‘No?’ I said.
‘There are three of us who came here and we are going back together.’
Carol said: ‘They are inseparable, in dance… and in life… I will join him later. I wanted you two to meet; my old and new friends. Is there a drink going? I can see you’ve had friends here.’
‘Of course; Whisky perhaps?’
‘Now! I like it here,’ Fernando said.
‘And the usual for you?’ I asked Carol.
‘Yes darling.’
I poured a large whisky for Fernando and for myself and a Bailey’s for Carol. It was the bottle’s last serving. I took the empty bottle away. As I turned back Carol was sitting on Fernando’s lap. ‘He says he wouldn’t have me in Rio if I am not a good girl,’ she giggled. I noticed she had changed the way she laughed.
‘And what does that mean?’ I said. ‘Surely you can’t help it, not being one!’
Carol giggled again. ‘Tell him that. He’s such an awful man.’
Carol had already finished her drink and Fernando had the last gulp.
‘I must get going,’ he said, ‘thanks for the drink.’
‘But surely you can have another?’ I asked Fernando. ‘I’d love to have one but I really have to get a move on,’ he said, ‘but I’ll keep in mind your invitation.’ He blinked.
Carol followed him to the door. I poured another large one for myself and sat deep in the sofa. Then Carol came back and sat next to me. I could smell her perfume as if she had applied it just now. ‘I like you David.’
‘Yes I know!’ I said.
‘But it’s true. You are horrible and I love you.’
‘So when are you leaving for Rio? I expected you to go with him.’
‘You know how artists are. Disorganised, temperamental… Ooo, I don’t know… I am not sure if I ever do.’
‘But I thought you were committed.’
‘I am. But am thinking about it.’
‘I need to get my flat sorted. I cannot live like this,’ I said.
‘You are starting again. I told you I’ll be going soon. Who knows, I might follow Fernando.’
‘But I cannot wait for your whims, one day you might…’
‘I have been looking. You know that. I haven’t come across a reasonable flat.’
‘And if you don’t?’
‘You are such a pessimist. Come on. You’ve changed so much. You weren’t like this before.’
‘I am now!’ I had another sip and stood up to take the glasses to the kitchen. ‘By the way, no Bailey’s left.’
‘I should remember that. What should we do for dinner tonight? Let’s make it a good one, we both deserve it.’
‘OK, but I wonder why!’
‘Do you have to philosophise about everything all the time? Let’s have a good time, no discussions OK?’
She had her low-cut red outfit on. We were sitting in our busy restaurant with a bottle of wine and each had finished one glass already. The waiter came to us and took our order fast. We knew the menu and we knew what we wanted. Carol was in a happy mood. I asked myself why but I had no answer for it. It was obvious that Fernando had no plans to take her to Rio. I had asked her to leave the flat and she didn’t have a source of income to fit her whims. She left her job as a receptionist in a ‘modern’ small gallery when she decided to leave the country and now had no work; yet she was jolly. She put her hand on mine. Her fingers were cold; the fingernails were long and red.
‘Tell me David, what is your ambition?’ she asked.
I felt awkward. What a question. What was she thinking about? In any case, whatever I would say would be beyond her.
‘I’m ok as I am.’
‘No ambitions then?’
‘Not really. I do things as I like them and I challenge things as I face them.’
‘Oh! You are a defensive man! Look at Fernando, he is a go-getter. A real man, all flesh and bone alive, he will make it.’
‘I am sure he will. Good for him, and for you. Are you following him?’
‘Yes. He needs me. He cannot make it there without me.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘My feminine intuition!’
‘In that case you should have guessed my ambition. Anyway, what is yours?’
‘I want to be in a big dance company… a modern one. I don’t mind if I don’t dance but want to be part of the whole thing.’
‘I didn’t know about this passion of yours. It is a recent acquisition I take it.’
‘Not really. I have always wanted to be there. When I was a child I wanted to become a ballerina. I am artistic you know.’
I looked at her. I could feel her skin. She was eating fish and salad. I tried to imagine her on a hot afternoon in Rio in a big hall, wearing a long red dress, changing the music but the picture was too remote. She started again:
‘You don’t have any ambitions because you are surrounded by your students, the kids. You love this feeling of being wanted all the time. When you are hassled, you love it. I’ve seen you with your papers. Take the students away from you and you are dead.’
‘So is that why you don’t let me be? You are so concerned about my life!’
‘I am really hurt now! Anyway, thankfully I am not your student.’
She left the fork on the plate and took my hand.
‘You are cruel! But you are not one of those who want to show their power to the kids. You love yourself so much you don’t have time for anything else,’ she said.
‘I think you are upset about something. What is this? So much inside information about me!’
‘You cannot accept it; it is too much for you. But let me tell you. Is it because you loved that librarian of yours so much or is it that you didn’t care a hoot for her when she was dying? I remember we had the best times together just then!’
‘I thought you wanted us to have a relaxed dinner without any discussions,’ I said.
‘Yes, I am having a relaxed time. Very relaxed! I am not sure about you though because it will need extra effort to make you more relaxed than you are anyway!’
