We talked and talked, I was looking at the job offers, he was already starting to say better not a job in the public eye, don’t you think? Work in bars and restaurants is very hard, believe me, people aren’t respectful and I wouldn’t like anyone to say anything about you, now you’re my wife.
I was still digesting this opinion of his, still wondering if it might be the start of that kind of subtle control husbands like to exercise, when father rang. Your mother wants to speak to you. She says they saw you in a bar and you were wearing hardly anything, no headscarf and showing your bum to all and sundry. Dear, can’t you dress like a married woman should, please? You’ve no right to interfere, it’s a matter for my husband.
I hung up and told him. He went quiet, went far too quiet. Perhaps you should think about it. What? About wearing a headscarf? I laughed just imagining myself like that, I wouldn’t know how to walk dressed like that. No, not the headscarf but about covering up a bit, people ought to know you’re a married woman now.
Married woman, married woman, married women dress like that, don’t study, don’t work, are very good cooks and keep their houses spotless.
Father rang to say if I didn’t do what he’d told me I’d never see mother again, that was all and I should decide what was best for me.
I put a headscarf on to visit mother. I walked along as quickly as I could so our life-long neighbours didn’t see me. You’re so pretty with that hair of yours, take that off your head, love. The subtlest said I can see you’ve changed a lot, and those who were even subtler looked the other way and didn’t say hello.
But father was father and not easily tricked. He drove past the house as often as he could, clinging to his steering wheel, biting his nails or gritting his teeth. Until he saw me and I wasn’t wearing a headscarf and he rushed home to ring me, and said if he ever said that stuff to my face, my face would feel it too.
My husband who’d been one of those knights coming to the maiden’s rescue now proved to be docile when facing the dragon and said maybe he’s right, it’s your mother, your father, you know what he’s like. Maybe this was the beginning of the end, or perhaps I simply wanted to be even freer.
37
No more meandering
Everyone predicted it would be a very short-lived marriage, but it didn’t end because he left me, which is what father said, and it didn’t end because he left his job and went back to pushing drugs, no, it didn’t simply fizzle out.
Perhaps I already knew it wasn’t for a lifetime from the very start, but to say that now would be to use hindsight and be misleading.
He simply stopped playing the part. All that time he’d had to say don’t worry, we’ll get our way, we’ll do whatever it takes to be together, I’ll never leave you. He’d get angry when I’d talked about father’s antics, fucking bastard, you know when I see him I want to land a couple of good punches on him. He’d protected me but not really and defended me but not really, and that was really all I needed. And under pressure from father, quite unawares, he kept giving in, come on, dear, don’t be like that, dear, don’t act like that, he is your father and a father is a father.
Apart from that, he started making strange, cutting remarks. One particularly hurt me, I sobbed the whole way down the street, not sure this was the destiny I’d wanted to switch to. I’d bumped into a classmate in the Plaça del Pes on a market Saturday, when we no longer held hands when we went out. We never would again, he was so embarrassed someone might see him. I said hey and smiled, I stopped to talk to the boy. Come on, let’s be going, and me, wait a minute, you know, I’d like to introduce you, I said, let’s be going, he said, not shouting, but in such a solemn tone I thought what will my friend think of me, look at him showing who’s boss, but I didn’t want to cause a scene and said come on then, see you.
And you know, I don’t want problems with your father, who’s always ringing me. Wear the headscarf and forget it, it’s no big deal, my mother wore one, your mother wore one and she didn’t die, did she? We’ll always be together, I promise you, I told him, and he said, but what’s in a promise?
Later on he started going out without saying where he was going and that led to rows. He’s acting like father, I thought, and he must be thinking I wanted to tie him down, because we know women here do what they want with their men and you belong here rather than there. Where are you going? I don’t know, I’m just going out, all right. Until I said all right, fine, I’ll do the same. And he’d grab the door at eleven and say where are you going now? I don’t know, I’m just going out, full stop. But what will you do on the street at this time of night? Who said I’m going to be on the street? I’ll see, I might go for a drink or go to the cinema or go off to have a good time. Aren’t you the one who never wants to go anywhere with me?
That kind of row alternated with reconciliations that weren’t altogether sincere, you know I love you, you silly, but he still had one eye on the telly and his cigarette lit.
What I cooked for supper always led to rows and always ended in unpleasantness. What do you want for supper? I don’t know, whatever you feel like. I was fed up with preparing whatever I felt like, there were meals he didn’t like and he left his food mouldering on the plate. If you can’t lower yourself to cook anything, or wash the dishes, or help with any of the housework, the least you can do is let me know what you’d like for supper. Don’t I help you enough in the house? Haven’t I washed up enough? You know, if that’s what you think of me, I’ll do what all the other men do and we’ll see if that makes you happy.
He’d grab the door and slam it behind him, and I’d already begun to think that wasn’t my destiny.
But I’ve never forgiven him for falling asleep. I’d imagined living with him and had thought I’d never ever feel alone again, but it was too much of a burden for any man to take on the loneliness I’d felt for an eternity.
