“Habit” because Adriaan was married with children, although the situation was at once less stark and more difficult than it sounded. He had been left by his wife a year earlier. She had left him for another man, with whom she was now comfortably ensconced, not in The Hague or Rotterdam or Amsterdam even, but in Lisbon. She had left the country altogether, removing herself from the bad weather and the marriage and sending for the children one month after she had gone. The children, who had been neither taken nor left by her, the arrangement was not entirely clear, not even now, one year later.
I had learned this not long after we had first met. I had gone with Adriaan to a party. We were at the stage when nothing had been declared between us, and when he introduced me to people at the party there was no purpose behind the introduction, I was not yet his “girlfriend” or “date” or even necessarily someone he was sleeping with. Perhaps because of that apparent neutrality, it did not seem especially awkward or significant when a man—not unattractive, of a similar age and general disposition to Adriaan, not as handsome but entirely presentable, so that I was by no means displeased when I saw him approaching—drew me aside and asked how long I had known Adriaan.
The question did not sound loaded, presumably he had seen us arrive together. Not very long, I replied. He nodded, as if he had expected this answer. I wondered then if Adriaan regularly turned up to parties with different women, none of whom endured for a second outing, I knew relatively little about him at the time. We were standing on a bridge suspended across a large atrium, which was full of stylish and glamorous people, it was the launch of a citywide cultural fund. Below, waiters circulated through the crowd serving canapés executed with outlandish precision. My eyes followed a waiter as he weaved across the atrium carrying a tray of miniature grilled cheese sandwiches, pausing as party guests plucked up the carefully charred triangles. He passed a tall man, I realized after a moment that it was Adriaan.
Very surprising what happened, the man standing beside me said. I nodded, distracted, as if I knew what he was talking about. Adriaan was deep in conversation with a woman whose back was turned toward me. As I watched, she waved her hand through the air, Adriaan leaned closer as if he had not quite heard the words she had spoken. His handsome face bowed down to hers. A moment later, she laughed, tossing her head back to reveal her throat.
I knew her quite well, he said. I looked up at the man beside me, he had put a great deal of product in his hair, so that it stood up in rigid and glistening waves. He obviously wished to emphasize the plenitude of his tresses, at his age many men had already begun to lose some or all of their hair, but the effect was a little absurd, he looked not like a virile man in the prime of his life but rather like a juvenile and inexperienced teenaged boy who had not yet learned how to manage his appearance. They were a bit of a golden couple, he continued. I think they even met at university, over the years they grew to resemble each other—both very tall, both very good-looking, eventually both successful and sophisticated. It just goes to show, the man said, a sneer crossing his near handsome face, how little you know of what really happens inside a marriage.
The utterance was entirely commonplace but I was startled, at that point I did not even know that Adriaan was or had been married. I turned to look at the man, who was gratified either by the small attention or my expression of surprise and smiled smugly. Even from the inside, he continued, encouraged, what do you really know of your own marriage? One day you realize you are living with a stranger. It must have been like that for Adriaan, she left in such a horrible way, she went away to Lisbon for the weekend and never came back. He didn’t even know what to tell the children, whether or not she would be returning, they are teenagers, the worst possible age for something like that to happen.
I nodded, I said mechanically that adolescence was difficult enough without that kind of an interruption, one could only imagine their reaction to such a betrayal. Apparently she sent Adriaan an email, the man continued. One would have expected a call at the very least, don’t you think? And I had to agree, there was something cruel about sending an email, it was too convenient a mode of communication for a matter so grave, you could tell she was a selfish and self-absorbed person. Still, Gaby has always been very honest with Adriaan, the man said, and that’s something, isn’t it?
