Read Online The Truth and Other Lies by Sascha Arango - Free Book Online
Authors: Sascha Arango
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guy put up with the monotony of his existence in among all this brand-new junk? To avoid having to inhale any more explanations, Henry fled to the checkout. Still two hours to go.
In a mall cinema he watched a Korean film in which a man was locked in a room for fifteen years without finding out why. Henry was surprised it hadn’t ever happened to him. He had bought two movie tickets, one for him, one for the marten trap. It lay there on the seat beside him like a child’s coffin. Before the film was over and the lights went up, Henry took the wooden box and crept out of the theater. It was time.
Toward seven in the evening, Henry drove back along the main road in the direction of the coast. It was already growing dark. There were no cars coming the other way and the rain fell in transparent sheets. He passed a defunct bus stop and turned off onto the sandy forest track, rolling slowly with dimmed headlights over the concrete slabs to the cliffs.
The rain was steaming on the warm earth, and swathes of mist were rising. A piece of wasteland covered with tall grasses opened out at the edge of the cliffs, shielded from the wind by pines. Crumbling foundations and rusty iron rods still stuck up out of the grass. Maybe an old bunker or a weather station had once stood there. Henry could feel the palms of his hands grow moist; his heart was beating more rapidly. As soon as he saw Betty coming, he would get into her car and tell her everything. He looked at the clock; it wasn’t yet eight. It had to be done quickly. His message would be like a sharp butcher’s knife—inflicting no pain and wielded by a sure hand. Maybe she would scream and hit him; she was bound to cry.
Betty’s green Subaru was already there. Close to the cliffs, as usual. Henry switched off the lights and rolled up to the car from behind. He could see Betty’s silhouette behind the steering wheel, illuminated by a little light in the rearview mirror, the inevitable cigarette in her right hand. She was probably listening to loud music and hadn’t noticed him yet. She had to stop that damn smoking, he thought. Maybe she’ll stop if I give her the watch.
There was a slight lurch as the bumpers touched. Henry put his foot a little way down on the accelerator and the Maserati effortlessly pushed the Subaru forward. Henry saw the brake lights flare up, then the car tipped over the edge of the cliff and vanished.
For a while Henry sat there motionless; he left the engine running. Hope the airbag didn’t go off, he thought, closing his eyes and leaning back on the leather headrest. She must be hitting the windshield now and trying to open the door. It’s dark down there; the cold salt water will help her die. Maybe she died when the car hit the water. The child in her belly won’t notice anything; it doesn’t know that it was ever alive, poor thing.
After about ten minutes he opened his eyes and switched the engine off. He got out to have a look around. The rain soaked his shirt instantly. He went and stood at the edge of the cliffs and looked down. The rock face fell away vertically; the car had fallen straight in without touching it. There was nothing to be seen; the sea had swallowed up the car—the black, indifferent sea. This would have been the right moment to jump in after it. But Henry felt nothing but the cold rain and the certainty that he had done something irreversible. He examined the front of his car. Not so much as a dent on the license plate. He ran his thumb over it; rainwater fell in his eyes. He was a criminal now, a murderer. Just as he had foreseen.
On the way home he headed for a gas station and bought a packet of chewing gum to get rid of the nasty taste in his mouth. He paid in cash, giving the money to an obese cashier who looked like an albino rabbit that had managed to escape from the laboratory. As he was paying her, he caught a glimpse of himself in the surveillance mirror over the till. Just look at that, he thought, I
In a mall cinema he watched a Korean film in which a man was locked in a room for fifteen years without finding out why. Henry was surprised it hadn’t ever happened to him. He had bought two movie tickets, one for him, one for the marten trap. It lay there on the seat beside him like a child’s coffin. Before the film was over and the lights went up, Henry took the wooden box and crept out of the theater. It was time.
Toward seven in the evening, Henry drove back along the main road in the direction of the coast. It was already growing dark. There were no cars coming the other way and the rain fell in transparent sheets. He passed a defunct bus stop and turned off onto the sandy forest track, rolling slowly with dimmed headlights over the concrete slabs to the cliffs.
The rain was steaming on the warm earth, and swathes of mist were rising. A piece of wasteland covered with tall grasses opened out at the edge of the cliffs, shielded from the wind by pines. Crumbling foundations and rusty iron rods still stuck up out of the grass. Maybe an old bunker or a weather station had once stood there. Henry could feel the palms of his hands grow moist; his heart was beating more rapidly. As soon as he saw Betty coming, he would get into her car and tell her everything. He looked at the clock; it wasn’t yet eight. It had to be done quickly. His message would be like a sharp butcher’s knife—inflicting no pain and wielded by a sure hand. Maybe she would scream and hit him; she was bound to cry.
Betty’s green Subaru was already there. Close to the cliffs, as usual. Henry switched off the lights and rolled up to the car from behind. He could see Betty’s silhouette behind the steering wheel, illuminated by a little light in the rearview mirror, the inevitable cigarette in her right hand. She was probably listening to loud music and hadn’t noticed him yet. She had to stop that damn smoking, he thought. Maybe she’ll stop if I give her the watch.
There was a slight lurch as the bumpers touched. Henry put his foot a little way down on the accelerator and the Maserati effortlessly pushed the Subaru forward. Henry saw the brake lights flare up, then the car tipped over the edge of the cliff and vanished.
For a while Henry sat there motionless; he left the engine running. Hope the airbag didn’t go off, he thought, closing his eyes and leaning back on the leather headrest. She must be hitting the windshield now and trying to open the door. It’s dark down there; the cold salt water will help her die. Maybe she died when the car hit the water. The child in her belly won’t notice anything; it doesn’t know that it was ever alive, poor thing.
After about ten minutes he opened his eyes and switched the engine off. He got out to have a look around. The rain soaked his shirt instantly. He went and stood at the edge of the cliffs and looked down. The rock face fell away vertically; the car had fallen straight in without touching it. There was nothing to be seen; the sea had swallowed up the car—the black, indifferent sea. This would have been the right moment to jump in after it. But Henry felt nothing but the cold rain and the certainty that he had done something irreversible. He examined the front of his car. Not so much as a dent on the license plate. He ran his thumb over it; rainwater fell in his eyes. He was a criminal now, a murderer. Just as he had foreseen.
On the way home he headed for a gas station and bought a packet of chewing gum to get rid of the nasty taste in his mouth. He paid in cash, giving the money to an obese cashier who looked like an albino rabbit that had managed to escape from the laboratory. As he was paying her, he caught a glimpse of himself in the surveillance mirror over the till. Just look at that, he thought, I
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