Life Embitters

by Josep Pla

  “I doubt that …” said the female voice. “After all my country is like any other, it certainly has its pros, but it also has its cons …”

  “How can you possibly say that? I can’t find the words to tell you what bliss it will be on this occasion to cross the Channel. One is always rather reluctant to leave one’s country. This time, however, the outcome will be infinitely enjoyable. I mean that sincerely.”

  “I couldn’t say how many kilometers it is from Brussels to Anvers. I don’t think it’s very many. But I’ll look it up …”

  “Will you really?”

  The shoe-related warning followed immediately and the long lull that ended in exactly the same fashion as on the previous occasions. Then I heard not a single word more, but could hear the dull, blind hum from nighttime in the big city.

  The days passed – or more precisely the nights – with identical monotony: the scene as repeated, more or less, in the same terms. Every day, after the rehearsing of different ritual words, always with the same end in mind, in the room next door, I’d hear a pair of shoes of a different weight and shape drop on the floor. Unity doesn’t exist in the world of shoes: it’s a real shame. In the meantime, my friends introduced me to the mademoiselle. She was charming, with a very broad vision of the world, great energy and – at least on the surface – in wonderful health. In the short initial conversation, of polite niceties, I heard the word mentioned: twenty-ninth. I got it immediately. My friends Tàpies and Niubó – who were present at the exchange – tittered. A few days after, when I bumped into her in the small lounge by the dining room, I noted that she alluded once again to the aforementioned number. What did it all mean? I began to float on air. In any case, I should add, so that the state of play of my feelings is clear, that I was still in doubt to the very last minute. I should also say that, left to my own devices, I would still be in doubt. The ice was broken, when the day came, by the mademoiselle herself who knocked discreetly on the wall with her knuckles.

  My shoes dropped as well.

  The day after, I was rather weary. In keeping with local customs, I invited my compatriots to a whisky. It’s a splendid drink when one is tired. If one doesn’t drink in excess, it’s a positive tonic favoring the restoration of one’s mental lucidity. Brightened by the alcohol, I made a little – quite insignificant – speech for their benefit, a speech that didn’t lead to the outcome I was hoping for.

  “Dear Niubó, dear Tàpies, there’s no denying that this is a most pleasant place to stay. It is certainly a puritanical establishment; nevertheless, if one keeps to specific rules in terms of tact, one soon discovers that the same spontaneous harmony reigns here that great minds have found in nature. There is a very reasonable ambience. The young lady you made out to be a terrible person seems to be generosity incarnate. She manages her female charms in a gentle, silent manner. She is admirably suited to the scope offered by the household. I reckon it would be all wrong to preserve its routines, and, if at all possible, perfect them. This establishment has pleasant ceilings … Not that I’m in favor of making reality over-perfect; I believe that one shouldn’t tamper with things that are working. What I mean, when I speak of perfecting things, is that perhaps it would be best not to touch anything, to leave everything as it is at the moment …”

  When I reached this point, I stopped because I felt that neither Tàpies nor Niubó shared my moderate opinions. Niubó was nervously making balls with breadcrumbs with the tips of his fingers. Tàpies’s blank eyes were glancing absentmindedly at the ceiling. He was visibly most upset by my state of mind, even indignant. I have always admired young people when they are being cautious – although it’s only a surface reaction or even quite inauthentic. At the same time, I have always believed that caution can be compatible with good manners and civility.

  I realized at once – for God’s sake! – that his aloofness didn’t reflect a rude, momentary, superficial state of mind that was happy to express itself in a gauche silence; on the contrary, I realized that his aloofness was for real and deeply felt.

  What had made him like that?

  I can only say one thing: things worsened as days went by.

  I have never been one for not saying things straight. That’s hardly surprising, if reality is the only productive vein I can mine. Being next-door neighbors created a relationship of friendship between myself and that young lady – and it translated, as usually happens between friends, into copious dialogues. Unfortunately this situation upset my friends. Both Niubó and Tàpies stated that there had been an exchange of keys of the respective bedrooms; however, this was only true metaphorically speaking. It would have been contrary to the very essence of the country that was lodging us with such hospitality and so few hassles. There are countries – and this is one of them – where everything is forgiven, providing certain customs are maintained. Correct behavior is almost always about not transforming one’s woes into noise or fallout that jars on the ear or touch of others. To be true, our bedrooms weren’t in the center, were far from the to-ing and fro-ing, at the bottom of the passage. This situation would appear to strengthen all the hypotheses about clandestine activity. In any case, I don’t recall the boarding houses of London seething at night – something I couldn’t say of other countries – with ghosts in pajamas down passageways and in dark corners clutching a dying match – a match that would burn the tips of your fingers as soon as you made a silent effort to rekindle it. No, I don’t recall ever seeing anyone performing this ghostly role in England.

  The friendship I established with the mademoiselle didn’t wreak havoc with the house’s set routines. Everything continued as before. Like the others, I shared in her generosity. The only difference was that, as I had more idle time by virtue of my work, I had more time to talk to her. I have always liked countries in the north, because they seem ready-made, given their climate, for the exercise of sociability, for talking to people in some sheltered spot. This dismayed my friends. Their brows knitted. When we met in the passage or on the stairs, they glared crossly at me. We still had lunch at the same table, but rarely spoke. One chewed reading the paper or staring at the ceiling. It was pathetic and ridiculous.

