The Strange Year of Vanessa M

by Filipa Fonseca Silva

  “I’ve been seeing someone.”

  “Oh have you? Don’t tell me it’s that boy you work with?”

  “No. He’s still chasing me like a little fool, but I’ve brought him to heel.”

  “So it’s another man then…”

  “Yes. He’s a lawyer.”

  “Your divorce lawyer?”

  “No. But as a matter of fact he could be. I haven't got a lawyer for the divorce yet. Maybe I should make the most of it. He might give me a discount, what do you think, Doctor?” Vanessa asked just to be provocative.

  “I don't think anything. You’re the one who has to make your own decisions. However, maybe you should ask yourself if this is the right way to start a relationship.”

  “What relationship? I don't want a relationship. It’s nothing but sex.”

  Her analyst frowned. He hid his surprise by scribbling in his irritating little notepad.

  “I spent years and years with the same person, always the same routine, the tedium, the sameness. I didn't get separated to do the same thing. It’s inevitable, isn't it? Once the thrill has gone. When the fire’s gone out. Having to think about what to make for dinner, putting shirts in to wash, getting washing off the line, going to the supermarket, choosing a film to watch after supper because we’re too tired to do anything else. But he doesn't want to see a film; he’d rather go to bed and finish reading some reports. And she doesn't like to watch films alone so she puts on a soap opera and goes and tidies up the kitchen or some other thing until she’s tired and joins him in bed, with her back turned to him, and he’s still absorbed in his reports and never turns off the blasted light. Aren’t that how all relationships end-up? Eating out, going to the cinema, and walking in the park; it’s all very well when you’re in love. Then reality sets in and we remember life is not a romantic comedy and there’s no happy ending.”

  There were a few long minutes of silence. Her analyst was looking at her, as ever. Like a lone naturalist in the middle of the savannah, observing a wild animal.

  “I’m thinking of leaving my job,” said Vanessa, breaking the silence.

  “You don't say. And would you like to share the reasons for your decision?”

  “I’m fed up. That’s all. Fed up with my boss, fed up with ‘the Hellcat’, fed up with Johnny, fed up with the shit-coloured walls, fed up with answering the telephone, fed up with Excel, fed up with the whole lot of it. I’ve freed myself from the tedium of my personal life, now I’m going to free myself from the tedium of my professional life. I’m going to make cakes. I’m going to look for a nice little apartment near where my aunt lives, with a good kitchen, it can even be a studio-apartment as long as it has a good kitchen, and I’ll make cakes.”

  “Vanessa…” This was the first time in all these sessions that her analyst had interrupted her. “I don’t usually comment on the decisions of my patients, not least because I’m here to listen, not give advice, but in view of the special circumstances which brought you here – by imposition of a court, I mean, with me required to write a report at the end, saying whether you’re fit or not to go on your way without professional help – I have to say that what you’re telling me certainly doesn't count in your favour.”

  “What do you mean? Isn’t it good that I’m rebuilding my life, changing the things that make me unhappy, discovering how to be a better person?”

  “You might look at it that way, but you could also see it as a relapse, a sign of increased emotional instability. Consider the facts: you change from a mother with a family and a steady job who happened to have a bad day at work, into a divorced woman who doesn't even want custody of her daughter, who leaves her job to set up her own business, whose viability is open to question, and who collects sexual partners because she’s not interested in any kind of serious relationship. What do you think a judge is going to think of that?”

  Vanessa froze, horrified. It had been a rough start, but she’d been starting to trust her analyst, and as the weeks went by she’d begun to reveal things she’d never told anybody. She’d started seeing him as someone who was there to help her feel better, to give her support in trying to straighten out her life. But apparently that wasn’t it. His task was to send her back into society as a mere automaton. Obedient. Dependable. Numb. So what would she have to do for the judge to set her free? Go back to her husband? Fight for custody of their daughter? Remarry another man and live a nice little passive domestic life? All these questions going through her mind were making her feel dizzy and dizzier still in that she knew the answers. And no, they weren’t the answers she’d have liked to hear. What was the worst-case scenario? Being sentenced to more therapy until she was no longer considered a threat to society? Being locked up in an asylum? Actually doing the four months’ prison time might have been a better idea? She could look to her lover for some legal advice, there.

  “Vanessa? Are you listening to me?”

  No, she wasn't. She didn't want to hear any more.

  “Yes, Doctor. Scribble what you want.”

  3.

  Her affair with the lawyer was getting serious. When he was at home, they’d exchange signals from their windows, and off she’d run across the road in the middle of the night to slip into bed with him. When he was staying in his apartment in town they’d exchange dirty text messages. There was no time for long conversations and their dinners together were now a thing of the past, a courtesy, which was no longer necessary. Even so, Vanessa did manage to ask him a few questions about legal things. And it had set her mind at rest to learn that they couldn't lock her up in an asylum and that even if she left her job her savings would be enough to pay the rent on her little apartment for a few months while she worked full-time on her cake business. If she had her apartment she could take all the orders that came her way and even offer her services to local cafés, which usually only sold those no-frills birthday cakes made of sponge covered with fondant icing and shitty pastry cream lettering.

