I’m sure you did, with another man’s cock in your mouth.
Bile rises in his throat and he swallows hard. “That’s good,” he says.
He knows he needs to say something about the dreadful night after their dinner at Margaritaville. “About what happened,” he says, and he gestures towards the bedroom. “I have no idea where that came from. I’d had too much to drink. It was crazy. I’m sorry for that, Melusine.” He gives a lopsided smile. “Vegas can make a man do strange things.”
She tries to reciprocate with as much of a smile as she can. “It’s fine. I’d had a lot to drink too; I really don’t remember much.”
He nods.
“I guess I should pack up all this stuff,” she waves a hand at the bags.
“I’m already packed,” he says, “but don’t worry, you’ve got lots of time, we only have to leave in four hours.”
“In which case, if you don’t mind, I’ll pack and have a small nap. Vegas is fun but it does take a lot out of you.”
I’m sure it does. Fucking a strange man for two days straight, yes, that would tire anybody out.
“Excellent idea,” he says. “I’ll join you.”
She packs her suitcase while he goes back to flicking through the TV channels. She does not know what to do with the giant black dildo. She cannot leave it, what if the hotel staff were to find it and then try to contact Hans: Hello Sir, you left a giant black dildo behind, would you like that forwarded to you?
She is being silly; hotels would never go to that amount of effort. Particularly in Vegas where she is sure a plethora of sex toys were left stranded as their owners flew back to resume their straitlaced lives.
But she cannot leave it because she knows Hans will check the room thoroughly; he will check each drawer and closet and under the bed.
So she packs the dildo along with her clothes and her trinkets. She leaves the trinkets in their bags because she cannot bear to look at each item; the memories of Gunther are too strong and she is afraid she will cry. She caresses the bracelet and necklace that he gave her; she has not taken them off.
She finishes packing and she closes the blinds and sets the alarm and lies down on the bed.
Hans comes in and lies down next to her. He is sure he can smell the man on her skin and his nostrils flare in disgust.
He closes his eyes and pretends that she is Kateri and he reaches for her hand.
She jerks in surprise; Hans has never been given to gestures of affection.
She squeezes his hand back, as if telling him that everything is all right and while neither of them wants to keep holding on, they do not know how to let go without offending the other.
And in truth, Melusine is relieved that Hans has returned.
She had been walking the Strip that morning, thinking. She has built a life with Hans, a friendship, a family, a home of togetherness.
And now that Gunther is gone, she needs Hans.
She has realized that there are wells of darkness in her husband that she will never understand, or even want to know, but she cannot lose him because that would mean losing too much.
They lie in the air-conditioned darkness of the hotel room, neither of them sleeping, both of them wide-awake, waiting to leave.
Two
the loan of borrowed time
16.
THEY RETURN to Germany and as the smell of Europe fills Melusine’s nostrils, her eyes sting with the loss of brash sunlight and the primary colours she has left behind. Europe smells nothing like Vegas; Germany is cobblestones steeped in history and damp.
Standing in a grocery store on the way home from the airport, she even finds her favourite aromas offensive — the freshly ground coffee beans, spicy sausages and German bread.
Vegas was air-conditioned, lacquered and gelled. Who knew I preferred plastic and enamel to hand-painted carpentry? And I miss the sunshine so bright I had to close my eyes. I miss the vivid gashes of colour.
Opening the door to their home, she feels as if she is stepping inside a second-hand clothing store; it is dark, low-ceilinged, musty. She has never noticed the smell before.
“Needs airing.”
Hans shrugs and Melusine opens all the windows, which Hans immediately closes.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Melusine, you’ll let in the damp. Let’s make a sandwich and go to bed. We can unpack in the morning.”
Melusine slices rye bread and makes him a sandwich. She is not hungry.
I can’t eat. I miss him so much. How did it happen that we even met? And why?
“How was Vegas?” Ana wants to know and Melusine shrugs.
“Fine.”
“Fine? That’s all you have to say? Fine? Did something happen there that you’re not telling me? You seem upset about something. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. Here, I bought you a gift.”
She hands Ana the shot glasses with the crude genitals and Ana howls with delight. Melusine is glad to have distracted her; she can hardly talk, her heart is broken, and it is all she can do to keep up her end of the conversation, words feel like stones in her mouth.
You made consonants constant again, and comprehensible. You unlocked vowels to their full resounding, to let words come over my lips once more. Oh Ich, you said it best. And now Gunther, you are gone from me and my words are once again imprisoned, silenced. Oh, Gunther.
She says his name a thousand times a day. She cannot believe she cannot see him; the separation feels unnatural, an aberration.
17.
IN THE WEEKS that follow their arrival back home, it is as if Hans and Melusine have agreed to give each other a wide berth and they hardly see one another.
Melusine sets up a shrine in her study; all her trinkets from Las Vegas are neatly arranged and each dollar store item is a treasure.
She rents a post office box in the nearby town of Dornburge and she emails the address to Gunther, typing only that: the address.
And then she waits.