Either that, or else he was a layabout. He took notice of me in the early days. When it was time to go to sleep, I’d have bouts of endless tears and he’d say come here, what’s the matter, nothing, it’s nothing really, I’m just having a good cry. He’d give me a hug, we’d make love, if not why had he hugged me in the first place, and I found it easier to get to sleep. But there came a day when he did nothing, he didn’t come over or put an arm around my shoulders, even with his eyes still glued to the television. The fact was nobody was there and I was really alone, much more than I realised. After an hour when I’d cried and cried, he said I’m going to bed, you coming? And I said, no, I can’t get to sleep in this state. My blubbing drove me on and I was sobbing when I sought him out in bed, listen, love, I need you, I really mean it, I need you. He went huh and started snoring. I tried to wake him up and he went leave me in peace, for fuck’s sake.
It was then I began to think I had to make my own destiny, that perhaps it was time I stopped meandering. It was then I took the decision that precipitated everything.
38
Sometimes there’s not even love
I’ll leave. If that’s what you want. No, it’s not, but none of this makes any sense. My small bedsit was waiting for me on that ground floor that had just been built, all mod cons, all clean and gleaming. I’d just sit on the sofa bed and stay there, in front of the television that was switched off, watching my reflection in the screen, my legs apart and stretched out. Decent girls don’t sit like that, dear. From now on I would sit the way I wanted, would cook when I felt like it and study whatever I wanted. That’s all. I did nothing else that day but it was freedom. Decisions, decisions, decisions.
It was the moment when I reviewed my whole life and I wasn’t so much dying, it was simply that for the first time in my life I was alone physically, the first time I would sleep with only myself. I wasn’t scared anymore, although I could well have been. A point must come when you can’t be any more scared, when you’ve suffered so much you find it hard to imagine worse situations than those you’ve always lived with.
What could I do? Wh
at could I do? I did nothing. Just sat and said nothing, and did nothing, I don’t know how long for.
I was getting used to the single life, it’s not difficult, you don’t have to ask anyone what they want for dinner and I’d stopped loving him some time ago, otherwise I don’t think it would have been so easy. He didn’t turn up and knock on my door, he didn’t go on his knees and beg me to come back, people say he disappeared. He did ring and say all that stuff about if I see you with someone else I won’t stand for it, you’re mine, you know, and nobody else’s. I told him he’d been watching too many television programmes of that kind and he best not try to come near me, that it was all over between us. I won’t divorce you, and you’ll be out on a limb forever and won’t be able to marry again. I don’t want to marry and I won’t be married to you for much longer, because I’ve already asked for a divorce in the courts here, and things here don’t work like they do down there and that’s something you’ve known for some time. What are you going to do about your father? Do you think he’ll leave you in peace now you’re living by yourself? He doesn’t know where I live and even if he did, he can’t meddle in my life. You’re the one who’s living in a television programme, he told me, and in the end he was right, on that score.
I had told mother everything. I’m separating. Did he hit you? No. Did he insult you? No. Doesn’t he give you money to buy food? No. Well I don’t understand why you want to divorce him, don’t you know a divorced girl is second-hand goods? What are you going to do? Your father will make you pay dearly for this if you come home. I’m not going back home, and she couldn’t understand. I’ve rented an apartment, I’m working in a restaurant in the afternoon and studying in the morning. I can afford to. But, but… I don’t know what her ‘but’ was, because the whole situation was one huge ‘but’ in terms of tradition and the whole established order they’d taught her. An order that was coming to an end, at least in our family.
Until the bell rang and it was father who’d followed me. What’s wrong? Open up, come on, open up, and I have to admit I was a bit scared, only slightly, with a choked feeling in my throat, not because of him but because I’d be by myself with him. I didn’t want to silence things anymore, I wanted to speak up loudly and clearly. I hid the kitchen knife in the highest cupboard, the others were table knives and wouldn’t do so much damage. I knew by that stage he was incapable of doing anything, he was a coward and if he’d rejected my husband it was because he knew too many secrets about him, all that stuff about him being his pusher, sure not only for joints, but also the other stuff he snorted, that was why his moods swung so violently and had we known we’d have respected him less. He never understood his problem with me was the way he acted as a father and had nothing to do with whether he took drugs, was a criminal or whatever. The worst he’d done was not protecting me, because he was the person he should be protecting me against.
I must have been thinking all this when he knocked at the door and said what are you doing here? This is my house. You must come home, I told you he wasn’t right for you, so what you must do now is come back to us, admit I was right and come and live with us. A woman can’t live by herself. You were right, he wasn’t for me, but I won’t come back to live with you, I’d rather starve to death. If you accept I was right, you have to come home, because a woman by herself… Who says so? Are you saying that? No, father, that’s all in the past, let me live my life. Let me be, I won’t ask you for anything, I won’t bear a grudge against you, but let me be. Bear a grudge against me, after what you’ve done to me? I didn’t do anything to you, and you’re to blame for my separation.
That wasn’t really true, it was my marriage he was to blame for, but he’d never have understood that. He left and I thought that was it, I’d won, he wouldn’t bother me again, I’d looked at him so resolutely he wouldn’t dare come back.
