In Another Country, and Besides

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In Another Country, and Besides Page 15

by Maxwell Jacobs


  “Is he still there?” she asked in a muffled voice.

  “I think he’s gone.”

  “Good.”

  “Go back to sleep.”

  I put my hands out to close the wooden shutters and looked at the moon. It was high and the stars were out. I looked blankly back at Maria in the dark. Everything about killing David started to grip my imagination, and when I looked down to the street, he was indeed gone.

  CHAPTER XVIII

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING, in the car park of her office, she came around the corner. David was walking with her and they were talking. They both saw me from a distance, and he turned and got into his car and she came toward me, but I kept my stare firmly on him.

  The nearness of him almost paralyzed my senses. Maybe it was just the shock of seeing him with Maria, so casual, like he didn’t know we knew his obsession. Or maybe it was my own misery that she loved me but still felt compelled to put herself in that type of situation.

  Maria got in the car and I had to steady myself. The feeling only lasted for a moment, and then it was gone.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my head. “But how can you work with him when you know he’s in love with you?”

  “Oh, Harry, let’s not talk about it.”

  “Fine.”

  “Do give me a cigarette.”

  I lit the cigarette.

  We drove out along the long line of trees, which were dark now in the moonlight. Lights of the cars lit up the trees and the road, and to the left was Lake Zurich. The water seemed high from the day’s rain. It looked black and still and smooth. I turned to Maria and she was just staring straight ahead, blowing the smoke out the open window. I could tell something was playing on her mind, and I was sure it had something to do with David.

  We climbed up the hill toward her apartment.

  “Let’s drive to the cemetery and go for a walk,” she said, breaking the silence.

  “Don’t we need to pick up Liv from the kindergarten?”

  “No, she’s with Roberto tonight.”

  We parked and walked down the side streets, away from the light. The street was dark and wet. We passed the wine shops and bars with light and sound spilling out through their doors onto the street.

  “Want to go for a drink?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  We walked into the cemetery and from the light of the moon we could see the outline of the mountains in the distance. It was deadly silent and the church in the center was silhouetted against the backdrop of the Uetliberg Mountain.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked. I could feel her shivering against me.

  “It’s starting to get cold,” she said.

  “Want to go back?”

  “No. It’s fine.”

  We walked up the tree line, and it felt strange to be in the center of the city yet still feel the isolation and stillness of the open cemetery. The clouds broke and I could see a few stars coming out.

  “Do you love me, Harry?” she asked.

  “That’s a strange thing to ask,” I said. “Of course I love you.”

  “I love you too, whatever that means in English. I also love you in Italian, against all my judgment and all my wishes.”

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “And do you believe in us?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “And don’t you think these last six months together have been amazing?”

  “I think they have been the most precious months of my life.”

  “Me too, I will always carry them with me.” She put her head down and we continued walking.

  “See that?” she said, putting her hand out so I could see it shivering in the darkness. “I’m like that all the way through these days.”

  I could tell she had something important to say but was waiting for the right words to come. I stopped and turned to look at her.

  “Whatever you have to say, Maria, please say it,” I said clearly. “Remember, it’s me, it’s us. You can tell me anything.”

  “Oh darling.” She put her arms around me and cried.

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know. I just feel overwhelmed at the moment.”

  “I know there’s a lot going on,” I said gently. “You’re doing great. I really think you’re doing great, and you try so hard to make it right for everyone.”

  “I know,” she said, shaking her head. “But it’s all starting to stress me.”

  “How so?” I asked.

  “Something happened today.”

  “What happened, Maria?”

  ‘‘David cornered me in the office and tried to kiss me.”

  “He did what?”

  “He tried to kiss me,” she said. “He pushed me into a corner and tried to kiss me. I pushed him back of course, but he was very forceful and it scared me.”

  “I’m going to kill this guy.”

  “Harry, please!” she cried, clearly in distress. “I don’t need that from you right now.”

  “He knows we are together,” I spat out. “I can’t believe he did that. I will talk to him tomorrow.”

  “No, Harry,” she begged. “I can handle it. I don’t need you getting involved.”

  I could feel the anger writhing inside me. I waited for it to happen, almost expecting it to come any second. I started to get scared. But it didn’t come and we just kept walking in silence. We walked across the gravel and then sat on a bench under the trees.

  The trees were black and moved with the wind, and there were no leaves on them. The leaves had fallen early that year and had been swept up long ago.

  I turned to look at her but it was almost too dark to really see her face.

  “Harry, do you think we rushed into this?” she asked.

  “This being what exactly?”

  “You and me,” she said. “Our relationship.”

  “You never really choose the moments when you fall in love,” I said. “It just kind of happens, and when it does you either embrace it or you don’t.”

  “You didn’t answer the question,” she said.

  “What do you want me to say? I love you, Maria, and I want to be with you.” I paused for a moment before going on. “I guess what’s more important is how you feel.”

  “That’s what I ask myself.” She took a long breath. “I think I need some space, Harry.”

