The World Turned Upside Down - Part 1

The World Turned Upside Down & Other Stories 2005-2007 (Drafts & Revisions)

Adam Joachim Goldmann

1

1. Brief Encounter in a Parisian Café……………….Page 3 2. 37 Via Dolorosa……………………………...….Page 16 3. A Nice Pair of Legs…………………………..….Page 35 4. Love and Death at the Cine Ideal………………...Page 52 5. The Blue Coat………………………………..…Page 69 6. The Blockdragger……………………………….Page 86 7. The Axe Already Lies in the Root………………..Page 96

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“Welcome to Paris, Monsieur Gottschalk.

Maurice

Brief Encounter in a Parisian Café

journalist

Le

Monde,”

the

introduced

himself

in

surprisingly unaccented English.

Gottschalk took a gulp of his

“I trust that you had a pleasant journey.”

lukewarm espresso and sank into the

Gottschalk gave a tired nod.

leather comfort of his first-class seat.

“If you please sir, a Gottschalk film is a

Across the way sat his assistant Bernstein,

major event in world cinema. In this

looking thoughtful and stroking his chin.

country, we are anxiously awaiting your

His gaze was averted to the window as the

new project. We are more than familiar

plane started its descent into Charles de

with your secrecy, but is there anything

Gaulle airport.

you can say about your new film that

As Gottschalk stepped off the

would whet our reader’s appetites? And

plane, photographers encircled him like

could you, Monsieur, say something

vultures, snapping their cameras in quick

about working with Angelique Delacroix,

succession. The flight had tired him and

whom you chose for the principle role?

he felt in no mood to field questions

Angelique Delacroix was an 18-

from the sea of journalists that awaited

year-old French beauty whose coquettish

him at the foot of the stairs. It was early

performance as Joan of Arc in Patrice

October and the Paris sky, though sunny

Chateau’s richly detailed historical film

and clear, sent bouts of stinging wind this

“Les Moyens-Ages” had caused a scandale

way and that. Gottschalk gripped the

in the spring. Within a week, she had

collar of his parka with both hands and

captured the hearts and minds of a

began his descent, while Bernstein,

generation. There was not a soul in all of

somewhat intimidated by the celebrityhungry horde, lagged behind.

Signac,

Paris that did not worship her pale,

The

creamy skin or fall slave to those soft

journalist who led the pack popped out

azure eyes. In this, Gottschalk was no

of his Hermes trench coat and nestled his

exception.

way next to the director.

3

Gottschalk responded in French, a

once

practice he’d long ago adopted to avoid

promoting “Les Moyens Ages” in New

being mistranslated in the tabloids:

York.

“Angelique, c’est une actrice formidable,

interview perfectly. He had come at the

très doué et belle. Elle, comme on dit en

insistence of Bernstein on the press day

anglais – Fit the bill – pour le film.”

in early August. He met with her and

Since Gottschalk’s producer, Balducci,

Chateau in a suite at the Regency. They

had not yet announced the project

chatted about the film and he handed

formally,

to

her a script of Brief Encounter for her to

comment on the film. At the journalist’s

look over. As she perused the script,

insistence, he added:

Gottschalk could not tear his eyes from

“C’est un film d’amour. Une tragedie.”

her. He stared at her, not indecently, but

the

director

refused

before

while

Gottschalk

Delacroix

remembered

was their

rather as one examines a skillfully In the lobby of the Quatre

executed work of art. He hated to admit

Saisons, Gottschalk’s producer, Balducci,

it, but he’d fallen a little in love with her

awaited the director’s arrival. He’d

that day, a fact that certainly lay behind

arrived

his quick decision to cast her.

half-an-hour

earlier

with

Mademoiselle Delacroix, and had coaxed

Although the Academy had yet to

her to sit on his lap as he took his coffee.

bestow

Delacroix was modestly dressed and wore

Gottschalk, his reputation was in no way

only a trace amount of blush and natural-

hampered by this apparent oversight. In

colored lipstick. Owing to the disparity in

his twenty years of making movies, he’d

age between the two, the scene appeared

won virtually every other award offered a

perfectly chaste; there was something

director. He was loved and admired by a

even

Balducci’s

large and nonpartisan body of critics,

demeanor. Nevertheless, the director was

none of whom ever lodged complaints

a little stunned to find his star sharing his

against

producer’s lap. (It was bad enough that

audiences.

Gottschalk himself had to eat out of

universal appeal of his films in no way

Balducci’s hand). They had met only

came into conflict with his very clear and

grandfatherly

in

4

its

him

honor

for

upon

pandering

Indeed,

the

Duncan

to

his

seemingly

distinctive artistic vision. This is not to

simple. Everything that art had to say and

say that he was a director of “feel good

do, it had already said and done. Hence

movies,” for indeed many of his films

the only thing left for the artist was to

turned out rather tragically. What set him

reinterpret. And surely there was little

apart from other directors were two

good to be got from trying to mask this

rather distinctive predilections. Firstly, he

attempt as anything other than a remake.

felt that writing was the sole way a

He had clung strongly to this

director could maintain total control over

conviction ever since he’d dropped out of

his film and so, his fifteen films all bore

college to go work in Hollywood. And it

his name for the screenwriting credit.

was this philosophy that sustained him as

The second, and more distinctive, of his

he arrived in Paris to begin work on his

trademarks was that he limited his artistic

sixteenth feature. Initially, he’d been

output to remaking classic films. At first,

apprehensive about filming in a language

many were skeptical and thought it

of which he had only an imperfect

wrong that so talented a director should

knowledge. But the film hinged on

waste his time rehashing old material, but

Delacroix, who under no conditions

very soon critics and audiences warmed

would consent to acting in English (her

to his technique and roundly praised

spoken abilities were truly horrific). From

him. Many of Gottschalk’s remakes had

the moment he’d met her, Gottschalk

actually been recognized as superior to

knew she was his Laura. He enlisted the

the

Casablanca

help of a French graduate student at

(1995), Rebecca (1997), From Here to

Columbia University and set about

Eternity

rendering the script into French. It was a

originals, (1999)

Gottschalk

including and

himself

Jezebel

(2003).

thought

all

relatively easy project. Balducci was very

comparisons – even the most favorable

pleased with the result, and his quick and

ones – insidious, and begged the public

decisive

to judge his work – which merely

Gottschalk as out of character. Brief

reexamined old stories and themes

Encounter was to be their sixth film

through a new lens - for its own merits.

together, and although it would be unfair

When it came to art, his philosophy was

to say they often locked horns on the set, 5

seal

of

approval

struck

Gottschalk knew Balducci to be a man of

Alec is talking about being a doctor,

much argument and little patience. Upon

when Laura interrupts and tells him he

entering the lobby, however, Gottschalk

suddenly looks much younger, like a boy.

began to suspect why Balducci had so

Gottschalk spoke loudly and gestured

willingly gone along with the slightly

widely attempting to communicate the

irregular arrangements.

exact poise, demeanor and attitude

Delacroix rose immediately when

required for that moment, the first

she saw Gottschalk. Balducci sighed and

intimation that she might be falling in

tossed his head in Gottschalk’s direction.

love.

“Gottschalk,” Balducci never addressed

When the dessert cart arrived,

him by his first name, “we’ve been

Gottschalk instinctively grabbed for the

waiting an eternity. Won’t you join us for

coffee pot. Neglecting the cakes that lay

coffee.”

elegantly arranged on the tray, he

“No thank you,” replied Gottschalk, “I’m

downed

going to bed right after this.”

another. Sweat formed on his brow, and

one

demitasse,

and

then

He embraced Angelique, who

Gottschalk suddenly realized what a fool

called him by his first name and

he was being, so garrulous and unnatural

whispered a word of greeting. In the cab

with this girl. Angelique, for her part,

he’d felt intolerably exhausted, but seeing

listened attentively and gave thoughtful

Angelique once more revived him. He

answers. She enjoyed his conversation

engaged her in a strenuous conversation

and struggle with the French language

about her character, and doing so in

immensely – or perhaps she only seemed

French, where he had to struggle to get

to. After the fifth demitasse, Gottschalk’s

his

him

hands started to quiver. Balducci, who

increasingly animated. Tomorrow was the

had hitherto been silent, only bothering

first day of shooting, and Gottschalk had

to interpolate an anecdote or two, drew

chosen to film one of the picture’s key

out his watch. Evening was coming on,

scenes, after Alec takes Laura to the

and they all had to be on the set by 6 in

cinema for the first time. There was a

the morning.

meaning

across,

made

moment that Gottschalk considered key.

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Angelique gave Gottschalk a soft

Gottschalk could not prepare for

kiss goodbye. He hesitated a moment

the shoot; he let his thoughts be guided

before returning the kiss, overcome by

solely by Angelique. The three decades

emotion. Then, before he let her go, his

that divided them in age loomed like

eyes met the full mirror opposite them.

some mythic, avenging bird in the

In it he saw himself, still darkly

director’s mind. He felt foolish and

handsome and vigorous at 56. Of

miserable. But at the same time, the

Angelique, he made out only the outline

stirrings in his breast gave him a joy and

of her slender shoulders and the brown

hope that had evaded him for most of his

hair curling up at the back of her neck.

adult life. As he reflected on the above, sleep seized the unsuspecting Gottschalk.

In his hotel room, Gottschalk could not sleep. His heart was racing, and he

hated

himself

for

those

Bernstein had hammered his fist

five

long and hard against the door to

demitasses. But he knew his heart was

Gottschalk’s suite. The numerous wake-

racing for quite a different reason and

up calls had failed to rouse the director,

had no wish to exorcise Angelique from

and finally the concierge had been called

his thoughts. He had never been intimate

upon open the door to the suite. By the

with any of his actresses, much less fallen

time the director reached the set, the

in love with one. As it was, his ability to

actors had been waiting in costume and

form attachments with women was

make-up for over an hour. Not quite fully

limited. His sole marriage had been to a

awake, Gottschalk apologized to everyone

journalist a decade his junior and had

and ordered Bernstein to find him an

dissolved three years earlier. He didn’t

espresso. The actors assumed their places,

particularly lament the marriage, and had

and awaited Gottschalk’s instructions. He

spent the years that followed engaged in

approached Angelique and her costar,

passionless encounters with second unit

Daniel Aulait, and explained the scene to

directors, script-girls and the occasional

them. “Tous compris?” he asked. The two

gaffer.

stars gave their assent.

7

He returned to his chair, and

“CUT!” yelled Gottschalk, and

Bernstein handed him a steaming cup

took another sip of his espresso, before

smelling

coffee.

he hopped up next to Angelique. He

Gottschalk sipped at it religiously and

tried to explain precisely what he wanted

gave his attention to the actors as they

from her: a look so caring, so attentive,

ran through the scene. He gave the signal

almost

to dim the lights and cue the music. He

overwrought. He wanted naturalism.

was wide-awake now, as he heard the

Subdued passion and budding ardor

Rachmaninoff coming through softly on

behind British formality and restraint. He

his headphones. He watched the scene

explained as far as his French allowed,

play out and was very pleased with what

loudly and dramatically, then sat back

he saw. As he had suspected, Angelique

down and had them take the scene from

inhabited the role perfectly. As a

the middle.

wonderfully

comfortable

yet

restless

housewife,

Angelique

of

middle-class was

dreamy,

yet

by

no

stretch

The second time was worse than

the

the first.

embodiment of English modesty, yet the

They spent the entire morning on

way she kept shifting her legs under the

that one scene. Gottschalk was very

table, coupled with the heaving of her

exacting and the actors and crew, while

breast, made that reticence wickedly

showing

ironic. As he’d suspected, Gottschalk

obviously being driven to exhaustion.

sensed

Gottschalk

a strong chemistry between

outward saw

patience, this

especially

were in

Angelique and Daniel, and felt pangs of

Anglique, who began eyeing him with

jealousy. Everything was going well until

malice after the 16th take. Gottschalk felt

the crucial line, “Tu as l’air plus jeune,”

that anything in the world was preferable

fell flat. Angelique delivered the line

to incurring her contempt. With this in

dully, unconvincingly. Then, as if to

mind, he decided to use material from

compensate for lack of expression, she

first take, and re-shoot those 10 seconds

spoke the next line, “Comme un petit

or so at a later date. As they were packing

garcon” with exaggerated tenderness.

the set up, Gottschalk whispered to Bernstein, “I absolutely need to have a 8

tête-à-tête with Angelique this evening. I

sun barely poked through the graying

made a reservation at Georges Blanc,

skies and the autumn wind played on

tonight at eight. Balducci is under the

Gottschalk’s face, stinging his cheeks in a

impression that he’s joining us. I’m sure

way that was not entirely unpleasant.

you can find a way to distract him for the

Having achieved the Rive Gauche, he

evening.”

made his way towards the Luxembourg

Bernstein was no stranger to this

Gardens. He was strolling through,

sort of request, and he cast Gottschalk a

stopping now and then to light a cigarette

sidelong glance that assured his loyalty in

or admire a mother pushing a carriage,

the matter. Gottschalk told Angelique

when it began to drizzle. The rain was

that he’s send a cab around her place at

more refreshing than irksome, and

seven pm. With that, Gottschalk made a

Gottschalk

noiseless exit.

through

continued the

gardens,

to

meander

down

into

Montparnasse.

He was happy to have the

He was crossing Boulevard Edgar

afternoon to himself. It had been a while

Quinet, when the skies momentarily grew

since he was last in Paris (he didn’t count

sunny, then unleashed a torrent of heavy

tours to promote his films, during which

raindrops on the director’s head. He

time he was completely wrapped up in

clutched at his parka and raised it over

press

attending

his head to shield himself. He ran along

premieres). He walked from the Quatre

the darkening boulevard looking for

Saisons past the Hotel de Ville and along

shelter and found it in a small café on

the north bank of the Seine, stopping

rue d’Odessa.

conferences

occasionally

at

the

and

book

vendors,

handling a volume and turning it over in

Gottschalk pushed the heavy

his hands before deciding against the

wooden

door

and

set

some

bells

purchase.

pleasantly jingling. He hung his soaked

He crossed the river along Pont

parka on the coat hanger and took a seat

Neuf, and looked down at the water,

at the bar. He ordered an espresso and

lapping violently this way and that. The

glanced over his shoulder to see the rain 9

coming down in sheets over the entire

actually expecting it to ever in a million

block, washing the café windows and

years take place. But now, on a rainy day

obscuring all that lay beyond from sight.

in an anonymous café in Paris, it had.

It was very still in the café; the silence was

Already, Gottchalk felt his chest heaving,

only broken occasionally by the tapping

the cruel stinging sensation returning to

of a teacup against a saucer, and an

his breast. Such was the force that

elderly

Virginie Murano continued to exert on

woman

who

mumbled

incoherently to her companion, a man

Duncan Gottschalk.

her equal in years.

The

and

In the spring of 1967, the year he

Gottschalk lit up a cigarette. As he did,

had entered Harvard, Gottschalk fell

the fire seemed to illuminate the entire

wildly in love with Virginie. After several

café. Seated at a shadowy table in the

excursions to the Symphony and Fine

corner was a woman, unextravagant yet

Arts Museum, he made his feelings

elegant in dress.

Gottschalk nearly

known to her, and she rejected him

gasped out loud when he saw her face.

coldly. The blow to Gottschalk was such

The

wide,

that he felt he’d never recover. Unable to

imploring eyes of that noble visage were

keep away from her, he continued to

unmistakable. There was no doubt about

court her indirectly, keeping his true

it, that finely outlined pair of lips were

feelings and motives pent up. During the

the very same ones he had so tenderly

months that ensued, Gottschalk sank

kissed 35 years ago. The hair that poked

further and further into depression.

out from under that satin toque hat was

Never for a moment did he think of

still full and espresso-colored, just like

giving up the fight, though he knew it

when it used to fall over her alabaster

was hopeless. Then, soon before the start

face while they made love. Did she

of the summer holiday, she accepted him

recognize him too, he wondered.

unexpectedly and unconditionally. Those

Gottschalk went back to his coffee and

weeks spent with her before the onset of

bowed his head. He had often wondered

summer

high

espresso

cheekbones

arrived

and

about such a chance encounter, never 10

were

the

brightest

of

Gottschalk’s life. That all ended when

night before his flight back to New York,

she returned to Lyons to visit her family.

she visited his room after dinner. She

Gottschalk would have given

explained as gently she could that in the

anything to chase after her, but his

two months they’d been apart, she’d been

parents, already swimming in debt from

missed him terribly. To assuage this

putting him through college, refused to

loneliness, she’d accepted invitations

fund his amorous expedition. Gottschalk

from her boss (her job that summer was

exploited every resource he had, and by

at a law firm in Strasbourg) to dinner and

August, had produced the sum required.

movies. What began innocently had

He booked a flight impulsively and flew

become progressively involved. She was

into Lyons, expecting to surprise Virginie.

ashamed, but little-by-little she fallen in

When he arrived, he found her changed.

love with him. The realization came

Whatever they did, wherever they went,

afterwards, when she’d returned home to

she

aloof.

Lyons in early August. On that account,

Gottschalk was not insensitive to her

she could be considered innocent of any

queer moods. When he pressed her for

actual infidelity. She told him she’d

an

and

pretended that all was well until now

avoided his questions. Gottschalk grew

because she understood the sacrifice

terrified of losing her, and the fear ate

traveling to Lyons had entailed for him

away at him for the remainder of his stay

and didn’t wish to spoil his vacation. But

in Lyons. On his second and last

now that his trip was nearing its close,

weekend in France, he pressed her to

she had to let him know all this. With

come with him to Paris, where they could

those words, she broke from him and

be alone. This was the most significant

fractured his heart a second time.

seemed

distracted

explanation,

she

and

shrugged

demand he’d made on her yet and she,

Gottschalk wept all the way on

who hadn’t granted him access to her bed

the flight back to New York. When he

even when her parents were out of the

landed at JFK, it was pouring heavily, and

house, refused flatly. He could not reach

he took a bus through the deluge, back to

her, and he cried night after night to

Manhattan. When he got home, he

think that he was losing her. Then, the

informed his parents. Despite their 11

impassioned protestations, Gottschalk

meant so little to him, and he was

dropped out of Harvard and went to

sickened

work for his uncle, who was a scriptwriter

infatuation with Angelique was.

in Hollywood. For a long while, the

to

think

how

petty

his

Gottchalk sat at the bar for a long

memory of Virginie, the brief happiness

while,

he’d shared with her, the ensuing

approach her. He let the half-burnt

separation and deception, plagued him.

cigarette die in his hand, and ordered a

In those initial years in Hollywood, he

couple more espressos while he tried to

never ventured back home – let alone

quell the violence in his breast. His

visited his college friends – for fear of

breathing was erratic and perspiration

being confronted with her. He learnt to

ensured that his rain soaked shirt

hate her, and vowed to kill her if ever he

wouldn’t dry anytime soon. His head was

saw her again. After he found a steady,

spinning. Without thinking, he got down

well-paying job, he started putting money

off the stool, and slowly approached her

aside, to pay for her killing sometime in

table. From the bar, the distance between

the future. But no matter how much he

them had seemed enormous. But he

despised her: regardless of the endless

conquered the divide in under four steps.

ways he found to blacken her character,

She felt him approaching, and raised her

he never fully exorcised her from his

head. At first, it seemed she didn’t know

heart.

him. But quickly, her eyes flashed with All that had been over more than

contemplating

whether

to

comprehension and the shock made her

three decades ago, but the passage of time

jaw quiver.

had done nothing to ease his pain.

If he had a knife at hand, he

Looking at her as she read her book,

wouldn’t have hesitated to plunge it into

taking an occasional sip of her tea, he

her breast. As it was, he was entirely

renewed all the vows of love he’d made

unarmed, and didn’t feel he could stir up

her so long ago. He realized that he’d

the courage to strangle her. Instead, he

only ever loved Virginie and would give

lowered himself, shaking, onto the seat

the world for one more moment in her

next to hers. His hands reached across

arms. All the other women in his life had

the table until they found hers. Virginie 12

flinched slightly as he laid his moist

It was too much for Gottschalk

palms on the backs of her hands and

and he raced to the door, ignoring the

gripped them as both a plea and

unpaid check and the hanging parka. He

reproach. She looked up from the table,

felt as if he was going to faint, and stood

into Gottschalk’s watering eyes. His

under the awning for several minutes.

entire face was contorted as if by pain,

His heart wasn’t breaking; it was tearing

and his lower lip twitched piteously.

itself apart savagely.

Finally, the confrontation he’d imagined for 35 years was at hand. But what could

Gottschalk

recalled

Laura’s

he possibly say to her? What difference

monologue and as it passed through his

would it make now? How could he

mind, he felt he understood it more

possibly communicate how much and

acutely than he had ever before.

how long he’d yearned for her, secretly

This can't last. This misery

looking for

other women?

can't last. I must remember

Gottschalk understood that the situation

that and try to control myself.

was hopeless – worse, absurd. Had he all

Nothing lasts really. Neither

the time in the world, he could never

happiness nor despair. Not

explain how dearly he had loved her all

even life lasts very long.

those long years, and continued to love

There'll come a time in the

her. Now he glared into her eyes, with a

future when I shan't mind

half-crazed, blank stare. At length, his

about this anymore. But I

quivering lips parted and, in a voice

can look back and say quite

barely audible, he told her that he’d

peacefully and cheerfully how

carried his love buried deep in his heart

silly I was. No, no I don't

all these years, that he’d spent his life

want that time to come

hoping to see her once more. She drew

hither. I want to remember

back from him and narrowed her eyes, as

every minute, always, always

if to say, Did I really mean that much too

to the end of my days.

you?

He heard at once when the café

her in

door opened behind him and turned 13

cautiously to see. But whoever had

caprices. After dessert, the maitre d’

opened the door was no longer there.

hailed a cab to return them to the hotel, where

Georges Blanc served the finest

Angelique

accompanied

Gottschalk to his suite without protest.

food in all of Paris. Yet Gottschalk had to force himself to eat even a small fraction

She stumbled inside the darkened

of what was on his plate. Their waiter

room and collapsed, from exhaustion, on

showed concern: but Gottschalk assured

the bed. Gottschalk switched on the desk

him that everything was superb, and

light and set about undressing. After he

ordered another bottle of 1961 Chateau

undid his jacket and removed his shoes

Latour. Gottschalk drank it like water,

and

and refilled Angelique’s glass repeatedly.

unconscious Angelique. He moved in

She looked ravishing in a very revealing

close to her and undid the straps of her

black evening gown.

evening gown, dragging it down off her

trousers,

he

approached

the

Gottschalk had originally planned

petit and delicate body. Her small breasts

for a tasteful and suave seduction, but

offered themselves reluctantly to his eyes.

after the events of that afternoon, he was

But the effects of the alcohol were

in no mood to be mannered and subtly

beginning to wear off. He reached for her

calculating. Instead, he hoped to get the

underwear, slipping his fingers in under

girl drunk enough that she’d go along

the pelvic bone and divesting her of that

with anything he did. Gottschalk wanted

final garment.

to numb himself entirely with drink and then

annihilate

himself

Angelique

lay

naked

before

between

Gottschalk, her perfect body ready to

Angelique’s slender legs. Throughout

fulfill his every desire. He placed a hand

their repast, he stroked her thighs

over her left breast and felt for the

constantly, several times slipping his

beating of her heart. It took a few

fingers in between. The first few times

moments for him to detect it, and the

she put up some resistance. After a while,

regular rhythm of the beat, coupled with

she too had fallen under the drink’s spell,

his growing sobriety made him hesitate

and abandoned her body to Gottschalk’s

before he proceeded further. He drew 14

close to her and planted a long kiss on her preternaturally red lips. But she was unresponsive, and he drew back almost in fear. Looming over her magisterially, his eyes took in her entire body, from her dancerly feet to her thick bouquet of golden-brown hair. By now he was entirely sober, and he gasped in panic.

