The morning of Wednesday was certainly a good one. Solomon Fray was very much pleased with how things were going – his car being back from repairs again and the prospects of a great new business deal he had been angling for for a while now looking good. His spirits were really high. He even complimented Janine on breakfast \u2013 the latter was surprised though evidently flattered \u2013 and merrily joked around with David, his 9-year-old son, while lavishly scraping the butter and strawberry jam onto his toast.<\/p>\n
This breakfast scene and moment would appear to some occasional witness as a peaceful one; such an observer would be deeply convinced that there is no other close-knit family in the world more happy than the Frays. However, the idyll came to an abrupt end with the ringing of the telephone. A hardly noticeable and involuntary crease appeared between Solomon\u2019s brows as Janine casually threw away her napkin and rushed into the hall to answer. There was something about these telephone calls Solomon hated: their unpredictability and anonymity, the very short moment before picking the call of not knowing who you would be speaking with and to what purpose \u2013 so unbearable for people with an unclean conscience. If Janine had not so harshly insisted, he would have gotten rid of the damn landline long ago, for he was perfectly OK with his mobile. Now, the old feeling of foreboding creeping all over him, he stiffened in his chair, automatically chewing on his toast, but much slower. It suddenly tasted like ashes on his tongue. He strained with all his might to make out something of the ensuing conversation without really knowing what he was so frightened to hear.<\/p>\n
Janine returned to the kitchen a while later with a slightly confused expression on her face. Her husband scrutinized her mien thoroughly before daring to ask in his most casual tone, \u201cWho was that, Jan?\u201d. Her eyebrows arched a tiny bit at this unexpectedly warm address that she was not used to from her husband before she answered, \u201cIt was Molly, Molly Gleemors. Remember her? We studied together\u201d. At that instant Solomon\u2019s stomach lurched as if the breakfast was fighting its way back to his mouth. Just the look of the food on the table nauseated him and he dropped the rest of his toast on the plate. Actually there would not have been anything harmful about news of Molly Gleemors if not for the fact that he spotted, or rather was spotted by, that very woman yesterday in a mall. And one may say there is nothing much lethal in sighting an old acquaintance while shopping, were it not for the fact that Solomon had been accompanied by one young and strikingly beautiful lady, who was definitely not his wife. The said beauty was burdened down by all kinds of shopping bags and packages full of expensive clothes and jewelry.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes, quite vaguely but I do remember her\u201d<\/p>\n
Solomon was astonished himself at how calm and controlled his voice sounded, while he constantly fought the waves of sickness rampaging up from the bottom of his belly.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201c… didn\u2019t realize you\u2019re keeping in touch. What did she want then?\u201d. <\/span><\/p>\n \u201cOh, actually not so much,\u201d Janine continued with her meal, \u201cbut she invited me to lunch today. Was so eager to tell me something but wanted to make it a face-to-face\u201d. <\/span><\/p>\n Solomon Fray felt like griping the table for support because he felt weak all over, his muscles having turned to jelly. He suppressed the momentary frailty and impulse. Thoughts were racing in his head but he had to act cool and not seem too interested.<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cWhen was the last time you did something together;… Years ago, I guess?\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n Janine had stood up and was at the kitchen sink cleaning the dishes and saying her goodbyes to their son, David, who was leaving for school. Everything appeared normal; it was their usual morning ritual. No one looking in would have taken the least note that, at that very moment, the world of Solomon Fray started to crumble. *** But what really threw Solomon Fray off balance (metaphorically speaking) on this sleepy road was an enormous leaden ball that steadily rolled from his chest deeper and deeper down his stomach. He drove past coffee shops and dull pedestrians holding coffee cups and fresh newspapers. No matter how he tried to stay on top of the situation with his preemptive separation thoughts and generous prospective divorce proposals, the leaden ball of fear and remorse was working its way through his intestines. He felt like releasing the steering wheel and wrapping his arms around himself tightly so that he could restrain the feeling that he was falling apart. He tried instead to console himself with the thoughts that, for God’s sake he had not done anything to be killed for, that million of husbands around the world were cheating on their wives, that he alone should be responsible for what he did with his free time! Moreover, perhaps Moly Gleemors had not really see him with his paramour the day before but that she had only, by some diabolic coincidence, decided to break her silence of years exactly today.<\/p>\n To be absolutely honest, his utmost fear was not a possible divorce \u2013 he had enough lawyers to handle this for him and enough money not to miss a large chunk being swallowed by separation and alimony. Unfortunately, the fate of Janine, his wife, and David, his son did not bother him that much as well. What was so excruciating and hopeless at that moment \u2013 was the idea that he, Solomon Fray, would have to endure public disgrace, that the well polished respectability and public image he worked on over many years would ripped apart. His facade of the genial family man and successful business genius that made him extremely successful at the young age of 33 was going out of the window. He enjoyed a client favouritism in business circles and therefore an intellectual superiority over the markets, that is somehow tied to his outward civility. He could not bear losing a face. Was there something more important in life than one\u2019s public face? The idea that somebody might find out that he can also have faults and sins and weaknesses was disgusting.