  “What do you mean you need some space?” I asked. “From what? From us?”

  “Yes.”

  “But, why?”

  “Because I’m not within myself anymore,” she said. “I came here to find peace, and now I find myself with very little, between you, Roberto, Liv, and David.

  She put out her cigarette and looked away. I thought she was looking for another cigarette. Then I saw she was crying. She wouldn’t look up.

  “I haven’t even digested what I went through with Roberto, because I’m so in love with you.”

  “And what happened today with David has nothing to do with it?”

  “No. But, yes,” she said. “I don’t know. Perhaps it is also that. Being so unclear within myself makes me unclear with other people, and they can perhaps take advantage of that. They read more into things because I’m so unbalanced. I don’t know, I feel like there’s so much going on that soon my head will explode.”

  I listened and said nothing.

  “And then there’s you, Harry,” she began in a smaller voice. “I’ve never had such a love connection with anyone in my entire life. I love you so much, but I just don’t feel that I can be with you right now.”

  “I don’t know what to say, Maria.” I swallowed hard.

  “Well, say something,” she said, looking up at me. “Please, say something.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Let’s give each other some space so you can digest everything. It just feels like all this is coming out of the blue, and the only trigger point I can see is what happened today with David.”


  She shook her head. “It’s not like that.”

  “Are you feeling something for him?”

  “Who, David?” she asked, her face incredulous. “Of course not. But even this, Harry, this jealousy, it’s too much. I can’t handle your stress over him.”

  “I just wish you had never taken that damn job.”

  “I understand your feelings, but despite what you think I like my job and I know I can handle him.”

  I could feel her energy level dropping. She looked at me with tired eyes. The moon affects her as it does any woman, I thought.

  “So let me get this clear. You want to take a break or break up?”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “My God, Maria.” I shook my head.

  “What?”

  “You’re being so cold now.”

  “I’m sorry, but this conversation is starting to give me headache.”

  “So that’s it then. Just like that, it’s over between us? I love you and you love me, but still it’s not enough and it’s over.”

  “I’m sorry, Harry.”

  “Maria, you just can’t do this,” I pleaded with her. “Especially after everything we have been through. Hell, my life only started to make sense again once you and Liv came into it. Please, don’t take that away from me. I don’t know what I’d do without the two of you.”

  “I’m sorry, but I really should go now,” she said, the coldness returning to her voice.

  I grabbed her hand.

  “Please, not like this,” I said. I was trying not to let the tears come. “And what about Liv?” I asked, my voice now struggling.

  “Well, you can be friends of course.” I read her face for any sign of emotion but saw none.

  “Friends? I don’t want to be friends.”

  “Look, you can see her again but not right now.” Irritation edged into her voice. “I think we all need to have some space, Harry. Even you.”

  “Please, darling. Don’t do this.”

  She would not look up. I came close and tried to stroke her hair, but she backed away.

  “Before you leave, can I ask you something?” Thinking quickly, I searched my mind for anything that would make sense of all this.

  “Of course you can.”

  “Would things be different between us if Roberto wasn’t around?”

  “How do you mean? I don’t know, Harry. You can’t say that. He is around, and that’s a fact.”

  “And David?” I asked.

  “Harry, please,” she sighed. “Please stop these questions. I need to go!”

  “At least let me walk you back. It’s late.”

  “It’s fine. Let’s talk soon, okay?” She kissed me on the cheek and looked at me, then just like that she was gone.

  CHAPTER XIX

  I TURNED OFF THE LIGHT, got undressed, and sat on the bed. I ran my hands through my hair and looked around the lifeless room. I used to love to take her hair down when she got to bed. She always wore it up, and at night I would take it down. When it was down, I would run my fingers up to the back of her neck and slowly massage her hair. She loved that, and she would keep very still until she dipped down to kiss me. She had beautiful, thick, dark hair and I would watch her play with it and twist it up.

  There were parts of her everywhere. From her clothes on the floor to the pictures on the walls, she was still there. How had we come to this point? Everything was going so well. Sure, it was a complicated situation, but we were happy and in love.

  My mind was racing and jumping. I tried to fix my thoughts on just one thing. She had such a lovely face and healthy body, and such smooth skin. My legs became jumpy so I lifted them in the air and moved them up and down with my eyes shut. I could picture her next to me now, me on my side, watching while she slept, breathing slowly and deeply, admiring the contours of her face, her cheeks, her eyes, her chin and throat. Some nights I would stroke her forehead with the tips of my fingers while she was still and silent. We used to love touching each other because we were happy. Along with all the big times, we had so many small ways of making love, and we would do it whenever the impulse came. I wanted us to be married and she had wanted it too, but only after she had divorced Roberto of course. We shared the same values and were connected, through and through. We felt each other completely because we were one and the same. What had I lost?

