Books and dogs

Chapter 5

The pompous Royal Holloway, University of London seal engraved over the brown kraft paper package, left over the desk in the bedroom was the last thing Julian expected to find no later than two weeks after his second “working interview” ever.

There had been nothing dangling in the air that could have forewarned Julian of the impending doom. He had diligently walked Lýkos; done a good job of keeping him well away from the strange people, riding in very expensive cars that came to visit his new boss; kept his black long hair shinning; the dinner warm and his more than reasonable anxiety at the lack of signal for his mobile phone well under control. Koiranos had not exchanged more words than “Good evening” or “Good night”, so Julian had believed, in all his innocence, that the “master” had forgotten all about his education plans.

There was nothing further away from reality as the package proved the young man's first impression that his new “master” was as inflexible regarding school as his late grandmother had been.

“Shit!” he cursed as he tore the paper. “It's all your fault,” he told the wolfdog, making himself comfortable for the customary nap that Julian had identified as the main culprit of his current misery.

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 15

Chapter 15

April 23^rd, 2012

Khanty Mansiysk

Unexpectedly the weather had turned into an early Spring and Guntram was able to get Konrad to the garden more frequently than in the previous months. The young baby had started to try to walk on his own since three months ago and was a source of permanent stress as he couldn't stay put in one place for more than ten minutes. Konrad loved to crawl at full speed everywhere and then, use anything as support, preferably people's trousers, to stand up and try from that point some trembling steps.

The house was getting small for him as he always could find something new to investigate. Sasha, the cat preferred to keep a safe distance from the baby and had taken a liking to sleep in high places to avoid the chubby hands that simply loved to pet his soft furry hair. All the household staff loved Konrad and the two maids and nanny were making shifts to have the baby with them.

Nevertheless, nothing could shake the terror off in Guntram's heart. No matter how nice the staff, Massaiev, the original guards or Constantin were, he feared for his child and was well aware that his son would pay any slip in his behaviour. That horrible night, almost half a year ago had finally made him understand that Constantin's nice and loving words were nothing more than a pretence and he was the cunning and ruthless killer Konrad had always spoken about.

Guntram feared his child could upset Constantin in any way and did his best to keep him quiet and away from the Russian's path, but he was always picking up the baby and playing with him. Konrad truly liked the man and crawled toward him at full speed, happy to be picked up and spoken in Russian.

Since Guntram's behaviour had improved so much, being attentive as ever and working diligently, never refusing to have sex with him, Constantin allowed more freedom to him, letting him take the baby to the city or even taking Guntram to Moscow to visit the Tretyakov Gallery once. Guntram had been unable to enjoy the voyage as the haunting thought that something bad could happen to his child in his absence, mercilessly tortured him.

Constantin couldn't understand the source of Guntram's fear. True, he had to put him back to his place using the baby, hating himself in the process, but since that day, nothing else had happened. Conor was a happy child and a few hours starving couldn't do much to a child. 'Guntram becomes hysterics when it comes to Con, but he gave me no other choice. Only six hours without a bottle and he almost went mad. Artists, even the nicest one, are nuts. A little crying and he almost killed himself. Unbelievable.'

'Fortunately, he has seen reason and obeys me. Maybe he loves me again when he calms down or maybe he never loves me, but he will remain with me. It's a pity we can't take Conor to a good school in Russia, but maybe we could move to America. The Order has not much influence there and Lintorff has given up to look for Fedia since mid 2011. All depends on Fedia's good behaviour. I believe he's finally subdued. We could move to Colorado; it's a nice and safe place to rise a child. He's growing so fast that sooner than I think, I will find myself with a primary school child. Con is sweet boy and good tempered as his father. To have him was my best idea so far.”

'But I don't think he will paint like his father. He likes construction blocks and tools too much and shows no interest for pencils. Maybe he wants to be an engineer like me. He will inherit a large fortune one day. He is so nice that I'm tempted to order a second one. Being only child is lonesome and we could spoil him, no matter how carefully my Fedia educates him. He must be the only baby in world history who doesn't get too dirty while eating. I wonder how he managed to achieve such miracle. Babies are natural born pigs.'

