Flowers of Darkness by Tatiana Rosnay (free ebook reader for iphone TXT) 📗

she stepped into the small apartment. She could still smell the perfume. It made her want to retch.

“You’re that angry.”

“Yes.”

“But you’ve been together for so long!”

“I know. But at this point in my life, I want to move on without him.”

“I understand, Mums. I won’t mention him again. I’m here if you ever need to talk. I know you think I’m too much of a kid to understand all the adult stuff. But I know how to listen. You taught me how to do that.” Her granddaughter’s love safeguarded her, toning down her unhappiness. She had managed to drop off, listening to Andy’s soft breathing at her side. This morning, she felt less vulnerable.

Clarissa never took the elevator. She enjoyed tearing down the stairs as fast as she could. It took longer climbing the eight flights back up, but it was part of a grueling routine she stuck to. She was fond of stating that all those steps were her way of staying fit. As she rushed past the fourth floor, a door opened, and she found herself facing a brunette in her forties who was wearing sports gear and waving at her. She slowed down, saying hello in return. Her new neighbor’s name was Adelka. She was a painter. This was the first time Clarissa had spoken to another artist from the residence. She had occasionally crossed paths with some of them, but it hadn’t gone further than an exchange of nods and smiles.

Adelka went down the stairs with her. She was off to run alongside the Seine. Clarissa had a closer look, taking in her brown eyes, thick black hair, tanned skin. This young woman had a charming air about her. Her voice was musical, her smile attractive.

“What do you think of the residence?” she asked her neighbor suddenly.

They were outside at present. Adelka said she had never lived in a place like this. It was impressive. She had been overjoyed to hear her application had been accepted. Many artists had been turned down.

“And what about you? Are you enjoying it, as well?”

Clarissa didn’t hesitate long.

“I’m not sure, to tell the truth.”

They were walking toward the river, on the old boundaries of the Champ-de-Mars. Contemporary structures, white and resplendent, now took up the space. The artificial trees were pleasantly effective. A couple of electric cars zoomed silently by. It was a calm, enjoyable spot.

“What do you mean?” Adelka asked. “I know you’re up on the top floor. It must be quite something.”

“Yes, the view is stunning. It’s another matter. I feel like someone is watching me all the time.”

The coffee-colored eyes narrowed in on her.

“I get it. But to me, that level of surveillance makes me feel safe. I wasn’t safe before. I had a violent husband. He gave me a tough time. He smashed up my art material, when it wasn’t my face. I know he’ll never be able to set foot in the residence. The bastard is blacklisted!”

She burst out laughing. Clarissa couldn’t help joining in.

“I have a persona non grata husband, as well.”

“Join the club! And what did yours do to get banished from the residence and from your life?”

“He wasn’t the brutal type, like your ex.… But…”

“You don’t have to tell me, you know.”

It felt wonderful to talk at last, to open up the dams. This woman knew nothing about her, about her life. Clarissa found it easier to unburden herself to this smiling stranger who was her daughter’s age than with her long-standing friends, the ones she hadn’t wished to see since the breakup.

“I found out in the most shocking way that he was cheating on me.”

Adelka made a face.

“Ouch. Not fun. And what did you do?”

“I left him. On the spot.”

“And you ended up here, right?”

“That’s right.”

“You’ve been married for a long time?”

Adelka walked swiftly; she had the muscular legs of a sportswoman. Clarissa adjusted her stride, attempting to follow her without panting too much.

“Long enough for me to understand I didn’t want to stick around for a single minute more.”

“You look like a woman who knows what she wants.”

“So do you.”

They both grinned.

Clarissa asked her about her art, what themes she was involved in. Adelka replied she was interested in bodies. Not young and lovely ones, but hidden ones, different ones, bodies that had nothing to do with beauty criteria.

“And what about you? You’re a writer, I believe?”

“That’s right. I’m taking notes right now. I’m exploring language. Written language and how it comes to authors. How we choose our words. How we pick some words and not others…”

“How ambitious! I feel bad that I haven’t read your books. I’ll make up for it.”

“Not a problem at all. And I’m not familiar with your art.”

“How about coming down for a drink one of these days?”

“With pleasure.”

Clarissa said good-bye, watching Adelka run at a vigorous pace toward the Seine. She went to the bread shop to get Andy’s croissants. A couple of customers there were enthusiastically discussing last night’s hologram display. She hurried home, then patiently waited in the lobby for her retina to be scanned. The gate slid open with a chime, and a mechanical voice stated, “Welcome back to the residence, Clarissa Katsef.”

In the hall, she crossed paths with Ben, the residence’s handyman, who made sure each installation ran smoothly. He had already dropped by her place to check on her network power. He was a young man in his thirties with a mop of curly red hair. Engrossed in his device, he asked her if everything was functioning properly at home. She said yes, thanked him, and embarked upon climbing the stairs. He seemed surprised she wasn’t using the lift. Once she got to her floor, she realized it was getting more and more difficult to take each step. She felt drained and breathless, and had to wait a few minutes to catch her breath. When she felt better, she pressed her index finger to the glass plate on the door. It swung open with a click.

“Hey, Mums! You were