<\/p>\n He was so self-absorbed with the ordeal of possible shame and regret that Solomon Fray quite forgot about the reality around him. And reality, not being able to stand such a careless offence, struck back. To be precise, he struck into reality by accidentally bumping his car right into a grey Mercedes waiting quietly for the green at the traffic lights.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n When he finally arrived at the office, Solomon Fray was not in the mood to be told that he was late by his ever-strict secretary. His coat was immediately taken from him and he got a heap of papers and folders, which sent him directly into the battlefield of bank stocks, mandates and rates of interests – while his own private interests were kept far, far away. It was not a big surprise that a business meeting he had thereafter was a catastrophe. He was not able to follow more than three words in a row and spilled half of his coffee on the contract. He kept thinking over and over again about the glances from people around him today. In fact it was in every face he met that day \u2013 the unlucky Mercedes driver, the police guys and insurance agents – even his secretary and the business partners sitting right now in front of him. It was a gaze of total reproach that seemed to have nothing to do with anything as concrete as the road accident earlier, the spilled coffee or his lateness. As in a nightmare they all seemed to know what he had done and were despising him for it. Their every word secretly echoing unspoken thoughts. The gaze told him what an abominable person he was.<\/p>\n Somewhere deep inside Solomon Fray, he realized that he was guilty. But what was so paradoxical about it \u2013 was that this wrongdoing never felt wrong in the moment of doing. The remorse came only after the whole thing was already accomplished. Then he was in agony, calling himself names and promising he would never be in this position again and asking for God\u2019s forgiveness (about whose existence he remembered only on such occasions). But one day his hand would grip his mobile phone against his will and he would call the number of a woman so much more interesting and carefree than his dull wife. At such moments some other voice \u2013 a very pleasant and seductive voice of a man capable of anything nobody ever heard before \u2013 would speak from his mouth the things that will make him shudder in embarrassment the next day. However, with time his self-disgust and feelings of remorse were getting fainter. And some kind of harmony or, better still, a mutual ignoring of each other formed in him between the two different Solomon Frays that he had become. Until fate in the most ugly form of Molly Gleemors stepped in. That fateful day was horrible for poor Solomon Fray. For small moments he managed to forget his misery and go on with his work at the office. But any time he suddenly realized that the leaden ball was still in his gut, disappointment came flooding in, bringing new mental torments and dread anticipation of the evening at home. ***<\/p>\n As he stepped out of his office, it took him a couple of minutes to remember that his car was smashed up and has gone back for repairs again and that he needed to go home by taxi. It was a lovely evening as he rode home in a taxi – as if nature meant to mock him on such a wonderful evening he was burdened and could not enjoy the scenes flashing by. There was not a trace of a cloud in the blue sky; the golden sun caressed the roof tops and lawns; birds chirped, greeting the spring, and children rode bicycles and ate ice-cream as their parents quietly lazed in chaise lounges in their yards. Inside of Solomon Fray it was storming. He had the driver stop a couple of blocks before his home. He felt like walking a bit. As he walked, he contemplated on some kind of strategy, on what his responses would be when confronted by his wife. He wondered what reaction would be the most suitable. But there was not much sense of success in defending yourself if you have already lost the battle. Solomon Fray knew knew there was no turning back from the separation and divorce scenario he had mauled over all day. For a second he played with the idea of turning back literally and going to some night club to have a good time and spend the evening. He felt he was a free man since separation and divorce were inevitable. He did not have to go home if he did not want to. However, the anticipated disclosure that frightened him so much was also a mysterious magnet that drew him closer with every step. Of course he had known and was aware that his secret would come out one day; of course, he had known and repeated it to himself all the time that nothing will stay hidden forever. So perhaps some unconscious part of him had, in a strange way, longed for this revelation to come out in order for the burden of guilt to be lifted from him. That was probably so that he can, maybe, go back to being an honest and innocent, brilliant young businessman again; a the man of the world, but one who will never again make deals with his conscience! The two blocks to his house seemed to be the longest walk he has ever taken in his whole life.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n Dinner was quite as usual. Solomon Fray was irritated. Even mad with fury. He wanted everything to happen right away on his entering the house, he was ready for it! But Janine was as dull as ever, asking the same stupid questions about his day, telling him about some poem David wrote in class today. Usually he would have answered such dinner table banter with a well-timed “oh, really?” or a guttural “Ughm\u2026”, or even “that\u2019s a news” while being preoccupied with other thoughts. Today, however, he was attentive as never before looking for some signs of the oncoming disaster. He was nervous, he could not relax for a second. It was as if his own home was suddenly turned into an enemy camp and he was a spy at the risk of his cover being blown.<\/p>\n After the meal he offered Janine help with the dishes. The woman was stunned – as if he had said that he would be running away with the circus to work as a clown. He merely wanted some pretext to stay in the kitchen. He wanted everything to take place here and now and hated being played with.