by Vesna Main
–She’s doing it to herself.
–He betrayed her. His deception hurts.
–People get over deception.
–It’s not just deception, or betrayal for that matter. It’s this destruction of certainty: who he is, this man she is married to, who she is, what kind of marriage they had. Nothing is as she thought it was. The whole map of Britain is dotted with names of women, like little pins with flags stuck all over the island. She can’t hear of a place without thinking of the name of the woman Richard would have had there.
–You mean she knows exactly who he had where?
–More or less. She went through his emails and matched them with his and her diaries.
–Why does she want to know the details, the names?
–Part of her drive to find out why, why he did it.
–But she never finds out.
–There is no one answer. No neat way of explaining it.
* * *
–Who is this new woman? You called her Esther, didn’t you?
–Yes. She’s a six foot, fifteen stone, woman who operates from premises in several locations. One has a dungeon, specialising in S and M, another in dressing up.
–Is this made up or based on someone real? I hope you don’t have problems with libel.
–A mixture of research and my imagination.
–Has Richard met her?
–No. To start with, he masturbated watching her thirty second video, but as they exchanged e-mails, some about mundane issues – such as Esther’s car being stolen and the police not being very helpful – he stopped watching the recording. He thinks of her more as a virtual friend. Esther, however, is a business woman and she’s beginning to think that Richard’s one of those time-wasters who gets his kick from contacting escorts without ever booking. That’s what she tells him in her latest message. He writes back, apologises and says that having never been with an escort, he—
–Liar.
–Absolutely. He likes to project the image of a virgin punter, someone who doesn’t know how these things work. He says that he has a trip to Bruges coming up and wonders whether Esther could join him for the duration. He’d have to spend some time at the conference but for the rest, they could sample the delights of the city and test whether it’s true that chocolate – for which Bruges is known, he stresses – has aphrodisiac properties.
–Is he making it all up or is he really going to Bruges?
–There’s no trip.
–But he strings her on?
–Yes. The anticipation of a trip, even a fictional one, excites him but, equally importantly, it should keep Esther writing to him.
–How will he get out of it?
–Cancel it nearer the time.
–She must be used to that.
–And after writing to Esther, he answers a message he received some time earlier from the Chiswick woman, the woman he would see later. Remember? The posh one?
–Yes.
–As it’s been so long since he first contacted her, he’s forgotten what she looks like. He checks her out on her website to remind himself. A red head with large breasts, a bit dumpy. He gets up, locks the door of the office and unzips his fly but then decides against masturbating. Better to write to her and suggest a date.
–His undoing. Chiswick will undo him. Yes?
–That’s right.
–Poor Richard.
–Stupid Richard.
* * *
–I feel sorry for Richard.
–You always do.
–Do you see him as an addict?
–Well—
–What would his therapist say?
–It all depends on how you look at it. First, it’s the person-not-called-Bob who mentions the idea when he presents Richard with the facts. We can sack you for using the work computer to contact those women, he says, but if we say that you’re an addict, that you’re ill, and you agree to be treated, the situation would be different. Richard is furious. He isn’t an addict and is not going to accept that. I’m trying to help, not-Bob says. This is the only way out I can think of. Of course, when the child pornography issue comes up—
–Child pornography? Is that new?
–I might have forgotten to mention it. Anyway, Richard argues and tries to resist all the pressure from the university until not-Bob is told by the VC that Richard accessed child porn sites.
–Did he? Are you sure you want to go there? He can’t be that stupid.
–You’re not saying poor Richard this time.
–I don’t like this.
–He only looks for a few seconds.
–But why have him do that? He isn’t a pervert.
–He moves from one porn site to another, accidentally clicks on—
–Accidentally?
–As soon as he realises, he’s horrified and moves on but the record remains. So, once that comes out, not-Bob has no means or wish to help him. Richard’s desperate to make sure that not-Bob believes him; not-Bob tells him that it doesn’t matter what he believes. The computer technicians have a record of him accessing the site and that’s that. Richard has no option but to resign.
–Wouldn’t they prosecute him? Report it to the police.
–They were going to. However, as not-Bob tells him later, the record disappears. Either they are incompetent in the computer support department or Richard has a friend there. Somebody sympathetic. Perhaps even somebody with similar interests.
–Or, the university tries to keep quiet about it.
–Possible. Certainly, there’s no follow up.
–Phew.