How exactly she resembled Virginie in the bloom of youth, down to her toes and ankles. Gottschalk shrank away in shame and he despised himself for carrying out such a despicable plan in order to sleep with a shadow of his first, great love. Had he actually expected to find that same existential peace and solace in the arms of an actress whom he knew so little, while she lay drunk and passed out before him?

Gottschalk got up off the bed, and drew the blanket over Angelique, still as a statue. He would give her his room for the night, and have the concierge find him another. It was past two a.m., and they both needed to be up in four hours for the shoot.

15

beautiful city of art and life. I had to

37 Via Dolorosa

escape, to run away. I fled to what was perhaps the least likely place for a

“My eyes are spent with

German girl to flee: Jerusalem. I learnt to

weeping; my soul is in

love that ancient city, but my heart still

tumult; me heart is poured

yearns for Berlin, for the bustle and

out in grief because of the

excitement of Kastanienallee and the

destruction of the daughter of

elegance of Unter den Linden.

my people, because infants

Of course Berlin wasn’t my only

and babes faint in the streets

home. I was born in Kaufbeuren, Bavaria

of the city.”

and spent my first twenty years of life in

- 2:11 Lamentations

that loathsome city. It was more a prison than a home. My house was my

“We are never so defenseless

individual cell. No, Kaufbeuren was

against suffering as when we

never my home. I may have enjoyed it in

love,

forlornly

my youth, but that was because it was all I

unhappy as when we have

had ever known of the world. We were a

lost our love object or its

God-fearing

love.”

indistinguishable from all the smug,

-

never

so

Sigmund

Civilization

and

Catholic

family,

Freud,

middle-class families in our town. My

its

parents raised me, their only daughter, to be a mild-mannered, pious wife, a strong

Discontents

asset to our close-knit congregation. They It had to stop. There was no way

never harbored any great expectations for

it could last. To pretend would be futile,

me and I don’t think they ever thought I

distressing for him and me. Berlin was

might desire more from life than to love

my life. Its museums and parks were like

God. My parents loved me well and

vital organs to me: its wide boulevards

protected me, as others might tend a lone

and bridges over the river Spree, veins

orchid in one’s garden. By all accounts,

and arteries. I had to leave Berlin,

mine was a blissfully oblivious childhood: 16

untouched by drama or incident or

don’t recall ever making such a trip. After

anything that might even for a moment

reunification, my family never traveled to

quicken my pulse. I was earnest in my

Berlin. The first time I visited was with

simple

communion

my high school class, I was 16 and

reverently and regularly confessed those

couldn’t believe the city’s enormity and

peccadilloes I felt certain I must have

squalor.

committed.

reminders of the city’s communist past

faith,

accepted

This

was

1996

and

the

Most forms of contact with the

were everywhere. At that age, I naturally

world outside our cloistered town were

preferred the far cleaner and more

strictly verboten, as it was supposed that

commercialized West. Back then I still

sin seeped into the community when it

held my provincial hometown in great

opened itself to others. Even a trip to

esteem. The trip itself was unimpressive –

nearby Munich was a rare event. The

I wasn’t particularly taken with that big,

biggest family excursion I can remember

noisy city, the way it made you feel

was

anonymous at night – but it awakened in

to

the

Passion

play

at

Oberammergau. The year was 1990, and

me

a

sense

though I was 10 at the time, I don’t recall

opportunity that I could never imagined

much of the seven-hour-long production.

possible. On our tour, we passed by the

My parents still speak of it as a

main

profoundly spiritual experience. The

Universität, on the elegant Unter den

chief thing I still fixate on, however, was

Linden, across from the Staatsoper. It was

the spectacle of violence, and the pity

lunchtime and students flowed from the

that arose in my pre-adolescent breast for

building in an endless procession. How

the suffering Christ.

different was their garrulous, jovial

building

of

wonderment

of

the

and

Humboldt

Remember that while I was

demeanor from our reserved and reverent

growing up, Germany was still divided.

silence. I saw them exit the palace-like

We lived, as did all our relatives, in the

edifice, stylish in their casual, cool way

West. I had an uncle in West Berlin.

and felt an overpowering urge to be one

According to my parents, we went to visit

of them, to live as they lived, to dress as

him once when I was nine, although I

they dressed, to learn as they learned.

17

When I came back from Berlin, I pled

better perhaps than anyone who had

with my parents to let me attend

survived the camps. And while we

university in a neighboring village. They

understood that we were in no way to

put up much resistance, and told me that

blame for what happen a half-century

university would make me lose my soul.

earlier,

But I was determined, and swore to

something for which we all felt guilty.

remain absolutely faithful to the church.

The post-War guilt of our parents’

In the end, I won out and attended the

generation was one of our inheritances.

University of Regensberg, to which I

Since elementary school we had all learnt

commuted from my home each day (not

to feel immensely, personally responsible.

an

After all, it had happened on our own

uncommon

arrangement

for

Germans).

Holocaust

remained

soil. How many times had I watched

One of the first classes I took at Regensberg,

the

I

took

a

seminar

“Night and Fog” and “Schindler’s List” in

in

class during Holocaust Remembrance

European post-War literature taught by a

Day? Thus, any reservations I might have

soft-spoken and casual professor named

had prior to taking Prof. Fink’s class

Markus Fink. The books we read

stemmed as much from arrogance as it

included works by Paul Celan, Imré

did from shame.

Kertesz and Primo Levi. Prof. Fink was a

I was fairly certain that I wasn’t

slightly stuffy middle-aged pedagogue,

going to take the class, but when I saw

whose thick Hungarian accent made

Dr. Fink, and peered into those brown

every syllable sound like poetry. Initially,

eyes that beamed out from a face

I had my doubts about taking a course

ennobled by suffering, I could scare tear

with such a heavy and grim reading list. I

myself away. It was a small class that met

believe all the students in the class felt an

on Monday evenings in a teacher’s

initial revulsion and discomfort with the

lounge that was, by that late hour,

course. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to

deserted. The intimacy of the setting,

be confronted with our country’s bloody

coupled with the gentle teacher who

past. Much to the contrary, we felt it was

seemed to embody the sorrow-filled

an issue that we knew inside and out,

beauty of every book and the poem we 18

read, held me in a trance. We read

The idea of being a journalist in

authors German and foreign, Jewish and

Berlin worked itself on my imagination,

non-Jewish, and the more we read, the

and I scarcely thought of doing anything

more incredible and horrifying the events

else as I waited to graduate. Convincing

themselves became. I spent long hours

my parents to allow me to move to

with Prof. Fink discussing the literature

Berlin, even temporarily, was far harder

that we were always either reading or

than I anticipated. They had always been

reading around. My fascination in the

troubled by my academic proclivities and

Holocaust

artistic

felt that my moving to Berlin would

representations of the Jewish Passion,

signify a complete break with my family,

eventually became the subject of my

religion and community. You see, while I

thesis.

incredibly

was in Regensburg, they still had me

supportive of my research and advised my

pretty much under lock and key. I still

with ardent devotion. Naturally, I turned

accompanied them to church every

to him for advice when it came time for

Sunday and participated in the various

me to graduate. Fink adamantly opposed

youth groups my duty as a member of the

the proliferation of Holocaust museums

community dictated. Of course, I could

and monuments (he felt they were trivial

lapse on these responsibilities whenever I

and

sanctimoniousness).

was consumed by my studies. This had

Great art, so he held, was the only

frightened and irked my parents, and

morally and politically acceptable way to

they threatened to cut me off without a

memorialize

Thus,

dime if I chose Berlin –a city less than 5

discouraged me from interning at any

% Catholic – over them. I understood

one of the seemingly endless Holocaust

that in their minds Regensburg had been

museums and foundations. He admired

intended as a consolation prize for the

my academic writing, and suggested that I

devout and provincial life they still

put my talents to use as a journalist. He

excepted me to lead. They threatened me

gave me the name of a Jewish publication

with but none of their threats could

in Berlin, “Die Ürständ,” and told me

dissuade me from my appointed path.

internships were fairly easy to come by.

The guilt I had expected so to torture my

and

Prof.

wreaked

the

Fink

of

the

various

was

Holocaust.

19

conscience never came. Regensburg and

emotions. She saw a therapist once a

Fink had purged me of all guilt, cured me

week. But I doubt she told him about all

of

the cocaine she did off her mirror in the

all

attachments

-

spiritual

and

psychological – to my childhood.

middle of the day. The one thing that

---

might have saved her was a job, but she I arrived in Berlin one cold

lacked any motivation for finding one.

autumn day and directly took the U-Bahn

Her childhood had been spent in

to Schönhauser Allee, where the two-

opulence. She never wanted for anything.

bedroom apartment that belonged to my

Her parents were Iranian royalty who fled

friend Uwe awaited. Uwe had graduated

to Munich after the revolution. They had

from Regensburg one year before me.

been troubled when she and her sister

The room had been her sister’s before

had decided to move to one of Berlin’s

she’d moved to America. It was spacious

most depressed boroughs, Prenzlauer

and modestly furnished, dimly lit (the

Berg. She cried a lot: at mealtimes;

windows faced north) and smelling

during sex with her boyfriend; alone in

potently of cigarettes.

the middle of the night. When I left

Uwe was a former dancer. Earlier

Berlin, I fell out of touch with her.

she had dreamed of being a professional ballerina. She still had a dancer’s body,

Sometime during my first week in

slender, graceful, petite, but one ravished

Berlin, I showed up for my internship at

from within by arthritis and the drugs she

Die Urständ. I entered the newly-built

took to dull the pain of her unsuccessful

offices in the West and introduced myself

love-affairs. She was so stunning that I

to the editors, two middle-aged single

didn’t

German women from whose lips hung

think

any

man

could

be

indifferent to her charms. But she was a

half-smoked

mess psychologically and drove her

seemed pleased to meet me, although

frequent boyfriends to exhaustion with

they regretted they didn’t have much for

her moodiness. She could go from being

me to do at present. I asked where they

frigid to clingy at a moment’s notice and

reporters sat and learnt that there were

could never quite interpret her own

no staff writers, just a trusty group of 20

cigarettes.

The

editors

freelancers who fleshed out each issue of

contenders as being the controversial

the

Most

Holocaust monument in Berlin, an

interestingly, I learnt that the paper

interviewer with the oldest survivor in

wasn’t even really a German publication.

some small German town, and a new film

Die Urständ had been founded in 1930’s

about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising.

bi-monthly

publication.

New York by refugees from Hitler’s

There were few Jews in where I

Germany. In its heyday writers and

grew up in Kaufbeuren. I saw them at

thinkers like Albert Einstein, Thomas

school – a boy named Klein, a girl named

Mann and Stefan Zweig contributed to it.

Falk – but I really didn’t know anything

But when I arrived the paper was a pale

about Jews before I came to Berlin. I

shadow of its former self.

learnt a lot from Sam. He was studying at

The

paper’s

readership

was

Humboldt University on a Fulbright,

rapidly dying out, and the quality of the

working

writing I found in the back issues lying

memory and guilt in post-War Germany.

around the office was amateurish. All the

I envied him his lifestyle and that was

freelancers and the editors understood

primarily what attracted me to him. He

that - despite the offices, a gift from some

was not a handsome man, but the fact

overly optimistic foundation – the paper

that he had a Fulbright and was able to

was in its death throes. I soon discovered

travel on someone else’s tab, made his

that of the 5,000 Jews who lived in

big, ugly body, his bushy eyebrows and

Berlin, only a small fraction bothered to

balding head terribly attractive. Aside

pick up a copy. Dismayed by my first

from Prof. Falk, who had been a paternal,

impression, I stayed away from the office

even avuncular figure, Sam was really the

for about a week. When I returned, it was

first Jew I ever got to know intimately. I

for a writer’s meeting to determine the

was fascinated that, despite what issue

contents of the coming issue. I met the

after issue of Die Urständ would have me

other freelancers, as well as another

believe, there was more to Jewish culture

intern, a Jew from San Francisco named

than the Holocaust. We often discussed

Sam. Late into the night we mused about

politics and culture and Sam would tell

possible article ideas. I remember the

me 21

that

on

his

Israel,

dissertation

political

about

problems

notwithstanding, was poised to become

where a seemingly endless assortment of

the future culture capital of the Middle

punks, beggars and the riff-raff of society

East.

seemed to get by on the little they had?

I stayed at Die Urständ for two

The classical architecture coexisting with

whole years, despite how depressing I

sleek, modern buildings, with expansive

found the whole outfit. They never once

public parks sprinkled throughout the

rejected a story of mine, but the pay was

city? Was it the history I sensed so

so pitiful, I had no choice but to find

potently walking and biking along its

other

My

grand boulevards and back alleys; seated

experiences with the Urständ had made

in its copious biergartens and cafés. Was

me fairly certain that journalism was my

it the abject squalor of Kotbusser Tör,

calling, or at least, the best use of my

teaming with beggars and orphans like

talent. I took internship at several other

Istanbul the way I imagine it, juxtaposed

papers, all of which were unpaid except

with the wealth and boastfulness of

for when I managed to get a story in

Charlottenberg? Was it the overwhelming

print. The two publications I had the

sense of the past that lent itself so

most luck with were Der Tagesspiegel and

effortlessly to the energy and dynamic

Berliner-Post. But although I hadn’t found

sights and sounds of the youth? Or was it,

the professional success I’d envisioned for

perhaps, all the museums, concert-halls

myself, I loved my new home dearly.

and opera houses that signified the city’s

Berlin, the backdrop of all my half-

ascendancy to the cultural center of the

successes, was the single greatest thing I’d

new Europe? My love for Berlin was all of

ever known, and the sole reason why I

these things and none of them. I loved

never once considered running back to

the city with a fervor that more closely

Bavaria, even at times when I was flat

resembled romantic love than a love of

broke.

place. I hoped never to have to leave

ways

to

pay

the

rent.

It’s hard to describe what it was about

Berlin

that

seduced

me

Berlin, but that hope was quickly dashed.

to

I had been in Berlin an entire

completely. Was it the endless sprawl of

year when I began interning for another

the city and the diversity of its boroughs,

daily, “Berliner-Post.” The editor of the 22

Feulliton, Bernd Höniger, encouraged me

from the Berliner-Post but realized I

to pitch regularly. I can’t remember when

couldn’t stay away for long.

exactly I noticed that his interest in me

We began our affair in December,

was more than that of a mentor. Perhaps

right before Christmas. I had seduced a

I had understood it all along.

respectable family man. Both his children

A fellow intern told me one day

were grown and Bernd himself was

that the way you get to the top in this

pushing 50. It’s so easy for me to analyze

profession is not by fucking your editors,

why I fell so desperately for him. Even

but making them think they could fuck

then, I had the clarity of thought to

you. Since girlhood I have been a flirt. It

realize that I loved him more for what he

was

pursuing

did than for who he was. It was his age,

professional success. Sure enough, it

his experience, his prestige that drew me

worked. I got many articles into the

to him. But even now as I tell myself all

paper.

this, as I try to convince myself that I was

no

different

when

He kissed me for the first time on

more in love with an idea than I was with

a brisk, autumn day. We were coming

the man himself, I don’t want to believe

back to the office from lunch when he

it.

took me by the shoulders and drew me

After we made love for the first

into an alley. At the time I struggled and

time, he talked about his family: about

even scolded him afterwards. Later that

the wife whom he loved and had

night, he called to apologize. I accepted

remained faithful to for 26 years. As the

immediately and told him not to worry. I

weeks wore by, he told me how dreadful

didn’t think that it was a cause for alarm.

he felt betraying her. Yes, he still loved

But over the next few days, weeks, I

her. The thing was he loved me – or so

realized that I was falling for him. I had

he claimed – equally. Separate but equal,

been in love before, but still, when the

that’s what I was. We would meet in my

realization hit me, it made my heart beat

room on Kopenhagenerstraße after work.

so violently that I constantly feared

He opened up in my arms. I seemed to

having to confront him. I took a break

cast off the weight of his 49 years and he’d become easy and casual, not 23

ashamed of anything personal in my

worst. He finally returned on a Friday

presence. I felt wanted and was thrilled to

and told me he’d confessed all to his

mean so much to someone so important.

wife. Although she had screamed and

We’d go to concerts, films and operas (he

cried, she had resolved not to leave him.

reviewed them frequently and his wife

He assured me that he still loved her very

wouldn’t usually join him). I can’t

much. Then, he told me that she was

remember ever having been so happy as I

interested in meeting me. I thought

was during those few weeks. The city that

about it a few days and reluctantly

I loved became more vibrant and

obliged. That meeting was pure hell.

exciting. I took Bernd to my favorite

Bernd’s wife didn’t shout or cry, but the

haunts; a “secret” bar in the Hackesche

pain was so clearly etched on her face in

Höfe that only played ‘60s music, a cozy

the wrinkles around her lips and eyes. I

bar

Der

hated the thought that I was the source of

sprawling

so much anguish and wished that she

Mauerpark, which had rock-climbing and

would accuse me, so that I could beg

concerts, and was just one block from

forgiveness. But she remained calm and

me. Sometimes, Bernd would cut out of

even polite. I sensed that she might even

work midday and take me to a museum,

admire me. It was frightening.

in

Helmholmplatz

Wohnzimmer,

and

the

call

the Gemäldegalerie or the Alte. But his wife

remained

the

one

unresolved

After my meeting with Berndt’s

variable that obstructed our happiness.

wife, things never went back to normal. I

One day he came into work

don’t know if it was me or him, but we

visibly shaken. We went out for lunch

just couldn’t seem to meet as innocently

and told me that he couldn’t stand to

as before. I couldn’t give myself to

deceive his wife any longer. He was going

another so fully, with the knowledge that

to tell her and face the consequences. I

I was causing someone else so much pain.

urged him not to, but I secretly hoped

The guilt ate away at me and I avoided

that such a confession would lead to

the offices for weeks on end and ignored

divorce. When I didn’t see him at the

Bernd’s phone calls. But I couldn’t stay

office for a couple of days, I feared the 24

away for long, and soon our affair fell

understood the painful necessity of giving

into a semi-regular pattern.

him up. My love for him ran as deep as

One day Berndt told me that his

my love for Berlin. I knew that to forget

wife requested I join them for dinner. I

him I would have to run away and never

resisted but gave in after much argument.

return. The only place to run was back to

At the restaurant, Berndt hardly opened

my parents in Kaufbeuren. But I knew

his mouth except to order. His wife, on

that once I had crawled back and done

the other hand, was a perfect chatterbox

my penance, I would never be able to

and drilled me on everything from what

escape again. My funds were meager, far

my parents did to how old I was when I

too little to afford anything resembling

started wearing glasses. She asked so

an extended vacation. I felt utterly

many questions, so many things that

helpless, pushed into a corner. All the

Berndt himself had never thought to ask.

things I had previously loved about the

It was as if she wanted to show him how

city began to suffocate me; everything

little he knew of me, to prove the

reminded me of Bernd and of my guilty

pettiness of his infatuation. It was cruel

love.

of her and hard to watch Berndt put up

Sam,

the

intern

with

the

with it. After the meal, she asked me to

Fulbright, had an unexpected solution.

come over for some drinks. When I

He encouraged me to apply for a Master’s

politely declined, she became insistent

program

and grabbed my wrist. I refused and

Jerusalem, saying that the German

broke away from her menacing grip,

government, ever ready to through

running like a fugitive to the station. I

money around for reparations and

cried on the U-Bahn all the way back to

building German-Jewish relations, was

SchĂśnhauser Allee.

certain to grant me a scholarship. In the

at

Hebrew

University

in

From then on, Berlin seemed

months that followed, waiting to hear

stifling. I stayed away from Bernd, but I

from Hebrew University, I had no

feared meeting him on the street as much

contact with Bernd. I stopped writing for

as I hoped for such a chance encounter. I

the Berliner-Post and threw myself with

loved

renewed fervor into the pathetic tidbits I

Bernd

unwaveringly,

but 25

devised for the Urständ. Early that winter,

after such a long absence was an

I heard back from Hebrew University. I

enormous shock. After the opera, Sam

had been accepted into the Master’s

took me to a bar in Potsdamer Platz, I

program and needed to work out the

cried to him about it all, how I felt I

financial arrangements with the German

couldn’t bring myself to fall out of love,

government. It wasn’t hard to have my

how I feared that Israel would do nothing

grant request approved; of course they

to weaken his hold on me. I didn’t want

were thrilled that a bright, young

Sam to leave me that night. I tell you, I

German girl was interested in pursuing

felt nothing for him, nothing whatsoever,

studies in Israel. I was very good PR for

but I needed him then and there, needed

them, you see.

to feel him next to me, to feel him, to

Within a week I packed up the

fuck him, someone to make me feel

life I had made for myself in Berlin,

beautiful and wanted. Drunk, I dragged

folded it neatly into the boxes I sent

Sam back to Kopenhagenerstraße with

home to Kaufbeuren. It was hard to leave

me. He saw me upstairs and despite my

Uwe. I knew how desperately she needed

entreaties left. I saw I had a message from

me and feared for her when I was gone. I

Berndt, the first in months on end. I

continued to stay away from the Berliner-

called him back and was glad to know he

Post. I couldn’t bring myself to confront

was as miserable as I was. We made up to

Bernd before I left and braced myself for

meet by Richard-Wagner-Platz for what

the impossible task of falling out of love

was to be our last session.

with him.

Sam insisted on taking me out as

It was raining. Bernd wore his

a goodbye present. We went to the

woolen trench coat and a fedora, both of

Philharmoniker, where Beethoven’s Missa

which seemed to blend into the gray sky.