But it wasn’t to be. I used to get home very late, exhausted, and slept very little. So I’d often get into bed, leave the shutter up, the light on and fall asleep in front of the television. It was on one such day that someone rang and there he was in the video image, biting his tongue, with mother behind him.
I’ve brought your mother because I thought that if I find you’ve got a man up there I’d most likely kill you and she always stops me from doing that sort of thing. A man? I saw it was 4 a.m. and you still had your lights on, I bet she’s got a man up there, if not, what’s a woman living by herself going to be doing? Look in the cupboards, if you want, but I’m very tired and start classes at eight and need to sleep some more.
And he did just that, though I’d been joking. His eyes went from one side to the other and he checked out my tiny apartment, are you happy now? He probably escaped somehow, and mother also looked as if she wanted to go and get some sleep. It’s none of your business if I’m with a man or not, what’s wrong, you feeling remorse? I’m like one of those women you liked slandering just because they were divorced, now do you realise they were also someone’s daughter, someone’s sister? It’s all over, father, all over, and you can’t do anything about it. If you won’t leave me in peace, I’ll go so far away you won’t ever see me again and you’ll regret not having me near you for the rest of your life. Mother said let him be, can’t you see he’s drunk? Stop arguing and we can all go home.
It wasn’t all over, it was never all over, and he found out where I worked and started to come day after day, and put on little shows of jealousy, and the boss asked if he was my ex. This fellow? No, he’s my father. Well, to hear him anyone would think he’s your partner or your ex.
I was tired of being persecuted, all his absurd obsessions, and the struggle to be myself. I thought of reporting him, but mother said don’t, please, because we’re already the laughing stock of the whole world, and he never gives me a minute’s peace. Until they told me at work it couldn’t go on like that and I had to give up my job to avoid them sacking me. How shameless these Moors are, I expect they were thinking. I couldn’t have cared less, I just wanted a little peace and quiet.
It was a call with two zeros in front that solved everything or made things so much worse there would be no going back for any of us.
39
Revenge with a vengeance
I’m going to give some lectures in Paris and thought I might stop off in Barcelona and, if you don’t mind, I could stay at your place for a couple of days. Perhaps he didn’t yet know I lived by myself and only had a bedsit, but I said of course, it would be great to see you, nobody from the family has ever come to visit.
I welcomed him at the station and he looked me up and down. You look fantastic, he said, and we hugged, his midriff had swelled, but his moustache was the same. I’ve got so much to tell you, I’m really thrilled. I’ve started to write a book, I’m preparing to go to university, I think I’ll study medicine, which is what grandfather would have liked, you remember? Well, well, so we’re finally going to have a doctor in the family? I’m not sure, but the fact is I can do whatever I decide I want to do. So what’s your husband say about all this? I don’t have a husband anymore, I live by myself, and he gasped, oh, because we know he’s always been different and seen the world from another point of view.
He’d always provoked a sudden rush of excitement in me, as if from a set of slanted mirrors. It wasn’t me, it was the way he looked at me, a silent gaze I’d seen in other men who’d desired me. It was his desire that stunned me, that made me tremble from head to toe and suddenly I began to think and why not? Why not? Who says you can’t?
I was no Mercè Rodoreda, but I had to put an end to the order of things that had been persecuting me for so long. What better than a secret so big nobody would ever speak to me about it again. What better than a deed so repugnant father would have no choice but to keep quiet about it: kill us both or forever hold your peace. And by this stage I knew he couldn’t kill anyone, however many knives he’d brandished in his life, however much he swore I’ll kill you I’ll kill you, it was all a ploy to instil
fear deep inside so you’d never find a way out.
I have a confession to make: I left the shutters up and the lights on on purpose. And I told my uncle on purpose, if you like, I’ll sleep on the floor, I don’t mind, and he saw me in that nightdress and I filtered that gaze of his again. I’m not Rodoreda, I told myself, but my mission in life goes way beyond all this, so why not? So why not? And then he started stroking my cheek, you’re so like your mother, you know, they’ve kept us apart so long, you know, you’re so beautiful, you know. Then his fingers were edging round my breasts, my buttocks, and his breath was now so close there was no going back.
You ever done it from behind? he gasped amid all the tenderness, and I said no, it hurts, and he said don’t worry, I’ll teach you, if you know how, it doesn’t have to. Hey, you know, who better than your uncle to teach you this kind of thing? It’s the kind of thing that should be kept in the family. He said bring the olive oil, it wasn’t Marlon’s butter because we’re Mediterranean. He said let yourself go, like that, and by the time he was on top of me I’d already had an orgasm. And I felt one again when he hurt me, and I couldn’t decide where pain ended and pleasure began. I would have liked to die of pain, and still I came. It was then, at that very moment, that the doorbell rang and father’s face appeared on the video entry. Father, who’d never again play the patriarch, not with me, because he could never tell anyone what he had seen, not even he could have imagined such a dire betrayal, let alone perpetrated by the daughter he loved so much.
1 Traditional baggy trousers.
2 Verses of the Koran.
3 A Moroccan kind of flaky pastry.
The Last Patriarch Page 25