The collected stories

by Paul Theroux

  Lois reached across the table and squeezed my hand. There was more reassurance than caution in the gesture. She said, 'Pay no attention to him. He could have all the volunteer speakers he wants. He just doesn't ask them.'

  'Herr Friedrich on Roman spittoons, Grafin von Spitball on the local aristocracy. That's what Europe's big on - memories. It hasn't got a future, but what a past! There's something decadent about nostalgia - I mean, really diseased.'

  'Charlie doesn't like Germans,' said Lois. 'No one likes them. For fifteen years, all I've heard is how inefficient people are in tropical countries. Guess what the big complaint is here? Germans are efficient. They do things on time, they keep their word - this is supposed to be sinister!'

  Flint said, 'They're machines.'

  'He used to call Malays "superslugs,"' said Lois.

  'And Germans think we're diseased,' said Flint. 'They talk about German culture. What's German culture? These days it's American culture - the same books, the same music, the same movies, even the same clothes. They've bought us wholesale, and they have the

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  nerve to sneer.' His harangue left him gasping. With a kind of mournful sincerity he said, Td consider it a favor if you did a lecture. We have a slot tomorrow - there's a sewing circle that meets on Thursdays.'

  He was asking me to connive at his deception, and he knew I could not decently refuse him such a simple request. I said, 'Doesn't one need a topic?'

  'The white man's burden. War stories. Life in the East. Like the time the locals besieged your consulate and burned the flag.'

  'All the locals did was smile and drink my whiskey.'

  'Improvise,' he said, twirling his wineglass. 'Ideally, I'd like something on "America's Role in a Changing World" - like, What good is foreign aid? What are the responsibilities of the superpowers? The oil crisis with reference to Islam and the Arab states. Are we at a crossroads? Look, all they want is to hear you speak English. We had to discontinue the language program after the last budget cuts. They'll be glad to see a new face. They're pretty sick of mine.'

  Lois squeezed my hand again. 'Welcome to Europe.'

  The next morning, trying sleepily to imagine what I would say in my lecture - and I hated Flint for making me go through with this charade - I was startled by a knock at the door. I sat up in bed. It was Lois.

  'I forgot to warn you about breakfast,' she said, entering the room. Her tone was cheerfully apologetic, but her movements were bold. At first I thought she was in her pajamas. I put on my glasses and saw she was in a short pleated skirt and a white jersey. The white clothes and their cut gave her a girlish look, and at the same time contradicted it, exaggerating her briskness. Tennis had obviously kept her in shape. She was in her early forties - younger than Charlie - but was trim and hard-fleshed. She had borne no children - it was childbirth that left the marks of age on a woman's body. She had a flat stomach, a server's stride, and as she approached the bed I noticed the play of muscles in her thighs. She was an odd apparition, but a woman in a tennis outfit looks too athletic in a businesslike way to be seductive.

  She was still talking about breakfast, not looking at me, but pacing the floor at the foot of the bed. Charlie didn't normally have more than a coffee, she said. There was grapefruit in the

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  fridge and cereal on the sideboard. The coffee was made. Did I want eggs?

  Til have a coffee with Charlie,' I said.

  'He's gone. He left the house an hour ago.'

  'Don't worry about me. I can look after myself.'

  Lois's tennis shoes squeaked as she paced the polished floor. Then she stopped and faced me. Tm worried about Charlie,' she said. 'I suppose you thought he was joking last night about the Ambassador. It's serious - he hasn't accomplished anything here. Everyone knows it. And he doesn't care.'

  Almost precisely the words he had used about her: I wondered whether they were playing a game with me.

  Tm his volunteer speaker,' I said. 'That's quite a feather in his cap.'

  'You don't think so, but it is. He's in real trouble. He told the Ambassador he was thinking of taking early retirement.'

  'Might not be a bad idea,' I said.

  'He said, "I can always sell second-hand cars. I've been selling second-hand junk my whole Foreign Service career." That's what he told the Ambassador! I was flabbergasted. Then he told me it was a joke. It was at a staff meeting - all the PAOs were there. But no one laughed. I don't blame them - it's not funny.'