–Exactly. Anyway, as for addiction, Anna’s the next person who comes up with the idea that Richard’s an addict. A few weeks after the revelation, she starts reading about men visiting prostitutes and convinces herself that Richard is ill. In fact, that’s her way, one of her ways, of coping. If he’s ill, she should stay with him, she reasons. It’s as if he had a failed kidney. That’s why she insists on his treatment, on therapy. When she explains that to Richard, he dismisses the idea. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, he says, it is all these bloody amateur psychologists. First not-Bob and now you. Anna isn’t prepared to budge, either therapy or they part, she insists. You remember that?
–She isn’t a woman to compromise.
–Would you expect her to in the circumstances?
–Possibly.
–Only a male reader would.
–I’m a male reader.
–Even a male reader should have sympathy for her position.
–I do but I think she’s too hard on him.
–Talking of addiction, in one of the sessions with Stuart, Richard admits that while he was seeing prostitutes, from time to time he wondered whether he was an addict. So it’s not only not-Bob and Anna who think of it. Richard tells Stuart he regularly felt a compulsion to go back to the women.
–Wasn’t that because each experience was unsatisfactory?
–One way of looking at it.
–You said that he had persuaded himself that he needed just one more opportunity for a fulfilling experience. Did that make him an addict?
–Well, as you say, he persuaded himself. But wouldn’t an intelligent man understand that he was deluding himself? Anyway, what would he consider a fulfilling experience?
–I don’t know. You’re the author.
–I don’t believe there can be such a thing with a prostitute.
–Why not? I bet lots of men enjoy it.
–How can you say that?
–What do you mean?
–What’s your evidence?
–They go back.
–Richard went back and claims he didn’t enjoy it.
–He must have enjoyed it a bit.
–So, he’
s lying.
–Well, I imagine he enjoyed it up to a point.
–I think what he really craves is warmth, more than anything sexual. As time passes, he begins to worry and checks online articles on addiction. He learns that addicts show compulsive behaviour that impinges on other areas of their lives. He manages to persuade himself that he isn’t an addict: he has never missed an appointment, professional or social—
–You made him late for Anna’s party.
–True. He didn’t intend to; he got lost on the way home.
–I see.
–As for addiction, the way he reasons is that he hasn’t sacrificed other areas of his life: the family hasn’t been deprived of anything and his research is going better than anyone else’s in the department. Besides, he’s proud that he treated the women with respect, always paid what they asked for; always put the money in an envelope. He believed that a real addict wouldn’t have done that.
–What? Put the money in an envelope.
–No, silly. He wouldn’t have been so considerate.
–Why not? I thought you said he was doing it for himself.
–Yes. What I’m trying to show is that Richard tries to reason with himself, tries to persuade himself that he isn’t an addict because he’s in control.
–Right.
–However, he’s aware that most of his emotional energy goes into justifying himself and feeding his activity. Sometimes he tells himself that he could have stopped whenever he wanted but in his heart of hearts, he may not believe that. And so he asks Stuart for his opinion.
–What does Stuart say?
–Stuart likes the theory of an American psychologist called Stanton Peele.
–Which says?
–That we’re all addicts.
–That’s handy.
–Peele believes that our convenience-oriented culture, with its sophisticated technology, our need to seek constant entertainment, escapism, our culture of high stress, our culture that leads us to deny our limitations, seek instant gratification, breeds addicts.
–I could have told you that.
–He says we’re all addicted to one thing or another. But some addictions are more obvious than others, some more acceptable than others.
–Exactly.
–He says that you can’t only treat the individual, you have to address society.
–Where does that leave Richard?
–To plod on with Stuart. Don’t worry; he’s having a good time. He likes Stuart and he feels he has someone to talk to, ask for advice; confide in.
–Anna’s addicted too.
–We all are. And you’re right: her obsession with prostitutes is a problem.
–She must be spending lots of time on the internet.
–Not only that.
–?
–I’ve got to go out now. I’ll tell you later.
* * *
–So, how’s Anna addicted?
–Whenever she and Richard have sex, the only way she can get excited is by pretending that she’s one of his prostitutes.
–She can’t be the first woman to have that fantasy.
–Perhaps not but it’s different in her circumstances. It bothers her, it makes her feel guilty. She hates the women—
–And yet she’s using them.
–Not directly, not by buying them as Richard did.
–Okay. It’s not the same but in her mind she should feel uncomfortable.
–She does.
–So Anna and Richard carry on having sex after the revelation?
–Yes. At first, she’s disgusted, physically disgusted with him and can’t imagine physical contact. At the same time, she knows that if they’re to stay together, they should have a sex life.
–I can see that.