When did this happen? I asked. The man shrugged. Less than a year ago. She left in the dead of winter, perhaps she’d had enough of the bad weather. I looked through the glass sides of the atrium, that night too, rain was falling. I took out my phone and looked up the weather in Lisbon: a balmy 70 degrees and sunny. The man self-consciously touched his lustrous hair before asking if I wanted another drink. Below us, Adriaan was still speaking to the woman. She must have said something amusing because Adriaan laughed, his eyes still on her, even from a distance I could see that he was interested in this woman. I was suddenly gripped by the definite sensation that he would leave the party with her, having arrived with me, the feeling so vivid it was like a premonition. The woman turned, she set her glass on the tray of a passing waiter. For a fleeting moment I saw her profile, she had small but pronounced features, a face full of clarity. Winter in Lisbon is meant to be wonderful, the man said.
I excused myself, I could bear his presence no longer. The man seemed surprised, perhaps he thought he’d been making some headway with me. I crossed the bridge and descended the stairs, rejoining the party below. I made my way toward Adriaan, he looked up, immediately he stretched his arm out to stop me. Where have you been, he asked, and he turned to the woman he had been speaking with. She put her hand out and introduced herself, her manner friendly and perhaps a little curious, as we spoke Adriaan casually placed his hand at the back of my neck. She moved away soon after, almost without leaving an impression, as Adriaan turned to me it seemed odd that I had been so threatened by this woman, someone clearly of minimal significance to him, and with whom he had only been making small talk.
But I had also only been making small talk with the man on the bridge, I had been away from Adriaan for no more than ten or perhaps twenty minutes. Nonetheless, in that brief span of time he had been transformed, I looked at him and his handsome exterior, he in no way seemed like a figure unmanned, someone nursing a private wound. And yet he had been abandoned by his wife in the cruelest and most humiliating manner, he was now a figure to be whispered over at parties, a man whose most intimate catastrophe was now the stuff of idle and malicious gossip. He looked around the party, his manner was a little restless, and as I watched him, contours appeared to his face that I had been unable to see before, for better or worse, he was now a more complicated figure in my imagination.
He asked if I wanted to get some fresh air, and said he wanted a cigarette, sadly he had started smoking again. He was not looking at me as he spoke and I did not ask what had caused this resumption of a habit that, from his expression, he had clearly struggled to lose. He took my elbow and steered me toward one of the many covered balconies that lined the atrium. The rain had not slackened and the balcony was empty. Adriaan took out a cigarette, he was about to light it when the glass door to the balcony opened again, and the man from the bridge emerged. Adriaan looked up, he did not immediately greet the man, although it was obvious that he recognized him. I thought that was you slipping away with the young lady, the man said. Adriaan did not reply. He played with the cigarette between his fingers for a moment longer and then slipped it into the breast pocket of his suit jacket as if to save it for later, perhaps he did not want to be seen smoking in front of this man.
Adriaan remained silent as he regarded the man from the bridge, who now appeared a little nonplussed, despite the aggression of his own greeting he was clearly taken aback by the coldness of Adriaan’s reply. Do you two know each other? Adriaan asked at last. His manner was casual, I could see from the way he spoke that he made no presumption of prior acquaintance, it was more that he wished to downplay the introduction, as
much to say, This is not a man worth knowing, not a person who warrants a formal introduction.
The man gave a wolfish grin. To my horror, he reached out and wrapped his arm around my waist. We’re the best of friends, he said. He did not look at me but trained his gaze on Adriaan, who suddenly reached into the pocket of his jacket and took out the cigarette after all. The man’s touch was damp and somehow sticky, even through the layers of my clothing. It wasn’t the nature of his skin, whether or not his palms or fingers were perspiring, but rather the quality of his grip around my waist that gave this impression; it was like being embraced by a squid or an octopus, a cephalopod of some kind.
