by Violet Shaw
All of her happiness, her emotional status, was dependent on how his day evolved.
And the longer she was with him, the greater her dependence grew.
Finally she had invested so much, especially time, in this relationship and his rehabilitation, that she couldn’t simply give him up.
He was a miserable psychopath and she was as pitiful as he, a miserable fanatic. A love-wreck.
She knew that she had to end this affair. She would never be happy with him, rather, the complete opposite: he would destroy her over time.
She was a (love)-junkie; she was aware that she had to stop and go into withdrawal.
Valerie had to go to the Betty Ford Clinic – to be treated in the love-sickness department.
And why? Why had she believed in the good in Jason for so long, and held on to it like an anchor?
Was she really so naïve, stupid and inexperienced in the vagaries of life? Or did she simply not want to face reality because suppressing it was easier?
And besides, she had meanwhile become subject to the beautiful glitter of the big, wide world of the jet-set, and also the money, fame, and power just as Jason had.
And he, of course, provided the entrance to this world and fed her demand for it more and more.
“I’m in London, and then Vienna, but you’re in my heart, Valerie!” his messages declared.
She sat in his apartment alone and depressed at his dining table and tried to choke down a couple of left-over Christmas cookies. She couldn’t taste anything, not to mention that she had no appetite at all. Instead, she felt empty; she wasn’t interested in anything.
Her cell phone buzzed. Lost in her thoughts, she looked at the display. It was Jason. What did he want from her?
Annoyed, she picked up the call. “Yes,” she answered, sounding irritated.
“Good Morning, Valerie!” Jason’s voice sounded a little insecure.
She spoke with him in a monotone and sounding dull: “Let it be, Jason, we don’t make any sense any more. I have to keep my appointment at 1:00 p.m. today and I’m leaving for Munich immediately thereafter.” She ended the situation on the telephone because she didn’t have the strength to argue with him anew.
He wanted to persuade her again, to reassure her, and to meet her for lunch.
“Come on Valerie, let’s not break up like this!”
But Valerie didn’t want it to go on; her capacity for suffering had been tapped out.
She knew; she sensed that she couldn’t do anything more, couldn’t achieve anything else with him. She could only leave him.
“It’s better this way, Jason. My decision is firm, and you will have to accept it!”
She was fighting against an opaque power. She couldn’t vanquish it. Never!”
He was a proletarian “i-banker,” completely unscrupulous.
And, at the same time, only a little fish in a big shark-tank.
There was probably not a single person on the planet to whom she meant less.
She would have loved to have smeared something nasty in large red letters on his living room wall: “You Lousy Rat!”
Then he would have had a little souvenir of her. She was so tired of him.
She had to go, and wanted to as well; finally, to disappear from his life.
She packed her things and pulled the apartment door closed behind her.
The key still hung inside, on the door. Let him call the locksmith.
Too bad! Adieu, mon chéri!
Epilog
Two years later, Jason had developed into an obnoxious, egotistic asshole. There was no room for anyone at his side; only he counted for anything. He now only played with other people and their feelings. His greatest satisfaction of all that he found was when someone once again became entangled in his net; that is to say, when they succumbed to him.
His nasty games functioned very well for a long time. Ultimately, he was an intelligent, lousy rat, who, like the wolf in sheep’s clothing, always pretended to know nothing, and to be naïve and stupid. This was just a mask, of course, to attract other people to him and make them dependent on him, to be used by him, and finally be coldly rejected by him.
And as long as he could maintain his outstanding good looks, his immense radiance, and enough money, he could continue his game as long as he wished, in all possible variations and constellations. He always found new victims.
But the natural aging process also insinuated itself into his life, although he tried to prevent it or at least delay it by participating in many sports, receiving regular Botox injections, and even by abstaining from alcohol, but he couldn’t.
Meanwhile, he was in his mid-forties – and it showed.
The constant Botox injections didn’t make him look younger; rather, his face began to look rigid and mask-like, which didn’t give him a fresh, youthful appearance. It absolutely failed to achieve its purpose.
He began to look more and more like a ghost, a bad copy of himself. He looked like his own, badly conceived Doppelganger.
He no longer could bind people to himself without trying – and he began to sense it. It became more and more difficult for him to attract people – above all women, of course – so that he could play his games with them.
His income continued to climb, however. He had succeeded in working his way to the top at the bank; his apprentice years were long behind him. He hadn’t arrived at the very top, for which he didn’t have the necessary intellectual prowess and serious demeanor, but with his modest means, he had achieved a level of which he didn’t dare dream at the beginning of his career.