<\/p>\n After their cleaning-up, Janine made two cups of tea for him and herself. What did she do it for?, he thought. Solomon Fray was panicking now. Was it a crude strategy to deflected his alertness to the sword of damocles that was about to fall on his neck? Or did she simply misunderstand his mood and intentions? During Solomon Fray’s inner struggle Janine blabbered quite carelessly on, telling him about all those meaningless and funny adventures that a housewife can experience and urging her husband to taste the cake she bought in a corner that same day.<\/p>\n He could not stand the suspense anymore.<\/p>\n \u201cSo what did Molly Gleemors want from you?\u201d<\/p>\n Solomon Fray was horror-struck at the words that came out of his own mouth so suddenly and in a such straightforward manner. Forgetting that it was hot, he hurriedly took a gulp of his tea, savagely burnt his throat in the process and starting to cough. Janine hurried to get him a glass of water. After taking her seat again she responded.<\/p>\n \u201cOh, well, it wasn\u2019t much of a meeting. She was in a great hurry, she is leaving town tomorrow and moving somewhere on coast with her new husband. She showed me her ring. It was quite a pretty thing, though maybe too big for my taste\u2026 You know, I always think the thinner the rings are, the more elegant they look, but the tastes as we all know\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Solomon Fray was looking at his wife as if she had suddenly gone barking mad. He could not figure out whether she was making a fool out of him. Finally, he lost his nerve and interrupted her impatiently.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, yes, but what did she want then? Just to show you the stupid ring and talk about moving?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cOh, no, not quite. She is giving up her job in the university as well, so she wanted to know whether I am interested in taking her place. Said, they didn\u2019t really have time for the usual interview routine in the middle of the term. But I had to refuse. I\u2019m not quite ready to let David be so much on his own, he\u2019s so small! Though on the other hand it\u2019d be a great pleasure\u2026\u201d Solomon interrupted her once again, growing almost mad with anticipation<\/p>\n \u201cDid she said something about me?\u201d<\/p>\n This time Janine sounded a bit offended when she spoke again. Her lips tightened around the tight to the tea cup.<\/p>\n \u201cNo, she didn\u2019t\u2026 And actually I\u2019m not even sure she has the least notion that we got married. We didn\u2019t keep any contact after our studies and she never asked a single question about my personal life today\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n Here Janine was interrupted again and for the third time. But this time it was the familiar telephone ring. She rushed into the foyer, automatically giving Solomon a little ‘excuse-me’ smile on her way out. Solomon Fray sat still at the empty table for a while, deflated. He heard the measured and quiet ticking of the clock on the kitchen wall. The last rays of faint and reddish sunshine filtered in through the kitchen window. Then he abruptly stood up, took out a bottle of vodka and some lemon juice from a bar built into the opposite wall. He mixed himself a drink, lit a cigarette between his lips and, with the drink in his hand, went on to the veranda to catch some fresh air. Suddenly he loved the idyllic spring atmosphere – chirping of birds and the mild coolness of the wind in the gathering twilight. He was thinking about his car. He never actually liked its colour. Maybe he could call the garage first thing tomorrow and ask them to give it a more decent coating of some other shade. And the endangered business deal with his partners was not lost yet. He knew how badly they needed his money. It would not be hard to twist them round his little finger. And in a day or two, he thought, he could even call his young sweet lady who missed him so, so much. Of that he was absolutely sure.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The Call<\/b>
\n<\/p>\n
\nSolomon could not quite clearly remember how he got into his car or started the engine, automatically driving on the well-known road to his office. It was fascinating and at the same time disturbing how his brain worked at that very moment. The whole world around him seemed to slow itself ten times, while a litany of separation tasks were rushing through his head. The divorce lawyers\u2019 names, the sums in his bank accounts (already collectively divided in two), an estimated alimony. How can such a little boy possibly need that much money?!, he thought. He ruminated on questions such as whether he would have to leave the house at once and look for cheap hotels, or if, perhaps, Molly-stupid-cow-Gleemors would take money and keep her China-Wall-wide mouth shut. All these thoughts were screaming and raging in his head. In a morbid moment, he imagined his head exploding unto the dashboard any minute due to the tumult and strain inside. That would be such a pity because the car compartment shone right now from the recent service, his morbid self continued.<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>\n
\n<\/p>\n
\nThe morning of Wednesday was certainly a good one. Solomon Fray was very much pleased with how the things were going. His car being back from service again and the great oncoming deal he\u2019s been hoping for already for a while. His spirits were really high. He even complimented Janine on breakfast \u2013 the later was surprised though evidently flattered \u2013 and merrily joked around with David, his 9 year old son, while lavishly scraping the butter and strawberry jam on his toast.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":1816,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"ngg_post_thumbnail":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[13],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-87","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-fiction"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=87"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2111,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/87\/revisions\/2111"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/1816"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=87"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=87"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.mtls.ca\/issue21\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=87"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}