  The conversation flowed easily as they got the table ready for some friends of his who were coming to dinner. Vanessa still didn't want to get too involved, and hadn't liked the idea at first. Except at the same time she’d loved it that he wanted to introduce her to some friends instead of just the two of them spending another evening hidden between the sheets like a couple of adulterers. Then again, it was precisely this aura of secrecy that gave their affair its spice, and the fact was, until she’d signed her divorce papers, she really was committing adultery. Not that it weighed on her conscience. Every time she went to get Mimi she would see Sheila’s car parked outside, so obviously her husband was getting his fair share too.

  The lawyer’s friends were an easy-going pair. They treated Vanessa as if they’d known her for years, and for the first time in ages she felt she was part of the group. She wasn't bored, and she wasn't trying to be someone she wasn't, just to integrate. On the third bottle of wine the conversation took a salacious turn.

  “I wouldn't mind if you cheated on me... as long as I was there at the time,” the female guest said.

  “Darling, you better not say that twice,” the guy answered, kissing her.

  “I’m pretty liberal when it comes to sex too,” the lawyer said. “If we’re all willing adults, why not, what about you, Vanessa? You seem to be a pretty open-minded woman…”

  Vanessa swallowed drily. She hated to be put on the spot, especially when the table talk was on intimate matters like now.

  “I agree with you three. We’re all responsible for our own lives and that’s nothing to do with anyone else,” she smiled.

  This was her cue to slip off to the bathroom. Maybe when she came back they’d be talking about something else. Her reflection in the mirror told her she’d already had too much to drink and had better stop before making a fool of herself again, like what had happened with Johnny, for example. Or on the night she’d met her husband. She was surprised by this memory coming back to her, all of a sudden, after being locked away in
some drawer of forgetfulness for over fifteen years.

  She was at a party in the house of some friends of Diana. One of those big happenings with about fifty people, the type that kids throw when their parents are away for the weekend. Vanessa had always wondered how anyone could actually have fifty friends to invite to a party, when she had no more than five, or to be accurate, three. The host was from the same football team as Diana’s boyfriend, an aspiring star that never rose beyond the third division. Vanessa was feeling low at the time; she was eighteen and had never had a boyfriend. Not only that, but all the boys she was interested in either paid her no attention or were already taken. The others were never good enough. She was now placing her hopes in university, where she dreamed of meeting new, more interesting people. Still, she’d allowed Diana to persuade her to come to this party, which was going to be full of young sports types, who were all really cute, and that was better than a night stuck at home. After an hour at the party Vanessa had realized that the cuteness of the boys stood in direct proportion to their stupidity or conceitedness, that Diana was going to spend the night with her boyfriend, and that the best thing to do was drink so she could endure all these idiots.

  The next time she looked at her watch it was three in the morning, her mother’s deadline for getting home. She knew what she’d hear if she was late. She jumped to her feet and went to her car. Diana could look for a lift home with someone else. Only then did she realize how drunk she was. She couldn't even get the key in the ignition. She was struggling to get the car started when a boy knocked on the window. Vanessa rolled down the window.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” the boy asked.

  “I have to go… my mum will kill me…” Vanessa stuttered.

  “If you drive in that state you won't need your mum to kill you. Give me the key.”

  “No… I’m fine…”

  “Sure you are. Come on, give me the key.”

  Without knowing why, Vanessa gave him the key and moved into the passenger seat. It hadn't occurred to her that he might be a thief, or a rapist, or a murderer. His voice was so familiar that she felt safe and protected. She couldn't remember explaining to him where she lived, or how she’d managed to get into the house without her mother noticing the state she was in. The next day, she saw that he’d left a note in her car with his number on it, asking her to call him in the event she was still alive. Vanessa called him. They met for a coffee, and an hour later she was in love.

  She smiled at her memory of these moments. How true they felt. It hadn't all been so unbearable, after all. There had been some kind of love there, after all, the simple love of adolescents, full of hopes and certainties. She missed those times. She wished she could feel that way again. Would she ever, she wondered?

  The lawyer’s friend, who was knocking on the bathroom door, shook her from her reveries.

  “Is everything all right?” he asked.

  “Yes… I was just re-touching my makeup,” she lied, squeezing past him.

  “Shame I have to get it all smudged,” he replied, pulling her towards him and kissing her urgently.

  Vanessa pushed him away, disgusted.

  “What’s going on? Are you mad? Don’t you have any respect for your wife and your friend, at least?”

  “They don't seem too bothered by us,” he answered, making to grab her again.

  Vanessa looked into the living room and saw the lawyer and his friend’s wife, half-undressed and entwined on the sofa. The shock gave her a jolt; only then did she realize the lawyer’s friend had no trousers on. And his hands were wandering.

  “Stop it!” Vanessa shouted.

  The three of them looked at her in amazement.

  “What’s the problem?” the other woman asked.