Adriaan lifted the cigarette to his lips, he regarded us with an expression that was suddenly wary, his eyes hooded, perhaps he imagined that the man was an old boyfriend of mine, although at that point I had barely been in The Hague long enough for such a thing to be possible. More plausible was the possibility that we had shared a casual sexual encounter, one or two nights together, I could easily imagine that the man’s sexual record was made up almost exclusively of such minor events. The man gripped harder, his arm tight around my waist and his thumb now rubbing at the waistband of my stockings through the fabric of my skirt, the slow and regular movement both lewd and gratuitous, he was virtually a stranger to me, I didn’t even know his name. Adriaan lowered his head to light the cigarette and I pulled myself away. We spoke up on the bridge just now, I said, I got lost looking for the bathroom.
Adriaan exhaled, a wreath of smoke rising up around his face. He waved his hand as if to clear it. I don’t even know your name, I said to the man, I don’t think you introduced yourself, you said only that you were a friend of Adriaan’s. The man frowned, he had shoved his hands into his pockets when I moved away and now looked even more like a petulant teenager, like someone who had been caught in the act. Adriaan was watching him, he did not say anything and the man did not introduce himself to me either. I was a friend of Gaby’s, the handsome man said at last, Or rather, I was a friend of Gaby’s first.
Adriaan still did not say anything, he was not looking at me, in that moment it was as if I were not present at all, not only to Adriaan but also to the man, who had turned to meet Adriaan’s gaze. The two men stared at each other, I understood then that there was some history of animosity between them, that the man had not approached me for myself, but rather because of my connection to Adriaan. What he perceived that connection to be, I did not know. A friend? Adriaan said, after a considerable pause, Yes, I suppose that is one way of putting it. The man grew flushed beneath his lacquered hair, he looked uneasy, as if he had not expected so direct a response. A long time ago, he said lamely, Gaby and I have known each other since we were children.
You’ve spoken to her lately? Adriaan asked, or at least I thought he asked. It was difficult to tell from his voice whether it was a question or a statement, but in any case I understood that it was a loaded and possibly aggressive thing to say. The man grew even more flushed, he looked over his shoulder and back to the party with longing, he must have been thinking that it had been a mistake to come out onto the balcony. When he joined us he’d had the air of a man who had the upper hand, or believed himself to, but now he simply looked as if he were wondering how quickly he would be able to extricate himself from the situation.
Adriaan now turned to me, Kees is a good friend of my wife’s. That was the first time he had mentioned Gaby, or the fact that he was, that he had been, married. The truth is, he continued, they were lovers before Gaby and I were married, and although that was many years ago they remained very close, very close indeed, during the years of our marriage. I blinked at the phrase very close, very close indeed, the insinuation was crude and out of character. Adriaan continued, I am sure that Kees is in touch with Gaby at this very moment. As for me, I know next to nothing of what she is doing, of what she is thinking, or even exactly where she is.
Please, Adriaan, the man interrupted, his hands fluttering up to his hair. I am entirely on your side in the matter, I haven’t spoken to Gaby in months, not since she left. She sends me the occasional email here and there but nothing of significance, I promise you.
Adriaan stared at him a moment before turning back to me. The two of them were on the phone together almost every night, he continued relentlessly. He was now almost loquacious, he spoke to me as if I were familiar with all the details of his marriage when in reality he had told me nothing, not until that moment, not the fact that he had a wife, not even the fact that he had children. I understood well enough that Adriaan was not speaking to me but to Kees, that I was only the medium through which his statements were passing, and similarly I understood that my presence must have been what allowed Adriaan to speak so directly to Kees, it was as if he were saying things he had wished to say for many years but had been unable to, perhaps restrained by the basic courtesies of marriage, his respect for the long-standing friendship between his wife and this man.
Simply a confidant, Kees said weakly, and really against my will. She always called me, it was always at her instigation, I never called except in response to a message or a missed call. Why me rather than one of her many girlfriends I’ve no idea. And this was at all hours of day and night, I assure you I didn’t enjoy the intimacy, it was sometimes rather annoying, I have my own share of personal troubles, as you know. He made a gesture of appeal to Adriaan, who remained stony-faced, although I did not doubt that he knew more than he cared to about the man’s trials and tribulations, probably Kees had been a frequent dinner guest at their household, back when it had been a household, the couple’s regular bachelor friend.
