Page 27 of Eleven Minutes

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His eyes grew cold again. He picked up the money she had put down on the desk, separated out one hundred and fifty francs and put those in her bag.

"Don't worry about your boss. Here's his commission, and I promise I won't say anything. You can leave now."

She grabbed the money back.

"No!"

It was the wine, the Arab man in the restaurant, the woman with the sad smile, the idea that she would never ever return to this wretched place, the fear of a new love that was coming to her in the shape of a man, the letters to her mother telling of a wonderful life full of job opportunities, the boy from her childhood who had asked her for a pencil, the struggles with herself, the guilt, the curiosity, the money, the search to discover her own limits, and all the missed chances and opportunities. Another Maria was there now: she was no longer offering gifts, she was offering herself up as a sacrifice.

"I'm not afraid anymore. Let's carry on. If necessary, you can punish me for my rebelliousness. I've lied and betrayed and maligned the very person who protected and loved me."

She was entering into the spirit of the game. She was saying the right things.

"Kneel down!" said Terence in a low, chilling voice.

Maria obeyed. She had never been treated this way, and she didn't know if it was good or bad, only that she wanted to go forward; she deserved to be humiliated for all she had done in her life. She was entering a role, becoming a different person, a woman she did not know at all.

"You will be punished because you are useless, because you don't know the rules and because you know nothing about sex, life or love."

While he was speaking, Terence was transformed into two very different men. The one who was calmly explaining the rules to her and the one who made her feel like the most miserable wretch in the world.

"Do you know why I am doing this? Because there is no greater pleasure than that of initiating someone into an unknown world. Taking someone's virginity--the virginity not of their body, but of their soul, you understand."

She understood.

"Today you can ask questions, but the next time, when the theater curtain goes u

p, the play will begin and cannot be stopped. If it does stop, it is because our souls are incompatible. Remember: it is a play. You must be the person you have never had the courage to be. Gradually, you will discover that you are that person, but until you can see this clearly, you must pretend and invent."

"What if I can't stand the pain?"

"There is no pain, only something that transforms itself into delight and mystery. It forms part of the play to say: 'Don't treat me like that, you're really hurting me.' As is: 'Stop, I can't take anymore!' In order to avoid danger...." He broke off at this point and said: "Keep your head down; don't look at me!"

Maria, kneeling, lowered her head and stared at the floor.

"...in order to avoid this relationship causing any serious physical harm, we have two code words. If one of us says 'yellow,' that means that the violence should be decreased slightly. If one of us says 'red,' it must be stopped at once."

"You said 'one of us'..."

"We take turns. One cannot exist without the other; no one can know how to humiliate another person if they themselves have not experienced humiliation."

These were terrible words, from a world she did not know, full of shadow, slime and putrefaction. Nevertheless, she wanted to go on--her body was trembling with fear and excitement.

Terence placed his hand on her head with unexpected tenderness.

"That's all."

He asked her to get up, not particularly kindly, but not with the same brusque aggression he had shown before. Still trembling, Maria put on her jacket. Terence noticed the state she was in.

"Have a cigarette before you go."

"Nothing happened."

"It doesn't need to. It will start to happen in your soul, and the next time we meet, you will be ready."

"Was tonight worth one thousand francs?"

He didn't reply. He too lit a cigarette and they finished the wine, listening to the perfect music, savoring the silence together, until the moment came to say something, and when it did, Maria was surprised by her own words.


Tags: Paulo Coelho Romance