Solemnis

At

I nestled close to him to feel his tired

intermission, we ran into Bernd. He

heart beating. We went to a nearby hotel

looked flustered and confused. It had

and talked and made love all afternoon.

been some time since we’d last seen each

In the gloom of oncoming twilight I

other. Running in to him unexpectedly

awoke and got dressed. I couldn’t bear to

was

being

performed.

26

say goodbye and left him sleeping in his

euphemistically called, came about two

tiny rented cell. My flight was the

months into my stay. The semester was

following afternoon. Who knew when

getting off to a promising start. I was still

we’d meet again? Wordlessly, I said

struggling with mastering the Hebrew

goodbye to both lover and home.

alphabet, but very relieved to find that

--------------------------

virtually everyone spoke English. I had

I arrived at Ben Gurion Airport

made several friends, mostly Americans,

on a mockingly sunny January morning. I

at the university, but none in whom I felt

took

Rehov

I could confide. So far away from Berndt,

Tschernichowsky, where I was sharing an

I understood how deeply I loved him. I

apartment with some other doctoral

decided to write him a brief email. He

students at the university. Of my three

wrote back immediately and told me it

roommates, I became closest with Yedid,

was the same for him.

who was slightly older than the rest. They

“Karen, ich liebe dich noch und kann dich

had already done their compulsory

nicht vergessen,” I cried overjoyed to learn

military service, but none of them had

that my affection was reciprocated, yet

nearly the experience as Yedid, who was a

distressed that we would go so long

general. He’d told me countless stories of

without seeing each other. It was the

his unit’s operations, often condemning

middle of February and I had no plans to

Israeli policy. For the most part, these

go home for another year at least. (It

Israelis were as critical of their own

really depended on how much success I

government as I was. They just hated

had pitching articles to German and

when the criticism came from outside.

English-language papers).

a

cab

to

Jerusalem,

When I read

I came to Israel during a lull in

That afternoon I walked along

the Intifada. A ceasefire had been

Rehov Derech Beit Lehem, a busy street

announced very shortly before my arrival.

downtown, feeling my heart torn apart by

No one, of course, expected it to last. For

longing and elation, when an ear-

the moment, though, there was little

shattering blast shook the air. The force

violence. My first experience with the

of the explosion knocked me to the

Matzav, or “the situation” as it was

ground or maybe I fell out of fear. In the 27

immediate aftermath, a deafening silence

bus or visiting a crowded shopping area.

clouded the smoke-filled air. Then I

This was a people whose only response to

heard

choked,

tragedy seemed to be to continue with

horrific. I followed the cries around the

their everyday lives and not to succumb

corner onto Rehov Yaffo until I could see

to fear. This was a people who had learnt

the carnage. A branch of the ubiquitous

to laugh about the biggest tragedy in their

coffee shop, Café Hillel, had been blown

history.

the

screams.

Shrill,

up. The store windows were shattered

A week into my visit, Yedid told

and a tangle of limbs hung out of the

me the following joke. “When did Hitler

rubble, the figures impaled on the

kill himself?” He didn’t wait for me to

remaining shards of glass. On the street

react. “When he got the gas bill.” He

were those who had either pulled

must’ve seen the shock that stood in my

themselves from the scene of devastation

face, but it didn’t in the least seem to

or were on the sidewalk when the bomb

occur to him that he was addressing a

went off. On the ground, a collection of

German citizen. Perhaps the ability to

severed limbs and mangled automobile

joke about such a terrible atrocity was a

parts lay smoking. The ambulances and

way to cope with all the violence and

fire trucks arrived within minutes and I

bloodshed that these people encountered

stayed and watched as they took the

daily. I admired their stubbornness and

injured to the hospital and cleared the

wished I could take a similar approach to

area of debris.

the little tragedies in my own life. But

From that day on, the bombings

there were deeply painful parts about my

were frequent, sometimes even daily. The

past that I could not make light of. Nor

Israelis had a thick skin. They’d lived

could

with this constant violence for years and

explosions shook the city daily. I avoided

had learnt to accept it as a fact of life.

the popular bus lines and the noisy

Within a week, the Café Hillel on Rehov

outdoor shopping centers in downtown

Yaffo was rebuilt (not that I could ever

Jerusalem. Even at the university, I was

bring myself to go inside). The Israelis I

prone to anxiety (its café had been blown

knew never thought twice about taking a

up once before the start of the Intifada).

28

I

function

regularly

when

Thankfully, the part of town where I

sometimes alone, at other times with

lived, Hamoshavah Germanit, the German

friends. We debated politics and other

Colony,

heavily

things our minds couldn’t quite grasp.

never

These debates often became heated,

American

an

affluent

neighborhood,

and had

suffered a serious attack. The main

which

boulevard Emek Refaim, with its teaming

infuriating. After a while, I tired of them

shops and coffee houses, and the peaceful

and my British friend. I devoted myself to

gardens of Gan Hashoshanim and Yemin

my

Moshe were the only places I felt truly

dissertation proposal on the fate of

safe.

Jewish I spent more and more time

indoors,

my

both

schoolwork

entertaining

and

publications

Germany.

But

I

turned in

wasn’t

and

in

a

post-War so

much

severely

interested in my studies as I was looking

paralyzed by fear. Alone with my

for something to distract me from

thoughts,

Berndt

thinking about Berndt. I hadn’t received

constantly, realizing how much I missed

word from him since the Café Hillel

and loved him. The loneliness and the

bombing.

I

movements

was

yearned

for

grief of not being with him crippled me

By July the wave of violence that

more than the constant fear of attacks.

had shook Jerusalem the entire spring

Eventually, I realized that I needed to

was calming down. Israel was once more

regain a semblance of a normal social life

pursuing diplomatic strategies with the

if I wanted to go on functioning.

Palestinian leadership and both sides had

It was spring but the landscape of

declared a cease-fire. The only certainty in

the city riddled with terror seemed hardly

this region was that the peace wouldn’t

more appealing. I took up with another

last. It had been seven months since I left

student at the university, a Brit named

Berlin. When I finally thought that I had

Edward for whom I felt next-to-nothing.

learned to stop loving Berndt, he

What did it matter when I was sure of

contacted me.

Berndt’s love? With him I started

The email was short and to the

venturing out again. We went often to a

point. His marriage had gone back to

café in the Midrehov called Tmol Shilshom,

normal, but he had been struggling and 29

tried every way he knew to forget me. He

feared the purpose of his visit and sat

knew that nothing could ever come of

silently conspiring how to postpone the

our love and felt he had to put a stop to

inevitable?

our relationship once and for all. He had

His accommodations were in the

decided that he could not break up with

Old City at the Austrian Hospice of the

me at such a distance. After talking

Holy Family, 37 Via Dolorosa. I had been

things over with his wife, she had

only once before to the guesthouse,

consented to let him finalize matters with

which was located in the Arab Quarter,

me. He’d already booked a flight for the

close to the exit of the Al-Aqsa Mosque.

following weekend.

The Via Dolorosa is the avenue Christ

The morning his flight came into

was paraded down before his crucifixion.

Ben Gurion I rented a car and drove it to

All along it are markers for the Stations

the airport. I waited a while for him to

of the Cross. I didn’t often find myself in

get security clearance. When I saw him

the Arab Quarter, or the Old City for

my heart leapt out of my chest. Although

that matter. Not for any particular

I knew all too well the purpose of his

reason. On my few visits there with my

visit, I choked on my tears and embraced

Israeli

him long and tenderly, feeling his beard

movement to the Jewish Quarter with its

brush gently against my neck.

preternaturally tidy streets and squares

friends,

we

restricted

our

He was leaving in two days,

constantly teeming with American tour

during which time he hoped to resolve

groups and Jewish students. Yedid often

everything

seemed

referred to the area of the Rovah as a

impossible that we should accomplish so

Jewish Disneyland, with its pristine,

much in a mere 48 hours. I had spent so

sanitized presentation of ancient sites.

many sleepless nights crying for him,

“All they need is people dressed up as

holding imaginary conversations with

Moses and Abraham walking around

him. I felt what I had to tell him would

with big stupid grins and taking pictures

take years to communicate. Why then

with eager tourists,” he’d joke.

between

us.

It

was the car ride back to Jerusalem so

How different things were in the

deafeningly silent? Was it that we both

Arab Quarter. Here, one seemed to enter 30

a completely foreign world: the hustle

heightened sense of reality. I didn’t care

and bustle of activity; the sounds and

about the future or that we were in a

smells of people teaming in the streets;

house intended for pilgrims. I just

children hanging out of the windows of

wanted to be happy, as intensely happy

their squalid apartments; beggars and

with him as possible, before he left me

peddlers accosting you in the Shuk;

forever.

starving mothers and their children

Afterwards, we went downstairs

sitting on the cobblestone streets.

The

staffed

smoked while the setting sun made the

Austrian

rooftops gleam with blue and gold. The

volunteers. I hadn’t communicated with

call to prayer echoed through the air. We

anyone in that language for months and

spoke freely then, easily to each other,

it felt good to hear German spoken so

both of us trying hard to pretend that it

openly and freely. It almost transported

wouldn’t be goodbye forever. He went to

me. But then I looked around at the old

bed and I walked languidly along the

grayish walls and remembered where I

quiet Via Dolorosa and back to the New

was. The spell had been broken.

City.

entirely

by

guesthouse German

was

to the garden café. We drank coffee and

and

We made love three times that

The following day, I skipped

afternoon. Noiselessly. Wordlessly. I

classes to spend time with him. It was a

understood, as did he that this would be

calm day and neither the climate not the

out last session, that the affair was quickly

Matzav oppressed the city. I took him

nearing its inevitable conclusion. There

around, showing him my favorite sites,

was no need to discuss anything any

stopping in at cafés and bookshops along

further. I didn’t want these last moments

the way. We ate dinner on Emek Refaim

with him to be wasted wallowing in

and

sadness. No, I wanted to have only good

afterwards. The Jerusalem Film Festival

memories. We had two days together, a

had just begun and we saw a restored

little surprise, one last chance to be

print of Carl th. Dreyer’s “The Passion of

happy with man I loved before the pain

Joan of Arc.” After the film, we stopped

set in. Everything seemed to take on a

in at a café, where I drank something that 31

went

to

the

Cinematheque

upset my stomach. I accompanied him

clubs

and

restaurants,

enjoying

back to the guesthouse. We didn’t make

themselves like they would any other

love that night.

place on earth. I asked myself if I had

He woke early to pack. His flight

changed and I realized that I hadn’t. I

was at 2:00pm. I offered to drive him to

had switched countries and given up man

the airport. He told me that he’d take a

I loved, yet I myself remained the same. It

cab and I obeyed. I didn’t want any

was now the height of summer and some

unpleasantness between us in those final

student I knew, including the Brit I had

hours. When we walked out of the

briefly dated, were considering going

Damascus Gate, the car he’d ordered

down south to Elat, a seaside town with

from the hotel concierge was waiting to

luxury hotels, beaches and scuba diving. I

take him away. I trembled with sadness,

would’ve loved to join them but couldn’t

but held back my tears. So much pain

afford such a lavish package.

stood in his face that I couldn’t bear to

A few days into their stay, there

look at him. We embraced, but not as

was an attack at their resort. Of the

lovers embrace. I stood in the empty lot

thirteen

as he entered his taxi, my throbbing mind

Hebrew U. I was sitting in the Café

awash with something other that thought

Aroma on Emek Refaim waiting for

or emotion. When the cab was out of

Edward, when I learn of the bombing.

sight, I still stood there peering into the

The television carried a familiar story and

distance. The first emotion to assail me

as I watched the carnage revealed on

was not grief, but an overwhelming desire

screen I felt more bored than horrified.

to confess.

Edward arrived. He already knew about

``-------------------------

the attack from a friend who had phoned

casualties,

two

were

from

After Berndt left, the bombs

from the resort. When I heard that two

continued to go off almost daily, but I

students were among the dead, I nearly

was no longer afraid. Had anything really

dropped my coffee. I knew neither of the

changed? I asked myself. The country

victims; or rather I knew them too

seemed so far from peace, so devoid of

vaguely to ever miss them. Yet the news

hope. And yet, people were going out to

shook me. My eyes fixed again on the 32

television

screen,

and

the

flat,

get up and go to the bathroom. She

unconvincing images of mangled flesh

might

even

ask

the

girls

at

the

became somehow more real. I thought

neighboring table to keep an eye on her

how moments ago those chunks of

bag. When after a few minutes she hadn’t

bloodied meat had been something alive

yet returned, one of the girls grows

and beautiful.

uncomfortable. I see her eyes widen as

I lay awake in bed that night

the realization gradually dawns on him

thinking about those images; in my

and then -. I can hear the blast, louder by

dreams, I played the scene of the

far than anything my parents have ever

bombing out over and over again. Every

shouted at me. I can see the smoke,

time it was slightly different. Even in my

thicker than when I enter the stream

unconscious state, I was unable to decide

room of the pool on Emek Refaim. I can

which version of the truth to embrace. I

smell the dust and the blood and the

see them looking thin and tan in their

flesh

bathing suits, towels fastened around

perversely, a combination that shouldn’t

their waists. They are returning from the

be possible. I hear their screams, faint at

beach, and are carelessly treading sand

first, rising like the chorus of the damned

into the hotel restaurant. I see them

from beyond the grave. The smoke clears

choose a table by the window and inspect

and I see the victims: faces burnt, limbs

the menus carefully. It is noontime, and

missing, covered in blood and ashes. And

the tables around them are quickly

by the shattered window I see what

occupied. I see them order their meals,

remains of the two girls, paltry evidence

giving the Arab waiter a hard time for not

of their short lives.

commingling

in

my

nostrils

remembering everything perfectly. I see

And that was all. I couldn’t

also the unassuming woman with dark

mourn them. If anything, I admired

sunglasses and a large handbag who

them. I knew that the pain their friends

saunters in without having her bag

and families suffered would ultimately

checked. No one notices when she sat

embolden them, the way it had all of

down, crossed her legs and began to read

Israel. I wished that the inner turmoil I

the newspaper. I see the alluring woman

had endured could somehow make me 33

stronger and embolden me. But all that I

suffering. Very few of us can be that

had suffered only rendered me helpless

strong.

and inactive.

If I couldn’t mourn those two girls, nor did I feel any anger towards the bomber. I looked on him as another one of the war’s anonymous victims, another innocent trapped in a desperate situation.

There were only good people trying to make

the

right

choices.

The

consequences could be horrific, but at least some people took action and tried to change something. Everyone has his reasons.

This war will go on long after I’m gone. It will never stop. It’s the things that should never stop that do, things like love and happiness. Everything else will go on long after we’re all gone.

I received an email from Sam the other day. It was about Uwe. She had killed herself, cut her wrists wide open and hung her arms over the balcony, so her neighbors could see the free-flowing blood cascade down from her fourth-story apartment. When I remember how miserable she was, I think it’s a good thing that she took action to stop her

34

watercolor. He dusted it off the catalogue and onto the pants-legs of his silver Brooks Brothers’ suit. At a slight tug on

A Nice Pair of Legs

the fabric that clung snugly to his left

“The

attraction

of

knee, the offensive particles fluttered to

the

the floor. He continued with his revision,

connoisseur to any work of art is in part

indifferent to the auctioneeress’ fierce

beyond description, and it is generally agreed

that

constitutes

the but

desire a

to

determination. The lot in question was a

possess

fraction

of

minor work, barely identifiable as a Klee,

the

and it could hardly be expected to fetch

attraction. While the eye may be the

more than a fraction of the opening bid.

organ initially stimulated, the affair is

The

soon transmuted to something beyond

behind his ear, feeling as he did so, the

It is thus that, at the risk of sounding

exquisite softness of his prematurely

obvious, we say that in order to truly see

graying hair. He turned again to the

art, it is incumbent on the viewer to have

catalogue and flipped to a dog-eared page.

some requisite knowledge in how to look

Again, he reviewed the description and

at it.” pencil

was

provenance of the work he knew well. It

poised

gave him a special thrill to think that he

threateningly at the paragraph he had just

had charted Lot 616’s trajectory with

written. His eyes quickly scanned it three

such doggedness. For nearly half-a-year

times over. It was no good. Murray had

now, he had barely pursued anything

asked for something simple and to the point:

half-a-dozen

lines

for

gentleman

retracted the tip of his pencil and stuck it

mere infatuation: namely understanding.

Vincent’s

well-dressed

aside from this monumental work.

the

Surely,

company’s home that would inspire

such

an

acquisition

would

represent the greatest triumph of his

confidence and good cheer. The man

short and unusually blessed career. The

rubbed the eraser vigorously on his

artist of Lot 616 was barely known

moleskin pad. Pinkish residue spilled

outside his native Holland, and even

onto the description of Lot 576, a Klee

there he was considered by the critics and 35

public alike as an essentially provincial,

and clauses, while adding new ones of

even marginal figure whose importance

grace and simplicity. The man persisted

for art – if indeed his work had any –

in his task until he had achieved

could scarcely have a wide-reaching

something resembling that form of

influence. But the graying man in the

artistic expression so noted for its

silver suit saw through what his detractors

concision, precision and clarity: poetry.

had termed “cold, inhuman tones” and

He admired his handiwork with not a

“derivative prosaic form” and found in

small degree of pride and was only

the aging Dutchman’s work a surprising

brought

deal of human sympathy and genuine

announcement of lot 616.

back

to

earth

by

the

originality. For some months now, the

So there it was. After months of

artist in question had been gravely ill.

tracking the coveted canvas, the man in

Some of Holland’s more youthful voices

the silver suit laid eyes on the object of

had been clamoring for recognition of his

his quest for the first time. Like an

singular genius and stature. So far, their

explorer perceiving in the distance a

pleas and proclamations had fallen on

fabled land, the man’s heart beat

mostly deaf ears. The man in the silver

ferociously; he was nearly choked by his

suit hoped that their impassioned voiced

tears. He had followed the painting from

would continue to go unheeded: at least,

Brussels to Amsterdam, Madrid, Florence

that is, until he succeeded in acquiring a

and finally New York, but had never until

sizable collection of the work of an artist

now as much as caught a glimpse of it.

whose death – like his neglect – was an

Like a young man overwhelmed by the

event that was to be both tragic and

freshness of his lover’s body, the graying

propitious.

man felt equally faint and exhilarated.

The man in the silver suit sat

There could be no mistake; van Floos’s

impatiently in the fourth row, shifting his

“Begierde” would bring him and his firm

weight this way and that, crossing,

to a whole new

uncrossing and re-crossing his legs with as

masterwork of this unappreciated dying

much frequency as his pencil, which kept

artist would prove the man a force to be

dashing out the more cumbersome words

reckoned with. Of course, his triumph 36

level. The early

would not be immediate; but within a

to finish, and he had little doubt that he

year of van Floos’s death, the painting’s

had done what was in his company’s best

value would skyrocket forty, even fifty

interest. He did, of course, have Murray

times its current value.

to thank for putting so much faith in his

The

happy

obsessive quest. Vincent had made an

contemplations in check as he raised his

extremely impassioned case for van Floos,

paddle. The work’s other admirers cut

and he was prepared to forfeit the

out early in the bidding, and the man in

coveted position he held at Ashton &

the

Fairfax, should his calculations prove

silver

man

suit

held

these

walked

away

with

“Begierde” for an almost criminally low

horribly

price. The auction ended, and the man

combination

brought his paddle downstairs with the

determination soon had everyone won

instructions

over.

that

the

painting

be

delivered straightaway to Ashton & Fairfax

wrong.

Indeed,

c/o Vincent Fatizzio.

But

of

Vincent’s

charisma

despite

and

whatever

shortcomings he may have had in both personal and social sphere, Vincent

It had been a long day already

Fatizzio could never be accused of having

and the irregular length of the auction

bad taste. That, at least, was something

had put Vincent in the mood for a nap.

on which all his friends and enemies

Before he journeyed home, however, he

could agree. One could tell at an instant

thought to pop in at the office, both to

from his custom-tailored suits and finely

furnish Murray with the teaser for the

coiffed hair that he was the type of man

website and to pick up the reports from

who only dined at the finest restaurants,

the morning’s meeting. He called ahead

drank the most superior wines, enjoyed

to let Murray know that the purchase had

only

been successfully concluded, and his

entertainments and could tolerate only

superior gave him hearty congratulations.

the most genuinely rarified works of art.

As Vincent exited Rockefeller Center, he

Thus whenever anyone called upon

was

had

Vincent for a bit of advice, it was

masterminded the sale entirely from start

forthright obeyed as if a papal edict.

positively

beaming.

He

37

the

most

sophisticated

Anyone who knew the privilege of being

spill some murky blue water. Vincent’s

invited to Vincent’s apartment knew his

anger had no time to even register before

meticulous

the elevator, along with the cleaning lady,

attention

preternatural

sense

to

detail

for

and

creating

was gone.

ambiances seductive enough in which to

Vincent was not alone in his

drown. Since adolescence, Vincent had

hatred on the cleaning lady. The middle

been an ardent collector of African ivory

aged Argentine woman went by the name

carvings, seventeenth-century Delft vases

of Conchita and had been on the

and fine sets of Chippendale’s furniture.

cleaning staff of Ashton & Fairfax for three

But the most exquisite item in Vincent’s

years. In all that time, however, she had

collection was his wife of five years, the

never been known to mutter a kind word

model Cindy Marigold.

of greeting to anyone or even to wipe that

To this enchanting and marvelous

angry scowl of her face, if only for a

creature, Vincent was forever glad to

minute.

return at the end of a taxing day. He held

Vincent marched into Murray’s

her image in her mind as he rode the

office brandishing his soiled pants-leg and

elevator to Art Advisory Services on the 11th

flattened shoe. His superior listened

floor of the Ashton & Fairfax building.

sympathetically, but said: “I’m afraid

When the door swung open, Vincent

there isn’t much we can do. Don’t think

found the cleaning lady – a Hispanic

that you’re alone in your dislike of her,

woman

nasty

but that’s hardly grounds for having her

countenance – waiting for the elevator.

fired, especially considering what a damn

Vincent was not yet over the threshold,

good job she does. Besides, she’s illegal. I

when the woman, who had with her the

think we’d all feel pretty guilty if she were

maintenance cart, edged her way into the

to get her deported.” Vincent did not

car rather brusquely. She apparently had

share in his superior’s sympathetic

no regard for Vincent’s suede shoes,

concerns,

which the cart rolled over, nor for the

somewhat grudgingly, that Conchita was

much commented-on pants-legs of his

an exceptional mistress of her craft.