  “Don’t tell me you didn't tell her?” asked the lawyer’s friend.

  “Oh, man, I didn't exactly spell it out, I just assumed…”

  “You assumed what?” yelled Vanessa, outraged.

  “That you didn't mind a little group sex…”

  Vanessa was lost for an answer. She closed her eyes, wishing she could be transported to some other dimension. But when she opened them again she saw those three creeps still there in front of her, looking at her as if to ask, ‘Is she going stay?’ She had no alternative but to grab her handbag and dash out of the house. She couldn’t go to her aunt’s, as she’d be unable to avoid seeing the house of ill repute from the window of her room, so she jumped in her car and started driving, with no particular destination in mind, once again.

  This aimless driving was becoming therapeutic. As if she was leaving behind all the demons that tormented her. This time she ended up on a cliff smoking all the cigarettes she had until the sun finally rose and the daylight dispelled her sadness.

  August

  1.

  The holidays came, and with them a strange nostalgia. Vanessa had always felt nostalgic for summer, even in the middle of it. She tried to make the very most of the nights when she could go out without a jacket, the evenings when the sun seemed to linger forever, the noise of the sunbathers on the beach, for it felt like the grey days would be back in the blink of an eye. But this time it wasn't her usual summer nostalgia. It was a pang in her heart.

  Mimi had come to spend a fortnight’s holiday with her, which meant a return to some kind of family routine. Waking up every day to the sound of cartoons on TV, having to think of meals, bath times, bedtimes. Except that now, for the first time in years, this routine made her feel happy. They would go together to buy bread to make sandwiches for the beach. Then they’d spend the day on the beach, taking walks to the caves, having dips in the water and reading under the umbrella. They’d have an ice cream on the way back to the house. They’d shower and spread cream on each other’s backs. They’d play cards until they were almost nodding off to sleep. Vanessa’s aunt joined them when she could, which made things even more fun, and the more the days passed the stronger the pang in Vanessa’s heart at seeing the holidays coming to an end, now that she was finally enjoying being a mother. She felt terrible about all the times she’d thought it would have been better if Mimi had never been born. But then she felt better to see that after all Mimi was a happy child who was dealing very well with the whole situation. She wasn't having nightmares, had stopped wetting the bed and getting complaints from school. Vanessa didn't want to celebrate too soon or be so blasé as to think everything was better now, but so far Mimi was turning out to be a remarkably well-adjusted child.

  Those days of serene pleasure she was spending with her daughter did Vanessa so much good she even stopped thinking about the kinky lawyer. Her aunt had been utterly shocked by the story and only now had she been able to put the pieces together. That’s why he had so many girlfriends coming and going. Maybe some were just one-night stands he’d found on the Internet on those sites for perverts, said her aunt, indignantly. Vanessa ended up laughing to see someone so free-spirited and open-minded get so worked up about the episode.

  But she got even more worked up, one day on the beach. It was the time they’d normally go to the caves, but that particular afternoon Vanessa had felt like staying under the umbrella to finish the book she was reading, while Mimi took her aunt on a crab-hunting adventure among the rocks. Lying on her back and absorbed in her reading, she heard a family pass by her side, the steps of two children skipping and two adults trying to accompany them. ‘Wait there, let’s go that way,’ said a man’s voice. It was so familiar that Vanessa looked up to see who it was, only to suddenly turn onto her belly and hide her head in her towel. When her aunt and Mimi came back Vanessa looked like a comic book spy. Wrapped up in her towel with her sunglasses on, her hair concealing one half of her face and her book the other.

  “Vanessa Darling, your book is upside down,” her aunt pointed out.

  “Ssshhh! Did you see who that is over there?”

  “Who, who?” Mimi cried.

  “Mimi, don't be so noisy. It’s just someo
ne who works with mummy. Why don't you go and take a dip? I think your friends are down there.”

  As Vanessa distracted her daughter’s attention, her aunt put on her distance glasses and turned pale.

  “That motherfucker!” she shouted.

  “Ssshhh! You’ll get us noticed!”

  “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! Who are those people with him?”

  “Sit down, aunt. They’re his children, and his wife, I imagine, although I’m not sure as she hasn’t opened her mouth since they got here and she looks half out of it.”

  “Children? How do you know they’re his children?” she asked, unable to believe her ears.

  “Because they called him Daddy.”

  “But… I…”

  “There you go, Auntie. I told you a man so handsome, successful and uncommitted had to have a very weird secret. And this particular man has several. A whole family’s worth, and a parallel life of promiscuity.”

  At this her aunt took off down the beach in the direction of her neighbour. Vanessa would have stopped her, but that would only have attracted attention, so she let her go and went to join Mimi, who was playing with some friends at the water’s edge. Camouflaged by the children, Vanessa tried to make out what was going on.

  “You ought to be ashamed of yourself, do you hear? You filthy beast! And married with kids to top it all! And you come to this beach to show yourself off, is that it?” her aunt was shouting, to the shocked amazement of the lawyer and everyone within earshot.