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“Come on.” I stand up and take Milene’s hand, leading her toward the desk at the front.
“One million. Does that happen often? I mean, who does that? Art, I understand. There are people who like having that kind of stuff on their walls—your kind of crazy, you know—but come on.”
She continues her bemused babbling in a quiet voice as I approach the desk to sign the papers and to confirm the painting is to be sent to my usual address. When the clerk accepts the documentation, I point to the rectangular velvet box. Once he brings it over, I take out the bracelet.
“And what if someone steals it?” Milene continues. “Is that kind of stuff insured? One million. It’s absolutely outrageous, if you ask me.”
I turn and find Milene looking back at the auction room, staring at the big screen where the image of the bracelet is still being displayed.
“Where would someone wear something like that? What if...” She rattles on, standing in front of me with her hands on her hips.
I put the bracelet around her right wrist and fasten the clasp. It’s one of those simple hook clasps. I don’t think I’d be able to manage anything daintier. When I look at Milene again, she’s staring at her arm, open-mouthed.
“So, that’s what it takes to get you to stop talking,” I say. “I’ll keep it in mind.”
* * *
“I can’t take this,” Milene says the moment we’re inside the penthouse.
I knew it was coming. She hadn’t uttered a single word on the drive home or looked at me even once. Her attention was focused through the passenger-side window on the neon lights as we passed them by.
“It’s beautiful, but I really can’t. Maybe if it was worth three zeros less.”
“You’re keeping it.” I say and head into the hallway leading to my bedroom.
“I... what would I do with this? It should be in a damn museum or something.”
“Do whatever you want with it.”
“Tore!”
Behind me, heelsclinkagainst the floor tiles, then Milene curses. I glance over my shoulder and catch her taking off hershoes. Given the cut of her dress and the way she’s bending forward, I’m gifted with a fine view of her breasts. I tilt my head for a better angle and imagine my wife lying naked in my bed, her milky skin contrasting with the dark sheets and her pale hair tangled around her head.
“Please, be reasonable.” She sighs and straightens up. “Please.”
“I never do anything without a reason, Milene. You should know that by now,” I say and close my bedroom door behind me.
I regard the bracelet on the nightstand with caution, as if it were about to attack me. I’ve been staring at that thing since the moment I got into the bed, wondering what I should do with it. Where do you keep something that’s worth a million dollars? Under the mattress? Should I try to lift one of the floorboards and stash it beneath? Why the hell did Salvatore buy it? Does he expect me to wear it around the house? He’s crazy.
There must be some kind of safe in the penthouse. I take the bracelet, leave my bedroom, and walk down the hallway to knock on Salvatore’s door. Nothing. I try one more time. Nothing again. Turning on my heel, I head toward the living room.
I find Salvatore sprawled on the sofa in front of the TV, watching a game and holding a bottle of beer. Just an ordinaryguy in sweatpants and a T-shirt, watching football. What a misleading picture.
“Do you have a safe?”
“Yes,” he says without taking his eyes off the screen.
“Can I put the bracelet there?”
“No.”
“No?” I march around the sofa, careful not to knock over his crutches. He removes his prosthesis in the evenings. Standing right in front of him, I cross my arms. “Why not?”
“Because I bought it for you to wear it. Not to have it be stuck in a safe.” He points the bottle toward the TV behind me. “I’m watching that.”
“Why would you buy me something like this?”
“I’ve already told you.”