Brooks Brothers’ suit, onto which she let

Seeing that this answer hardly improved

with

a

chronically

38

although

he

admitted,

Vincent’s mood, Murphy added, “Cheer

to educate her on the matter. He was

up, Vincent. With the investment you

tired from work, and the added fatigue of

made today you can buy yourself 1000

digesting his supper made him wish to do

new suits and pairs of shoes.”

nothing more than to admire his wife’s

Well that was true, even if it

beauty.

wasn’t quite the point. But as Vincent

And so, after dinner, he sat on

packed up his office for the day he

the

leopard-skin

sofa

in

silent

reflected – not without a bit of relish - on

contemplation of his wife, who flipped

the untold hardship that was certainly

disinterestedly through the current issue

Conchita’s lot.

of Vogue. Vincent asked if she’d had a good day. She nodded vaguely and

They had oysters for dinner.

continued to look at the glossy pictures.

Cindy had prepared them with garlic and

What had she done while he was away at

mustard, approximating a recipe she’d

work, he wondered. Nothing much. A bit

tasted once at Bernardin. The dish had

of shopping, perhaps. Then Vincent

turned out infinitely better at the

noticed that Cindy had on an unfamiliar

restaurant, although Vincent applauded

silver bracelet. Even at a distance, he

his

for

could tell that it was of inferior quality,

conversation

what is commonly called “costume

revolved around the afternoon’s auction

jewelry.” Vincent didn’t like the idea of

and Vincent fetched the catalogue to

his wife wearing anything less than pure

show his wife his latest purchase. Cindy

and told her so.

wife’s

courtesy’s

efforts sake.

nevertheless, The

looked at the grey and black image

“Take that silly thing off, Cindy,”

blankly and Vincent, not knowing if she

he said rather gruffly, “it will give you a

was puzzled or bored tore the catalogue

rash”

from her hands rather brusquely. Cindy,

“Oh, I see,” she replied and

of course, had not the ability to

casually threw it on the coffee table.

comprehend what was of significance in

Vincent regretted speaking harshly to his

van Floos’s art, and her husband had

wife, but had felt that it was something

neither the patience nor the inclination

akin to a moral obligation, to demand his 39

wife

cast

off

her

shoddy

goods.

Vincent considered Cindy his

Sometimes he felt seriously depressed

greatest discovery. They had met ten years

that her own standards of beauty and

ago, when Vincent was getting his

perfection were so hopelessly low. He

master’s degree at Princeton. She was a

remembered how absolutely crazy she’d

senior in high school and worked in a

been for an ugly little puppy they’d seen

Dairy Queen nights and weekends. How

at a farm upstate. Cindy cried like a child

exactly they met was a source of endless

all the way back to the city, and persisted

debate among their various friends, for –

even after Vincent had swore to her that

as can be surmised – they moved in very

he’d find her a cuter puppy in the city,

different circles. Intellectually, Cindy was

one that was a purebred from a

about as exciting as a toothpick and,

respectable breeder. For the most part,

there being no question of her going to

however, Cindy had been willing to leave

college, Vincent whisked her away to the

all the decision-making to Vincent and

city, promising her parents to make a

was always inclined to agree with him at

great model of her. That is precisely what

the end of the day (even about the

he had done. She was introduced to all

puppy). To say she was a woman of weak

the best people in the New York Fashion

resolve would be misleading, for it would

circuit.

imply that she was a woman with even

Marigold became synonymous with the

the ficklest of opinions, which was rarely

most exciting fashions of the time. The

the case. But it hardly mattered to

walls of Vincent’s apartments were

Vincent, who had enough opinions and

adorned with glamorous shots of his wife:

prejudices for them both. He knew well

not magazine covers –which Vincent

enough what a dope she was, and that

considered kitschy to display- but artist’s

was precisely what he loved her for. She

proofs by Sherman, Avedon and Irving

was a creature who existed for no reason

Penn.

Soon

the name

of

Cindy

other than to be beautiful. She didn’t

Now, at 23 years old, Cindy’s

stand for anything or conceal anything.

modeling career had hit a temporary lull.

She just was. And she was beautiful.

Frankly, she welcomed the opportunity for much-needed rest. In her five years of 40

marriage, she had lost none of her

The only place where nature

youthful beauty. Vincent was not in the

could have been shown to settle for

least disturbed by the sudden cessation of

something less than perfection was her

offers. As shrewd a businessman as he

legs. They were by no means repugnant

was a connoisseur Vincent could appraise

or unsightly, but the kneecaps were a

his wife as well as any painting.

trifle crooked and bulky. Additionally,

Where was the man who could

recent years had brought about an

dare to pronounce Cindy Marigold

increase in spider veins extending from

anything less than the embodiment of

her ankles halfway up her calves. Vincent

feminine perfection? She was tall, but not

had offered repeatedly to have the

too tall. Her ovular face would have

blemishes surgically removed, but Cindy,

suggested Modigliani where it not for

in an uncharacteristic demonstration of

delicate freckles set against the pallor of

will, said she feared of the procedure and

her skin. Her eyes were changeable, but

had refused. Vincent was loathe to admit

usually shone light blue. Her diminutive

these imperfections, and tried as best he

nose was perfectly straight and her

could to ignore them; a formidable task

nostrils resolved in a compelling arc. Her

in which he succeeded most of the time.

hair was a ruddy brown, and she wore it down so it flowed past her proud neck

Still smacking of the previous

down to her breasts, which were generous

day’s success, Vincent decided to sleep

without being vulgar. Her waist was

late and only arrived at work in the early

impossibly small and Vincent often

afternoon. He entered his office and

considered putting her in a corset to see

immediately recalled all the work that lay

just how narrow her narrow frame would

before

bend.

his

investment opportunities and writing up

greatest pleasures to cradle her lean yet

proposals for clients. He took a letter to

substantial derriere while he buried his

Christie’s, asking when the van Floos

head inside her sex, which was both

would be ready for delivery. Then he

wonderfully taunt and surprisingly clean.

contacted a small gallery in the Hague to

Vincent

counted

among

him,

researching

various

see about acquiring a series of sketches 41

that dated from van Floos’ mauve period.

farcical occurrence would engender. But

He finished his report on the “Begierde”

it had another, more persuasive source.

purchase, and handed it directly to

Vincent gripped the sides of the basin

Murray, who didn’t as much as mention

firmly and peered resolutely down the

Vincent’s tardiness.

drain, feeling that a horrifying abyss had

The sun was setting, and Vincent

just opened, and threatened to swallow

found the pile of documents on his desk

him whole. By the time he opened the

was still considerable. At 6:30, he looked

door to the men’s room, Conchita was

out the glass door into the office, and saw

long gone. Vincent was relieved.

that it was entirely deserted. He rose to

That night, Vincent was unable to

pack his briefcase and walked stridently

sleep. He lay in bed inertly sad as he

to the bathroom. In a moment of what

stared wide-eyed at the wooden ceiling.

could only be forgetfulness, Vincent’s

Next to him lay Cindy, her beauty not in

hand seized the knob to the janitor’s

the least diminished by slumber’s warm

closet. He swung it open to reveal

embrace. How could she, who had no

Conchita who was changing out of her

thoughts of any consequence, possibly

outfit to go home. She held the hem of

understand the suffering he felt? He

her skirt raised to her waist, and

continued to

unwittingly offered Vincent a view of her

replaying

right leg in full profile. Vincent stood for

encounter in the janitor’s closet. He saw

an awkward moment that might well

first that indignant look, the look of a

have been an eternity while the cleaning

hunted animal: those eyes peering out at

lady beamed at him like a fury. Then,

him like a lion in the bushes. And then

fully gathering his senses, he muttered a

his gaze settled again on that single leg,

confused word of apology and slammed

curving suggestively from the toe to the

the door rather forcefully. He went

hip,

straightaway into the bathroom, where he

shuddered to recall such beauty and

stooped over the sink like a man

doubted even if he’d even glimpsed the

defeated. His shock had stemmed for the

perfection that haunted his nights. Those

inevitable embarrassment that such a

slender, incalculably smooth, remarkable 42

long,

in

stare his

dark

at the ceiling,

head

and

the

chance

delicate.

He

legs dangled before his eyes all night long.

bending with spring-like exactness; the

He reached out to touch them, yet his

muscular calves jutting out as their owner

fingers grasped nothing but air. In the

advanced

morning he awoke on the wrong end of

office building. Vincent chased after her

the bed, both arms wrapped around his

discreetly as he could. His eyes followed

wife’s knees.

her from across the street and when he

determinately

towards

the

It was still early, but Vincent

reached the building, he was but five

showered quickly and downed his coffee

seconds behind her. He prayed that she

with the urgency of man exiting a

hadn’t gone up yet, and was relieved to

burning building. His plan was to arrive

find her still waiting for the elevator. He

at work early, and watch across the street

smiled awkwardly as he entered her field

for Conchita to emerge from the subway

of vision, and she returned his greeting

in her street clothes, which offered the

with one of her signature scowls. In the

eye a knee-length view. Vincent’s pulse

elevator, he stood in the corner in back

was racing and he felt absurd loitering by

of her, a position that afforded him the

the Radio City awning with a half-burnt

advantage of staring at her legs with

cigarette. Then he saw her walk across

impunity. She didn’t once turn around.

Sixth Avenue towards the Ashton& Fairfax

For the duration of their brief journey,

building in a perfectly pedestrian cream-

his eyes caressed her legs to his heart’s

colored dress with brown stockings. To

content. When the elevator reached their

the casual viewer, there would have been

floor, he wondered if he ought to

nothing in the least remarkable about so

apologize for barging in on her the

ordinary a woman wearing so bland an

previous evening. But the possibility of a

outfit. But when she appeared, Vincent

verbal confrontation was something that

felt anything but disappointment. There

terrified him. He remained silent.

they were again, those twin limbs of

The first thing he saw on entering

perfect poise and balance. Yesterday he

his office was a fax. He picked it up and

had viewed them at rest. Now he got to

read it, trying hard to be interested. Van

see them in action: the swinging hips

Floos had undergone a successful heart

striding confidently; the supple knees

surgery, it read, and the Dutch medical 43

establishment

had

pronounced

him

through the catalogue with a pair of

beyond a doubt out of risk. This was

scissors

cutting

out

the

pictures,

indeed very unfortunate news for the

including the advertisements for the

purchaser of “Begierde.” He held the fax

upcoming auction of film posters.

in his hand and remained stationary for

In the early afternoon, the door

quite some time. He knew it mattered a

to his office creaked open. Conchita

great deal if van Floos died tomorrow or

walked in unassumingly to clear away his

lived another twenty years, yet he

garbage. Vincent scrambled to sweep his

couldn’t bring himself to care one ounce.

clippings

His reason was excited and Vincent

“Begierdge” fell into the metal receptacle

himself was starting to feel feverish.

followed by “Claire’s Knee” and “Death

into

the

garbage,

and

When Murray and the others

in Venice.” Vincent watched Conchita as

arrived from work, Vincent withheld the

she crossed the room in her cleaning

information about van Floos from them

outfit. Like a robe belonging to a nun, it

and pretended as best he could to

covered her completely down to her

conduct his business as usual. But his

ankles. As she walked towards the

colleagues picked up on certain telltale

garbage, she seemed almost to glide

signs that betrayed that Vincent was not

across the floor. Vincent was tantalized.

entirely all right: the back of his suit was

As Conchita bent to retrieve the garbage,

wrinkled, and parts of the sleeves were

Vincent raised himself to spy – if only for

even stained with food; Vincent’s hair

a split-second – an exposed ankle. The

was unkempt and his brow was soaked in

torment was too great, and Vincent fell

sweat; whiskers lengthened along his

back into his chair with a resounding

upper lip and chin. Aware of his

thud. In a moment, Conchita was gone.

unseemly appearance, Vincent confined

All that evening Vincent was

himself to his office and, in vain, forced

plagued by his unholy desires. During

himself to take an interest in his work.

dinner, he could barely stand to open his

He flipped through the catalogue from

mouth in response to his wife’s chatter.

Christie’s, reading the most irrelevant

In bed at night, he stared once more at

details with mock intensity. He went

the ceiling while watching Conchita’s legs 44

dance before his mind’s eye. He was so

obvious concern of the entire office.

ensnared by this game that he didn’t hear

Vincent came to expect Conchita’s daily

his wife whimpering gently from her side

visit

of the bed, until she placed a hand on his

excitement. Several times he was on the

chest. She had been frightened earlier by

brink of opening his mouth, but he

his erratic behavior and felt certain that

always found himself hopelessly tongue-

he no longer loved her. Vincent did his

tied. The legs never ceased to dance,

best to assure her that nothing of the sort

dangle, run, jump, split and curtsy before

was true, that he merely had been feeling

Vincent’s eyes. Gradually, Vincent came

a bit sick at the office. But Cindy sensed

to the realization that he must have them

the far-off longing in her husband’s eyes.

or die. There was no doubt about it. He

It terrified her. Desperately, she threw

simply needed them – to feel them, to

herself at him, smoothing his brow with

touch them – to live. A desperate slave to

kisses and caresses. Minutes later they

his

were making love. Cindy sat straight-

insidious plan.

backed on top of him, while Vincent’s

with

great

obsession, On

impatience

Vincent

Friday

hatched

evening,

and

an

Vincent

finger dug into her slender waist. His

waited outside the Ashton & Fairfax

fingers moved down to her thighs as her

building. It was nippy outside and

movements

violent.

Conchita was later in coming out than

Vincent clutched at his wife’s legs – good

Vincent had expected. When he saw her

legs, ample legs, beautiful legs – yet

emerge from the great glass lobby, he

realized now how inadequate they were.

mustered up whatever courage remained

For

became

the

rest

more

of

the

week,

in his weak and worn-out body and

Vincent’s work was no less agonizing

approached

than it had been that first day. He woke

unthreateningly.

up early every morning and stationed

English, and Vincent had not a bit of

himself below the Radio City marquee in

difficulty communicating his intentions

the hopes of catching a glimpse of his

to her. He handed her a business card

beloved legs. At his office, Vincent

with his home address scrawled on the

continued to sequester himself to the

back and a key-chain, repeated “Sunday” 45

her,

confidently

yet

Conchita spoke no

a few times and then flashed his ten

making order of the partially dissected

fingers before her face. Conchita looked

Sunday Times. Vincent was absorbed in

bewildered at first, but then gave him a

his voyeuristic enterprise, and paid little

definite nod of understanding. The dark

attention to the piping hot espresso that

legs swung their way across Sixth Avenue

awaited him. Whenever Conchita bent

and marched down into the subway.

down to retrieve an errant pen or earring, her cream-colored skirt rose slightly of its

Vincent spent every hour leading

own

accord,

offering

Vincent

an

up to Sunday in abject misery. It pained

unobstructed view of the back of her

Cindy than her traditional remedy, a prix

thighs. They were exactly as he had

fixe consisting of Advil, Campbell’s soup,

imagined them: dark, lean and muscular,

and oral sex – failed to have a restorative

like the thighs of feisty Brazilian stallion.

effect on her husband. All day Saturday,

Vincent kept vigil from behind the

Vincent was painfully taciturn, and

counter unobserved. His gaze was so

Cindy left to go shopping while her

unshakably transfixed on those delirious

husband pretended to read. When

legs that he really wouldn’t have been

Sunday crawled around, Vincent awoke

able to tell if she had noticed his

before dawn and stayed in bed the whole

presence.

morning. At 9:00, Vincent heard Cindy

At length the living room was

slam the door behind her. She was off to

tidied up and the legs marched playfully

see her parents for the day in New Jersey

in the direction of the bathroom. Only

and wouldn’t be back until late. At 10:15,

once Vincent was certain that she could

Vincent heard a key turning tentatively in

no longer see him did he dare to follow

the latch. He remained in bed and only

on tiptoe, leaving behind the espresso

gradually dared to venture out into the

which had deteriorated into a cold, bitter

kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee.

soup. The bathroom was situated at the

Noiselessly, he assumed a stool at the

end of the hallway, and as Vincent

counter and clicked on the espresso

approached ever so slowly, Conchita got

machine. Directly ahead of him, the legs

down on her knees to scrub the tiled

scurried across the living room floor,

floor.

46

Her

servile

posture

afforded

Vincent the fullest display of both legs yet

through,

and even revealed a portion of her cheap,

countenance in a horrid yellow light.

gray panties. Vincent stood in the hallway

Vincent propped up on his pillow and

breathing hard. The torment was too

peered down at the extended feet of the

great and he was on the verge doing

cleaning lady, who was straining to reach

something

a

the top of the window, with the

superhuman effort he tore himself from

consequence that, silhouetted against the

the scene and darted back to his room.

glaring late-morning sun, her calves and

violent

when

with

He crawled back into bed and

thighs

bathing

became

Vincent’s

suggestively

sickly

defined.

drew the down comforter over his sweat-

Vincent gazed longingly at the object of

soaked body. He faintly made out the

his obsession and he strained his crusty

sound of the radio on his night table.

eyes to admire the upturned ankle, which

Instantly, he identified the piece as the

seemed to gesture at something that lay

Adagietto of Mahler’s Fifth and weakly

just beyond the horizon.

turned the volume up. He lay there

There he sat, the master, the

trembling while the madness ebbed and

eminently dignified critic, appraiser and

flowed inside him, driving him to the

collector, the purchaser of “Begierde,”

edge of sanity. He closed his eyes and

who had all his life rejected anything the

conjured up the vulgar position he had,

least bit impure, never settling for

moments earlier, spied. He imagined

anything but the finest, won over in the

himself grabbing the slender ankles,

end by slender limbs of a poor Hispanic

smoothing the calves with his dexterous

cleaning lady. Vincent felt faint and bend

hands, biting the knees and showering

his neck as far as he could towards the

those thighs in kisses. He was still in the

outstretched legs before collapsing on the

delirium of his fantasy when he heard a

bed in sheer exhaustion.

gentle tapping on the door, and Conchita entered

straightaway:

impervious,

Conchita must have heard the

of

noise, for she turned around rather

course, to his presence. She set about

stunned. Seeing her employer so pale and

wiping the large glass doors that opened

sickly

on a spacious balcony. The sun poured

disappeared from the room only to 47

frightened

her,

and

she

reappear a moment later with a glass of

look lodged in Vincent’s disappointed

water. Vincent accepted gladly and set the

eyes. The melancholic ears listened for

glass down on the night table. He then

the pitter-patter of steps through the

gripped Conchita’s arm and forced her to

tortuous hallway, and finally the resolute

sit beside him. He was hardly even

slamming of the door. Vincent began to

looking at her when he placed his hand

sob real tears as if he had just lost what

gently on her knee, caressing it like a

was both most precious to him and most

kitten. Conchita showed some initial

essential to his existence. He cried and in

resistance to her employer’s advances, but

his heart cursed those perfect legs. In his

let him proceed unhindered at so early a

mind’s eye he saw them gnarled, twisted,

stage in the game. She was no stranger to

crushed and severed.

the caresses of strange men, and had

He was still in the midst of these

known the soothing hands of her uncles

violent reveries when what sounded like

since her girlhood in Rio. There had

1000 soda cans being crushed in unison,

always been a class of men whom she

echoed in his room. The sound of twisted

allowed to treat her body liberally, those

metal was followed instantly by a second,

who had shown her some kindness and

shriller sound, that of human anguish.

whose

seemed

Vincent ran to the balcony and flung

unthreatening. She could easily tolerate

open the glass doors. He looked down

the soft hands of her employer stroking

into the street three stories below, and

her knees, then her calves and ankles.

saw the image of a dark girl in a cream-

motives

had

It is hard to say what, then,

colored dress pinned between two parked

caused the poor girl to bolt for the door a

cars. Her pathetic cries wafted gently

moment later when the pious hands crept

through the February breeze and then

up along her thighs. Perhaps she had

were heard no more.

gazed into her employer’s crazed eyes and

The car in back, which was clearly

had considered him a desperate man

the culprit, backed up slowly a few feet.

capable of anything. Whatever their

As it did, a new sound was heard amidst

reason, those pretty legs flew out of the

the broken metal: the crushing of bones.

room like a bat out of hell and a piteous

The car came to a stop and the victim, 48

unable to support herself, collapsed by

drumstick,

the curb. Even from his elevated vantage

temperature, and them slapped the meat

point, Vincent could see the bones

with the back of his hand. The symmetry

jutting

of the arrangement was disturbed and

through

the

bloodied

and

as

felt

if

taking

someone’s

crumpled legs. Vincent stared intently at

Vincent

something

that

those limp bruised and formless limbs.

approximated relief. When he bent up

He remembered back to his childhood,

after putting the dish in the oven, the

something strange and soothing: the sight

door quickly swung open. Cindy stood in

of a crushed origami bird. Vincent saw a

the doorway followed by two police

sizable crowd form rapidly around the

officers. The unhappy wife flew into her

woman and saw the culpable driver

recuperating husband’s arms. Vincent

emerge from her badly dented vehicle.

was grateful she had returned so early.

The hapless victim soon lapsed into unconsciousness, the result both of shock

All that week the Art Advisory

and pain. Vincent’s cell began vibrating

division of Ashton & Fairfax had to go

frantically. He ignored it. He was too

without a cleaning lady. This hardly made

absorbed in the scene to care about

a difference, as all the department’s

anything outside of it. He sat on the

employees were persons of immaculate

balcony, watching as the sun climbed in

personal hygiene. What’s more, everyone

the sky. ‘Lunchtime,’ he thought, and

at AA found it a great relief to be rid of

calmly re-entered the apartment amid the

the unpleasant Conchita, although they

wailing of sirens. He continued to ignore

all agreed that it was terribly unfortunate

the cell, as he sat down at the kitchen

that she should have met so horrific an

counter and carefully prepared himself a

accident. Best of all, the old industrious,

choice

He

confident and shrewd Vincent Fatizzio

seasoned them lightly and arranged them

was back in business, and Murray and all

artfully in a cast-iron pan. His fingers

the others were glad to see his mysterious

groped at the squishy, clammy flesh as he

malady suddenly vanish. Things went

handled the short, stubby limbs. He

back to normal for Vincent, and he

pressed the back of his hand to a

continued to negotiate the sale of the van

few

turkey

drumsticks.

