Free Forever Yours by Daniel Glattauer, Jamie Bulloch Page A

Flachgasse, where her Citroën was parked. Even from a distance she could make out the tall white package beneath her windscreen wiper: three yellow roses, a note, the fragment of a message, “… AND THESE…”, inside yet another monstrous heart. She comforted herself with the hope that he’d probably deposited the flowers before she’d reproached him on the telephone.
    When the door to her flat was finally locked behind her, the tension subsided, but the peace didn’t last long. Judith was lying on the ochre sofa, allowing herself a little light therapy beneath her laburnum lamp from Rotterdam, when the doorbell rang. Her shock turned at once to fury. “Hannes?” she roared. She swore she’d send him packing. “It’s me, Frau Grabner, the caretaker,” an intimidated voice replied. “Something was left for you.” “By whom?” Judith asked in a deliberately mild tone as she opened the door. Grabner: “A delivery boy.” Judith: “When, if I may ask?” Grabner: “Oh, this morning, around eleven.” Judith: “Around eleven? Thank you very much, Frau Grabner!”
    She threw the flowers straight in the bin without unpacking them. For a while she stared at the new heart message, “… ROSES…”, before ripping it up. In her mind she pieced together the fragments: “WHAT DO THESE AND THESE AND THESE ROSES…” The sentence was incomplete. Evidently more gifts awaited her.
4
    “Have you got them all now, Darling?” he asked. He answered immediately as he’d been expecting her call. Judith: “Hannes, why are you doing this?” Him: “I thought you’d be pleased. You were always pleased. You like roses, I know how much you like them.” He was starting to sound like the leader of a sect. “And the colour yellow,” he continued. “You love yellow. You’ve always been surrounded by yellow in your life. Your beautiful yellow hair, the most beautiful in the world. You grew up in the light, my darling. You are a child of the light.”
    Her: “Hannes, please. Just…” He interrupted her, his voice suddenly impersonal and strict: “Darling, there’s no need to repeat yourself. I got your message. I saved it. I can hear it again any time I like. And I’ll respect your wish. I won’t send you any more roses in the near future, neither yellow nor any other colour.”
    Her: “And where are the rest of them? What’s the message you’re trying to tell me? How does the rest of it go? Let’s just bring this to a close, O.K.?” Him: “It’s a puzzle, Darling. It’s just a little puzzle. You’ll figure it out in no time.” Her voice increased in volume: “Please! I don’t want to figure it out! I just want some peace!” Him: “Fifteen roses in total. Five times three. A little attentiveness and a little thought, no more. You must use the large crystal vase. How many little bunches have you collected?” Her: “Four. The front door, at work, the car, then my neighbour. Where’s the fifth one, Hannes? Tell me! Otherwise I’m going to… God you make me furious!”
    Him: “Wonderful. That’s the right sequence. I knew you’d make a detour to your car before going home. I know you, Darling; I know you and thought you’d be pleased.” Her: “Where’s the last bunch? Tell me!” There was a pause. Him: “The last roses… Where indeed are the last roses? Here, of course. I wanted to bring them to you personally. I wanted to…” Her: “You are not bringing me any roses, Hannes, nor anything else for that matter. We’re not seeing each other today. Nor tomorrow, nor the next day. I don’t want it. Please understand!”
    Him: “There’s no need to shout, Darling. It hurts me. I understand what you’re saying. If you don’t want me to come, then I won’t. If Venice was too much, if you need a break, then I’ll respect that.” “Hannes,” she said, now very calmly, “I don’t need a break. I–finished–with–you–yesterday. Don’t you remember? Please get it into your head.”