Veitena noticed that phone calls made to Lorenzo after six p.m. had been rejected. Those made before this time, under professional excuses to track his whereabouts, had been answered briefly. This is not good…
As soon as he showed up at work, on Monday morning, she asked his cell phone.
“I don’t see any reason why. You don’t have any right to inspect me, Veitena.”
As she was prepared for such answer, she heavily closed the door of his office behind her and drew the pair of scissors, already with her:
“Under the sacrament of marriage, give it to me!” she replied, pointing the scissors at her own neck.
It took thirty years for Lorenzo to create courage to face her threats when it came to his life. Many of them had been made usually when they were alone in their master suite, away from the sight of the kids. However, during the last ten years of marriage, he felt a hypocrite before God and the Catholic Church, vasectomized, called sinner for showing sexual desire towards his wife and constantly demeaned by her. He started confronting her, fearless. And things had gotten worse. Those threats had become, now, against her own life. If she wanted to take his life, he could even feel relieved, to tell the truth. But to threaten herself was something for which he was not prepared. After all, she was the mother of his kids.
Ten years threatening herself showed to be an effective manner to force Lorenzo into obeying her. And it was not different on that morning. He handed his cell phone to Veitena. It still had the same password from the time she forced him to break up with Elena for the first time, when Elena did not see her e-mail and Veitena had to hire men in her hometown, two hundred and fifty miles from Green Palms to have her killed.
Lorenzo remembered that, worse than having been spied on and having his e-mails hacked at Veitena’s request, was the pain caused by the reaction of Elena to his break-up notice. Brokenhearted in severe suffering, having also thrown up dinner, he informed Elena that there was a plot to kill her if he did not break up their relationship. She, then, calmly replied that if he had any doubt about their relationship, he could simply break up, with no need of such an absurd excuse. He remembered how angry he had become, informing the deserted dirt road where her body would be dumped, the hired men that would beat her to death, as well as the final deadline to end up any relationship with her because she had ignored Veitena’s demand to abandon him and he would have to do it precisely at that time, after a superb weekend when they cooked, listened to and danced romantic Italian songs, made love, drank good wines and rare whiskies from his spectacular collection. Elena left his apartment, deeply hurt, unaware of any contact by Veitena. Lorenzo, indeed, was abnormally affectionate and tender, she had noticed it. Those annoying phone calls that he did not take, six or seven of them, had been from Veitena: deadline expired. The only contact with Elena had been on the following morning, when Elena apologized for having doubted his word. She had found the e-mail from Veitena, sent twenty days before, with the demands to leave him. She had not seen it; therefore, the death threat would be the next step.
While Veitena inspected his phone, Lorenzo read that e-mail on his notebook:
'Elena, this e-mail holds the rescue of a family…' this was the introduction. '…we have your e-mails to/from Lorenzo. For now, everything will be a secret between us, but if you do not leave him immediately, we will share them with your grown-ups, friends and other thirty thousand contacts in our client database. If you do not believe we have them, well… Check this sample:
A restroom in the second floor of that public building…
Our first time, wonderful!
I levitated in bliss to my car, afterwards…
I had your cock in my mouth! Right in our first time!!
You smell wonderfully! I loved your perfume!
I was driven to a blessed madness by you!
What a delicious cock! I simply could not hold myself, kneeling in front of it…
Our kisses, your warm hands holding my breasts…
My first fuck after three years! I was having my body for myself only!
I was afraid you would not like me and it was so spectacular!!
I want you, there, again!
I wanna drink from you again,
I wanna fuck, obeying to your commands…
You just say it… I’ll do…
Oh, what a magnificent lust!!! Handsome Man, Lorenzo, I want you!]'
At his notebook, Lorenzo smiled to those words Elena had written him, when he was interrupted by Veitena, who described his contacts in the last two weeks:
Codename Little Me;
Lorenzo had truly called the other women he had been with, just in case a moment like that really occurred. Veitena went on:
“I know these two!” Veitena said, after recognizing Lizbeth and Amecari’s names as old acquaintances of the family from the time in São Paulo. With such rare names, it would be impossible to be somebody else.
“They both are divorced; what’s the problem?” he replied, not deviating his gaze from the notebook.
“What does ‘Codename’ mean? Don’t tell me they indicate prostitutes!”
“Yes,” he replied, “and I have no problem with that, either.”
“Are you out of your mind, Lorenzo?!” Veitena asked, outraged, opening the conversations to access the contents.
While Veitena inspected each conversation, Lorenzo recalled the thirty days after the first separation, when he did not resist and called Elena. They resumed their relationship in secrecy, not yet with the refinements of safety to bypass the surveillance that led to the second violently forced break-up weeks later, when Veitena suspected the blackout that blocked the view to his living room from the avenue. Lorenzo bitterly remembered her hysterical continuous pressing of the doorbell until he gave access to her, while Elena had figured out a plan to escape his apartment without meeting her: as Veitena climbed up the stairs, Elena was already down in the garage and all Lorenzo had to do was to open the main entrance a second time so that Elena could reach the street at the same time Veitena entered his apartment in an outburst of pathological anger, scavenging it in search of Elena with a knife on her hand. Veitena was sure Elena was the woman there with Lorenzo and, unable to kill her, she threatened Lorenzo, holding the knife on his neck. He remembered her words:
“Don’t you think I’ll go to jail, because as soon as I kill you, I’ll put an end to my life too!”
On that dreadful night, helpless, Lorenzo called Elena as Veitena demanded and repeated everything Veitena commanded him to say. In the other side of the line, Elena perceived something scary going on there, listening to him on the loudspeaker under controlled panic and an abnormal stillness that he never had: ‘I don’t wanna see you ever again. Never call me again. Our relationship ends up forever now.’ She was sure there was a knife on his neck, so distorted was his voice. Elena agreed with all demands. For the second time, the end, until other thirty days later, when Lorenzo called Elena, furious for having been informed that she worked as prostitute. He remembered all nights spent with Elena under Codename Úrsula after she proposed to do this for him, destroying the lie about her, making him the happiest man on Earth again.
The only conversation Veitena found was with Codename Úrsula, three lines of messages from that Monday morning. It seemed that Lorenzo had not been able to delete that one yet. She read it:
’7:01 Úrsula: I can hardly wait to have my mouth on your delicious cock again…
7:28 Lorenzo: Be careful with your wishes, otherwise I’ll skip work so that you do it before lunch…
7:32 Úrsula: Please!!! Do it...’
“Oh, my God, Lorenzo do you talk with these women like that?!”
He omitted the fact that the only current conversation was with Codename Úrsula.
“Lorenzo, listen: you cannot let pornography dominate your life. It’ll be your doom!”
“Fine.” Lorenzo replied, drily. No doom could be worse than living with Veitena, despite the immense love for his son and daughter, both already married.
“I’ll request a visit from Father Joseph to your apartment. We have to talk about this!”
“We?! You mean I and Father Joseph?”
“I mean you, Father Joseph and I.”