49

Floos sketches. Shortly after this last

into the subway, she approached briskly

triumphant purchase, the neglected artist

and impeded his progress. To dispel the

had the good sense to die. When Vincent

awkward flavor of this tense encounter,

read the paragraph-long obituary in the

Vincent asked after the health of Anita’s

Times he emitted a sigh of deep relief

sister.

and contentment. It was as if he had

“She will live,” Anita responded

concluded planting his garden, and now

meekly, adding that Conchita would

returned indoors to wait for his flower-

never walk again. Vincent expressed his

patch to grow.

sympathies and was on the verge of

Eventually,

the

was

tearing himself away from the girl when

assigned a new cleaning lady. Her

she said, “She was with you, earlier that

distinctive

day of the accident.”

physiognomy

division made

it

immediately obvious to everyone that she

So she knew that much, Vincent

was none other than Conchita’s younger

considered. He stammered and said,

sister, Anita. But unlike her sister, Anita’s

“Oh, how awful of me. I forgot to pay her

youthful face radiated that wholesome

wages.”

goodness that is often mistaken for true

Vincent reached into his breast

beauty. She was perpetually pleasant and

pocket,

blessedly easy to get along with. Most

discreetly withdrew a wad of bills, far too

importantly for Vincent, however, she

great a price for a couple of hours of

possessed

most

housecleaning. He was on the verge of

undistinguished legs: legs, which for all

handing her the money when Anita

their length and firmness, were but a pale

spoke again, almost as if she hadn’t seen

shadow of her sister’s dearly departed

the bills flash before her eyes.

none

but

the

limbs.

withdrew

“If

you

his

need

wallet,

a

and

new

After work one day as Vincent

housekeeper…” her voice trailed off and

was leaving the office, he noticed Anita

Vincent reflected that her sister had done

loitering in front of the building’s

well to keep his conduct a secret from

fountain. The city was cloaked in a rainy

Anita.

gray. As he turned quickly to descend 50

“I’m

quite

alright

for

the

moment, but thanks anyway.” Vincent returned her supplicant expression with an avuncular smile. He held the wad of bills up to her, and Anita, wide-eyed with wonder, extended her hand timidly to receive the gift. As her fingers scooped up the unexpectedly generous donation, Vincent noticed a singularly striking thing; her slender wrists were really quite perfect.

51

do, fumbles for a cigarillo. He lights up

Love and Death at the Cine Ideal

and makes a renewed attempt to join the conversation.

“There can be little doubt that

“Look what Mr. Kubrick says

Mr. Kubrick is both a philosopher and a

here, he says ‘a film is or should be more

poet.” Luis looks around at the older

like music than like fiction. It should be a

faces,

progression of moods and feelings.’”

moustaches

and

contribution. Alas, it seems his words are

issue of Cahiers du Cinéma that his uncle

lost in the ever-thickening cloud of smoke

has brought back for him from Paris. The

that hangs in the poorly lit room. He

other boys crowd around, looking at the

looks around at the others. There are five

pictures. He is the only one who speaks

of them, all older boys. They meet every

French and might, for all they know, be

Monday in the smoke-and-booze laced

making it up. But they trust him, since he

atmosphere of La Fidula to discuss fine

is the oldest, the indisputable leader of

things like film and poetry, and listen to

the gang.

jazz. Luis, who is only 13, has impressed

It is noisy inside the club and

Raul with his knowledge of cinema and

Luis, who has arrived late, pulls up a

literature and has for the past few weeks

chair behind the small, cast-iron table. He difficulty

conversation

with

sideburns, to see the effect of his

Alejandro folds back the pages of the

has

some

and

making asks

out

the

Javier

for

been admitted as a guest to these weekly gatherings. Mostly, Luis is in awe of Alejandro. He is only two years Luis’

clarification. But Javier seems not to

senior, but already possesses so great an

notice. Luis tries for several minutes to

amount of refinement, maturity and

try and piece together the tête-à-tête, but

charisma. Poetry seems to roll off his

several other boys quickly chime in,

tongue effortlessly: with an eloquence

raising their voices and gesticulating. Luis

only matched by his physical grace; every

gives up and leans back in the unadorned

gesture seems at once perfectly calculated

wooden chair. He takes another sip of

yet utterly spontaneous. Luis’ observes

port and, for lack of anything better to

Alejandro 52

in

order

to

mimic

the

nonchalance with which he pulls gently

isn’t Els Segadors!” Alejandro chuckles.

on a cigarillo or downs a shot of whiskey;

There are scattered boos and hisses from

and no one is as well versed in all fields

the crowd. A table in the very front clears

of literature, music, politics and film.

out and leaves. But the rest of the

Luis would be glad to assume the mantle

audience greets the performer with

of disciple, if the older boy did not

reverent applause. In the middle of the

treated him with such indifference and

song, Alejandro stands up and sings

outright dismissiveness. Luis fears that

along is his endearingly off-key voice. The

Alejandro secretly despises him - for

other boys stand up with him. Soon the

what? his youth, his ignorance and his

whole club is a chorus of song. Men,

pretensions – and only allows him to be

young and old, pipe in or hum along.

part of the weekly gatherings to humor

Luis does not know the words,

Raul.

but hearing the well-known melody, so Again, Luis’ spine meets the

devout and somber, emitted from the

unforgiving lounge chair and he takes a

barrel of a tenor saxophone seems at

long drag on his cigarillo. He tries to

once a revelation and a shock. He can’t

enjoy the sweet smoke that swirled

quite explain the effect that hearing that

around in his mouth, and forget how out

jazzman pipe out Els Segadors has on

of place he always feels at these

him. If affects him the same way that

gatherings. Soon the musicians shuffle

reading a verse by Aleixandre or seeing a

across the floor to the ancient upright

film by Bresson does. It speaks directly to

piano at the front of the room. “Oh, that

his emotions; it can’t be put into words.

saxophonist’s quite superb,” Alejandro

The

points out authoritatively. “He’s from

resounding note and the crowd erupts

Barcelona. It will be interesting to see

with peals of applause and cheers.

what he does.”

Alejandro turns towards the gang and

The Catalan musician wets his

sneers.

musician

“Isn’t

sounds

it

his

incredible?

final

The

lips and raises the instrument to his

Generalissimo isn’t dead 72 hours and

mouth. He lets out a wailing E and

already look how much more exciting

climbs up solemnly to an A. “Why if it

music in Madrid has become.”

53

Luis looks at his watch. It’s 10:30.

Luis puts his hands to his eyes, afraid

He’d better be getting home. His mother

she’ll shout at him. Instead she softens

will begin to worry. He reaches in his

her tone. “Do you have any idea what it’s

pocket for some change and drops a few

like,” she cries weakly into his ear, “not to

coins down on the table, which is littered

be able to fall asleep when your tired; not

with wine glasses. He waves goodbye to

to even close your eyes when your body is

everyone, but Raul is the only one who

completely exhausted?” She pauses to

seems to acknowledge his farewell. Luis’

wipe her forehead and in a piteous voice

parting is lost on the others, who sit

accuses him. “Do you do this to be cruel

absorbed in the Catalan’s second song.

to me?” Luis is silent, and his silence is an

The heavy wooden door swings open and

admission of guilt.

Luis walks out onto calle las Huertas. The

“And tell me what you did the

November air is unforgiving, and it stings

300 pesetas I gave you this morning?”

at his cheeks as he walks alone back to La

Luis digs his hands into his coat pocket

Latina.

and deposits a cluster of coinage into his mother’s palm. She quickly counts it and When he enters his apartment at

beams up at him. “There are only 200

16 calle Humilladero, it is close to 11:00.

pesetas here.” Luis tells her that he’s gone

Everyone is asleep except for Luis’

to a movie. “Don’t you tell me lies!” she

mother, who is seated at the kitchen

raises her voice for the first time. You

table, reading by candlelight. The mother

stink of cigarettes and cheap booze. My

stays in the chair and casts him a glance

God, if you’re father were up to see you

that betrays her anger. Luis’ body goes

like this!” Luis knows he is in the wrong,

limp and he pretends to ignore her

and he takes the abuse without protest.

accusatory stare. “I got a call from Doctor

His mother’s insults seem tame in

Bernal’s office this afternoon. You never

comparison to the rude indifference of

showed to pick up my prescription,” she

Alejandro’s crowd. In a sense, he’s even

hisses through her teeth. “You know that

glad for his mother’s anger, because it

I need those pills for my insomnia. You

shows that he’s an integral part of a

know I can’t get to sleep without them.”

relationship. “What’s gotten into you 54

lately? For the past month, you go out to

We have just sat up in bed, tired; the dark

some scandalous club with your friends

day.

and get drunk while I wait up till all

Someone is still sleeping innocent on that bed.

hours of the night waiting to see if you’ll

But perhaps we are asleep…

ever come home.” Luis feels tears forming in his eyes. “It’s becoming addiction with

And he falls asleep.

you. You and your friends sit around and

---

get drunk and talk about movies and poetry with no regard for me or your

Every day after school, Luis goes

father or your brother.” Then she softens

to the Cine Ideal. He is bright, but not a

her tone somewhat. “It isn’t about the

terribly good student. School, especially

money, Luis. It isn’t. Thank God your

math and science, distracts him from

father makes enough for us to live like

what he’s really interested in: film, poetry

decent, respectable people. It’s just that if

and philosophy. Luis has few friends his

you think you can neglecting both your

own age. The only students who seem to

family and your studies…

share Luis’ interests are Alejandro and

Luis has stopped listening. He

his crowd; and hanging around them,

slowly turns and walks down the narrow

Luis always feels like a pariah. He wishes

hall into the room he shares with his

he had someone with whom to discuss all

younger brother, Pedro. He gets into bed

the books he’s read and the films he’s

and turns on his reading light. He crawls

seen, but everyone else is too interested

under the covers, pulled up to his head,

in football or British rock and roll. That’s

and opens the volume of Aleixandre that

why he spends so much time at the Ideal,

he always keeps in his jacket pocket. He

where half his lunch-money is the price of

turns the pages and reads

admission.

The Cine Ideal is a retrospective

There are moments of loneliness

movie house. It is also the only place in

when the heart knows dumbly that it doesn’t

Madrid where you can see films in their

love.

original language with subtitles. They have different films showing everyday.

55

There is always something new for Luis to

rapt in quiet contemplation of all he sees,

see: old or contemporary; Spanish or

taking in the manifold beauty he finds,

foreign; black and white or color. Luis

even if he can’t always follow the plots of

doesn’t discriminate. He takes them all.

the older films or understand the

Alone in the dark, watching the

emotions the actors are expressing.

images flickering before his eyes, Luis ceases to be a friendless adolescent with

---

unpopular tastes. He ceases to be the well-loved elder son of a comfortable yet

He sees her for the first time after

bland family, indistinguishable from all

a screening of My Man Godfrey. He has

the other smug, middle-class families in

exited the building and is lighting up a

his

doesn’t

cigarillo when he notices a slender girl

become John Wayne or Humphrey

with curly blonde hair walk out the door

Bogart. He doesn’t enter into a fantasy

past him with a determined gait. He has

world of glamorous women and exotic

seen only her back and follows her with

locales. Cinema isn’t a form of escape for

his eyes until she reaches the plaza. A

Luis, but the complete opposite.

black Mercedes-Benz is stationed by the

neighborhood.

No,

he

Along with reading Alaixandre or

statue of Charles III. As the girl

Plato and listening to jazz, it is only while

approaches the vehicle, the driver who

watching movies that Luis feels most

waits calmly outside, throws away his

strongly that he is Luis. When the lights

cigarette, and with a slight bow, holds the

go down in the Ideal, his heart beats

door open for her. He She gets in and

loudly and chills slowly creep along his

away they drive. Luis follows the car with

spine. He awaits the picture with baited

his eyes as it speeds along the plaza and

breath and rarely, if ever, takes his eyes

down calle Mayor. He then walks home

off the screen. He has never fallen asleep

in the direction of Peurta del Toledo

during a film, or even dozed off for a

thinking about the faceless girl with

minute: not even in Laurence of Arabia or

blonde hair and her chauffeur.

Doctor

Zhivago

(both of

which

he

The next week at the Ideal there

admitted had their dull spots). He sits

is 56

a

Godard

festival.

Before

each

screening, Luis furtively scans the crowd

succeeds in evading him. He is caught up

in the hopes of spotting the redhead once

in the mob of people exiting the theater.

more. Afterwards, he lingers by the art

When he makes it to the street, the

deco façade hoping the catch a glimpse of

Mercedes is already halfway across the

her as she walks by. But he waits in vain;

plaza. He spots her next at a screening of

that whole week, she fails to materialize.

Whatever Happened to Baby Jane. Again,

Sometimes he thinks he sees the black

she manages to slither away without

Mercedes waiting by the equestrian

allowing him the briefest peek at her face.

statue, but as he nears the vehicle, he

After a few weeks Luis begins to detect a

realizes it’s only a Porsche or BMW.

pattern; the blonde girl only comes for

Then, at the end of a week he spots her

the American films.

again at Modern Times.

One evening, before a screening

As the lights dim, he notices a few

of The Third Man he decides to stand

rows in front of him the unmistakable

guard in front of the cinema. Spring is

tuft of curly blonde locks. His heart,

coming; breathing in the evening air

already excited by the starting film, begins

refreshes Luis like a cool glass of

to ache with anxious alacrity. She sits

lemonade. He stands anxiously by the

alone

mannequin.

door, whistling the theme music and

Throughout the picture, he cannot tear

glancing at his watch every few minutes.

his eyes from her. He imagines to himself

At last he sees her slender figure

how her face must look, and half-wishes

approach. He stops his whistling as a

she’d tilt her head to the side and offer

peculiar sensation seizes hold of him. It is

him a glance. But this is an outcome he

something entirely new, far more intense

would really only partially desire; he is

than anything he’s experienced while

mesmerized by the fiery silhouette against

watching a film. The girl glides past him

the movie-screen and betrays Chaplin to

with her usual, graceful bearing and Luis

imagine what occupies the other side of

nervously raises his eyes to meet her face.

that two-dimensional cutout.

Her face is lovelier than anything he

and

still

as

a

After the film, he makes every

could have imagined. He has only a

attempt to glimpse her face, yet she

moment to glimpse it before she 57

disappears through the swinging doors,

in a black dress with striking features and

but that fleeting image remains imprinted

an American charm.

on his memory throughout the film.

One Monday night, the Ideal

She is young and fair, no older

screens The Seventh Seal. Luis knows

Luis

her

better than to look for her there. He

seems

considers that he’s been to the Ideal

especially Spanish. Most likely, she’s a

nearly every night for the past two weeks

foreigner. Based on her film preferences,

and suddenly misses Alejandro and his

Luis fancies her an American. Her face

crowd. With coins in his pocket, he

itself is small and dappled with freckles

decides to hit up La Fidula. He finds the

set against pale skin. Her green eyes seem

gang seated in their usual corner table.

almost too big for her head, yet they

The first set has yet to begin and Luis sees

communicate more a sense of exotic

that they’ve only just ordered their first

wonder than of disproportion. Her nose

round of drinks. Luis nods his head in a

is a short, generous slope of 30 degrees

plea of recognition and takes the seat

and the nostrils flare unobtrusively to the

next to Raul on the bench. Raul

side. Below, her lips are thin and ovular,

welcomes him in a tone barely audible,

entirely in keeping with the diminutive

but everyone else seems to pretend he

proportions of the rest of her features.

doesn’t exist. Luis orders some port and

The

not

sits in silence, a cigarillo dangling artlessly

Burt

between his lips. All the boys are

Lancaster, but rather suggested to him

discussing the latest films to hit Madrid –

some noble Gaelic ancestry.

Swept Away, Dog Day Afternoon, Bergman’s

than

himself.

physiognomy

cleft

immediately

nor

in

her

bring

Neither

demeanor

chin to

does mind

It hardly comes as a surprise,

Magic Flute – which opened last weekend

when she makes a stealthy exit after the

at the Cine Real. Luis hasn’t yet seen any

film. Luis runs outside to catch her lithe

of these films. First-run films are, for him,

and carefree figure skipping fancifully to

a luxury. After half-an-hour of sitting like

the car that awaits. At night, Luis lies

a deaf-mute, Luis gets up to go. As he

down with her image. In the darkness he

reaches the door, he hears Alejandro calls

caresses her: the form of a tall adolescent

out to him, “Hey Luis! Next time, why 58

don’t you bring your girlfriend?” The

month, particularly to the American

other boys erupt in laughter and the

films. Are you, by any chance…”

heavy, wooden door swings shut.

He breaks off as she lets out a

---

wholly unexpected and affecting giggle.

When the Ideal holds a Billy

Wilder

retrospective,

the

grows more serious. “I’m very sorry, but

American girl every day. He waits for her

my Spanish is fairly dreadful,” she speaks

to enter the theater and take her seat

in unaccented English. He finds these

before strategically finding a place where

first few words, uttered by a mouth he

he

unnoticed.

has so cherished of late, endearing. At

Throughout the films, he watches her as

this point she decides to switch to

the illuminated shadows dance across her

Spanish, fearing perhaps that she has

freckled face. Her wide eyes take in

confused the shy young man. “I’m

everything

American, you see.”

can

observe

onscreen

Luis

her

sees

She notices his face go beet red and

yet

remain

impervious to Luis’ piercing gaze.

Luis would like to make the girl’s

---

acquaintance, but he has trouble seizing upon a pretext. But his ardor eventually

Her name is Kate. She is the

overcomes his timidity. Carefully, he

daughter of an American diplomat, some

practices a little speech he’s prepared to

type of ambassador, who’s recently been

for her. He goes over it again and again

posted to Madrid with his family on state

in the mirror, until he has every syllable

business. Kate doesn’t know how long

down pat. He plans to recite it the girl

the appointment will last. There is no

after a screening of The Apartment. He

way one can know such things.

finds the girl’s row and sits at the end of

Kate

goes

to

the

American

it. After the film, she eases past him on

School. Her classmates are the sons and

her way to the exit. He screws up his

daughters of Franco’s former ministers.

courage and addresses her in Spanish:

Despite living in Madrid for the past six

“Hello Senorita. I’ve noticed you come

months, her spoken Spanish is dreary.

here rather often, especially this past

Luis communicates with her in English, 59

most of which he’s picked up from the

conversations are too short for him to

movies.

attempt a rough translation. Luis wishes After their initial exchange, Luis

that just once the Black Mercedes

always finds occasion to speak with Kate

wouldn’t be waiting for her, so she

at the Ideal. These exchanges are only

wouldn’t have to leave him so soon. But

several minutes in duration, before and

the

after the evening film; but these few

dependable, a surer symbol of power and

moments are the highlights of Luis’ days.

force

He no longer picks the films he most

brandishing his sword.

ambassador’s than

the

chauffer

is

saddled

ever

monarch

wants to see, but rather calculates the ones she’s likely to attend. Every evening,

---

he waits in front of the cinema for her to arrive. He paces about and wrings his

One day, a miracle happens. The

hands anxiously whenever she’s running

projector at the Ideal breaks down in the

late. When she approaches the Ideal, he

middle of Casablanca. The film is

pretends that he’s only just gotten there

rescheduled for later that week and the

and escorts her inside. Inside the theater,

management

they sit together in reverent silence,

price. Kate and Luis exit and walk past

spellbound by the play of light and

the bronze monarch and into the open

shadow onscreen. Afterwards, he walks

plaza. It is a pleasant March evening and

her to the black Mercedes. She waves

they sit around the fountain talking

goodbye

about the film. As both have seen the

from

the

rear

seat

and

disappears into the night.

refunds

the

admission

film numerous times, neither one is all

Luis loves to show off his

that

knowledge of film to Kate. She is

crestfallen

about

the

broken

projector.

impressed by the breadth, if not by the

The air is surprisingly still and

depth, of this knowledge. He wishes he

Luis speaks hastily and excitedly lest their

could read to her from the volume of

time together seem stagnant. But, when a

Aleixandre he carries around at all times;

lull

but the five minutes intervals of their

atmosphere is free of the awkwardness 60

comes

in

conversation,

the

Luis had hitherto anticipated. The two

She asks for no translation and he

lonely adolescents feel comfortable and

stares at her bent head that she rests

secure in each other’s company. Luis tells

against the palm of her right hand. The

Kate how much he looks forward to

poem seems to swirl around them in the

seeing her every evening. She is flattered

dark springtime wind. They sit in silence.

by his courtesy. Luis is embarrassed at

Presently, Luis has an inspiration. “Do

having expressed his feelings so candidly,

you like jazz?” he asks her with renewed

like he’s given away a key position.

confidence. She bows her head in assent

Casting about for something new to say,

and quits the fountain with Luis. On

Luis

of

their short walk to calle las Huertas, Kate

Mariblanca as if imploring her for

gives Luis her hand. He cradles it gently

guidance. Impulsively his hand slides into

in his palm as if it were a canary, its small

his jacket pocket and he draws out the

heart beating as quickly as his own.

turns

towards

the

statue

well-worn volume of Aleixandre. Does

Luis holds the heavy wooden

Kate mind if he reads her something? No,

door of La Fidula open for Kate. Inside,

she doesn’t. He opens the book with

he spots Alejandro’s crowd at a table off

trembling hands and reads aloud to her

to the side. Raul seems them and whispers something into Alejandro’s ear.

Throw away this book which tries to hold a

Luis knows from the way Alejandro looks

sunflash

up at him that Raul has made some in its pages,

comment about Kate. He smiles to

and look face to face at light, your head

himself and is glad that Alejandro thinks

against

he has a girlfriend. He and Kate sit down a rock,

at the table, and in his zeal he forgets to

while your remote feet feel the last kiss of

make introductions.

twilight

Luis offers to buy Kate a drink,

and your raised hands fondle the moon,

but she politely refuses. Her father would

and your tossing hair is a path among the

be furious, she says. The room goes hush

stars.

as the musicians strike up the next song, “As Years Go By.” Luis lets his gaze rest 61

on Kate’s soft features as she sways her

blood was rising to Luis’ face and he

head to and fro in time with the music

muttered through his teeth, “I’m afraid

whispering the lyrics to herself. When

we really must be going. I had no idea

Luis asks her where she knows the lyrics

that farm animals were welcome at this

from, she tosses her curly hair back and

club.” Luis yanks out of Alejandro’s grip

laughs, “She is my namesake, after all.”

and swiftly conveys Kate to the door.

The song ends, and all eyes turn

Outside, his head seems less

to Kate. Luis sees their dark wide pupils

impacted.

He

breathes

deeply

and

glaring straight at her through the cloud

murmurs

to

himself:

“The

pigs.

of smoke. “So, aren’t you going to

Underneath

culture

and

introduce

girlfriend?”

refinement, they’re all just filthy pigs.”

Alejandro asks Luis brashly. Luis is really

He is glad that Kate hasn’t understood

too

his

Alejandro’s deprecating comments. It is

misconception. That’ll show them, he

nearly 10:00, and as Luis escorts her back

thinks. “This is Kate. She’s American and

to Peurta del Sol, she hangs on his right

her

Spanish.”

arm and leans her head against his

Alejandro gets up and bows low. “It’s a

shoulder. Luis feels her small frame

pleasure to meet you Kate. My name is

nuzzling up beside him, and wants

Alejandro.” He addresses her in flawless

nothing more than to protect her.

us

to

delighted

doesn’t

your to

really

correct

know

all

their

English and turns back to Luis. “Well tell

At the entrance of the plaza they

us Luis,” he begins in Spanish. “Is it true

stop. Luis looks her full in the face and

what they say? Are American whores the

plants a soft kiss on her diminutive lips.

wettest between the legs?”

