TS 3 Chapter 23

Chapter 23 

Guntram de Lisle's diary 

January 12^th, 2015

Christmas holidays are over and the boys are back in school -the most marvelous invention in human history-. Since the holidays started on December 22^nd all my time had been taken hostage by Klaus, Karl and Kurt... and the cousins shipped by Carolina to us. At first, I thought that it was a good idea to have two little girls of their age around, but Maria and Carolina are quite handful and then, we added little Marco, 13, who did his best to become gang leader but was left out of the game by Kurt in less than a week. That added some frictions to the whole thing. 

It was a whole day long fight; just as if you were trapped -with no parole- inside of a Tom and Jerry's cartoon... but all the children cried the day Albert's children were sent back to Italy. My own cousin took a leave of absence the moment he saw the Italian Lintorffs in full. It was too much for Eberhard's nerves. I still don't know how Friederich could cope with Konrad, Albert, Armin and Ferdinand every summer and even get them to do some “cultural stuff”. 

Truth to be told I haven't done much in the past months. The first weeks after I returned from hospital, I didn't do much besides reading a bit and sleeping the whole time. I only was up when the boys were coming to do their homework and stay with me until bedtime. I guess I was depressed over my father's doings and recovering from the heart surgery. Leaving the bed was already a huge task for me. I felt beaten after doing the smallest thing, like going to the toilet or eating a full meal. The best I could do was to lay down and let the boys show me their things and help them a little. They were sent back to the house at 8 p.m and I was asleep at 9 p.m. 

When I felt a little stronger -perhaps that was when I finally admitted that my own father had tricked me again and accepted that I was born out of human garbage- I began to work again, just to escape the folders full of “fan letters” I asked Monika to let me see. 

It was heartbreaking to see so many letters and cards from people I don't know and nothing from my own father. I read all of them, hoping to find any clues about him in any of them, but there was nothing. 

The accounts I know he has with de Mornay were emptied overnight, before I fell ill, but the ones at Konrad's were left untouched. Konrad says I can do as I please with the money as I have authorized access to it. 

As if some money would ease my problems! Like always. Stay in a five stars school while daddy works to rebuild his empire. It doesn't matter if your son's life is ruined for years; he'll get over at some point. Most of the time, I was blaming myself for being such an idiot and falling for his crocodile tears once more.  

I'm missing Fefo too. Goran “fired” him because it was impossible to keep Mirko and he in the same country (or even continent) without causing a nuclear blast. Mirko was becoming quite aggressive towards Fefo. Goran preferred to send the gaucho away when Fefo had enough and nearly blew Mirko's brains  with a 9 mm during one of their fights over John. Fefo moved to sunny San Francisco with John and I do hope they both have a good life. They are thinking about moving to Australia once Fefo's papers are settled. They phoned me over Christmas from Aspen and they seemed to be doing great. I sincerely hope John has found “his prince” -he always liked brunettes- and Fefo the person he needs to settle down.  

When my mood was getting a bit better, I began to work with Eberhard in his long delayed poetry book. I was total useless. The “unauthorized” book had been more easy to put together. I was reading his stuff and the images were coming to my mind. This time, the reading (much lighter and better than before) inspired me nothing. We finally resorted to “tell me what you were imagining when you wrote this and I'll paint it”. More or less this is working and he's happy with the results. I only fear the moment it is released and the frenzy starts again. 

I shouldn't speak like this about the people who buy my books because they're really nice people but it's just too much. In a way, I'm glad Konrad fired my press agent. I don't know from where she got the idea that I would be thrilled to be in Big Brother Deluxe XXV -or whatever version it is. Me? In a 24/7 TV cage? With 14 wealthy sociopaths more, looking for trouble just to get points? They should cast someone else for the “sensitive gay” role. 

I just can't bring myself to it. 

So I spent more of my time working on Eberhard's book. 

Goran paid me several visits and he isn't upset that I “took over” his job. In fact, he's happy that Konrad got it back. He's as friendly to me as he was before all this shit happened. His time in jail was like “paid holidays” and he still mocks Ferdinand and Michael for not taking it so sporty as he does. 

“All meals delivered to your bed, Guntram and the cooking was much better than what I can come up on a Sunday afternoon and a thousand times better than any take away. They were even bringing the books to my cell. I only had to growl a little when somebody wanted to put a tv set in my place. It was fantastic. No TVs, no radios, no noise.” 

Honestly, I don't understand his sense of humor but I'm glad he isn't upset with me. “You gave Ratko another ulcer,” Goran chuckled. “Serves him right for not standing his ground.” 