She was eating the salad and I poured some wine for her and myself.
‘You don’t need to be sarcastic. You have made up your mind… very tidily too… you know me so well I should apply to you to know who I am.’
‘Perhaps you should!’ she said.
‘No thank you. I am quite alright the way I am.’
She started laughing.
‘You see, you can be made fun of so quickly! Take it easy. I was joking all the time! Couldn’t you guess? Where has your sense of humour gone? This is all because I have ignored you. Is it because of Fernando you are so serious? Could I have a bit more please?’ She brought her glass towards me. Then she told me about the movie she had seen with Fernando. An action thriller. I could imagine her in the cinema with her big bag of popcorn, eating away, leaning toward Fernando.
We had a long night eating and drinking. And then we were in bed with full stomachs. There was no point sitting on the sofa in the flat. As Carol moved in the bed I thought she had lost some weight. Soon I could hear her going to sleep but I couldn’t go to sleep. I was thinking of my day: The students, Anita and her daughter, Carol and Fernando and then our dinner. I went for a relaxed night as she had suggested but as it happened, she started giving me a piece of her mind. What if whatever she said was right? So what if my world was centred on myself? Isn’t everyone like that? But then, am I everyone? I always had high expectations of myself....where are those standards...those codes of conduct to ensure I was different? Carol’s breathing was deep. I couldn’t place her; a near fight in the restaurant and what they call intimacy a few minutes ago... for a few minutes. I though she was a confused girl getting old trying to find a secure life for herself. Again, I suppose everyone does that. I got up carefully and went to the kitchen. The light from the street lamp was shining in. I sat by the window, the rain had started again and drops were hitting the window. Di
d I want her to come from behind, put her hand on my shoulder and say ‘what are you doing sitting here alone, come back to bed’? Then I thought about our early days. She used to smile from a distance as she came close. Red, smiling lips! There was something in that approach that would move me. I always tried to avoid talking sense with her, not that it was difficult. But then tonight, she was different. My expectations from her were quite obvious. I suppose hers was the same. But what if she had something else in mind all the time. What would I care! Ha! I was behaving exactly as she had said. I was self-centred, conceited! But should I have behaved differently, emotionally, sensually, considerately? Wouldn’t that be lying to myself? Putting up a good guy image! But what about Kate? Carol was right. I didn’t go to the hospital. Granted, it was only a short period. She was in the hospital only briefly. But was that a justification for me not going to see her? Not even phoning?
The rain was hitting harder and I was cold.
I thought about reading Kate’s diary but suddenly felt so weak I dragged myself to the bed. Carol turned in her sleep and now her back was facing me. Her body was warm. And I went to sleep soon.
18
Next day I went to work early. It was midday when I had a call from Elizabeth.
‘Hello David, been trying to catch up. Have a minute?’
‘Yes. I meant to phone you myself. How is your daughter?’
‘Well, OK now.’
‘Good to hear that, and how are things going with the flat?’
‘Oh, that’s done. But I wanted to talk with you about Kate. Here in the library, we have been talking about it... you know she was very much loved by all here, they want to remember her... I thought about you. Are you interested in participating?’
‘Sure, when is it?’
‘Haven’t set the date yet, waiting to confirm with you first, but would you be interested in saying a few words?’
‘Who? Me?’
‘Actually, everybody here thinks you are the right person to take the lead; say something about her. After all, you knew her best... that is, if you feel like doing it of course.’
‘I... I just don’t know enough... what could I say? I am not sure if I am good at these things.’
‘You are too modest David! I am sure you are the best person. It doesn’t need to be long.’
‘Let me think about it, but I don’t promise anything.’
‘It can wait a couple of days! Just let me know. We hope not to let it get too late though, it is already late.’
‘OK I will come back to you soon.’
I went out for a coffee. The café was too crowded. I decided to walk to the one further away. I sat in a corner. The coffee was too weak and cold. What could I write? How presumptuous people are. Why should I write? I took the coffee to the counter. ‘This is too weak and too cold.’
‘I will change it for you sir! I will bring it to your table.’
I went and sat there. I deliberately tried to think of other things. What would I do after work?
The coffee arrived. It was hot but weak. I had it and went back to work. There was a phone message. It was from Fiona. I had forgotten about her after my last phone call.
‘David! I am coming up on Wednesday for a short meeting; can we spend half a day together? Staying at the Royal Bell, give me a buzz if you can.’
I phoned back but there was no reply. I was furious to have missed her call. I left a message for her saying it would be great to meet and I look forward to that.
On Wednesday, I started early to clear my desk before seeing Fiona. We had a pleasant late lunch. The sun was out all morning and the coolness of the day disappeared under the warmth of the hotel restaurant by the window where our table was. When I arrived, she wasn’t there yet. I ordered myself a whisky and sat in a comfortable chair. I didn’t wait long. I saw her coming in with a couple of large colourful bags. She came over. ‘You haven’t been waiting long, have you?’
‘Not really, you look refreshed.’
‘It’s the shopping! Be with you in a minute.’