It lasts only for a moment and has no

Alejandro’s cohorts burst out

sequel; but for Luis it is enough. He feels

laughing and Luis turns sharply away. He

that one kiss could conquer eternity. Her

gets up from his chair and holds out his

great green eyes beam up at him and she

arm for her. “Come, let’s leave, Kate.”

wishes him goodnight. Goodnight, he

Alejandro grabs his wrist gently but

answers and watches her turn and walk to

firmly. “But you only got here a minute

the statue where her chariot awaits.

ago. Stay and have another drink.” The 62

---

innocent solace. Now, when he looks at her, she appears not as a delicate young Over the next few weeks the

girl who loves him with a deep and

offerings at the Ideal prove meager. Luis

tender love too pure to be sullied by

and Kate routinely forgo the cinema in

intimacy; now, he sees her as a sensual

favor of a poorly lit café where they can

creature in the process of becoming a

go to sit and talk. They cozy up with café

ravishing woman.

con leche and cigarettes and discuss

He stares at her and imagines the

Aleixandre, Plato and Hitchcock between

developing body that lies concealed

kisses. Luis holds her tightly as if to make

under the thin folds of her loose-fitting

sure she doesn’t run away. He brings her

dress. He imagines stroking her slender

Spanish poetry in translation and dusty

stomach with the back of his hand:

volumes of ancient philosophy that he

imagines the warmth and softness of her

buys at a used bookstore nearby his

pubescent skin; the long, subtle curve of

house. She is flattered by these gifts and

her arched spine and the weightlessness

thanks him with enthusiastic kisses and

of her fragile ribcage. He dreams of

embraces. They are always mindful of the

watching as her breasts blossom out of

hour and Luis ensures that she’s always

their infancy before his eyes.

on time to meet her chauffer.

But Kate is so much still a child.

Luis is content at first, but soon

Luis

feels

ashamed

at

trying

to

physical desire encroaches on his spiritual

communicate such grown-up things to

attachment. He is frustrated that Kate

her. Luis understands all to well that Kate

doesn’t reciprocate his yearning beyond a

does not share this longing for sexual

mere kiss or caress. What’s more, he’s

intimacy. Luis feels that her conception

pained that such lustful feelings have

of love springs from 1950s American

broken upon his calm and peaceful

melodramas. He wishes to supplant

breast. At first, the highest joy he’d

Douglas Sirk and instruct her in the ways

imagined for himself was simply to be

of love. She must learn not to expect a

with Kate and to be able to hold her. But

fade-out after every Technicolor kiss: as if

she is no longer the source of such

that were all there was to it.

63

Luis begins to despise her naïveté.

around her thigh unthreateningly. When

His frustration mounts and he wonders

he, tremblingly, grips her a bit more

how he can possibly get her to overcome

forcefully, Kate starts in her seat as if

her sense of shame and confront her

suddenly woken out of the trance into

natural sensuality. He takes her to Belle de

which the film had caused her to fall. She

Jour in the hope that it will open her eyes.

brings her legs together tightly, squeezing

She sits through the film without protest

the offending limb between her fleshy

and even allows him to place his hand on

hips. Out goes the clinging hand and

her knee. Afterwards, however, she tells

Luis slinks back in his red velvet seat. The

him bluntly, “I don’t like those types of

film ends and Kate makes her way to the

films.” “Why?” he asks. “Because they’re

Black Mercedes without uttering a single

foreign?” “No,” she counters, “because

word.

they’re filthy.”

So he was filthy then: really not a

---

bit better that Alejandro and his gang. If anything, he was worse that Alejandro,

For

several

days

after

that

who stopped at distasteful insinuations.

incident, Luis doesn’t see Kate at the

He, Luis, went further by actively

Ideal. He looks around urgently for her at

attempting to corrupt. Luis resents the

every film and is terrified that she might

suggestion of Kate’s words and the

never show up again. The hours he

accusatory tone in which they were

spends in the Ideal without her are

spoken. After all, what is he doing except

meaningless and solitary. No longer does

casting about desperately for ways in

he enjoy a film if she is not by her side.

which to express his love.

As the days pass by, he despises himself

The next week, when they go to

for his brutish behavior and curses his

see A Streetcar Named Desire, Luis is even

unquenchable desire. Exactly a week later

bolder. His hand creeps in the dark and

he receives a letter from her

finds its way to Kate’s knee. Slowly, Luis moves up past the hem of her dress along

Dear Luis,

her hip. Like a snail, his fingers curl 64

I don’t think I need

don’t be angry with me. I

to tell you how offensive I

hope to see you as soon as

found your behavior last

possible.

week to be. And I want you

Love,

to know that I am unable to

Kate

satisfy your lower urges. This doesn’t at all mean than I

Luis reads the handwritten note

love you any less today than I

and presses it to his forehead. Generous

did three months ago. I hope

tears erupt like firecrackers and stream

you can understand the way I

down his face. His mother taps lightly on

feel and don’t feel insulted by

the bathroom door and tells him to come

my behavior. I also have

to the dinner table. Luis runs the hot

some

to

water and splashes it over his pale, fleshy

communicate. My father has

cheeks. He washes away the tearstains

been posted back to America.

from his boyish face, but he cannot stop

My entire family is moving to

the twitching of his upper lip, which is

Chicago when school ends.

set against the few, strays hairs of an

I’ve known about this for

emerging moustache. He presses the

some time now, and that why

towel to his temple and pats along his

I didn’t want to get more

high and well-defined cheekbones. He

intimate with you, knowing

stares into his soft dark-brown eyes and

that it would all soon be

feels his delicate lashes as he closes them.

over. My parents have lately

He takes a breath and joins his family for

become suspicious with me

dinner.

sad

news

spending so much time at the

That night finds Luis without

Ideal, that’s why I haven’t

much of an appetite. For the balance of

been there lately. I’m afraid

the week he scarcely touches any food.

that I won’t be able to come

He glides from class to class like a ghost

for still another week because

and after school stumbles frailly along to

I have my final exams. Please

the 65

Ideal

in

a

vain

attempt

to

momentarily forget how much he misses

---

Kate. He wishes he had some means of getting in touch with her, but he never

From the moment Luis wakes up

thought to ask her for her phone number

late Sunday morning he finds himself

and the letter she wrote him bears no

possessed of an inexplicable source of

return address.

energy. He leaves his bed close to noon

That Saturday is a triple-bill of

feeling incredibly well-rested and resolute.

Marilyn Monroe. He sits through “Some

In a bit under ten hours he will bid

Like in Hot,” “The Seven Year Itch” and

goodbye the dearest thing he’s ever

“Gentlemen

and

known. Luis awaits the fateful hour

imagines that Kate is sitting besides him

without trepidation. He spends the

laughing her loud and girlish chuckle.

afternoon

But not even this thought can quell his

Plato’s Republic and the Apology. Before

misery. He sobs quietly to himself, as all

he leaves his room, he reflects carefully

round him, the audience erupts in peal of

on a poem by Aleixandre that he opens

laughter. When he gets home, he finds a

to by accident. He reads the ending aloud

note for him lying on the table. The

to himself

Prefer

Blondes”

calmly

skimming

through

handwriting is the same as before, Kate’s handwriting. He tears it open frantically

More lights or flashing shadow.

and scans its contents. It tells him to

The scattered sound and silence of the world.

meet her on Sunday for the 18:00

Desolation

screening of “It Happened One Night.” It

of the rimless void

will be the last time they meet. She returns

to

Chicago

the

following

And abruptly the last word;

afternoon.

Water caressing a thirsty mouth,

Luis sinks into his bed like a

Or the tender drop on blind eyes

stone in the middle of the ocean. He feels

Burned by life and its fires.

the world closing up around him like a coffin but he is too weak to resist. Instead

Ah, what peace; sleep.

he lets the darkness overtake him.

66

He closes the book, kisses it and

him with a passionate and loving kiss.

then places it carefully back into his

They disengage and he sees that she’s

jacket. Before leaving the empty house,

more distraught than he. Her tears are

he walks to the bathroom, opens the

blown to the side of her face by the

medicine cabinet and finds his mother’s

playful wind, where they mingle with

vial of Nembutal. He takes seven yellow

separatist strands of her thick, curly, red

pills out of the plastic container, wraps

hair. He tells her not to worry, that

them carefully in a handkerchief and

everything will be all right.

places it in his breast pocket.

They walk arm in arm through

He walks slowly along calle

the heavy wooden doors of the cinema

Humilladero breathing in the sweet air of

and he separates from her to go to the

the sunny June day. Making his way to

bathroom. He walks over to the sink and

Puerta del Sol, he observes, with renewed

carefully unrolls the handkerchief from

appreciation, the old buildings that line

his breast pocket. He lets cold water run

the streets. They are edifices that he has

out of the faucet, and places the yellow

known all his life, that have remained the

pills on his tongue between massive

same as he’s grown up around them.

gulps.

How many times has he walked this

When he emerges, Kate is waiting

familiar route to Puerto del Sol? Yet for

for him by the popcorn stand. He nears

some reason, the old familiar buildings

her

take on an aspect of novelty, appearing to

auditorium. The lights swirl gently

Luis unexpected and even wondrous.

around him as they take their seats

slowly,

and

they

enter

the

As Luis nears the plaza he hears

together in a central aisle. He plops into

chanting from a small protest that has

his chair like lead and draws the

gathered in front of the post office. He

wimpering Kate close to him. He

doesn’t

the

apologizes for his behavior during their

demonstration is about, but hopes that

last rendezvous and she chokes out that

the cause – whatever it may be - meets

its okay, that she forgives him everything,

with success. Kate is waiting for him by

that she is afraid to leave because she

the statue of Charles III and embraces

loves him so much. Luis looks into her

quite

gather

what

67

freckled face, all ruddy and wet from crying, and is glad that he’ll remember her like this, her girlish beauty still intact.

He whispers goodbye in a faintly audible tone and then her face goes out of focus.

The theater darkens and the film comes on.

The

music

is

muddled

and

incomprehensible. Amorphous shapes made of shadow and light dance across the

screen.

And

then

something

unprecedented happens; for the first time while watching a film, Luis falls soundly asleep.

68

He was especially fond of Chekhov,

The Blue Coat

Strindberg and Ibsen, but not – as was fashionable at the time among certain

Proverb no. 94 – “Any women who

coxcombical critics - to the expense of

gladly accepts offers here and there must

Shaw and Wilde, and certainly not of the

hang the blue cloak on her husband.”

Bard himself. Still, he surprised not a few of his friends when, in his 60th year,

We see a younger woman in a red gown drape

the perennial bachelor determined to

a turquoise cape over an elderly man. Her eyes

give his patronage in the form of

are downcast, her expression stern. He is

nuptials. The lady in question was a

hunched over, looking away, and clutches at a

gifted actress attached to an artistically

wooden cane.

progressive and modern troupe that McCay suspected of harboring socialist allegiances. She had recently started her

Everett McCay was known as

career, but was such a presence, that even

the toughest Yankee businessman this

in the bit roles, which she was given, she

side of the Atlantic. But, he had not

managed to steal the performance away

entirely withstood the lure of culture and

from her more established costars. She

tradition during his long period of self-

was still in the first flush of youth and her

imposed exile, both in Britain and on the

talent

continent. Foremost among these effects

and

mesmerize

was the deep love that he harbored for

beauty and

commingled

enchant

to

audiences.

Everett, who knew well the dangers of

the European stage. He could be found

speculating, was certain that she was

most nights at one of the many

destined for great things. Otherwise, why

playhouses that were scattered along the

would he have made it his business to

West End. He considered his tastes

support her fledgling career? He had, in

neither conservative nor modern: merely

the past placed his money on all sorts of

refined. As such he would not have them

ventures, gold digging in the Yukon and

pigeonholed and resented the canonizing

diamond harvesting in Africa. The days

tendencies of certain theatrical societies.

of great adventure and activity were 69

behind him. Since the war broke out, he

he - who bankrolled the theatres and

had confined himself to less daring

made its patronage their business, and

enterprises, such as importing American

the varied members of the troupe, who

cotton and wool to the allied countries.

ranged in age from fourteen to fifty

War was good for business, even if

seven.

dealing in fabrics and dealing in jewelry

At dinner, he sat next to one of

were not equally profitable. And though

the troupe’s most recent additions and

he had, of late, parted with more capital

youngest members, Lynn Callow, a self-

that was his wont, he still had more than

possessed Manchesterian. Quite without

a little to gamble on an ingénue.

realizing it, the girl worked her charms on

An old business associate who

the aging businessman, who had recently

knew of McCay’s love for the theater had

been prone to meditating on mortality

recommended the small theater and it’s

and had been more and more in want of

troupe, which called itself the Laughing

steady companionship. As far as Lynn

Cock. McCay had neglected to find the

could

small stage near Charing Cross, where

unmarked by anything out of the

nightly a small band of actors, lead by

ordinary. And little would either party at

their French director Pierre Jalousie

the time have suspected what would

night-after-night brought to life intriguing

come of that chance meeting three short

entertainments

months later.

in

innovative

and

tell,

that

first

meeting

was

inventive productions. McCay instead

Everett was initially taken with

found himself at a fundraiser dinner for

Lynn’s feminine Britishness: the deep

the Laughing Cock. McCay, though

flush on her pallid cheeks; her musky and

unused to the relative frugality and

commanding

squalor of the theater, with its modest

politesse

dimensions, seemed untroubled by the

affectation). For her part, Lynn was

lack of ornament and formality. The

impressed by the dapper old man’s hawk-

table was set upon the stage and McCay

like eyes and his equally cunning

found that he shared company with some

knowledge of the theater. Lynn left by

wealthy eccentrics – attired as elegantly as

telling Everett to stop by the theater to 70

voice;

(almost

to

her the

heightened point

of

catch her in the latest diversion of some

stock-and-trade

of

foppish Frenchman which would to go

enterprises. She let him be present as she

up later that month. Indeed, our dear

washed her false face away. Especially,

McCay made good on his promise and

after

secured a place in the second row, where

transformation, these ablutions took on

he could admire his ingĂŠnue, not once,

an unreal quality. Even after several times

but on four separate evenings. On each

witnessing them, McCay still had a tough

of these, he was arrayed in the antiquated

time determining for himself, which one

manner of a generation ago, for Everett

seemed more convincing.

witnessing

all

her

theatrical

onstage

had no wish to ape youthful fashions. He also brought with him a bouquet for the ravishing

comedienne,

who,

as

When it became apparent that

he

these visits were a ritual that McCay had

watched enraptured from the third row,

no intention of doing without, Lynn

brought to mind the Sarah Bernhard he

permitted herself to take tea and cake

knew from his career as a young man.

with him. She even allowed him to take

After the performance, Lynn

her arm in his as they walked to the lobby

would receive him cordially in her

of the Metropole. Black tea had become

dressing room. She could tell that the

scarce ever since the start of the war, and

squalor and disarray of the room, which

Lynn had trained herself to enjoy other,

so displeased her, worked a kind of magic

herbal variety. The Metropole, with its

on her aging admirer.

He would lean

distinguished clientele was among the few

against the heating pole and look around

establishments still to serve it, although at

with childish wonder at the costumes

what a price! But what was dear for Lynn

hanging awkwardly from a half-broken

was the simplest expenditure for McCay.

rack, or at the basket of rhinestones and

How good it was to be able to savor a late

tangled junk jewelry in the corner. His

night cup of Earl Grey again! She found

eyes would drift to her dressing table,

that the drink had a more calming and

whereupon lay tubs of cheap theatrical

focusing effect of her than it had in the

makeup. McCay fixed his gaze on these

past. It made her both alert to her

accoutrements and beauty-enhancers: this 71

interlocutor’s

hawkish

remarks

and

During their next few sessions,

comfortable in his severe presence.

McCay never directly broached the topic,

It was late one evening, walking

but like a skilled pilot, would often

out of the café that McCay made a little

approach it, only to land his aircraft on a

speech. It had been with some reluctance

neighboring shore. Lynn felt it whenever

that they traded the red velvet of the

he dropped little hints now and again: a

Metropole for the grey asphalt of the

backwards glance at an affectionate

promenade along the Thames. This

couple in the corner, enjoying a drink

speech of McCay’s, it must be admitted,

together, an off-putting praise of Lynn’s

was not entirely unexpected by Lynn.

beauty.

Indeed so many of their conversations

managed to efficiently circumambulate.

had

started

out

with

Lynn was intrigued by the man’s

declamations

methods and was certain that he would

concerning the ills of bachelorhood. But

return eventually to the proposition. She

it surprised her not a little when, after

felt that an air of expectation hung over

expounding rather at length his rich yet

all their conversations like a thick curtain

solitary existence, he brought up the

and waited with almost uncontainable

subject of matrimony.

impatience to see what next he would do.

observations

similarly,

But the very point itself he

and

“I don’t expect your love, but I would hope for

fidelity and

proper eagerness, accounted for these

companionship,” he said with the direct

uncomfortable yet not wholly unpleasant

and

sensations.

unfailing

your

Curiosity and anticipation, more than

conviction

of

the

businessman that he was. He spoke no

One evening as they walked, arm

further on the subject that evening and

in arm, along the Strand, there came a

she, somewhat taken aback by his

prolonged lull in their conversation. The

directness, chose to feign disinterest and

silence lasted a little eternity, producing a

allowed her eyes to focus on passing tug,

void that carriages or passersby chose to

before

fill. Lynn could hear her neck turning as

changing

the

subject

rather

flippantly: as is she hadn’t heard at all.

she tentatively eyed Everett. His gaze was directed past her, at the windows of 72

closing shops: whatever awkwardness

be the picture of discretion For even

there was in the situation, seemed

when he made love to her, her air was so

entirely on her side.

unchanged, so unforced, natural and

Lying down at

night, she kept adjusting her pillow and

unassuming

pulled the blankets up to her eyes. She

unawares, dawned, that is, that his true

was aware not only of

own

intent lay forever imbedded only slightly

uncertainty, but the feeling that she was

beneath the surface, beneath the thinnest

being watched and evaluated by a

layer of subterfuge – no, not that – but a

discerning audience. She felt herself in

thin coating of paint, perhaps - she knew

the midst of a drama. The first act was

that nothing he did could ever make her

about to draw to a close. It remained to

uncomfortable. His manners were so

be seen whether it was a comedy or a

refined and old-fashioned and foreign

tragedy she was acting.

that she felt secure with him in a way she

her

that

it

came

on

her

hadn’t known since childhood. So, why After

all the kindness that

should she be so apprehensive about

McCay had hitherto shown her, Lynn

McCay’s joining them after the show?

made the somewhat radical decision to

Lynn was used to men throwing

reciprocate. It was bold of her, for she

themselves at her, pleading for her good

knew that he would take the gesture – for

graces, weeping protestations of love and

better

of

devotion. To a certain measure, these

encouragement. The Laughing Cock was

affections flattered her, but they certainly

putting on Ubu Roi. On the eve of the

had a way of becoming very quickly

first performance, she invited McCay to

nagging. McCay was as different from

join the cast for drinks at a pub in the

Lynn’s accustomed suitors as a stately

Strand. She extended this invitation, two

Chopin

days before the premiere. This added to

provocations. Lynn would gladly take the

her natural anxiety about taking on a new

music

role.

whether

experiments any day. If these suitors all

McCay’s presence that evening would be

sang in the overblown style of Tristan

a burden or a relief. Of course, he would

and Lohengrin, then McCay was the soft

or

She

worse

–

couldn’t

as

a

foresee

sign

73

polonaise of

her

from

Stravinsky’s

youth over

modern

countertenor voice of Bach’s “Erbarme

had some place in the overall assessment

dich.” A musical figuration should occur

of his offer, but Lynn let herself be

to Lynn precisely because of an episode

persuaded by such a host of other

from her adolescence involving a young

considerations, that the promise of

German composer who’d despaired over

security seemed merely a last, minor

her, threatening even to end his life.

enticement. It was thus that Lynn was

Though this encounter had been singular

fully prepared to answer “Yes” when

in both its ferocity and tenderness, it had

McCay formally made his offer at the end

become the one by which she’d judged all

of the evening of pleasant and none-too-

subsequent attachments.

excessive drink.

Then, truth be told, she didn’t so much mind the hot-blooded ones as she

Marriage meant a radical change

did the obsequious ones, the haughty

in pace for McCay. He was accustomed to

nouveau riche, preening themselves for

being the efficient and hardworking

the bourse or the commons. McCay was

entrepreneur during the daylight hours

neither hot-blooded nor obsequious and

and settling down in the theater district

perhaps this

typically

for an evening’s entertainment. However,

American, she considered – was what

he soon found that this design for living,

endeared her to him. He spoke his mind,

which had hitherto carried him his entire

certainly; Americans were good at that.

adult life, was an awkward fit with

But moreover, he knew better than

another member of humanity to care for.

anyone she’d ever known, when to lay

McCay, who considered his long career

down his cards and when to make a

full of material finery and adventure was

subterfuge. This balance of honesty and

wholly unprepared for how many new

discretion was the most unique quality

and wondrous things were in an instant,

that she found in McCay and she

it seemed, opened to him. He could

admired him greatly for it. He was

never have imagined the myriad pleasures

shrewd, no doubt, and she set great faith

of living with and for somebody other

in his store of knowledge and greatness of

than himself. The long war had come to

taste. Certainly, the specter of his income

an end, fortuitously, shortly before their

aspect –

so

74

marriage, and the doors of Europe were

London. In the evening, Lynn would don

swung open to Lynn for the first time.

the finery that her husband lavished on

The couple spent their honeymoon in

her for the theater, the symphony and the

Rome and Venice, two cities that McCay

opera. It wasn’t as if Lynn every asked or

knew well from his business before the

expected for these things, but McCay

war. The devastation that the war had

seemed positively incapable of doing

wreaked on these capitals went unnoticed

without presenting her with constant

by McCay, who found their charm

gifts. Nor did she demand he spend his

enhanced by the addition of new ruins

days at the market with her, but was

and decay. He had toured the continent

grateful for his dotage, affection and

countless times, but the magnificence of

generosity. She had no intentions of

old Europe had never struck him fully, he

quitting her career as an actress and

considered, as it did now. As he passed

merely scaled back her involvement with

by the sites and monuments so familiar

the Laughing Cock. She had designs to

to him, he found it incomprehensible

make a full and triumphant return to the

that he should have failed to notice the

stage.

grandeur and majesty that they offered

When summer arrived, McCay

the eye and the soul. At his age, he could

received a cable from Chicago. It was

hardly have imagined how much surprise

from his nephew Philip Anderson. The

this old world still held for him.

missive announced that the boy was

When the couple returned from

headed for London, where he had been

peripatetic

McCay

appointed to be visiting dramaturge at

resolved to leave the world of commerce:

the Old Vic. Previously, Anderson had

a thing that none of his acquaintances

achieved considerable renown on the

would have though him capable of.