Gaby was never very sensitive, Kees said and looked at Adriaan with a little shrug, as if to say, You of course would be the first to know that. But during those months it became truly astonishing, it became so that I would not take her phone calls unless I had the evening clear, a good hour or two, sometimes more, it was impossible to get her to stop talking, even if you said my friend has just arrived or I have a deadline, she was deaf to such excuses, she could not accept the possibility of there being anything or anyone more interesting than her and her troubles. Of course, Gaby was very used to people listening to her, whatever her faults, you must admit that she was—or rather she is, because it is not as if she has died, she is still with us—a fascinating woman.
Gaby has always been herself, Adriaan said irritably. Kees stared at him for a moment and then nodded, obviously on this point there could be no disagreement. He then excused himself, there seemed to be nothing else to say. Adriaan gave him a curt nod as he smoked another cigarette. We left the party shortly after. You would not necessarily think it, Adriaan said as we walked to his car, but Kees is a very successful defense lawyer, one of the best in the country.
I said that I could see that, he had the moral flexibility that I thought was surely common to many defense lawyers. Adriaan shook his head. In the end, I am not so sure it has to do with moral flexibility, he said, certainly less than appears at first glance. Everyone deserves fair legal representation, even the most depraved criminal, even someone who has performed unspeakable crimes, the kind of acts that defy the imagination, the mere description of which would make most of us cover our ears and turn away. The defense lawyer does not have recourse to such cowardice, he or she must not only listen to but carefully study the record of these acts, he or she must inhabit and inhale their atmosphere. The very thing that the rest of us are unable to endure is the very thing inside of which the defense lawyer must live.
He frowned. And yet, Kees is petty and essentially frivolous as a person, it is one of those paradoxes of personality or nature. I nodded, and we walked in silence for a time. When we reached his car, I stopped and turned to face him. The street was empty and the rain had cleared. You’re married, I said.
Yes, he said at once. But I don’t know for how much longer. Is that okay?
The words themselves were simpl
e to the point of being blunt, but they were also words that did not try to deflect or avoid. I could have walked away then, and chosen not to involve myself any further. But I was disarmed by his honesty, by the simple question that was so difficult to answer. The appearance of simplicity is not the same thing as simplicity itself, even then I was aware of this. As if conscious of my hesitation, he took my hand and brought it to his lips and kissed the palm and fingers. I shivered at the touch of his mouth on my skin. He opened the door to the car and I got in.
That was the first night I spent with Adriaan. He drove me from the party to his house without further discussion, in that moment something between us had been agreed upon. He lived in an apartment occupying the top floors of a substantial townhouse, a place too large for one man. As soon as he unlocked the door and we entered I saw evidence of Gaby: her coat hanging from the rack in the foyer, the gold bracelet lying in the vide poche by the door. The sight of these objects was jarring and I grew flushed, although I also sensed that they remained in the apartment out of negligence rather than any longing on Adriaan’s part for her return. He seemed to take no notice of them as he brought me inside and took my coat.
He led me into the living room, then said he would get us something to drink before disappearing into the kitchen. I looked around the large and comfortable room, there was nothing pretentious about the apartment, with its elegant clutter. The bookcases were crammed with volumes but also held little oddments and mementos. Resting on one shelf was a framed photograph of Adriaan with his wife and two children. Kees had not exaggerated, they made a striking family. In fact Gaby was beautiful, more beautiful than I could imagine being, although there was a hint of arrogance in the set of her mouth, the frank gaze she gave to the camera. I continued to examine the image, which must have been taken nearly a decade ago, Kees had said the children were now teenagers, whereas the children in the photograph were no more than four or perhaps five. But Adriaan did not look very different to the man in the photograph, unaged either by time or experience. His hair had gone gray and there were now some lines at his forehead and mouth, but his overall appearance was unchanged.
Intimacies Page 3