  I wanted to get out of bed. I saw that this would not be simple while she was in the room. I could not think straight, sitting up, with the blankets across my lap, my hair in my eyes.

  Lois said, 'Can I get in?'

  I have always felt that if a person wants something very badly, and if it is not unreasonable, he should have it, no matter what. I usually feel like supplying it myself. Once, I gave my hunting knife to a Malay. He admired it; he wanted it; he had some use for it. Generosity is easy to justify. I always lose what I don't need.

  I considered Lois's question and then said, 'Yes - sure,' convinced that Charlie had not misled me: something was wrong with her.

  She got in quickly, without embarrassment. She said, 'He's mentally screwed up, he really is.'

  'Poor Charlie.'

  We lay under the covers, side by side, like two Boy Scouts in a big sleeping bag, sheltering from the elements in clumsy comradeship. Lois had not taken off her tennis shoes: I could feel the canvas

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  and rubber against my shins. Her shoes seemed proof that Charlie had not exaggerated her mental state.

  'He thinks it's funny. It's me who's suffering. People pity mental cases - it's their families they should pity.'

  'That's pitching it a bit strongly, isn't it?' I tried to shift my hand from the crisp pleats of her skirt. 'Charlie may be under a little strain, but he hardly qualifies as a mental case.'

  'A month ago we're at a party. It was endless - one of these German affairs. They really love their food, and their idea of fun is to get stinking drunk and sing loud. There's no social stigma attached to drunkenness here. So everyone was laughing stupidly and the men were behaving like jackasses. One of them took my shawl and put it over his head and did a Wagner bit. And there was this Italian - just a hanger-on, he wasn't a diplomat. He suggested they all go to a restaurant. It's two in the morning, everyone's eaten, and he wants to go to a restaurant! There was a sort of general move to the door - they're all yelling and laughing. I said to Charlie, "Count me out - I'm tired."

  "You never want to do anything," he said.

  'I told him he could go if he wanted to. He gave me the car keys and I went home alone. I was asleep when he came back. There was a big commotion at the front door - it was about five. I go to the door and who do I see? Charlie. And the Italian. They're holding hands.'

  I almost laughed. But Lois was on the verge of tears. I felt her body stiffen.

  'It was awful. The Italian had this guilty, sneaky look on his face, as if he'd been caught in the act. I saw that he wanted to drop the whole thing. He wouldn't look at me. Charlie was gray - absolutely gray. He wasn't even drunk - he looked sick, crazy, and he kept holding this Italian by the hand. He told me to go back to bed.

  '"I'm not going back to bed until he leaves," I said.

  '"This is my friend," he said. His friend! They're holding hands! He dragged the Italian into the house and I really wanted to hit both of them. Charlie said, "We're staying."

  '"Not him," I said. "He's not staying in my house."

  '"You never let me have any friends," said Charlie, and he starts staggering around with this other guy. I thought I was dreaming, it was so ridiculous.

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  "I don't care what you do," I said, "but you're not taking this creep into my house." Then I got hysterical, I started screaming, I hardly knew what I was saying.


  'Charlie said, "All right, then, let's go." And off they went, hand in hand, out the door. I don't know where they went. I didn't see Charlie until that night. He looked terrible - I don't even think he'd been to work. He hasn't mentioned it since. And you deny he's a mental case.'

  Listening to her story, it struck me that I hardly knew Charlie Flint. He was as frenzied as anyone in the Embassy, and he had a theory that the Embassy wives were going to start an insurrection, but our relationship was mainly professional. I knew nothing of his personal life beyond the fact that he drank too much; that fact applied to everyone I met in the Foreign Service. I regarded his determination to stay out of Washington as a worthy aim. He wasn't ambitious. And he had prepared me for his wife's oddness.

  I replied to her in platitudes: Don't jump to conclusions, things will settle down, and so forth. What else could I offer? I did not know her well, and I was in bed with her. I said, as an afterthought, 'You're not suggesting he's gay, are you?'