American stage by popularizing dramas of

Instead of overseeing mergers and signing

the Restoration period, which had been

contracts, he spent his days in Lynn’s

long out of fashion and was seeing a

delightful

company.

made

current revival of interest, no doubt

themselves

regulars

finest

influenced by the success of Shaw’s

their

wanderings,

They at

the

restaurants, jewelers and clothiers of

Pygmalion.

75

McCay was delighted to received word of

On the Lower East Side, he

his nephew’s arrival and suggested that

worked as a stagehand at the Volksbiene

they dine together the following week.

and

Philip showed up with his friend

burlesque. Eventually, Philip got a shot at

Quentin Petronius, a wealthy Italian who

directing:

had shared Phillip’s lodgings in New

production of As You Like It that

York and had followed him, for no

attracted the notice of the Herald’s

apparent reason save ennui, to London.

drama critic. Philip was invited to work

Uncle and nephew gave each other a

for the Bowery Theater where he quickly

warm greeting. It had been too long –

cemented his reputation with some more

this, both could agree on. McCay

Shakespeare productions. From Chicago,

presented Lynn, who had worn the pearls

McCay had received the news of his

that McCay had recently given her for

nephew’s great successes with much

their six-month anniversary, to the ever-

excitement and pride; indeed, he alone

so-refined and polite Philip, who placed a

among

gentlemanly kiss on her gloved hand.

acknowledged

Quentin shook hands with McCay

proclivities as ought worthy of being

insipidly and, in recognition of the

attended to and supported. On the eve of

actress, merely bowed at a slight angle.

his escape to New York, Philip had

As goose was served, Everett

appeared at his uncle’s house asking for

explained to Lynn how Philip had waged

some money to sustain him through a

war against his father, a doctor of local

week of finding employment. McCay had

fame, who had considered his son’s

given freely, without the thought of

interest in the theater amusing at best. At

making any profit. McCay was, therefore,

the end of his college years, Philip boldly

all the more delighted and surprised to

announced that he intended to devote

find the artistic dividends such a modest

his life to the stage, rather than medicine.

investment had yielded. To Lynn, it was

Anderson senior threatened to turn him

an odd story of America: from riches to

out, but Philip would not give him this

rags.

satisfaction and relocated to New York.

76

performed a

in small

Philip’s the

vaudeville

and

neighborhood

relatives boy’s

had artistic

Ever since receiving news of his

since her marriage, somewhat neglected.

nephew’s arrival, McCay had gone on

In her four months of wedded life, she

about the boy nonstop. He had only the

had assumed only one role: a poorly

finest things to say about this young man

received Juliet.

and Lynn formulated in her mind that

Philip seemed eager to learn of

his talents must be night limitless. It was

his aunt’s involvement with the theater,

not surprising, then, that she was eager to

and was perhaps a little too forward in

finally meet Mr. Anderson. Although,

suggestion that she drop by the Old Vic,

like McCay, she could’ve done without

where they needed to cast a few more

the company of queer Mr. Petronius,

roles in Wycherly’s The Country Wife,

who,

was

which was to be the first production of

cohabiting his friend’s flat on Russell

the coming season. McCay took no

Street, a stone’s throw from the Old Vic.

offence at the suggestion and urged his

they

learnt

that

night

During the meal, Quentin was

wife to resume her acting career under

preternaturally quiet and inattentive. He

the guidance of his nephew.

barely lifted his eyes from his plate. In those

rare

instances

in

which

“Just think,” said McCay in the

he

cab home, “The Old Vic. Now that’s a

determined to look up, there was such an

real theater. I don’t mean that the Cock

absent and fatigued look in his face that

isn’t…but this is something established

the McCays wondered if he was seriously

we’re talking about. You can’t really

ill. But it was easy to ignore this peculiar

compare them, can you?” Lynn was

fellow, due in part to Philip’s exciting

inclined to agree and showed up the

and engaging tone. He went on about his

following morning at the theater, where

grand plans for the coming season with a

she landed a bit part as a maid.

shrewd and punchy sense that Lynn felt

She studied her role – a small but

certain he had inherited from his uncle

crucial one – religiously, with the

(or where all Americans like that?).

intensity and conviction that this might

McCay mentioned his wife’s acting career

actually lead her to the sort of success

and Philip asked the lady about her work

she‘d been imagining for herself since she

with the Laughing Cock, which she had,

arrived in London at the age of 19 and 77

tentatively joined with the provocateurs

they were thought positively immoral and

at the Laughing Cock. It was the first

harmful to society. As Lynn would retire

time that McCay had been able to

to her room to practice her limes, McCay

observe Lynn’s every step in the process

sat in the library, immersing himself in

of creating a role. Her recent turn Juliet

the world of seventeenth century English

hadn’t required much work as she had

drama.

performed Juliet in the past. But it was

The Country Wife appealed to

another thing for Lynn to ease into a

McCay not least for its exaggerated

well-worn garment and quite another all

characters: a serial philanderer who

together to fit into new ones. Everett

claimed to be a eunuch to put his rivals at

determined to live it with her as closely as

ease about being alone with their wives;

possible without invading on her creative

one husband who promotes his own

territory. Towards this end, he studied

cuckoldry by being so absurdly without

the play closely and whatever information

suspicion; another whose overzealous

there

attempts at safeguarding his wife make

was

available

regarding

its

production history and reception.

him the play’s first cuckold. Such

The Country Wife, a vital player in

characters could only exist in the world of

a theatrical tradition long out of fashion,

a brand of vulgar comedy that had been

constituted a gap in McCay’s aesthetic

out of fashion for nearly 200 years.

education. Though he had done his

Though her character had no

undergraduate work in English literature

more that thirty lines in all, Lynn gave

at Princeton, the whole gamut of

the greatest consideration to every word.

Restoration dramatists had been passed

Even with the simplest “yes” or “no,” she

over. America at the turn of the century

struggled and experimented to find the

was still prurient enough to consider

correct voice. The modulated her tone,

playwrights such at Etherege, Congreve

tossed in a laugh here and there, or bit

and Wycherly far too scandalous in their

her hand before reciting a line. McCay

approach and attitudes towards marriage

was fascinated by these false gestures,

and infidelity. Such themes at the time

which he had observed in his wife so

were considered more than in bad taste,

often when they were meant in earnest 78

and marveled that she could replicate the

Philip was in a tight corner. Lynn was the

same motions and patterns of speech so

only other member of the cast who knew

convincingly.

the country wife’s lines by heart and so

As much as he learnt from this

was given the role. Philip himself would

solo preparation, McCay felt he couldn’t

star opposite her as Harry Horner, the

take part fully in the incarnation without

rakish protagonist. While irregular in the

being present at rehearsals, which often

highest degree, none of this struck

kept Lynn away from his for the entire

McCay as peculiar. Quite the contrary, he

day. This, however, he didn’t dare to

was delighted to learn that his wife would

suggest. Not least, because he would have

be the leading lady of the evening.

hated to cause Lynn any anxiety. No, the

Lynn immersed herself for a

way to go about it would be to enter

second time in her far meatier role. She

unannounced and sit where there was no

transferred out of the silly maid’s

chance that Lynn could possibly make

costume and into the shoes of a naïve

him out.

and over-guarded young bride. The

About two weeks before the show

rehearsals grew longer; often, McCay

was to go up, the production lost its two

would pick her up from the theater close

leads. First, the Country Wife herself

to midnight. Addition rehearsals were

failed to show at rehearsals for an entire

scheduled for Sundays, an arrangement

week. Anderson and Petronius finally

that McCay accepted begrudgingly, but

traced her to her mother’s estate in Rye,

ultimately endorsed, since it was all in

where she had disappeared to, in the

service of his wife’s art.

hopes

of

hiding

an

embarrassing

At the same time, his curiosity at

pregnancy. The note she had meant to

attending these rehearsals intensified

leave Philip turned up in the script that

with each passing day. He resolved not

her co-star, the play’s philandering

to await his wife’s call one evening and

eunuch was using. Outraged by the

arrive at the theater deliberately early. As

suggestion that this was in some way his

he entered the auditorium, his eyes met

fault, the actor threw his wig down on

Petronius’. The Italian was hunched over

the floor and stormed out of the theater.

a sewing machine and appeared to be 79

making alterations to the costumes. “If

stage and sent her chest out by gripping

you’re looking for your wife, she’s not

her violently by the back.

here,” he said.

McCay was a little baffled by the

McCay was slightly unnerved less

physicality of his directing style and he

by what the man had said and more by

hoped that Lynn’s delicate boy could

how he had said it. He looked at the

withstand this rough treatment. He sat

stage, where five actors were performing a

down in the back of the theater and

scene. He noted Philip’s absence from

watched the scene – which he couldn’t

the scene, was surprised at first, but

remember from the play - unfold. But

corrected this impression when he heard

soon, his eyes flashed with recognition

a bit of the dialogue and recalled that his

and he felt he understood the effect that

character did not appear in the scene

Philip was aiming for. Once it made

they

wife

sense and fit together in the context of

backstage?” McCay opened his mouth to

the scene, McCay was entirely without

ask. Just then, however, a high-pitched

worry at the manhandling of his wife. He

cackled erupted offstage. The strange

was actually almost entirely lost in the

timbre threw McCay at first, but he soon

scene when Petronius announced with a

recognized it as the voice of his wife. This

force that made them all flinch, “Stop the

impression was soon verified visually

scene Philip. We have a visitor.”

were

practicing.

“Is

my

when Lynn emerged from stage right,

McCay got up promptly and

swaggering drunkenly and dressed as a

waited as Philip, who seemed surprised to

man. Philip followed soon after, speaking

see his uncle, hopped offstage and

his lines and directing her to act more

greeted him with warmth and politeness.

rugged and boyish. They both seemed

McCay was astonished to see how greatly

amused at the scene and the attempts to

the young man perspired. “We were just

make Lynn more masculine. Philip

about to wrap up for the day.” He was

interrupted the performance to instruct

almost out of breath and made it sound

Lynn more completely to stand properly.

like an apology. Before Philip turned

He planted her feet firmly apart on the

away, McCay caught the scent of alcohol.

He puzzled over this for a minute, while 80

his wife, hastily changed into her

“Well, Quentin can go to Hell!”

ordinary clothes, came towards him. She

she exclaimed triumphantly and kissed

kissed his cheek affectionately and they

her husband full on the mouth.

exited to the street.

“I thought I would surprise you

The day of the premiere was the

today,” he offered as he held the door of

McCay’s

sixth-month

wedding

the cab open for her.

anniversary.

They had gone out to

“Yes,” was all she could respond.

dinner the night before and Everett had

“And are you surprised?” he

presented Lynn a pair of sapphire

further ventured.

earrings which she promised to wear for

“Quite,” came her dry reply, and

at least part of the evening’s performance.

mingled with the alcohol that he detected

Lynn had gone off to rehearsals by the

on her breath.

time that McCay awoke. Draped across

“Do

you

drink

often

at

the sofa in the living room was a dark

rehearsals?’ he asked with a little humor.

blue wool overcoat from Harrod’s and a

“Only where the script calls for

fond note from his wife. He tried it on

it,” came her sensible reply.

for size and was astonished to find that it

McCay put his arm around her and she

fit him to a T. “How well, she knows

leaned towards him. She felt secure in his

me,” he thought happily.

grasp.

Lynn had begged her husband “Were Philip and you rehearsing

not to surprise her at the theater before

the scene backstage?” he asked.

curtain, a wish that he respected. When

“Did that concern you?”

he arrived at the Old Vic half an hour

“No.” The answer was definite.

early, he was astonished to find that the

“But Petronius seemed pretty unhappy

theater had almost entirely filled up. He

about it,” he ventured with laughter in

found his seat in the front row, assumed

his voice. She joined in with a noise not

it, and tilted his head left and right,

unlike the onstage cackle he’d heard

excited and proud that so many of

before.

London’s brightest had turned out to see his wife perform the role of Margaret 81

Pinchwife. He had never desired for her

As McCay witnessed Margaret

to be an object of envy to other men.

Pinchwife’s

Still, he could not help feeling himself

seduction,

inflate

uncomfortable.

as

he

took

stock

of

his

incrementally he

became He

lurid physically

attributed

these

surroundings and anticipated the effect

feelings to the effectiveness of his wife’s

that Lynn was bound to have on her

acting and felt that the audience was

public.

likewise affected. Starting with the scene in which she first appears disguised as a The play provoked many gasps

boy, only to be wooed away from her

from the audience, not least for the built-

husband by the serial philanderer, McCay

in vulgarity of the situations and the

could not stop from wincing at every

profane language. But they balked and

onstage kiss and caress. By the lurid

laughed in equal measure, often from

denouement in act five, where the

having their expectations of decorum

husband hands his wife over to his rival

smashed to bits. Even McCay, who had

unawares,

read the play numerous times, was

indignation and was certain that he

occasionally caught off-guard by the way

sensed a similar sentiment in the rest of

that the play’s themes were realized

the crowd as well. Was this testament to

onstage. For him, the greatest and most

his wife’s acting abilities, he wondered, or

enticing attraction was Lynn. He could

merely evidence that the play was

scarce believe that she stood so close by

inflammatory and perhaps unsuitable to

to him yet so transformed, utterly

be performed? He continued to ponder

transformed into the sensuous naïf of the

this well into the fifth act, almost losing

eponymous

brought

the thread of the play altogether. His

effortless grace and coy appetite to her

attention was again alerted, however,

every onstage moment. McCay reflected

when Lynn appeared unexpectedly from

that Philip could scarce have found a

under a veil and disappeared with Philip

better replacement; they seemed so

behind a large curtain. They dashed off

utterly convincing together.

with such urgency that McCay was

character.

She

McCay

felt

renewed

certain that the lewd suggestion was lost 82

on no one. Throughout the next scene,

She felt the soft wool between her palms

faint grunts and moans emanated from

and she drew the coat up and draped it

backstage:

have

over her husband. He stared at his head,

sounded perfectly natural to anyone else.

how his hat rested awkwardly askew

But McCay reasoned that he knew better.

wondering what it was she saw. The

This awareness had the peculiar effect of

foghorn of a passing ship resounded

paradoxically curing him of his unease,

through the night.

noises

that

might

but making it impossible for him to

“Philip,” he spoke as if the

believe in the play any longer. It was as if

foghorn had called up the name. “I must

the actors had crossed over into the

say that I had my doubts about him that

world of hyperbole and made the play’s

day I attended rehearsal: doubts with

vulgarity no longer authentic, no longer

regard

disturbing.

McCay received a further

practices. But I see his methods are solid.

shock when Lynn emerged from her tryst,

They work. And they worked best for

attired in the same uniform, except that

you, my dear. He really managed to bring

her the sparkle of the sapphires that she

out something in you that I hadn’t seen

had finally chosen to don. McCay was

before.” She listened absented, a little

glad to think that he himself had

troubled by his tone, perhaps. He stayed

provided the performance’s finishing

with his back facing her, leaning on the

touch.

walking stick. He needed a moment to

to

his

theatrical

ideas,

his

catch his breath. Soon they were walking They were leaving the theater

towards Charing Cross. It was odd that

when McCay heaved a little and fell on

there was no cab in sight. So, on they

his walking stick. He felt his legs begin to

walked. It was late and they had precious

ache for the first time in a long while. He

little company, mostly younger couples

buckled slightly under the weight of

hurrying along the cobblestones, no

brittle bones and arched his back

doubt on their way to some gathering or

pitifully. It took a few moments for Lynn

other. “Philip,” he pronounced the name

to attend to him. She gripped his

with such intensity, making the Ph sound

shoulders as they slipped away from her.

as if it needed to be exorcised from his 83

mouth. “He really brought out the best in

was intrigued and leaned closer to her

you, I mean I could sense that he was

husband, the sounds of the carousers

committed: committed as deeply as you

above them getting louder. “What’s the

were.”

matter?” Her concern was genuine, so he A cab stopped shortly in front of

could make out. “Well, it’s a minor

them and a giggling couple emerged.

point, a very minor matter and I beg you

They dashed by and disappeared laughing

not to take it the wrong way, or anything

into the obfuscating blanket of night.

like that. It’s just that you showed such a

Lynn’ eyes followed them intently until

degree of naturalism, did your gloriously

they disappeared. She looked up at the

witty lines such justice: well, I was so

buildings,

happy

involved, you see. And then, after all of

people, like the couple that had just seen,

this, that one scene.” He paused to catch

having drinks together. They would stay

his breath. “What scene?” “Oh, the one

up

for

imagining

dawn,

were your husband leads you to Philip –

merrymaking.

They

Horner I mean. Yes, and you’re offstage,

entered the cab and sat still until McCay

while Horner has his way with you…” “To

picked up.

what

and

possibly

the

till

carousing

hours,

all

did

you

object,”

she

asked

“You were stunning,” McCay

innocently enough. “Nothing that major,

went on praising her rather absently; the

I suppose. Which is why I call it a trifle.

type of praise one speaks of one who isn’t

But the way you vocalized, the sounds

present. “I’d say that it was a near-

coming from offstage. They just rang

triumph.” At this Lynn’s ears pricked up

false. Certainly, though, I am your

and she took interest. “How near, dear?”

husband. I know very well what sounds

she raised her pretty voice. “Quite.

are and are not in your natural

Quite.” Silence.

repertoire.”

“Then again” - he continued - “I

Lynn thought of something with

suppose I am biased unfairly. I suppose

which to respond, but the flush in her

that my beef is not - cannot be - shared by

cheeks would not permit her to divulge.

the rest of your audience. It’s funny,

She was, therefore, amply surprised when

actually, a funny bit of criticism.” Lynn

she heard Everett voice her very own 84

thoughts. “I know its silly to object when, after all, you’re only playing a part.”

As their cab sped on through the darkened streets, neither spoke further.

McCay absently fumbled in his waistcoat for his pocket watch. He clutched gently at the chain and followed it to the silver watch. It sprung open and McCay studied the stylish face for some moments and slipped in back into the coat, not realizing that the timepiece had stopped.

85

was certain of returning in time to

The Blockdragger

Vienna: but that goal was a long way off.

He could reach the imperial capital – the

Proverb no. 13 - He who drags the block

only place where he felt a sense of home

is an individual unhappy in love: who

– only after much wandering.

In the coach, he glanced over the

loves but is unloved in return.

letter that had been brought to him We see a solitary figure in red stocking, a cap

during the afternoon’s rehearsal.

He

and black shoes dragging a wooden stool to the

knew immediately from the neat and

edge of a cliff overlooking the sea.

ornamented chirography that it was in Frau Neumann’s hand. “Herr Mahler,” it began. Even on the page, that form of

A few hours and the horrid year

address coming from her rang false. It

would be over. Gustav, of course, knew

was a silly precaution that came from a

that no magical transformation would

woman who lived in fear of her

accompany the ringing of bells from

husband’s jealousy. The contents of the

Martinskirche. Still, he fooled himself

letter were chaste and proper, without a

into thinking that this arbitrary marker of

hint of intrigue. “Enjoyed greatly your

time not only symbolized, but could in fact,

accelerate

his

Freischütz of Thursday last...expecting

long-hoped-for

great

departure. He had, for some time, felt as

things

from

Robert

le

diable

(although, don’t you feel that Meyerbeer

if a movement in the symphony of his life

gets dull after a while)…the critic from

were drawing slowly to a close. Now, he

the Kasseler Zeitung (a friend of Herr

was sure that the mere act of scribbling

Neumann’s) was over last night and said

“1896” at the top of his letter to Johanna

he

the next morning would bring him

hoped

your

contact would

be

renewed…Warm wishes for the new

appreciably closer to leaving Kassel. He

year.”

still had no fixed destination; Leipzig and

The coach stopped and Gustav

Prague attracted him greatly (although

folded the letter up. He was about to

both his applications were pending.) He

stuff it back when he noticed a hastily 86

written Nachscrift on the reverse side. The

rest. Perhaps he had even aided her in

light was bad and he had to squint

the discovery: inadvertently providing

through his glasses to make the message

valuable clues by dint of telltale variations

out. “Won’t you come over one of these

in his recent behavior. The affair with

days and tell me about Fraulein Richter,

Johanna was still fresh enough to pique

who I hear is your latest découvertement.

the world’s sensual consciousness. These

Who knows, you may yet raise her talent

past few weeks, it had been as if Gustav

up to the level of her beauty.”

were wearing a new pair of spectacles and

Gustav became aware of a chill

had, furthermore, been hearing the

pervading the carriage and saw that the

sounds of nature with heightened pitch

coachman held open his door. He heard

and frequency. Perhaps Frau Neumann

the clamor of people on the sidewalk on

noticed this sudden youthful flush in him

the way to festivities. He waited in the

and knew instinctively that she could not

coach until they passed, pressing his

be its cause. Slowly he began to feel the

hands

which

unforgiving winter seep into his heart.

suddenly ached from the chatter of

Springtime had taken up residence

passers-by. Gustav was irked that his

without attracting attention. But now the

secret had come into Frau Neumann’s

secret was out, and breach of confidence

hands. Kassel ladies were not such great

meant immediate expulsion. The thought

gossips as the Viennese, whose salons –

sent a chill through him and filled him

the most fashionable ones especially –

with incredible sorrow. Gustav was

were rumor mills that saw the birth of a

helpless

dozen new scandals nightly. In Kassel,

banishment: he knew that he would soon

people tended to mind their own

follow it into further exile. The current

business:

station of his endless wanderings became

against

a

his

fact

temples,

that

made

Frau

Neumann’s discovery a greater source of confusion

and

concern.

to

prevent

the

spring’s

cold and black as the grave.

Gustav

The driver had been holding the

wondered how much she knew. He

door open for some minutes now. Gustav

reckoned that she had started with little

felt embarrassed for keeping the man

concrete knowledge and had guessed the

waiting in the cold that met him as he 87

stepped out of the carriage. He tipped the

composition he’d found time to work on

driver handsomely and navigated the

of

now-empty street to Johanna’s building,

Trompeter von Sackingen.” It was a

which stood on the other side of the

commission from the Kassel Theater to

street. The poisonous letter was still in

accompany tableaux vivants based on

his grip, clutched firmly between his

Scheffel’s verses. Gustav had never

thumb and forefinger. Standing under

understood Scheffel’s popularity: the

the awning, he tore at the note

poems could make him cringe visibly. A

repeatedly,

savoring the friction of

consequence of this being that Gustav

severed fibers and the quick, whip-like

could only devise mediocre music to

music his violence produced. He released

match mediocre verses. Johanna was a

the shards of paper into his coat-pocket

patient and admiring audience, and when

and walked up to the first landing.