  Mademoiselle Claudette told me that one day Tàpies told Niubó: “Niubó, I feel so nostalgic! I feel more nostalgic than at any other time in my life.”

  “I do too, Tàpies! But what can you do?”

  “I feel desperate when I hear you talk with such resignation about these things.”

  “So how would you like me to talk? You say you feel nostalgic. I do too. In any case, you are at an advantage. You have some thing, you’ve got money … If I were in your position, I could do so much!”

  “What do you mean, Niubó? What would you do?”

  “When you’ve got money, you can do so many things! If you don’t understand that, it’s because you’re acting the fool.”

  “Chapter and verse! Niubó, what would you do if you were in my position? And don’t wander off the point …”

  Niubó wiped the back of his neck.

  “I am sure that, if you were in my situation,” said Tàpies staring at him, “you would get married. What do you bet that was what you wanted to say?”

  “That’s one solution, of course! We’re getting on in years now. At our age, if you have something stashed away, marriage is one thing to do.”

  “Yes, we’re beginning to age, and every day we feel a little more nostalgic. But marriage, marriage … What does that mean? Who do you want to marry me off to? You must see it’s not that easy.”

  “Obviously not! We’re no longer the age to chase after the young things! That would be laughable. They’d pull our legs. But even so, what would you do?”

  Niubó plucked up his courage again and asked him, “Don’t you like the Belgian girl?”

  “Good God, what a question! With the kind of life she leads! Have you got a screw loose?”

  “I tell you that girl is really bright. I’ve heard excellent th
ings of her. It’s a pity: she earns real money …”

  “What does she do?”

  “She works for Barclays! She’s the secretary of some plutocrat, if I’m not mistaken.”

  “Ah! I see now …!” and, after a pause, “But, for God’s sake, Niubó. Just think for a moment. Given this lady’s, shall we say, track record, how on earth could I …?”

  “Bah, bah …! You’re too touchy! You’re like a real country bumpkin. When you’ve traveled the world a bit, these things don’t matter so much … Can’t you see that? Forget it, my friend … We’ve been on this earth too long for you to start suggesting such child’s play …”

  “Take it easy, Niubó … Calm down, please!”

  “I’m sorry! For sure, I’ve one caveat. All I’ve said depends on your liking the girl and always from the perspective that we’re beginning to be on the old side. If the lady isn’t to your taste, then forget everything I’ve just said.”

  “It’s curious!” said Tàpies solemnly. “We see things so differently. I like this young lady and I think she’s a highly worthwhile individual. However, there’s the life she leads, Niubó, her life … That’s the problem!”

  “So what! Everyone follows their fancy. It’s all down to likes and …”

  “Oh, no it isn’t,” retorted Tàpies, becoming increasingly agitated. “It’s not a matter of likes and dislikes. It is a matter of principles.”

  “Of course, but these principles make you more nostalgic by the day … principles that don’t really help, right? I start out with another set. To think that at our age we can marry as if we were fledglings is pie in the sky. We can’t be that fussy. We must see marriage simply from the point of view of convenience. Don’t you see it like that? If you don’t, you only have one other option: place an advert in the newspaper … because I imagine we’re too late to start dallying with young ladies from good families.”

  “Niubó, you’re so cynical …”

  “Forget it. It’s all water under the bridge.”

  “No! Let’s keep on with this conversation for a while … You won’t believe it but I felt my nostalgia waning as we were talking!”

  “What would you like to talk about?” said Niubó edgily, rather unpleasantly. “I hate people who stick the knife in.”

  “And is that what I do?”

  “Yes, you stick it in nice and deep.”

  “Well, you said it!”

  “And it’s true, Tàpies! You’re a small-minded, prejudiced fellow, unbelievably old-fashioned, I’m sorry to say.”

  “A serious person can’t say there are small-minded prejudices.”

  “Bah …! So what are they?”

  “I mean, they aren’t, as far as we’re concerned.”

  “Well, as far as I am, they are!”

  “This isn’t the Niubó I know!”

  “You’ll have to get used to this Niubó, because I’m not about to change my mind.”

  Tàpies bowed his head two or three times, no doubt signaling his surprise. It was impossible to reinvigorate their conversation. They sat together for a while and then went to bed.

  Attacks of nostalgia can be long- or short-lived, it depends. It’s true that the short ones are usually intense – I mean the intensity of loss that characterizes them can be quite painful, but that doesn’t imply that the long attacks, by dint of being watered down, aren’t irksome. Tàpies had a long attack. At the lunch table, he seemed anxious, and had bags under his eyes. The conversation with Niubó was making an initial impact in his thoughts. He was feeling nostalgic and, at the same time, didn’t know what to do: he was confused. He undoubtedly had to make a big effort, but finally what had to be, had to be: he searched out the young Belgian lady.