Ratko doesn't have such an optimist outlook of my doings as his boss but he isn't (too) sore about it. Milan visited me once and didn't mention the past at all. 

My little Kurt got into trouble in the school and the principal wanted to see us. He can't stay quiet in the classroom; he just has to bombard the teacher with questions and when you just think he's done, the second blitz comes around. I asked Konrad to go, but he told me: “send your cousin; he speaks “teacher”.” I was a bit surprised with his answer but did as he told me. Eberhard got along with the principal quite quickly and his desire to kill my son is gone. I assume Kurt has also cooled down and understood that you won't get a Nobel Prize in the second class. 

If before I was at a loss with Konrad, I'm totally clueless now. We don't fight and I still love him as before but the relationship between us is like a polite marriage. Yes, that's it. It is as if we both were seventy and only give us a peck before going to bed. There's so much politeness around us that it's driving me mad. He treats me well yet he's distant. 

Maybe I'm still depressed because of my father's treason and on the edge too. It could be. 

Along with the cousins gang, the parents arrived just in time for Christmas. Konrad insisted that I spoke to Elisabetta -well he ordered me to “fix it with my aunt”-. 

Honestly, I still remember every second of that dreadful meeting and if my husband is such an idiot, I can't do a thing. She and Carolina were more worried about the money than about their men. And Friederich's defeated face when I told him everything is too much to forget. I just can't. Maybe I shouldn't have told him that but I could have never lied to him when he asked me. I don't know what Konrad thinks of the whole mess but I preferred to keep my mouth shut when I got my “orders”.  The fuck I was going to apologize. Not this time. 

Of course I didn't bent my head in shame when I saw her. Just a cold greeting and that was all from me. She, like a lady, ignored me and that was all for Christmas Eve dinner. I left right after dessert. There should be some advantages to have your heart sewn back together like being able to disappear from social fiascos with dignity. 

My “stubbornness” caused a Christmas-morning “disagreement” with Konrad and I only went to the Mass and to see the children opening their presents. For all what I cared, the Italian Lintorffs could choke with their lunches. When the grown ups left, I got a scold (Nº2) from Konrad with a “Can't you let things go? Elisabetta was always on your side!”

“You weren't there!” I shouted back. “Do me the favor of keeping your mouth shut if you don't know the whole story!” 

He left the house quite upset and I didn't see him again until New Year Eve when it was only us. I felt a pang of sadness as I remembered the kisses we shared in that lousy hostel lobby so many years ago. Would we be that passionate ever again? I have my doubts. I felt a moment of total tenderness towards him when he gave the boys (well, it was obviously meant for Kurt) his beloved Märklin train sets for Christmas. I know it's a huge sacrifice for him because he loves those trains and they were well packed and stored. Of course he could have bought them a whole new set and had it installed but it wouldn't have been the same. Even Albert remembered most of the locomotives and how they were named. 

Konrad spent several afternoons of the holidays teaching the boys how to put together one of those miniature houses. Kurt's one was a horrible sticky mess after he was done with it but Konrad put it along his own perfect ones. He's a good father. I can't deny it.  

We both wished each other a happy new year and that was it. I was sleeping at 12:30. Then Konrad had the idea of taking the boys to the zoo (again) this time in Basel. I wasn't supposed to go but I insisted and went there. It was the first time I was out of the house in about two months. I couldn't do the whole thing because my heart began to hammer in a nasty way and had to return to the cafeteria to wait for them to finish but for the boys it was important to see me once more standing and walking. We had lunch there and then the children went to play to a crowded playground in front of the restaurant. It's good that they leave the bubble now and then and see other children. 

“Would you like to go to Venice?” Konrad asked me and I nearly drowned myself with the tea and spat it all over his jacket. “We met there, right at this time of the year.” He continued unflappable.

“No, thank you,” I answered quickly. “I'm not in the mood. Too many memories.” 

He frowned and seemed to meditate for a while. “How about Florence? It's been more than five years since we were there.” 

I bit my lips to prevent myself from shouting that there was where Marcello told me about their little adventure and how Constantin was “comforting” me next to the Arno. That particular exploit of his started the many, many quarrels we had that led to me going back to Argentina. 

“Florence, really?” I huffed and there his brain began to work again. He blushed. 

“I only want to fix things between us, Guntram.” he told me embarrassed. 

“Are they broken?” 

“Please don't get defensive. It won't solve a thing. It would be good if we spend some time alone, without the children, away from here. You choose the place. I thought about Italy because we can drive with the car and stop if it becomes too much for you.”

