บท 25: Shades of Family
It was almost noon when David with his bicycle arrived in front of the open gate of the palace. Yes, open. At this sight the young gardener furrowed his brow. Was Meiden off somewhere or did he have guests? But where could a recluse like him have gone? And who could have come to see him? David thought about this problem for a while to come to the conclusion that it could only have been Krauze.
Krauze was probably already on the property, otherwise Meiden wouldn't have opened the gate. David drummed his fingers against the bike's steering wheel. The conversation he should have with Meiden was not suitable for witnesses and at least he didn't want any third party to hear it.
While he was pondering what he should do like this, the sound of an engine being ignited came from the side of the palace. Its whirring became louder and David was already sure that some car was about to leave the property. He moved out of the way and waited.
The silver car driven by Krauze passed him without stopping. David let the air out of his lungs surprised that he held his breath. Was he afraid of meeting Krauze? Seemingly he shouldn't, after all, he had no reason to feel afraid of the man but... Today just wasn't the best time. First he had to discuss everything with Meiden.
He got on his bicycle, and although his heart trembled like aspen leaves and his hands were sweaty, he bravely set off toward the palace. Already from a distance he saw the silhouette of the owner of the place standing against the entrance. Gustav Meiden had his head lowered and his hands hung down. He looked lonely and sad. Was he sorry that Krauze had left so early, or had he argued with him again? David felt something very unpleasant in his stomach.
David braked a few meters in front of Meiden. At the sound of the wheels stopping, the Norwegian raised his head. David wasn't sure, but he had the impression that the green eyes lit up merrily and a pale, very shy smile appeared on the beautifully outlined lips.
"You look good in that shirt. I wasn't sure of the size..." the Norwegian was the first to speak up.
David grunted, because for some reason something in his throat felt uncomfortable.
"Thank you, it's really beautiful. The pants too. Um... but for the future, please don't buy me such expensive gifts as an apology. It's best if there doesn't have to be any apology."
Meiden's smile widened but became somehow sad.
"I owe you two more apologies, but..." He reluctantly glanced toward the palace. "You know, I thought a lot that night and I know I shouldn't have said what I said and..."
Only now did David notice that Meiden looked a little worse than usual. Usually he was sleep-deprived as if he had hardly slept two or three hours during the night, but now his eyes were blacked out as if he hadn't slept at all.
"It's okay," said David feeling sympathy towards Meiden. "My mother said that since we are from different cultures there could be misunderstandings and as neighbors we should get along. So I said too..."
Suddenly a metallic sound came from the palace to them. Then there was a clatter of running feet and the door to the palace opened wide showing a storm of golden red curls and a sizeable bust inside. A person looking like a young, feminine and sexy version of a Viking threw out a torrent of words in a language unfamiliar to David. He caught only one word - Gustav.
The woman abruptly broke off her verbosity and with wide-open green eyes (although they were darker than Gustav's) began to stare at David. This lasted only a moment. She took in a breath and her sizable chest rippled and she spoke:
"What a charming young man! You are David, aren't you?"
To his surprise, the woman spoke his language well, grammatically and phonetically. Only her accent was clearly harder, foreign.
"...Yes," he answered timidly. "I'm David Krosny, an employee of Mr. Meiden..."
"You are really lovely!" she beamed like sunshine, and although she was a tad too direct for David, he didn't feel uncomfortable. "I'm Ursula. Ursula Meiden. Nice to meet you!"
David looked surprised at Gustav Meiden, who at that moment seemed as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. Ursula Meiden? Did Gustav have a wife?
***
The mother behaved more irrationally today than always. She ran all over the house looking for something indefinite and didn't even think to change into something more fitting for the time of day. Greg couldn't look at her. He wanted to help her, but she only mumbled something under her breath and completely ignored him. He tried again so she pushed him away, like an intrusive pet.
He was heartily sick of it, especially after yesterday. His offended pride hurt and his stricken jaw ached. He moved toward his room when he heard his mother's voice:
"Pack your things!" she instructed regaining clarity of mind.
He should have been glad that his mother had regained clarity of thought, but her order was too surprising.
"Pack up? Why?"
"We're moving out."
"WHY?"
Mother had been behaving strangely lately, absurdly even, but this was beyond all limits of reason.
"Mom, are you really crazy? Why are we moving out?"
"Because I can't stand a day more under this roof with this man! He is spying on me! Can't you see? He has hidden cameras everywhere!"
Cameras? So that's what his mother was looking for?
"Did you find any?" he asked in an icy tone.
"No. He hid them well, but I know they are here!"
Greg clenched his teeth. The madness in the house had probably already reached its zenith. His mother, in a fit of panic, was looking for cameras and Greg, knowing his father, could easily imagine that the house was indeed riddled with spying equipment.
"I'll check all the rooms," he promised. "We don't have to move."
"He will install new ones, don't you understand? He will install new ones!" His mother, in a panic, started looking around the living room anew and searching. "He wants to find proof that I'm crazy!"
He won't have to look for long, acknowledged David. In his opinion, the mother required the help of a specialist, but she didn't even want to hear about it. She said that if they sent her to the hospital, his father would seize all the property for himself and leave her in an institution forever. According to her, this was precisely his plan and that is why he was doing everything to make her mad. And if he didn't succeed in driving her crazy, he would pay a doctor to make a false diagnosis.
"It's called paranoia, mom. Paranoia is a disease that needs treatment."
"Don't say stupid things and pack up!" she repeated the command. "We're moving out and no discussion!"
"But I don't want to! Besides, I'm already of age and..."
"Go with your mother" suddenly into the conversation mingled his father. Only now Greg noticed that he was standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "You're of age, but I'm still paying for your upkeep. Take care of your mother."
There was a veiled threat in his father's voice.
"But..." Why should I be the one to take care of her? He wanted to ask. He was not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a nurse. He was a twenty-year-old boy who had no idea about mentally ill people and had no intention of learning how to care for them. How was he supposed to take care of such an irrational person? After all, that's what specialists who study for several years are for!
"Don't discuss!"
Greg clenched his teeth. He didn't even plan to discuss, because he would only waste his breath. His father never listened to him. Nor did he listen to his mother.
"So you want to get rid of me from this house too?"
"I want you to be a good son and keep an eye on your mother," his father ran his eyes over Greg's face. His mouth twisted. "You too could use a change of environment."
"Of course."
Sure. Father didn't even care why his son had a bruise on his face. Well, because why should he care? As long as Greg doesn't end up in jail, let whatever he wants happen to him. Just like with his mother.
"Can I find out where we're moving to?"
Mother beamed. She was happy that he finally accepted her decision. She didn't even notice his bruise and cut lip.
"Oh, it's such a beautiful area!" she exclaimed joyfully like a little girl. There's such a beautiful old palace that was recently restored and such a beautiful park...!"
Great, total seclusion. It couldn't be better...
He didn't even ask the name of the village because it wouldn't have told him anything anyway. Anyway, it didn't matter. One sunken hole was no different from another. In each the only thing he could do was die of boredom.
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