  He wasn’t a man with a sophisticated turn of phrase. His range was rather limited. When he told Claudette that he was intending to ask her to enter a relationship that would shortly lead to a proper marriage, she barely reacted. She didn’t seem to take any notice. It was an incoherent, garbled conversation. While Tàpies unwrapped – shall we say – his declaration of love, the young lady told him that she’d decided to renew her wardrobe and purchase a fur coat. However, while they talked, she gazed at the face of her interlocutor, she thought he looked so pasty that she couldn’t avoid expressing her concern.

  “What’s wrong with you, Tàpies?” she interjected. “What have you got? You look awful …”

  “I was just telling you a minute ago. We should get married, Claudette.”

  “And we should get married, on who’s say so?” the lass replied, quite unable to believe that Tàpies was being serious.

  “It’s my idea … In any case, my friend Niubó, whom you know, who is like a brother to me and is very experienced in things of this world, is of the same opinion … To repeat what I said: if you are in agreement, I do think we should get married!”

  The young lady glanced back at Tàpies and, when she saw the genuine anguish on his face, she began to grasp that he was in earnest, and genuinely so. The young woman had had a long experience of boarding houses and lodgings. They are character-molding places. If one spends an excessive number of years in these establishments, one becomes a typical lodger, a kind of crestfallen wretch, with deeply gray notions, a permanent inferiority complex, puerile attitudes that are often compatible with the sourest, ill-tempered outbursts, with the nurturing of the crankiest manias, sometimes with the warmest, most simple-minded crushes.

  When Claudette realized that Tàpies was speaking in good faith, she first flashed her wonderful teeth, then put a small handkerchief over her face, and finally yielded to the succession of images that rapidly passed before her eyes and laughed boisterously.

  Tàpies was taken aback, looked down and took a step backwards as if suddenly filled with fear. His whole being assumed the faintest shade of gray. His twenty-five years as a lodger surfaced.

  “Tàpies, are you really being serious?” the young lady asked, striving to seem serious herself.

  “Of course I am!”

  “Good God, how can you possibly be?”

  “I’ve told you. It’s perfectly possible, as far as I’m concerned. Don’t think I’ve not thought about it long and hard; even … I might say, painfully. I have spent hours and hours wondering what I should do.”

  The young lady was on the brink of another burst of boisterous laughter, but that fellow’s sad face, his imploring, quivering stance, restrained her. However, she was unable to reply, being so intent on keeping a straight face.

  “I would also, on the other hand,” continued Tàpies even more emotionally, “like to make a small confession. I am, of course, a man of modest, absolutely insignificant means, but I’m not completely broke. I’ve managed to put something by, I have savings, not much, but I do have some. I don’t know how to put this … but I’d like to put them at your disposal to spend however you felt inclined. I think there’s enough to buy a little cottage … Well, that’s what I wanted to tell you.”

  Claudette adopted a more serious stance that she felt was slightly comic, not being used to adopting that kind of demeanor. She observed Tàpies with an unusual level of intensity. If she hadn’t been so familiar with life in lodging houses and hadn’t had so many dealing with people in such circumstances, she’d have thought all that extremely odd.

  As the lull in the conversation became slightly taxing, she asked, simply in order to say something: “So you want to marry me?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Have you fallen in love with me?”

  “No. I’d be lying if I said otherwise. I’m not in love with you, at least not at the moment. I would hope to be in due course. I’ve given the matter a lot of thought. That’s as much as I can say for the moment.”

  “Ah, I’ve got it now! Would you mind if I asked you a question?”

  “As many as you like …”

  “Would you like a quick response?”

  “A quick response? Let’s be sensible, and say
as quick as possible …”

  Claudette looked at the carpet for a moment, thoughtfully. She decided that if she didn’t speak plainly that wretched man would pursue her stubbornly. She knew how boring and dull this kind of boarding-house denizen could be. She’d had a lifelong experience of them. Conversely, she wasn’t all amused that people in the household might stick their oar in. There’d be gossip enough. So she decided to resolve the matter then and there. It was just when she was on the point of reaching this decision that she realized she hadn’t asked Tàpies to take a seat – an unforgivable oversight! – but it was too late now. I can’t ask to him to sit down, she thought, just when I’m about to disabuse him; that would be too cruel a joke to play.

  “As you’ve asked for a quick reply, we’ll address the issue immediately. I wasn’t thinking of marrying, for the moment.”

  “Have you given it proper thought?”

  “I’ve thought about it to the extent that one can think about such things.”

  “Are you of the opinion that it wouldn’t be right for you? Are you of the opinion that I’d not be right for you?”

  “It’s not really to do with you. I’m speaking generally. I’d say the exactly the same, if it involved someone else. I mean, it’s not really about marrying you or someone else, I have simply decided that I won’t marry.”

  “Don’t you want to make an exception? I suspect that you’ll regret …”

  Tàpies was visibly very unsure of himself when he said this, his voice quivered painfully.

  “It’s very likely I’ll regret my decision, but so what?”

  “Believe me, we should get married! I’m very lonely, I’m very homesick, I don’t have any family and need something to work for. I believe you should look at it the same way as I do, that is, from the perspective of what would be convenient in life. I’d like to marry because of something that is essential: for the sake of convenience. Why don’t you want to copy me?”