Then she disappeared in the lift around the corner. I had a sip of my whisky. I couldn’t think about anything. I looked around the hotel lobby as I was sitting. A couple of old gentlemen were sitting a couple of tables away with a broadsheet in front of them, a waiter was walking towards another table with a single middle aged-man, there were two large green plants by the two columns. Then I saw her coming over wearing a red polo neck and a grey skirt. We hugged. ‘Let’s have something now, I am famished.’
There was a pink flower on the table, large plates with small flowery patterns and heavy cutlery.
‘So how was your day?’ I asked.
‘Efficient! As you may expect from me David!’
‘Perish any other thought!’
‘It has been a very early day for me. We had an early meeting which was thankfully short, just signing some forms. We are trying to submit a proposal. I am not that hopeful really but it is exciting. I went to do some shopping straight after. Anyway, what have you been up to?’
‘Nothing much... nothing exciting! Mainly work.’
‘No debauchery then?’ she smiled.
‘Not really.’
‘How boring! Now you have your chance!’ and she laughed.
‘And when are you going back?’ I said.
‘I have this afternoon! Tomorrow morning, I am off early.’
Her room was bright with the sun and she looked spirited. She smiled as if she was looking at an imaginary figure. Then she started taking things off, elegantly.
‘Are you going to sit there all the time?’ she asked with a smile.
‘I was just admiring your clothes.’
‘And what makes you think I am satisfied by that? You had plenty of time to admire them while we were eating!’
I thought that her words matched her, matched the way she dressed and the way she walked.
‘I have no long term plans to be frozen in admiration,’ I said.
‘Now! That is reassuring. I don’t wish my name recorded in the criminal history as the woman who killed people by freezing them.’
I laughed: ‘But people would write and talk about that fixated glance of admiration in your victims’ eyes, and there will be many of them.’
‘And how do you know that?’
‘I have inside information.’
‘The inside information is what you will have soon, but only if you do something about that admiration!’
Her movements were relaxed, her warmth seeped slowly as our skins met and it stayed. It lingered like a sentence remembered from a pleasant conversation. We stayed until the room was dark.
‘Should our meetings always be so short?’ I said.
‘That’s why they are pleasing!’
The hotel lobby was busy now. We had a drink at the bar.
‘So when are you going to be here again?’
‘Have no plans.’
She was drinking her wine.
‘And would you come over?’ she said.
‘I doubt it.’
‘So, it would be sometime somewhere.’
‘It will,’ I said.
As I left the hotel, it was cold again. I passed by the bistro near my flat. Anita was serving. Her back was towards the window and her hair was tied back.
I opened the door to the flat. Carol said: ‘Hello David.’
She was on the bed with a big brown teddy bear.
‘Look what I’ve got.’
‘How can I miss it?’
‘Fernando gave it to me. He wants me. He wants me there. As soon as he settles, he wants me there.’
‘Well, I thought that was the case.’
‘No, you can’t understand. You are such a matter of fact person. Can you understand someone sensitive, emotional?’
‘OK, you’ve got a teddy bear, what’s the big deal.’
‘Do you know? That’s the problem with you. You think that you are the centre of the universe, that
your opinion is the only one; it is only you who has emotions. But you don’t understand people.’
‘Obviously you have eaten,’ I said.
‘Oh, we had a lovely time. He is leaving tomorrow. I will follow him soon. I shall miss him like mad.’
‘He leaves tomorrow? That’s some news. So why didn’t you stay with him tonight?’
‘His friends are with him aren’t they? He is so wise. We can have all the nights we want when I join him in Rio.’
I watched her as she moved about in the flat. I started thinking, should I write something for Kate’s memorial? I needed a large whisky. I finished it quickly and poured another but I couldn’t think. What could I write? Something to suggest that her friends cared? Did we? What did I do when she was alive? And so what if we did care? What did it matter now? And it was not that she was a world renowned figure. ‘Now we have to acknowledge the loss of such a loved person. She is in our hearts’ and all that crap! If the event was meant for remembering her, she was nowhere now to be pleased about it. Even if she were alive, I wondered if she would have liked a party in her honour, let alone to be acknowledged in a particular way. Was there a tendency to use the event to boost our own egos showing how good we are, how generous we are, we are taking time from our busy life to devote some minutes to our beloved colleague who is not with us any longer? I am sure she would have loved the discussion! She would say, ‘you claim you are an admirer, no, a devotee of Nietzsche and now you are doing this benevolent act of sacrifice and pity. Nietzsche would be turning in his grave!’ How could I answer her?
I had another large whisky. I dozed off on the sofa as the light, the dim light of morning, was coming in through the gap in the curtain. It was a strange feeling. I wasn’t sure if I had slept or not. It was as if I was continuing with my thoughts without a break. Then I knew what I was going to do. I just knew that I would write and I would give a speech. I didn’t need any reason for it. I wanted to do so... to say I loved her.
I felt sleepy. I walked clumsily to the bed and quickly fell asleep. When I woke up, it was midday. Carol had gone. There was a note on the table: ‘Be there for me tonight, I shall feel lonely.’
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