hills, and had promptly handed over the keys.

Elizabeth had equally promptly indulged her.

Straight after, she felt those keys almost like burning her fingers, keys that she should have indignantly rejected. Instead, like a little girl who had just received an unexpected gift, she played with them in her hands, and couldn't wait to get to that house, where she knew, very well, who she would find.

The young woman shook herself off from these memories and decided to go to Mrs. Archer. She was avoiding the shop for weeks, and when she saw her from afar, she did not bother to look at her.

On the way to the shop, Elizabeth felt her legs tingling as if loads of insects were clinging on them. When she opened the shop door, Evelyn Archer was as usual in her spot, near the counter, busy with the pointless activity of moving and repositioning trinkets of all kinds, from one position to another. She seemed surprised to see Elizabeth come in, but her amazement had something unclear, not at all embarrassed.

"What can I do for you, dear?" Archer said, trying to be distant but failing.

"Mrs. Evelyn, I'm not sure why I came here."

"Maybe for the usual reason. To see Martyn, or to find out where he is." The older woman seemed annoyed.

"Maybe ..." and Elizabeth wanted to carry on, but she didn't let her.

"If your husband saw you here! If he saw you now, I mean, after what happened! It is careless. On the other hand, those who are overwhelmed by passion pay no attention to these things" now her tone was almost mocking.

"Anyway, "she went on, "I should see Martyn by the afternoon, I will tell him that you are looking for him ... but if you came to ask me not to tell anyone about your affair, maybe it's a little late now, isn't it? I could have done before, you should have come earlier. But it would be best for our family as well if this didn't come out, don't you think?"

If my nephew's name will be linked to the shop when I'm gone, it's far better if no one finds out."

Elizabeth did not know why she sensed that anger in Mrs. Archer's voice and behaviour, but she didn't question her about it.

She said: "What has happened is terrible. It's my fault. Our fault. Your nephew's and mine. When John found out, I asked Martyn to come round mine so I could tell him that the situation was getting too much for me and that I wasn't sure I wanted to carry on."

Mrs. Archer went back to take care of her odds and ends, then Elizabeth cut it short: "Anyway, I don't need to talk to you about what I said or want to say to Martyn."

Elizabeth Abblepot was like to an overgrown child who believes that by trying her favourite habit one last time, she will get rid of it once and for all, and it does not understand, however, that the more one seeks a vice the more it will take over. Her naivety would have been sweet if she had been a child.

Martyn Trischer went to her aunt's shop shortly after two o'clock in the afternoon.

He did not know that he was being observed by Reverend Abblepot, who looked at him, daydreaming, from across the street. He entered the shop almost as if he was a thief, very slowly and with the desire to leave as soon as possible. He felt almost a sense of guilt towards the old aunt and an embarrassment that months ago, he would never even have dreamed of.

Evelyn was in her usual spot and looked at the boy with a disapproving look.

When Martyn had gone to see her, still out of breath and in full distress, to report that the reverend had discovered everything, she was speechless at first. Then, irritated by the boy's ineptitude, she insulted him and blamed him for everything. As if she had no part in what had happened!

They had argued intensely, of course.

Evelyn Archer said coldly: "This affair must end. I've already cursed myself for indulging you as you do with a spoiled child. But I can't take it anymore. You will go to her and tell her to end this."

Martyn replied: "It's none of your business if Elizabeth and I are still looking for each other. It means that we love each other, no matter what."

For what her age allowed, Evelyn let out a loud laugh, an evil laugh, though.

Then she said, "Still this nonsense! Martyn, listen to me: it is already a blessing that the reverend has not repudiated his wife and has not involved you and me. If you want this shop and you want a quiet life, I advise you to put aside your idiocies, forget that girl, and hope that sooner or later, she and her husband will move somewhere else."

Martyn was seething with anger. It now seemed to him that it was a matter of pride. If he truly loved Elizabeth, and if she was willing to sacrifice everything for him, these were secondary thoughts.

He told his aunt, raising his voice: "It will just mean that Elizabeth and I will get out of the way! So we will no longer bother you or this damned town!"

Evelyn did not give up: "Stop it! I told you that you would continue to work here and around the town, you will give up that no-good girl, and you will think more about what is worthwhile in life, instead of dreaming about pointless things."

However, there was an accent of anguish in her words.

In a fit of anger he felt growing inside and that he couldn't imagine unleashing, Martyn Trischer threw on the ground the first objects he found on the counter and faced the old woman bluntly: "I'm tired of being told what to do!" he snarled at her "the fact that you have sinned yourself, of your own will, does not give you the right to give me orders!"

Mrs. Archer was a little frightened: "Martyn ..." she tried to say.

But the young man pressed her with an evil look: "Enough! Don't say anything. Shut up as you've always done until now. And tell me where I can find her."

Martyn Trischer met Elizabeth near the post office.

The two were somewhat embarrassed at first, soon enough, though, they discovered that there was still intimacy between them.

Their eyes were full of worry, but they still enjoyed the pleasure of being in front of each other. After they had made love at her house last time, their life seemed to have taken the same turn as before: but, perhaps for somewhat different reasons, both were aware that this was not true at all.

In the torment of seeing each other again without being able to pretend that the next time would be without consequences, they did not know what decision to make, or rather, what decision to propose to each other.

Perhaps they both knew that the only possible option was never to see each other again.

Meanwhile, in the shade of a porch on that sunny afternoon, a man was hearing a jumble of incomprehensible words whispering in his head.

He felt a sense of dizziness as if he was about to lose consciousness.

He could hear the gnashing of teeth and grating of nails.

Before his eyes, the outlines faded into indistinct lines.

And the feeling of someone leaning heavily on his shoulders increased the fatigue of his conscience.

He was leaning against a pillar; it was only a few meters away. The eyes fixed on the scene of the two youngs speaking while looking at each other.

The man who was hurting his hands, clenching them into fists until his nails imprinted in the flesh, was the Reverend Johnathan Abblepot.