Why doesn’t he write? Why?
She is an automaton, obsessed by his silence. She uncharacteristically avoids her son who is perplexed by her aloofness.
“I’m just busy, Jonas. I’ve got to catch up on a whole bunch of things,” she lies. “We will make a plan soon. How are things with you and Nika?”
“Nika’s awesome. She’s the best thing that ever happened to me. Um, actually, we’ve moved into an apartment together, I know you might think it’s too soon but it feels right. Mami, are you sure you’re okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”
I’m not myself. My self has been banished to purgatory, to wait.
Meanwhile, Hans phones Juditha as soon as he can and she sounds delighted to hear from him and he is beyond relieved that she is where she said she would be. She is true to her word.
Juditha had given him a telephone number that she told him only he had access to, an unlisted number.
“You can understand that I have to guard my privacy very carefully, Hans. I am trusting you not to give this number to anybody. I’ve had a number of instances in which people weren’t happy with my findings and I have felt in real danger. Or sometimes family members don’t understand what it is I do and they get angry. So now I take every precaution to be as invisible as possible. Unfortunately, I can’t just give people the easy solutions they are looking for…” Her voice trails off and Hans feels for her.
“I won’t tell anybody a thing,” he says. He schedules an hour every day in his calendar, establishing a set time for their calls.
“How are you?” she asks. “How are things with you and your wife?”
“Fine,” he says, and he begins to ask her a question about Kateri when she interrupts him.
“No, Hans. There’s only one rule between us and that is that you always have to tell me the truth. My love for you is unconditional; your actions and thoughts cannot change that. I love you fundamentally and I always will. So let’s try that again. How are you? How are things w
ith your wife?”
She loves him. Hans lets those beautiful words sink into his heart like ink on parchment.
“I hate her,” he says simply, of Melusine. “I’m trying to keep things somewhat normal but she’s ruined for me. She’s been with another man and I can’t forgive her.”
“Forgiveness is already there, Hans. If you lower your ego wall, you will find that forgiveness is waiting for you on the other side.”
Hans isn’t interested in talking about Melusine. “Have you made any progress with Kateri?”
“I’ve done a series of meditations. You’ve only been gone for two days, Hans. Remember, I told you that this is going to take a lot of time.”
She is billing him for each meditation in addition to the phone calls and he calculates that this entire enterprise could end up with a hefty price tag. But he does not care.
He sighs.
“Tell me about your life,” Juditha says. “All of it will help me, and while we develop our contact with Kateri, I’d like you to work on trying to experience more joy in your day. By seeking joy, you will be addressing karma and bringing Kateri closer to you.”
Hans gives a snort. “Joy. Ridiculous concept.”
“I understand that it may seem incomprehensible now but joy will come. Tell me about your day. Describe it.”
Hans is not used to talking about himself. He starts hesitantly and before he knows it, their hour is up.
“You see, Hans, was that so bad?”
Hans rather enjoyed talking and having Juditha listen.
“It was tolerable,” he tells her and he knows that she is smiling.
“We’ll talk tomorrow then,” she says. “And until then, seek joy, Hans, and even if you can’t seek it, try not to drive it away, if it seeks to find you.”
18.
LIFE SETTLES INTO A ROUTINE. Hans works longer hours in order to avoid his wife, while she hurries off to Dornburge as soon as she finishes work.
The long dark month of November arrives and Melusine returns each night from her fruitless trips to the post office box and she sits in her study, staring at her trinkets and wondering if she will ever hear from Gunther. Each day without word feels like a dozen years and she is exhausted.
At night she eats dinner alone in front of the television with Mimi for company and for the first time, she is grateful for the dog’s warm companionship.
“Oh Mimi,” she says, “I miss him so much. Why hasn’t he written? Will I ever hear from him again?”
And Mimi buries her head in Melusine’s lap, nuzzling her, comforting her.
One bleak Friday evening, she has nearly given up. Resigned to the prospect of an empty box, she opens the tiny metal door and is stunned to see a large manila envelope folded into a curve. She snatches it and examines it, yes, it’s from him.
Her heart is pounding; she can feel it high up in her throat, almost choking her and she breaks out in a sweat.
Thank God. I thought I would go mad.
She leans against the wall of letterboxes. It is as if she’s been holding her breath and she lets it out, hugging herself, almost doubled over.
She locks the box and returns to her car.
She sits inside and opens the envelope.
She pulls out a letter and with it, the picture of her and Gunther on the Skywalk.
Her hand flies to her heart. He bought the picture. That’s why he wanted her to go ahead to Guano Point without him. She studies the photograph greedily then she leans back in her seat and closes her eyes, holding the photograph close to her chest.
Again she exhales a prayer to a god she did not know she believed in; thank you, thank you. She repeats this like a mantra until she finally accepts that the photograph is not a figment of her imagination.
She reads the letter.
Melu, my dear, I miss you. I can’t say I have any idea what our friendship is going to be but I can only be honest with you, and in my honesty, I need to tell you that I miss you.