  The night went that way. Remembering and feeling. I cannot remember much about the next few days. The apartment felt like a tormented prison of memories. Everywhere I looked there were things we had once shared. I turned to the drink. I even tried to leave the apartment, but when I got to the door I simply could not face it. I could not even go out to buy cigarettes. Hours turned into days and days turned into weeks. In the evenings I would see things. Strange things. I saw my grandmother making tea one night. She didn’t say anything, just looked at me the way she always did when she made tea.

  Catherine, my daughter, would come on the other nights, but she wouldn’t say anything either. She would just sit on the floor playing, sometimes digging for something, maybe a worm. But she was older now, perhaps ten. She was so beautiful. That night she spoke to me.

  “It will all be fine,” she said. “You mustn’t worry, Daddy.” Her voice sounded like Liv’s voice, but soft and more childlike. “I can see that you worry. You mustn’t worry, Daddy. You must stop it. Stop it, please. Wouldn’t you like a drink, Daddy? I know drink makes you happy.”

  “You’re right, my snowflake, it does,” I said. She handed me a bottle of brandy and I drank it from the bottle and spilled it down my naked chest.

  “Oh, it feels so cheerful,” I said. “And you’re so pretty and wonderful. Thank you for this brandy and for being here.” She stood in front of me as I sat on the floor in the hallway in the dark.

  I took a big gulp and wiped my face. “It will be morning soon, snowflake. Why don’t we go to the park and you can play in the playground or on the swings? We’ll have a lovely time. Maybe we will even see Liv. She likes the swings too. And then we could all come home together and maybe you could let me be your daddy again, and you can go to school, and I’ll start writing again, and Maria and Liv would be here. You would like Maria, snowflake. She’s wonderful. Oh, we would all be so happy, and you will grow up and be so pretty and wonderful.”

  She didn’t answer.

  Later I saw her sitting on my bed, and as I looked at her I wanted to touch her.

  “Are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “Why would I be mad at you, snowflake?”

  “Because I left you and Mama.”

  “Sweetheart, you left because you were sick and it wasn’t your fault.” I wanted to reach out and take her hand. She looked down to the floor.

  “What did you do to Mummy?” she asked.

  “Look, it will be morning soon,” I said, pointing at the light through the window. “Shall we go to the playground?”

  “What did you do to Mummy, Daddy?” she asked again and then began to yell. “What did you do to Mummy? Tell me, what did you do to Mummy?” She kept saying it over and over. It got louder and louder and I shouted: “Stop it. Stop it!”

  But she did not stop, and I screamed and ran into the bathroom, frantically searching for my pills. “Where are my pills?” I screamed, seeing my dark self in the mirror.

  I found them and took two but could still hear her screaming from the bedroom, so I turned on the shower to block the noise. I got in and sat down, letting the water run over my ears so I couldn’t hear the screams anymore. I prayed that calm would soon come and the screaming would stop.

  The next thing I registered was the rain. It was raining hard against the window and I was lying naked on the wooden floor. The shower was still running. The rain was coming down heavily on the small balcony, and the wind was strong as it blew against the red shutters. I stood up, turned the shower off, and went into the kitchen and poured myself a glass of brandy. I drank it straight down.

  “That was
very big one,” I heard her say. “I thought brandy was for heroes and brave people.”

  “It is,” I said, turning to look at the small form of my daughter. “And it always makes me happy. It never makes me sad.”

  I reached down for the bottle and poured another, gulping it down again in one.

  “What will you do?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “What will you do?” she asked again.

  “Nothing, I can’t do anything. She won’t talk to me.”

  “She loves you,” she said. I started to sob and poured out another glass.

  “Go easy on the brandy, you’re no hero.”

  I looked at her and it was not my daughter anymore. It was Viola. She looked just as I had left her; the whites of her eyes were yellow and her lips were black.

  “Go away,” I cried out, stumbling back and dropping the glass on the floor. I ran into the bathroom and jumped back in the shower until I began to shiver.

  A knock at the door came, and I woke up freezing now as the water had turned cold. It was Frau Fischer, the concierge.

  “Herr Hoffman! Herr Hoffman!” I heard her shout through the glass-paneled door. “Is everything okay?”

  There was a silence. I stayed very still.

  “We are getting complaints from the neighbors about your screaming,” she called out. “Herr Harry, are you okay?”

  I didn’t make a sound. No matter how cold I felt I had to wait until she left. I could cut off my tongue, then there would be no sound and I could live in peace here with my daughter. But what if I couldn’t cut off my tongue? Would she throw me out?

  “We must fight,” I said. My voice was trembling from the cold. I got out of the shower and the little girl was again on my bed.

  “We won’t fight!” she said.

  “Why? If we don’t fight they will make us leave,” I said desperately. “There’s two of us now and we must stay strong and not let anything come between us. Not Viola, not David, not Roberto. Nobody. Okay?”

  “We won’t fight!” she said again.

  “No, you’re right, they won’t get us,” I said. “Because we are too brave and nothing bad happens to the brave. Yes, I should drink more brandy and become even more brave.”

 

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