“Why by car?” I growled. 

“Van Horn forbade you to be in a plane for a year. Something about air pressures.”

“That's the most ridiculous thing he has said in quite a while,” I mumbled but he was looking at me and I had to step down. “Is it not one of your master plans to get me to apologize to your Aunt?” 

“No, I swear it.” 

“Boy Scout word?” 

“I was never in such a ridiculous military-like organization,” he told me and I sighed. “No, no family involved. Just you and I. A holiday to speak and leave things behind. This past year has been hellish for both of us.” 

“It certainly was.” 

He took my hand into his and I let it there. “We both lost many things. We lost Friederich and...” he kept himself quiet but I understood he meant my father's and in a way, it is true. I will never ever again speak with the bastard if he ever dares to show his pig’s snout in my life. 

“Florence is a nice city,” I said instead of the many things I wanted to tell him but we were in a very public restaurant in a quite crowded zoo. All those things hurt my throat.

“It's about seven hours by car but we could drive to Milan first and then continue to Florence. Stay a week or so. Go to Ravenna for the day. You were never there and the last time I saw the mosaics, Friederich was taking me by the hand.” 

“You always liked mosaics. Do you remember Torcello?” 

“Always.”

I wanted to ask him if he thought we would get out of this one but I couldn't find the courage to do it. 

Or perhaps I didn't want him to see that my hopes about getting things right again was close to zero. He certainly looked hopeful and that broke my heart. He had been the one who had “broke us up in a friendly way” and he wanted to “fix it” now. He had been so certain about how “incestuous” we were and now he was looking like a wet puppy scratching your door in the middle of a storm.  

Maybe I'll never get him right. Or maybe I should stop thinking about it; you never get to know the other person in full. It's just what they let you see and then why blame him? I'm not even truthful to myself.

Let's face it, Guntram. You're so depressed and sore about your dad's latest stab that you can't think about anything else but he. 

At this point, Konrad comes third, right after the children and my desire to... I don't know what I would do to my father. I can't think of something so horrible that hasn't been invented yet; that isn't in Goran's books. 

That makes me question myself if I still love Konrad. I love to be with him and I need him around me but is it still the same love I felt for him when we looked at each other in that small street in Venice? I've forgotten its name, but I haven't forgotten the light in Konrad's eyes. 

If that light is still there, I'm too blinded by outrage, fury, depression and revenge to see it. 

* * * 

Guntram de Lisle's diary

January 13^th, 2015 

I guess Konrad never heard of something called diplomacy. He just planned our trip for the day the boys were putting their things together to go back to school. Maybe he also had enough of six children at home and that was some kind of childish revenge on things like an empty coca cola bottle standing on his beloved XVI century weapons cabinet or finding all his scarves gone one morning. We never found them again and honestly, I don't want to know about their fate. 

Klaus, Karl and Kurt were very upset when they saw the staff putting our luggage in the cars right before they were driving to school. I don't think they'll forget this anytime soon. 

I was a bit nervous about spending five or six hours trapped in a car with Konrad. The holiday season wasn't exactly great and we didn't exchange more than a few polite words per day. 

* ** 

Guntram de Lisle's diary

January 21^st, 2015

We returned from Italy and contrary to my expectations, it was... fine. 

We took the car after the boys were driving to school (and that created a mild morning chaos) As usual he had the car loaded with his papers and laptop and dived nose in into them the minute Hans closed the door behind him. That made me smile because it reminded me our first trip together after we met in Venice. He did the same. It's as if he has a switch; plane, car or library are for reading documents and he just simply does it. I can't say a word because I was in his shoes and every night I was questioning my reading skills because it was impossible to read all those things on time for meetings or before signing them. 

He was very busy with his things and I preferred to gaze through the window. I didn't realize how much I missed seeing the landscape. Since I returned from Russia I only travelled planes and then, bed ridden I hadn't seen much of anything. That was the second time I was out of the house in three months. The car ride felt liberating for me and it was like recovering my own life in an exhilarating way.

Around midday Konrad asked me if I wanted lunch and I smiled at him earnestly, for the first time in a long time. “Are you going to eat in a convenient store?” I joked. 

“I'm even ready to face a KFC. We're free from the chef's tyranny.” 

“That's brave indeed.” 

“I have a Michelin guide with me. There should be something around.” He showed me the book and I laughed. 

“Always ready.” I commented as I went through the pages. 

“Monika made some reservations somewhere and it's a chef’s seal of approval kind of place.” 

