X - Chapter Seventeen "The Thirty Percent Solution"

 

"The Thirty Percent Solution" 


Chapter Seventeen 


      Both of them were lying on their backs. Their bodies were covered by the sheen of their perspiration. They were breathing hard from their session of lovemaking.  

      Gordon Hope turned on his side and faced Ermira. He softly brushed her cheek with his curled fingers, and then opening his big hand, he traced her perfect body, over her firm breasts and across her taut stomach and softly caressing her blond pubic hair and moving onto to her tanned thighs – nothing excessive, just right, so feminine, every inch desirable.  

      “I love you so much, Ermira. I love being with you. I wish I could see you . . .  Oh, God, so much more.” 

      Ermira listened to his words. His gasping for air came with light grunts, and she sensed the hint of a sour scent from his body. She wondered what he could mean, what he could understand when uttering those words. 

      Without moving, Ermira examined the bedroom’s ceiling and portions of the walls within her field of vision. He said he’d purchased this place to be with me, she told herself. But what is there? No art, not even a few prints, not even a little decoration. Does he even know what I live for? My soul is an artist. I have to pursue my art, maybe here in New York. Did he ever listen? This is an operating room, a fucking room, that’s all. 

      Gordy raised his big body with his right hand and kept his eyes on Ermira. “Oh, Ermira, I love you so much. Please tell me, please, how much you love me.” His voice was pleading, almost childish. “Tell me, tell me you love being with me, that you’ll remember this moment forever.”

      Ermira turned and faced Gordy. Her expression was hard, determined. “I feel affection for you, I will always remember you as a giving, a good person. But I don’t know . . .  I don’t know about my life. I don’t know if I will stay in America. I have my family in Tirana. I don’t know.”

      Gordy turned and sat up on the edge of the bed. He twisted his body to face Ermira. “Please don’t say that. Please! I’m working on a plan. My firm’s changing, and I’ll be more important, I’ll make more money. We could travel, maybe buy a residence somewhere. I don’t know. I just want to be with you. I’m here, to be with you. I could’ve stayed at the office. I’m here to be with you.” 

      Ermira rose from the bed and began looking for her clothes. She gathered what she could, but she stopped and glanced at Gordy. He seemed changed, somehow diminished. “Gordy, you have a family, you have two children, small children. They need their father. You just can’t . . . What could you be thinking?”  

      “But I told my wife, I told her I’m not happy.” Gordy rose and faced Ermira. His voice was desperate. “I even used the word ‘divorce.’ That’s what I want. I want you.” 

      “And me? What about me?” Ermira was shocked to hear herself shouting. “I have only one life. I have to follow my star. I have to follow my art. I’m a painter, my soul’s a painter.” 

      Ermira marched toward the bathroom, but turned toward him before entering it. She looked at him. She hadn’t noticed how he’d aged, taken on weight. The color of his face was an unreal tan, while his body was flaccid and white and covered with black hair. 

      Her expression changed suddenly. Her face softened. She spoke with warmth. “We can’t go on like this. I can’t. It’s not real. You run here to be with me, then to your family. You can be a good person, a good father, and a good husband. Let’s keep our good memories. And then do what we should.” She closed the door. 

      Gordy heard the sounds of the shower. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his head in his two hands. He told himself that he couldn’t cry. He wouldn’t allow himself to weep like a weakling. Then, he started to feel mad, mad because – he suddenly believed – that Ermira had deceived him. She spent so much time with me! Doesn’t that mean something? He felt his body getting hot, feverish, and he tightened his big hands into fists. He could feel his anger rising.

      But then, he wasn’t sure. What had she said? He couldn’t remember. Maybe she was right; maybe I didn’t pay attention. He remembered that he had always been the person talking, rarely the one listening. He felt ashamed, and he rose and grabbed his big, plush, white bathrobe and pulled it on.  

      Then Gordy thought about Winshire Associates, his life for the last eleven years. And the memo, “Hyper-Intervention.” Yes, it was good, more than good. Would it change his life? Would Ted Merritt ever allow him more authority? Could he really ever be able to get the board to overrule Ted? Would his life change, really ever change? And the Pfizer contract, what was it worth? Just one contract, this one on pricing, we have so many of them!  

      When Ermira came out of the bathroom, she was dressed, and then she started looking for her articles of clothing and other personal items, and stuffing them into a leather travel bag. She stopped and said: “Let’s do what we should, and then treasure our memories that were good.”

      Gordy didn’t look up as she left the condo and slammed the door.   

 





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