He was the owner of two penthouse-apartments in Zurich and Munich; he owned a vacation house on the French Riviera, and several cars besides. Basically, he could afford anything that he desired.
But was he happy? No, he was not happy.
Because he was no longer a human being. He was a robot, who traded on behalf of a bank. For that, he had victimized himself. He was a modern slave, without being aware of it. A slave, who mistakenly felt as if he were a god: “I am an ‘i-banker,’!!! I am untouchable!!”
Apparently, as far as he was concerned, only the CEO of Goldman Sachs was superior to him.
Valerie was in a great hurry. The opportunity to board her plane would vanish in five minutes, and they had already called her name. She couldn’t afford to miss the plane, for she had an important meeting in London at 3:00 p.m. If she took the next plane an hour later, she would arrive too late.
From a significant distance and in the middle of this great and impenetrable swarm of people, Valerie recognized him immediately: Jason!
It couldn’t be true. He had noticed her at the very same moment. Their gaze locked and fixed on each other like two eagles on the hunt.
She had recognized him immediately, but he looked different.
His posture was stiff and cramped. He didn’t give the impression of being dynamic any more. He seemed insecure, as if he had arrived at his midlife crisis.
Did she always have a false picture of him – or had he changed entirely?
The swarm of people was thick and dense. Everyone was trying to get to their gate as quickly as possible. But Jason, quite uncharacteristically, remained standing insecurely on the sidelines, and let the swarm of people pass him by.
In the meantime, they moved towards each other and greeted one another, as is customary in Switzerland, with three kisses on the cheeks. They stood opposite one another and beamed.
As always, Jason presented a dazzling, winning smile; nothing about that had changed.
Valerie could hardly believe her eyes. It had been two years since she had last seen him.
His appearance had changed remarkably.
There wasn’t much left of her old Jason.
His hair was an extreme shade of blond and his face had meanwhile become almost rigid, absolutely expressionless.
He seemed so familiar and yet so much a stranger to Valerie.
On the one side, the u
nexpected reunion engendered a warm feeling in her, on the other hand, she recognized that he was no longer the same person whom she had loved so exuberantly for so many years. Jason broke the silence first and smiled at her:
“What a wonderful coincidence, to run into you here, Valerie! And you look great!” he nodded in approval.
Incredible how he had changed in appearance and also had not changed. He looked exactly as he had nine years ago, when she first met him – except for one grave difference -- he had become a bad copy of himself. He was now a cut-rate Jason; everything was now a bad representation of his old exterior.
He was almost thinner and more muscular than before. He probably played sports every chance he had, and ran like a madman to the gym, so that he didn’t gain weight or acquire any recognizable signs of the encroaching of time on his body. His face was as smooth as never before. Even in his mid-forties, he had not a single wrinkle, presumably thanks to his countless Botox injections. The price he paid was the loss of movement and expression. He had lost all of his luster and looked like a figure on a ghost train.
He tried to cover his great insecurity with a continuous smile or shimmer. His teeth were still bleached. How long, how many years had she waited for this moment?
“I hope that he’ll get so old one day and will also have changed so much in appearance that he won’t appeal to me any longer!” Valerie had said to her friends again and again. And no one believed her statement nor could imagine that she would be able to sever the tie that she had to the Jason drug.
Valerie was startled by his appearance and she felt a kind of dread inside herself.
“Yes, indeed, what a coincidence! Is everything going well for you?” she replied coolly, for she actually had no interest in having an argument with him. Their time together was over a long time ago.
And before he had the opportunity to answer her question, she added:
“Sorry, but I’m in a terrible hurry. I have to get to London urgently and my boarding time is almost over!”
Jason looked at Valerie with an expression of surprise as well as disappointment, but he tried to maintain his smile:
“Oh, so you’re now a successful businesswoman? I always thought you would have a brilliant career!”
Valerie looked at him in earnest and nodded her head:
“I have to go, Jason; take care of yourself!”
And before he could say something in response, or try to detain her, she turned and ran to her gate.
It was both strange and sad. He had sacrificed himself for the Funfair of the Vanities.
Valerie had not decided whether she should feel contempt or sympathy for him and his tragic existence. She was rent in two, her feelings for him were ambivalent.
At the same time she also felt relieved and released from everything. Finally, it had reached the point that she was not attracted to him!
His good and rich years were over. Now he couldn’t play fast and loose with other people and manipulate them. Nor did Valerie feel drawn to him anymore. She had no interest in playing “randy” games with him! That time was gone!
As Valerie stepped into her plane, she felt unbelievably relieved.
She was a free person, strong and indestructible.