  'Do you think I'd care about that?' she said. 'You've been in the bush for two years, so you don't know. But being bisexual is the big thing in Europe these days. Everyone's gay. The men think it's fashionable, almost masculine - proof that you don't have any hang-ups. They're always hugging each other, holding hands - God only knows what else they do, though I have a pretty good idea. I'm telling you, Europe makes Southeast Asia look civilized. I get propositioned about once a week - by women!'

  'Are you tempted?'

  'No,' Lois said, 'I tried it.'

  'With a woman?'

  She nodded; her whole body moved, and she wore a curious half-smile. 'A German chick. About nineteen. Very pretty. It didn't work out.' She made a face. 'Charlie wanted me to. That's why I didn't take it seriously. I thought it would encourage him in his craziness. Now, when I think about it, I just laugh.' She shifted sideways on the bed, propped herself up on one arm and said, 'How come you're so normal?'

  'Everything is human.'

  'You're making excuses for Charlie.'

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  'Charlie has a conscience.'

  'Don't you?'

  'I don't know. But I know that the lack of it can make some people look fairly serene, even harmless and normal. Charlie hasn't hurt anyone.'

  'He's hurt me!' Lois cried, and I felt her shoe. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'I didn't mean to kick you. But what good is it saying, "Everything's human and everything's normal"? We were in Indonesia, India, Malaysia - yes, things were normal in those places. But Europe's different. And I'm telling you, I can't handle it.'

  I felt sure she was mistaken, but I didn't want to contradict her, since she appeared to take everything as a personal attack. She saw Charlie's drunken hand-holding as an affront to her, but this casual mention of a German chick - wasn't that equally odd? She didn't appear to think so. I understood why she was lying to me, though it was not in character for her to belittle Charlie. Adultery is a great occasion for lying; the wife in another man's bed usually talks about her husband.

  I said, 'I'm glad I came to Europe. I had no idea it was so lively. It makes Ayer Hitam seem rather tame.'

  'Where are you going after this?'

  'Up the Rhine. I'm leaving tonight, after my talk. I'll be in Diissel-dorf for a few days.'

  'Are you staying with Murray Goldsack?'

  'Charlie gave me his name. But I'll probably stay in a hotel.'

  'Charlie gave you his name,' Lois said bitterly. 'He would. We were up there three weeks ago. Another disaster.'

  I didn't want to hear it, but she had already begun.

  'The Goldsacks have been there about a year. She writes poetry, he's big on painting - he'll show you the gallery he opened. It's full of pretentious crap - stupid, simple, neurotic blurs. Doesn't anyone paint people anymore? The Goldsacks don't have any children. In fact, when they got married they signed a contract saying they wouldn't have any kids and deciding who'd get what when they split up. They assumed they'd split up eventually - Murray will give you all the statistics. They're very modern laid-back people with a house full of crap art and heads full of crap opinions. Over dinner, they told us how they keep their marriage alive.

  'Get this. They play games. Like "White Night." Sue puts on a white dress, white slippers, white everything. Then she

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  cooks a white meal - mashed potatoes, steamed fish, cauliflower, Chablis. Murray wears a white suit. Then they get drunk and go to it.'

  'That doesn't sound so odd,' I said. She was not lying, but repeating a lie.

  They also have Black Night, Red Night. Or Indian Night. She puts on a sari, cooks a curry, they burn incense and run through the Kamasutra.'

  'Tell me about Eskimo Night. Do they rub noses?'

  'Be serious, will you? Murray was telling me about it - we were in his living room. As he was describing these dressing-up games I noticed he was filling my glass. This little squirt was trying to get me drunk! I was feeling pretty rotten, and he was annoyed that I wasn't drinking fast enough. So he pulled out some pot and rolled me a joint. I once tried some in KL, but it wasn't anything like this. My brain turned into oatmeal. Then I looked around and didn't see Charlie. I was panicky. "Where's Charlie?" I said. Murray looked at me. "Oh, he's with Sue."

  '"Where are they?" I said.

  'He pointed to a door - the door was closed. I said, "I've got to talk to him" - I don't know why I said it. Maybe it was that stuff I had just smoked.

  'Murray said, "Don't go in there. They don't want you to."

  '"How do you know what they want?" I said. He sort of chuckled. I said, "Hey, what's going on?"