–Sarah tells her not to rush into anything. Give it time. Allow your hurt to heal, she says, but Anna isn’t the most patient of people; she doesn’t wait.
–You surprise me . . .
–Are you being sarcastic?
–Who? Me? No!
–?
–Sorry. Tell me. What happens?
–After the revelation, Anna spends two weeks at Sarah’s—
–Didn’t know that.
–Yes, something like that. Haven’t worked it out as yet. She walks out the morning after the revelation and wanders around in a daze, ends up at Sarah’s. Anyway, a week after returning home, one evening, after Richard has gone to bed – he sleeps in his study, leaving the marital bed to Anna – she swallows several sleeping pills and drinks a full glass of whisky, almost in one go. She knocks on the door of Richard’s study and asks him if he would like to make love. He’s startled. Months later he would tell her that at that moment he was afraid of her; he thought she might want to hurt him.
–Understandable.
–What? Her wanting to hurt him?
–No. Him being afraid of her. She’s a mad woman. She could bobbit him.
–Don’t be silly.
–I wouldn’t have trusted her. Mad.
–He made her mad.
–Depends on the point of view. She should have taken control of her responses.
–You’ve told me all this before.
–But you keep ignoring it.
–What do you want me to do?
–Change her. Make her less nasty.
–She isn’t nasty and anyway, this is my novel.
–What’s the point of asking for my feedback if you don’t take any notice? You never take any notice of anything I say. That’s why I understand Richard.
–What do you mean you understand him?
–I can see why he behaves—
–Why he goes to prostitutes?
–He needs an outlet for his frustrations.
–Do you need an outlet?
–What do you mean?
–Answer me. Do you need an outlet?
–This isn’t about me.
–You started it.
–It’s this bloody novel. I’m fed up with—
–Forget it; I don’t need your feedback.
* * *
–?
–?
* * *
–?
–?
* * *
–Why aren’t you talking to me?
–You aren’t talking to me.
–I had nothing to say.
–I had nothing to say either.
* * *
–Please, let’s not escalate.
–Okay.
–I’m sorry.
–I’m sorry too.
–I do like to hear about your novel.
–Okay.
–Please, tell me.
–Tell you what?
–What happens?
–When?
–That time when Anna goes to his room. She’s had a glass of whisky and sleeping pills.
–He’s afraid of what she might do to him but goes along with what she wants.
–Poor Richard.
–He deserves what he gets.
–I never understand the notion of deserving this or that. Things happen; we do something good or bad and there’re consequences but as to whether we deserve something or not, the idea doesn’t make sense to me. After all, so much that happens to us is arbitrary. The universe makes no sense.
–I didn’t mean to provoke a philosophical homily. It was his action, the choices he made and kept making for a long time, which have brought about the pain for both him and Anna.
–She’s not an easy person to deal with.
–Here we go again.
–Sorry.
–He has no excuse. It annoys me, and I can see how it annoys Anna, when she is seen as a mitigating
circumstance. A controlling wife and a controlling mother. What else could poor Richard do but visit prostitutes?
–You tend to accuse me of not seeing Anna’s point of view. You don’t seem to be able to put yourself in his shoes. At least as a reader, I’m allowed to do that, be sympathetic to one character, but you as a novelist—
–I can see his side of the argument. But that’s not the point.
–It never is when it concerns you. Why do different rules apply to you?
–Even if one thinks that Anna is difficult to live with, that doesn’t excuse Richard. He is intelligent and he has free will; it’s Richard who decides to visit prostitutes and goes on doing it for eight years. And who knows how long he would have carried on had he not been discovered? He has no excuse. Neither Anna nor his mother. Nothing. He wasn’t drugged.
–I’ve looked at some of the stuff you’ve been reading for your research.
–Yes?
–I came across a therapist who argues that some men labelled sex addicts are actually strong and they have incredible will power. The men are actually self-medicating, that is, dealing with a difficult situation in their lives. While morally Richard has no excuse, I can see why he behaves as he does.
–As long as you don’t blame Anna to get him off the hook.
–Absolutely not. Only having a bit of sympathy for Richard. It’s like saying: you are guilty but I’m sorry for you.
* * *
–I miss Tanya. Where has she been?
–In prison, for six years.
–What for?
–Murder.
–A punter?
–No, I don’t think so but leave it for now. Still thinking about it.
* * *
–What happens to Anna’s and Richard’s sex life after a week of her drugging herself?
–She becomes a prostitute.
–What?
–She becomes a prostitute and Richard is her client. Her only client.
–Is this some silly fantasy?