“Jean Jacques won't kill us if we eat there? I don't want to eat fugu for the rest of my life.” 

“Neither do I.” Konrad answered earnestly. “Or snails or something from the molecular cuisine.” 

That made me laugh openly. “We can't let you to suffer through this.” I joked and he smiled back. We had lunch in a small place near the border to Italy and I have to admit its Michelin star was well deserved. The first three hours weren't bad at all but there was something lingering inside me that rendered me nervous. 

We continued the drive and I could tell the bodyguards were also happy with what they got at the restaurant. The general mood had certainly improved. Yes, the road to happiness in men goes through their stomachs. I had a tablet with me and began to draw on it. 

“What's that?” he asked genuinely intrigued. 

“It's Michael Dahler's late birthday present. You can sketch on this thing and have it directly on you computer. It's good for quick things.” 

“Like a tablet?” 

“More or less. This is used for drawings, cartoons and animations.” 

“What are you working at the moment at?” 

“After my appalling success with Gulya's portrait, now hanging or gathering dust at the future Modern Arts Museum in Abu Dhabi, I decided to keep it low. I'm working on Eberhard's poems and in something very embarrassing but that was the best Coco and I came up with.” 

“Please don't tell me you're drawing the old hag nude. The world isn't ready for another set of Goya nightmares.” 

“No, I'm not drawing my boss naked. I'm not that crazy.” I chuckled. He looked at me puzzled. “It's a coloring book.” 

“A coloring book? Really?” 

“Adult coloring book. It was that or start drawing crows and clever foxes. It isn't as easy and I thought it would be but is good to recover some of my old imagination. I used to have visions every time of the things I wanted to do but since all this happened I have trouble to sit and imagine anything.” 

“You're more than just tired, Maus.” he told me. “You gave all what you had to the companies and I appreciate that very much. Ferdinand and Albert are very impressed with the way you handled things.” 

I was shocked with his answer. When they all returned from “their holidays in lock-down”, the almighty businessmen brushed their feet with all what I had done.  

“But it's coming back,” I answered embarrassed. “Removing the colors and shadows helps me to concentrate in the concept and that's helping a lot.” 

“It'll be very nice to have one.” Konrad told me. 

“Are you going to paint it?” 

“Just make the squares big and don't write numbers in them.”

“Never.” We both smiled at each other and he took my hand between his. That gesture of tenderness melted my heart and I let go of the many hostilities we exchanged during the holidays. I wanted to speak with him but I preferred us to be alone in the hotel of wherever. Never in front of the staff. 

We arrived to Milan and stayed in a hotel next to the Palazzo Sforza. Konrad had booked an entire floor for us and the staff. It was a bit disappointing that he had booked two adjoined suites, meaning each one in his own bed, exactly like back home. Not that I was expecting a sex marathon but at least a little cuddling if he wanted to “fix it” with me. The rooms were very nicely decorated and I was happy to see nothing medical related in the room. 

“Did you take your pills?” Konrad entered in my room. 

“Yes, at dinnertime. You saw it. Did you too?” He also has pills to take and frowns each time he sees them. 

“Yes, of course,” he answered with those sufficiency airs he uses each time he's nervous about something. I was a bit taken aback when he sat in one of the sofas and showed me a very old guide from Milan... from the XIX century to be precise. 

“We go tomorrow to the Duomo and we can walk to the portrait gallery. It's not far away.” 

“Are you sure that thing is still valid?” 

“Yes, the Allies didn't bomb this city. It's by Hardmeyer.” 

“Is the Scala included there?” 

“Of course it is,” he huffed a bit upset. “It was built thanks to Maria Theresia, a century before this book was published. Modern guides are too shallow for my taste and come with all those things I totally hate. You didn't complain at all about my guiding skills in Florence or Venice.” 

“I didn't have the opportunity to do it because doing it would have labelled me as a boor for the rest of my life. I didn't know there were more noble houses besides the Medici.” 

“Then you see how good it is.” 

I laughed (but I think it was more to avoid a fight because I'm a boor but he's as pigheaded as they come) and sat next to him. “Shouldn't this one be in a museum?” I joked and extended my hand to take the book but he didn't give it to me. 

“It's only for tonight. It stays here.” 

“Please don't tell me there's a story for every panel at the Duomo's door.” 

“Of course there is.” 

“Do you plan to tell them tomorrow?” 

“Only if you ask me to. I'm just reading them tonight.” 