  'He had a really evil look on his face. He said, "You really want to know?"

  'Then I knew. I wanted to cry. I said, "My husband's in that room with your wife!" He said something like, "So what?" and put his arm around me. I pushed him away and stood up. He got mad at me - he was really peeved. He tried to grab me again, and I hit him. He said, "Hey, what's wrong with you?"

  'What's wrong with me} This man's a cultural affairs officer in the United States Embassy. He's supposed to be a diplomat, he gives lectures, he makes statements to the press, he writes reports - or whatever they do. And he's peeved because I won't cooperate with his wife-swapping! It was too much. After an hour or so, Charlie and Sue came out looking pretty pale and pushing their clothes back in place. We all had a drink and talked about - Jesus, we talked about Jimmy Carter and the budget cuts. The next day

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  we left. Charlie wouldn't talk about the other thing - the monkey business.'

  Lois was silent for a while. Then she turned over onto her side, her back to me. I got up on one elbow and, seeing that she was crying, I put my arm around her to comfort her.

  She said, 'Hold me tight - please.' I did. She murmured, 'That's nice.'

  What now? I thought.

  She said, 'Charlie never pays any attention to me.'

  'I can't help liking him,' I said.

  Lois said, Tm married to him,' and then, 'Don't let go.'

  'I feel a bit silly,' I said. 'Should we be doing this?'

  'I get nothing,' she said. 'Nothing, nothing. This isn't a life.'

  'You're going to miss your tennis.'

  She twisted away from me and heaved her legs up.

  'What are you doing, Lois?'

  'Getting these damn shoes off.'

  I said, 'I'm supposed to be having lunch with Charlie. I couldn't face him. Please don't take your shoes off.'

  'He doesn't care,' she said.

  Another lie: for all his frenzy and occasional deceit, there was no man who would have cared more about his wife's infidelity. Remember, they had no children to encumber their intimacy, so they were like children themselves - such couples so often are.

  'That seems worse,' I said, resenting her ineptness.

  She pressed her back against me, moving her skirt sinuously on my thighs; and stil
l facing away she uttered a despairing groan.

  'Then just hold me,' she said. 'I'll be all right in a minute.'

  When she got out of bed her pleated skirt was crushed and her socks had slipped down. She brushed herself off, adjusted her socks, and tucked in her jersey. She looked as if she had just played her match and been defeated.

  She said, 'I feel very virtuous.'

  'I don't,' I said. Then she was out the door. I thought: She is insane.

  Charlie was late for lunch. When he arrived, I looked for indications of the craziness Lois had attributed to him. But there were none. She needed to believe he was crazy, in order to make excuses for herself.

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  He said, 'Do you really have to go to Dusseldorf after the lecture?'

  'The lecture was your idea/ I said. 'If it wasn't for that I'd be on the train now.'

  'You're welcome to stay as long as you like. Lois was hoping you would.'

  I said, 'I don't think there's much I can do for her.'

  'Fair enough.' He seemed gloomy and almost apologetic, as if he had guessed at what had gone on that morning between Lois and me. I did not want to upset him further by telling him her wild stories. He said, 'I'd leave this place tomorrow except for one thing. This is the first place Lois can live a normal life. I'm staying for her sake. Believe me, it's a sacrifice. But there are good doctors here. The best medical care. That's what she needs.'

  'I understand.' I could not say more without revealing that I pitied him.

  'You'll like Dusseldorf. Goldsack's a live wire. A very bright guy - he's got a big future in the Foreign Service. He'll make Ambassador as sure as anything. His wife's fun, and I think I should tell you - she's an easy lay.'

  That was the first clue I had that Lois might not have been completely wrong about Charlie. And it made me all the more eager to meet the Goldsacks. I left immediately after my lecture, and two days later was in Murray Goldsack's office.

  'Flint cabled me that you were coming,' he said. 'I've been looking over your bio. It's really impressive.' Goldsack was small and dark, in his early thirties, and he looked me over closely, giving me the strong impression that I was being interviewed and appraised. He said, 'I wish I had your Southeast Asia experience. My wife keeps saying we should put in for a tour there.'