* * *

TS 2 Part VI Chapter 14

Chapter 14

December 2011

Khanty Mansyisk

Much to Guntram's dismay, the psychiatrist was a young woman in her mid thirties. With a man it would have been much easier for him to speak with but he had not idea of how to speak with a lady around his age. He had not seen many of them during his childhood and the women he had met in Switzerland could all had been his mother... or grandmother.

He briefly told her about his lapses, his lack of goals, his worries about being unfit to be a father, what had transpired when he took Konrad out of the house, showed her some of his paintings, the same he used to draw during his trances and nothing else.

Guntram feared he could get her into troubles if he spoke too much.

Nevertheless, she prescribed him anti-psychotic drugs in a blink of an eye much to his dismay. Only some blood tests after, he found several boxes in his hand and a recommendation of visiting her every two weeks.

Massaiev took away the medications and Guntram found a small white pill next to his morning tea every day. Around mid of November, the feeling of permanent terror began to subdue and he could concentrate more on his work and son, glad that his lapses seemed to have disappeared.

Contrary to his beliefs, the pill didn't make him drowsy or feel “high” as he had imagined. He felt at ease and more focused and aware of his surroundings. The Fall turned into Winter and his walks to the forest abruptly stopped. The temperature was too extreme for his taste and he preferred to remain inside the house with his child.

There's No Such Thing Like an Easy Job

Julian returns, so does Tionne from her holidays in... Sylt. 

Yes, you can laugh all what you want. 

No, I didn't bump into Konrad or Guntram there. 

Thank you very much for all the comments you left me over the past month. I will try to answer them over the weeks. 

Chapter 4

Instant-YOU. Connect with the world

TEXT: Got the best job ever. No sweat at all

MOOD: Happy

The Moving

The Moving

December 10^th, 2000

Buenos Aires

“God exists and he's Argentinean!” a very excited George shouted to his friends having breakfast at the Classic and Modern café that hot December Sunday morning. He slouched on the Thonet chair and gestured with the hand to the young girl at the turn-of-the-century marble counter. “It's suffocating out there!” he complained, letting his black dog's leash fall carelessly over a chair while the animal, without making a single noise, crouched at his feet.

“Is that not a cliché? So vulgar!” Pedro Antonio Lanusse smirked. “Did the Tax Office send an Adonis to your hair salon, and he will forgive you all your debts to them?”

“Something much better, but a lawyer like you couldn't imagine it in his wildest dreams,” George answered disdainfully to the much younger man, tall, dark-haired, and informally dressed in a white shirt, beige trousers and a yellow scarf knotted around his neck. 'So he doesn't miss his tie,’ thought George. ‘You don't wear such things unless you're over sixty!'

“Then regale us all with your adventures,” Pedro mocked him, mentally preparing himself for another story about a crazy little prima donna dying to be a TV popstar. 'When will he learn that he should act his age? Little boys mean only troubles and large bills.'

“Irony makes you look much older than you really are. How old are you by the way? Thirty-two? And you should stop shopping at Rhodes! That's for your father! It's friendly advice, Pedro. You need more colour in your life.”

“I represent several foreign firms, therefore I wear a tie. Should I wear a Hawaiian shirt?”

“Your mother selects your clothes, dear. Face the truth and you'll be a happier man.”

“No, she doesn't.”

“Will you tell us the story?” Juan Cruz interfered because he knew exactly where the argument was leading them: an epic fight between the young, conservative lawyer and the mature, radical hairdresser and image consultant. Too much for a Sunday morning. He took a cookie from his dish and discreetly offered it to Lola. The dog kept the secret, swallowing it in one bite and quickly returning to her original position.

“Yes, of course,” George answered while the young waitress served him his coffee and croissants with apricot marmalade and butter. “Thank you, darling. Could you give something to drink to Lola? The poor animal is exhausted with this heat.”

“Right away, sir. I saw Miss Luna yesterday on TV, at the awards gala, and that dress, the hair and the makeup were to die for,” she said very excited.

“To die for was to get her inside the dress. Juanjo is going to kill me when he sees that we had to cut the lining and add a triangle. The trained skirt effect was partly ruined,” he commented, and the waitress sighed at the memory of the long train, pink silk dress with marabou feathers. “If you like it, I can give it to you. He will not want it back, and it will look better on you than on her.”

“I can't accept it, sir. It's a Principessa!”