“Alone in your bed?” I asked and he gaped at me. “When are you going to speak again to me? Like the spouses we are.” 

He sighed and put the book aside. Carefully. “You shut me out when you came back,” I told him calmly. “I need to know if this is going to be permanent.” 

“No, well, I mean, I don't know.” 

“That's not very reassuring for us. Do you want to divorce? It was a civil ceremony after all. It will make things easier for you now that you're back in office.” 

“Divorcing you is out of the question. I need you in my life. I can't imagine it without you.” 

“You have a funny way to show it,” I mumbled and he looked at me hurt. “I know I haven't been the best companion these months. It's just my father...” 

“Let it go. It's over, Guntram.” he told me calmly. “It wasn't your fault.” 

“He duped me. Again. Before I could say I was seven but now I have no excuses.” 

“It was in his nature.” 

“Why do you speak about him always in the past? Do you know something I don't know?” I asked and fixed my eyes into his. There was not even a blink or a hesitation in there. Nothing at all. 

“Because I know him better than you. The plan failed, I'm still here and he's gone.”

“Do you want me gone too?” 

“Never.” He didn't hesitate at all and that was a huge relief for me. 

“What should we do? I can't continue like this. I don't want you to be just your friend. Ferdinand is your friend, not I.” 

“I also don't think I can be just your friend,” he smiled sadly. “I've been thinking all this time how to get the foot out of my mouth after the things I told you. I was hurt and lashed out at you. I'm so sorry but I don't know how to mend it.” 

I was so moved at his words. “Don't say anything else, Konrad.” I answered tiredly. “Just let me feel again that I'm your husband or go away. I don't want a murky relationship with you. Love me or hate me but don't go around telling you just want to be friends. I won't accept a marriage blanc under any circumstances.” 

“I also don't want a marriage blanc.” He said. “I want you but I'm afraid of the repercussions.” 

“You never gave a damn about anything, Konrad.” I answered sadly. 

“And we paid a very high price.” 

“No, we didn't. That was something that had to happen to us. It's not some kind of a divine punishment. Friederich was genuinely happy that I had married you. He told me that day; “I never though I would live to see it but finally Konrad has grown up”.”

Konrad cast his eyes down and I put my arm around his shoulders. “I do love you despite all,” I whispered. “Do you?” 

“I do.” He embraced me and crushed me against his chest. It was so good to be back there. Embraced without reserves. Just being one again. No walls, no suspicions, no accusations. Nothing, just us. 

I don't know for how long we were like this but it was quite a while. 

“I want to be with you but your health....” 

“I'm not asking you for sex. Dropping dead in the middle of the action won't be fun.” I answered and kissed him on the lips and he nearly knocked me out with the feverish ardor he returned my kiss. I stumbled and almost lost my balance on the couch. “Just sharing the bed, like before.” 

“I hope I can control myself,” he confessed me shyly and I smiled before I kissed him again. 

“Yours or mine?” 

“Yours tonight and tomorrow mine,” he replied mischievously. “We must give people something to speak about.” 

“Two men in the same bed isn't as shocking as it used to be. We and a parrot should do the trick.” I said and he chuckled. 

“You're kinkier than me,” was his verdict before I led him by the hand to my bedroom. 

He began to undress me before I could close the door behind us. Without much grace he pulled my jersey over my head and threw it to the floor as he kissed me on the neck and slowly began to go upwards, exactly as I love it. 

I jumped to his bones and pushed him to the bed and mounted on top of him, kissing him with all my soul. It was incredible to have him once more under me and to feel alive once more. I kissed him again and again and barely heard when his shoes collided against the wooden floor. I was losing my mind with the feeling of his tongue inside my mouth. 

He playfully pushed me to the right and his body was on top of me in no time. We continued to kiss and remove clothes as he was telling me how much he loved me and that he couldn't live without me. I've never felt so confident that he was going to send the doctor to hell and end this marriage blanc he had imposed over me. 

I had my hand in his trousers, more than ready to do what he likes so much when he jumped out of the bed. I was shocked beyond my guts. 

“Stop,” he told me. “That's enough.”

I was speechless and I could only look at him picking up his shoes and jacket. This whole thing was like a bucket of cold water on me. He was really into it and now he was leaving me? Speak about changing hearts! 

“Why?” I muttered when he was at the door.

“Good night,” he said and closed the door behind him. 

The rest of the trip was fine. We did a lot of sightseeing and didn't argue at all. No, fiddles won't play for us, but we were happy to be together again and that feeling of awkwardness disappeared finally. 

For us, that's certainly an improvement.