Things are not good with me and my wife. She’s so hurt. And she hates me for having gone to Vegas.
I’ve got no idea what to do. My life feels like a terrible trap right now and I can’t make it better no matter how much I want to. I’m chained to this misery.
I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a downer. I hope you like the photo. I got one for myself too. It was a perfect day. Being with you was perfect.
Anyway, that’s all I have to say right now. I hope you won’t be put off by this letter of self-pity and that you’ll write to me.
How are you? I haven’t even asked. I trust you know you can tell me everything.
Your friend,
Gunther.
Melusine lowers the letter and stares out the window of her car, not seeing a thing. She’s thrilled that he misses her but she’s disappointed that he keeps emphasizing the friendship aspect of things. Were they not lovers first? There was nothing in the letter that alluded to their passion.
You’re being ridiculous. Stop thinking like a stupid schoolgirl. What were you expecting?
More than this. Or, something different. I don’t know what I thought.
Her relief at having heard from him settles into a new kind of discomfort by all the things he has not said.
She studies his letter. He’s written to her on a blank sheet of plain white photocopy paper, and his writing is a large scrawl; a mix of upper and lower case letters, and he used a black fine-liner ink pen.
She thinks it looks very artistic, very Matisse.
She drives back to her town and goes into the stationary store near the university. Choosing the right paper is as exciting as choosing her underwear the day she’d known she was going to see him.
While she prepares supper, she thinks of things to write about. Hans is home at a decent hour for once and she is surprised to see him.
They finish supper and she gets up to clear the table and wash the dishes.
He comes into the kitchen after her. “Melusine,” he says, “a long day standing?”
Which is their signal for a foot rub.
She is startled, taken aback. “But my feet need attention,” she says, “all that walking in Vegas. I haven’t had time to get them soft and smooth. You won’t be happy.”
“I’m sure they’re just fine. You can fix them tomorrow. Tonight I will rub them as they are. Leave the dishes until the morning and go and give your feet a wash. I’ll put on the music and get things ready.”
“Fine.” She is not enthusiastic. She wants to write to Gunther. She consoles herself with the thought that she can figure out what to say in her letter while her feet are being rubbed.
She goes to wash while Hans sinks into the sofa and waits for her.
Hans has had an odd day. His life feels out of control.
His daily call with Juditha had unsettled him for reasons he could not pinpoint. They had not discussed anything out of the ordinary, but after he put the phone down, he had felt utterly discombobulated.
“I’m coming down with a migraine,” he told his office assistant. “How many appointments do we have this afternoon?”
She consulted the book. “Three.”
“Can you cancel them, move them to tomorrow?” Hans has never done this in his life and she gives him a strange look.
“I’m sure I can,” she said.
She made the calls and he got her to turn on the answering machine and then he sent her home for the day. The other partners were all out of town and he could hardly wait to hustle her out the door.
“I’ll close everything up,” he said, “see you tomorrow.”
Then he locked himself inside his office, took off his tie and used it to masturbate, achieving an intense orgasm and a successful blackout.
He lay back on his big office chair, feeling cleansed and satiated.
He dozed, woke and did it again. Although he could not achieve orgasm the second time, he once again fell into that soothing blanket of darkness and when he came t
o, his penis felt raw; his actions had been too rough and even his neck felt bruised from the assault.
He was humiliated by the craven hunger that had led him to the unprofessionalism of closing his work place. He was ashamed. He knew he was out of control.
Hans had used the office on previous occasions for his sex acts but always after hours, long after everyone had left. He had never closed up for the day and he knows it cannot happen again. And now, while he waits for Melusine to wash her feet, he vows that it will never happen again.
He needs to resume his former routine of rubbing her feet and pretending it is Kateri he is touching. Then he must have sex with his wife because it did serve to release some of his tensions.
He wonders what it was about the conversation with Juditha that had triggered such increased craving for intense self-abuse.
He decides he will tell Juditha what happened, because she will know what to do.
19.
THE FOLLOWING DAY, Melusine leaves her colleagues at lunchtime and goes to a café to write to Gunther. The foot rub of the previous night had gone on for much longer than it usually did and to her dismayed surprise, it had led to sex.
As she lay there, with her silent husband thrusting back and forth inside her, she felt a repulsion she was careful not to show. Compared to Gunther’s healthy robust appetites, everything Hans did seemed weird and strange. And what was with his silence? Melusine, observing, noticed that Hans held his breath the entire time he made love to her; his eyes were fixed shut and his face turned an angry purple.
When he was done, he cleaned himself off as he always did, rolled over and went to sleep.
Melusine had a hot shower and she scrubbed her body, feeling as if she had failed to take care of herself; she had allowed herself to be violated. But what else could she have done? She could not very well refuse to have sex with her husband or tell him that she could no longer stomach his touch.
After her shower, she made a cup of tea and decided to wait until the next day to write to Gunther. And now, pen poised over paper, a coffee in front of her, she has no idea what to say.
A Glittering Chaos Page 14