Gustav had reached the end of the piece,

late:

incidental

music

to

“Der

The maid opened. “Welcome

gave him an enthusiastic ovation. Gustav

Herr Mahler. Fraulein Richter’s been

had secretly hoped to hear a mild rebuke

expecting you.” She took his coat and he

or criticism, rather than this wholesale

entered through the narrow foyer of the

approval. He mistrusted her approbation;

modest yet elegant apartment. Johanna

it struck him as more sycophantic than

stood by the piano and gripped his hands

naïve or uninformed. Then again, had

warmly as he entered. Gustav found her

she said a few words against the

discretion ridiculously over-cautious and

composition, he knew full well he was

irritating. He knew that she wouldn’t so

liable to reproach her. Equally incapable

much as kiss him until the maid retired.

of responding well to either compliment

But today, all these precautions assumed

or

a new level of absurdity in light of Frau

playing it for her. It must have been a

Neumann’s letter. Indeed, what did he

shocking lack of judgment that had made

and Johanna have left to hide?

him perform the mediocre work as if it

They had some coffee and moved

criticism,

Gustav regretted even

were a source of great pride and

to the piano, where, at Johanna’s request,

accomplishment to himself.

Gustav played for her the only original

couldn’t have known that projects like 88

Johanna

this constituted a large part of what

urgency and loss to her voice, but it was

Gustav considered wretched about his

uneven, hesitant, unconvincing. She was

current state-of-affairs and, consequently,

still remarkably young, perhaps too

compelled him to flee Kassel at the first

inexperienced to grasp either Heine or

opportunity that presented itself.

Schumann’s Hertzschmerzen. At the end,

Afterwards,

Johanna

joined

Johanna seemed drained: but whether

Gustav by the piano as he accompanied

this came from physical exhaustion or

her in Schumann’s Dichterliebe, which

emotional devastation, Gustav couldn’t

she’d been working on with her voice

determine. “That was well sung, but I

instructor. Gustav knew the works by

missed the weeping in the soft, low notes.

heart and played by rote as he fixed his

On the whole – and this can be applied

attention on her voice. It was not, as

generally to much of your repertoire – the

some had suggested, an ugly voice. If it

athleticism of your performance style

couldn’t decide whether to be lyric or

seems to come into conflict with, or at

dramatic, then perhaps that ambiguity

least obscures to an extent, some of the

was what made the timbre unique. Her

music’s

East Prussian accent, itself a thing

properties.”

more

sensitive

and

lyric

melodic and mobile, surely enhanced the

Little did Gustav expect this

voice’s attraction. She might never be a

speech to escape his lips. On the whole,

great Prima Donna, thought Gustav, but

he was somewhat surprised to find

her instrument was more than sufficient,

himself giving a singing lesson on New

and her looks would guarantee her steady

Year’s Eve. If these articulations were

employment.

unpremeditated, the thoughts behind

Johanna sang with a great deal of emotion,

often

them were not altogether spontaneous.

at the expense of

Johanna didn’t respond immediately and

accuracy. Often, he sensed that she was

this worried Gustav a little. He didn’t

far away from him, summoning up a

mean to do the girl any offense. The lover

buried memory in which he shared not

in him wanted to protect her from all the

the slightest part or else making a great

world’s vicissitudes and cruel judgments,

effort to resist such emotions. He sensed

but he could not altogether suppress his 89

professional opinion. It would be unfair

together, and she gently lay her head on

of her to fault him for that.

his shoulder. At first the situation seemed

At length, she lifted her eyes to

magical. The air was completely still and

his and thanked him coldly for his

the room radiated with the soft glow of

advice. Gustav could tell that she was

kerosene lamps. They shared a silence

irritated with him, although he felt

that was more powerful than the most

confident that he could set things right

rapturous music. Gustav was aware of the

without too much difficulty. It was nearly

scene and its intensity, as something

midnight and Gustav offered to retrieve

worthy of Tristan und Isolde.

the Sekt from the icebox. He popped it

But

Gustav

soon

felt

the

open. There was smell of champagne in

enchantment wear off and the profound

the air, a scent which had in the past

ineffability mutating into a banal failure

filled Johanna’s heart with delight. He

to communicate. Gustav and Johanna

turned her way and tried to discern how

passed the first minutes of the New Year

the

Johanna’s

in a strange way. They sat side by side,

demeanor. But she seemed to care little

almost in silence, awaiting the arrival the

for the sweet fragrance or pleasant fizzing

stroke of midnight. He tried to engage

noise. Gustav handed her a glass and

her in conversation, but her thoughts

proposed a toast: “Here’s to your voice

were far away. When the bells rang out

and my music. May they both improve

from Martinskirche, tears came to her

with age like a good wine.” Johanna let

eyes. The bells, which carried for him the

out a soft giggle and Gustav surmised

promise of future happiness, were for

that he had won a small victory. He

Johanna only the harbingers of parting

moved in to kiss her, but she withdrew

and grief. Her tears moved him intensely

strangely, if only for an instant. The next

and he wished that he could comfort her

thing he knew, Johanna had run into his

without making false promises. And so

arms and was nuzzling her body against

he chose to ignore her tears, sitting still

his. His fears had been unfounded. She

on the sofa with the tragic understanding

loved him still – anyone could see that.

that he could not dry them.

bouquet

affected

They slithered down to the couch 90

He adjusted his pince-nez as

rather handsome. At her instigation, I

Johanna went into the next room. Here

agreed, without much romantic feeling

she stood silently near the window for a

on my behalf, to take her as a lover. It’s

moment to watch

descent of

been going on for these part two years

When

she

and I surmise that she only recently

silence,

an

discovered that there was something

unspeakable sorrow stood between them

between us. I further gather that the

like an eternal barrier. Slowly, haltingly,

letter to which you just made reference

she began: “I had communication from a

contains a version of the tale I just told

certain Frau Neumann today…” She

you. I take your silence as an affirmation.

broke off. Gustav had tried to avoid this.

And so you see, I have absolutely nothing

Now he thought perhaps it would make

to hide from you. You are free to decide

his departure easier for the both of them.

for yourself whether my behavior was

There was no point in being

decent or not. But for what it’s worth, I

evasive. Although he had means at his

would have you know that I never cared

disposal to quell Johanna’s fears and

for Frau Neumann. You have every right

reassure her, he saw that, in the long run,

to disbelieve me, but I would be made a

these tactics had little value. He let it all

very unhappy man were you to take these

come out. Let Johanna think of him what

unfortunate circumstances as evidence

she would, he could mask the simple

that I have been deceitful and unfair.

facts no longer. “Frau Neumann is a

With that, I bid you a good night.”

society woman, very wealthy and well-

Gustav was not used to making such

connected. When I arrived in Kassel, she

confessions. He felt that words had

made my move very pleasant, found me

cheated and betrayed him. Music was a

suitable lodgings. I was frequently a guest

safe and abstract mode of expression,

at her table and discussed all matters of

much closer in fact to the way people

politics and particularly the Judenfrage –

thought and felt about things. Words

with her husband, an attorney for the

were treacherous and concrete; they

state.

was

betrayed and distorted his sentiments by

exceedingly kind to me and moreover

assigning rigid meaning to his confused,

insubstantial returned,

As

the

snowflakes.

weeping

I

in

mentioned,

she

91

jumbled-up impressions. He descended

had captured the music latent in his

and hastily entered his coach without a

poetry. Tonight, however, he knew better

backwards glance.

than to hope to retrieve the music that

When

he

reached

his

own

evaded him on his journey home. He

doorway, the bells rang and a solemn

closed the music score and went to bed.

chorale sounded from the top of the

He lay awake agitated and defiant, yet

tower. The echoing tones united the pair

spent the whole night weeping in his

in the windless night, if only for a few

dream. There he met a sphinx. It gazed at

minutes. It was as if the Great Stage-

him silently with its gray eyes and

Master of the Universe wanted everything

threatened him by setting riddles that

arranged by the rule of art. For a brief

must be solved on pain of death.

moment, the world seemed beautiful and

The

next

morning

Gustav

splendid again. A ditty whirled about in

resolved to give up his post and to leave

Gustav’s head, a tune almost comical in

Kassel.

its folk-like simplicity. He longed to grasp

everything, sacrificing his pride and

it, but it kept evading him.

egoism. She was everything that is lovable

He

had

forgiven

Johanna

He sat down at his composing

in this world, and he was willing to give

desk, pen poised to catch the melody

his last drop of blood for her, if only she

should it come his way again. He had

could understand and forgive him. Day

been for some time hoping to fit to music

by day, the city felt more and more like a

some poems he had written for Johanna.

prison and Gustav readied himself

She did not know them and he hesitated

everyday to throw off his chains. He lived

to show her the verses. Issues of artistry

like a Hottentot and would not exchange

aside (he fancied himself no great poet,

one sensible word with anyone. The

but no impoverished one either), he

Kasselers were such terrible blockheads,

knew that for all that they expressed, they

thought Gustav, that he would prefer to

could not capture a tiny part of his

converse with a Viennese cabdriver. He

tumultuous emotions. Again he found

was still given credit for his musical

that words betrayed him: the meaning of

abilities. When it came to light, however,

his verses would only be revealed once he

that Gustav was seeking employment 92

elsewhere, his position vis-Ă -vis the chorus

mention of her name could make his

and orchestra was greatly crippled. In

cheeks glow red with anger, almost to the

addition, there were accusations of his

point of siding with the Kassel critics who

musical promiscuity. He was working on

opined that she was unfit to sing the state

arranging a music festival and at the same

anthem, but those sentiments did not

time secretly running here and there to

interfere as he sat

rehearse other choruses on the side, for

experimenting with different musical

he was often penny-less.

styles and motifs. When it as time,

at his piano,

In the coming weeks, he drafted

however, to push composition to the side

many letters to Johanna, which he had

and go on with his professional duties,

not the courage to post. Sometimes, he

the anger at his current predicament

caught a glimpse of her as she glided

returned and he burned with desire to

through the theater on the way to

make a fresh start elsewhere.

rehearsals, but he never dared as much

Soon destiny smiled upon him,

address her. Gustav felt certain that

without making him the slightest bit

Johanna had resolved to give him up. He

happier. He was granted an appointment

blamed the abandonment squarely on

as head conductor in Leipzig. Though he

Frau Neumann, to whom he sent a

had worked a great deal on his own

vicious letter threatening to expose the

compositions, they would need to remain

whole intrigue between them if ever she

in his drawers at present. In Leipzig he

was to try and contact him again. Oddly,

might find the possibility and the chance

though he felt cheated by both women,

to perform these works. This new

Gustav was glad to be left alone. It gave

prospect drove him to finish his song

him more time to devote to his own

cycle, but he struggled immensely with

work. At present, there were only the

the final song. His sphinx had not

poems he had written Johanna: these

stopped staring at him with menacing

about the wanderings of a man who has

questions. Nocturnal voices whispered

found only sadness in love. Her total

tempting and deceiving things. When he

absence from his life became an unlikely

woke, the peal of her silvery laughter was

source of solace and creation. A casual 93

still in his ears and he wished never to

was not probable that at popular request,

open his eyes again.

that the Stage Master of the Universe

As the various threads of his life –

would arrange an Ultimate and Last of All

his work at the Kassel Theater, his

Performance.

arguments with the management –

With the coming of the spring, he

became increasingly tangled, Gustav felt

was calm again. From his window he saw

suffocated,

the town, the mountains, the woods, ad

when

unexpectedly

his

Johanna returned to him. She had sent a

the

friendly

river

Fulda,

running

long and impassioned letter, where she

peacefully through the landscape. When

apologized (in her own artless writing

the sunlight played on all this, he became

style) for her own cruelty and forgave

relaxed again. That is what he felt one

him. He assumed that their relations

day while sitting at his table near the

were entering on a new and final phase,

window, as the swirling melodies danced

but this turned out to be the trick of a

in his imagination, struggling to wrap

skillful theater director announcing a

themselves around his verses. From time

Final Performance, who then – the next

to time he glanced serenely at the

day – puts up the announcement of a

tranquil abodes outside his window:

Last Performance.

somewhat longingly, but also with the

It was with some trepidation the

conviction considering that he was above

Gustav gave her the music for the first

such conventional happiness. He sat late

three songs in his cycle, which were given

into the evening, composing and revising.

their premiere in Johanna’s modest

No distinct sounds could reach him

quarters, amid the din of midday traffic.

except now and then that of the bell that

At the conclusion of the performance,

reminded

Gustav felt something that approximated

together.

closure. However, that Last Performance

He

him gave

that

people

orders

not

belong to

be

was in fact followed, several days later, by

disturbed and set to work on sketching

a Very Last One – again in Johanna’s

the final song. A faint march echoed in

abode. As only three weeks separated him

his

even now from that eternal farewell, it

expansive 94

ears,

a

dirge-like

silences.

melody

and

Moments

of

transformation solace

and

provided he

drifted

temporary out

of

consciousness.

Out of the darkness, Johanna’s two blue eyes appeared to bid him farewell. Gustav journeyed on through the still night: love and grief his only companions. wandered,

He the

wandered

eternal

exile,

and and

embraced sweet sleep beneath a linden tree. In his dream within a dream, he hit upon a note of serene resignation, something like peace.

But he soon awoke with a start to find himself back at the composing desk.

He was completely shattered, his heart bleeding from many wounds. He felt that he had been close to sweetest fulfillment, only to lose everything at one stroke; no one was to blame. For a long time, he didn’t know what to do. He had only one gloomy desire: to sleep without dreaming.

95

his unconscious. This gave him a certain degree of pride. He felt that few, if any, of

The Axe Already Lies in the Roots

the countless opera-lovers he knew were capable of such sheer, unadulterated artistic enjoyment. This is not to say that

Bantcho Bantchevsky slept late

he often felt the performances he did

on Saturday. He would allow himself to

attend almost ritualistically (had for the

rise at noon, having spent the nightlong

past 30 years been attending almost

dreaming of the opera he had seen the

nightly) in any major way deficient. He

previous evening, and would awake,

knew well the opera houses of Europe

refreshed, to a morning ritual of coffee

from his travels before the war and had

and the Arts & Leisure section of the

known all the great European singers of

Times.

the day, many intimately. As much as he

The rarebit he usually made

admired the artistry and integrity of the

himself at midnight before retiring would

European tradition, he found himself at

aid the vividness of these reveries, which

odds with the direction in which

he considered as essential epilogues to

European opera had run in the wake of

the performances themselves. What’s

the Second World War. As much, his

more, these dreams had a corrective

greatest admiration was reserved for the

effect on the imperfections and kinks in

Met, and their unparalleled roster of

the actual production, and would grant

talent, the sheer enormity of their stage

him an opportunity to experience as if

and

anew the work in a flawless and perfectly

and

unmatched

Yet even these could not begin to

meticulously replicated: the most dazzling

compete with the nocturnal imaginings

sets; the most powerful lyrical and

he experienced once he returned home,

dramatic singers.

ate his rarebit and laid his head down on

As he rose to great the day, would

delirious

spectacle they brought to him nightly.

realized incarnation. Every aspect was

Batcho

the

relish

the

his feather pillow, his one material

aesthetic

extravagance. He would then become the

experience possible only in the privacy of

supreme artistic and musical director of 96

the only opera house he praised and

years ago, shortly after the war, those

lauded without reservation, the one

perhaps not so much as in his great

inside his own head. There the great

performing days before the war.

singers of the past sang their roles with technical

and

expressive

Yes, he had hoped that New York

perfection.

would have been more willing to employ

There one never had to worry about

his talent. But he had arrived in the mid-

uneven tempi or overpowering brass:

1950s, a middle-aged man with a thick

about awkward scenery or stiff acting.

accent, no longer the youthful charlatan

Every element was as it should be, the

who had taken Sofia by storm a quarter

platonic ideal of the Gesamtkunstwerk.

century earlier. He knew well that he was

He knew that he would never die

charismatic, but he had not altogether

in his own bed, the theater of his grand

succeeded in turning this talent into a

operatic imagination. Though a widower

sellable commodity. Still, he was loved

and a private singing teacher, Bantcho

and respected by his few pupils, friends at

was very much a public personality. And

the opera who furnished him with free

even if he hadn’t found the theatrical

tickets and passes, and the four adorable

success that he’d expected to when he

grandchildren

arrived in New York 35 years ago, he had

constantly from Bulgaria. All in all, he

still managed to hang out with the right

had few regrets and regarded his life as

crowd, the fashionable set of the New

having been a triumph of some sort.

who

wrote

to

him

York classical music scene. Over the years

Up until a couple of years ago,

he had secured invitations to parties,

Bantcho had been a perennial figure on

receptions and cocktail hours at some of

the

the city’s most exclusive nightclubs, and

performances and after parties. Wherever

had hobnobbed with Bernstein and

he went, he would regale those around

Domingo (he kept a framed picture of

him, becoming the focus of the party as

himself and Domingo in his bathroom).

he sang an aria or performed a Cossack

He had lost precious little of his charm

dance. The unsupressable life of the

through the years. At 80, he was still as

party, he was forever devising new and

charismatic as when he’d arrived some 30

ever-more-impressive party tricks. One 97

opera

scene,

which

included

day soon, he felt, he would unveil the

boredom. Since then, Luben rang several

party trick to end all party tricks.

times a week. He had even offered

But all that had changed abruptly

Bantcho a ticket to the previous evening’s

two years ago, after Bantcho had suffered

performance of Tristan, but Bantcho

a minor stroke. The stroke caused little

knew that his heart was not up to six

visible

of

hours of Wagnerian music drama (it

embarrassment, he had kept the incident

could scarcely handle the three-minute

from his family and closest friends. Still,

walk to Lincoln Center).

lasting

damage.

Out

those closest to him noticed a dramatic

Instead, he stayed at home and

change in his usually gay and exuberant

listened to the first two acts on a compact

demeanor. At 80, Bantcho was more

disc that he had recently received as a

seldom seen at the opera. His pupils felt

convalescence present. He slid the shiny

that he was taking less interest in their

discs into the new compact disc player

affairs and treating the lessons in more

that his daughter had mailed from Sofia

business-like fashion. About half his

for Christmas. Bantcho still preferred the

students left him and Bantcho found

wet sound of his old LPs and couldn’t

himself with more and more free time on

quite get used to this new technology.

his hands. Then, two years later, around

Since his operation, however, he hadn’t

New Year’s 1988, he was gripped by a

the patience to fuss about with his poorly

minor heart attack and spent about a

organized vinyl collection and his antique

week in hospital. After a long, healthy

equipment. The compact disc player was

life, thought Bantcho, these ailments

so easy to use and its sound was a vast

were more than fair.

improvement over the audiotapes he

Bantcho had been back from the

sometimes listened to as he walked along

hospital for about two weeks now. He

the river during his very sporadic

hadn’t the energy or endurance return to

exercises.

the opera, where he was certain he was

He lay in bed that Friday night

missed. His friend Luben had had helped

listening to Tristan and thought that

Bantcho check out early of the Doctor’s

hearing Jon Vickers and Brigit Nilsson

Hospital, where Bantcho was dying of

not too poor a substitute for what he was 98

missing at the Met. He dozed off

looked into the distance wistfully, full of

somewhere into the second disc. When

admiration for the river view he so

he awoke at 6am, the sun was not yet up

cherished. He rose to snatch the Times

and he had the unpleasant feeling that

off his doormat, which read “Opera Fan.”

there was unfinished business to take care

The doctors had advised him to give up

of. His dreams had been lacking. The

coffee entirely and he had laughed at

closure that he was unable to find in real

such a preposterous suggestion.

life had eluded him even in the dream

He sat at the kitchen table and

state.

scanned page one. Then, as was his He

awoke

with

the

bitter

custom, he turned immediately to the

recognition that he had failed himself,

obituary page, in part to make certain he

made melancholy by the unfulfilled

didn’t see his name in print. More and

dream of the night before. Though it was

more these days, he would open up the

still early, he knew very well what he had

paper to be greeted with images of old

to do. He went over to the bookshelf

friends and acquaintances from days

and removed the third compact disc from

gone by. Why, just a week ago he had

its case, slipped it into the player and

read of the death of one of earliest

turned the volume on full and crawled

friends, a minor British actress Lynn

back into bed, hoping to recapture the

Callow,

sweet fulfillment that had been cruelly

performances at the Old Vic had caused

denied him by his physical ailments.

a minor-scandal in the 1920s. There was

He knew that the music was blaring,

but

from

26th

sexually-charged

nothing that uncommon or remarkable

floor

about this natural death of a forgotten

apartment, it wouldn’t be bothering

matinee idol, and the obit would have

anybody

next-door

escaped Bantcho’s detection completely,

neighbor Braulia, who, besides, was used

had not Lynn played a sizable role in his

to the noise from his pupils.

aesthetic education.

except

for

his

whose

his

Isolde’s Liebestod concluded. He

Bantcho had gotten to know

was in pain and cold not sleep. By now,

Lynn and her husband – an American

the sun was on the rise, and Bantcho

industrialist whose name he couldn’t 99

place – while they were honeymooning in

They sat in a box balcony center.

Venice. The adolescent Bantcho was

Although this was his first experience

drifting about post-war Italy with his

with opera, Batcho knew that such luxury

mother, searching for remains of her

and extravagance must come with a hefty

family

and

accumulating

quite

accidentally

price tag. He remembered feeling very

musical

knowledge

pampered and even uncomfortable about

wherever he went.

all the finery that surrounded him and

His mother had deposited in

with which these people aesthetcized and

Venice for a week on his own while she

enriched their lives. Yet there was a

traveled on to Milan for some private and

seductive force to the whole affair that he

delicate business.

At the age of 13,

had never before experienced, which

Bantcho was surprisingly independent

both terrified and excited him. The

and a shrewd judge of character. He used

drama, the tragedy, the music all came

his charm to his advantage, making

together in this atmosphere pregnant

friends

with elegance and ushered him into a

wherever

he

went

and

entertaining people with a song.

world that he felt he simply had to gain

Lynn had seen him performing a

access to or die, doomed to wander the

Cossack dance along the Rialto one day

earth deprived of its majesty.

and had taken a maternal interest in him.

At

intermission,

while

Lynn

One evening, as she was exiting her hotel,

husband stepped outside for a drink,

Lynn found Bantcho seated by the edge

Lynn and Bantcho remained inside the

of the water and invited him to join them

box talking. Bantcho was captivated by

at La Fenice that evening. Bantcho put

this enchanting creature. He must have

on his finery and met Lynn and her

amused her greatly, either by telling a

husband in front of the opera house,

joke or butchering the English language,

where they were seeing Verdi’s Macbeth.

for Lynn rather suddenly gave him a

Even at his early age, Bantcho could tell

quick kiss on the cheek. He realized later

that such a worldly, young and beautiful

that she must have meant in as a purely

wife did not belong with such an elderly,

maternal gesture – he was in fact so

distinguished gentleman.

young – but at the time, the contact of 100

those soft, English lips against his

items of interest in the Arts and Leisure,

untouched face was so overwhelming, so

but Bantcho had a difficult time focusing

undeniably sensual, that he felt all the

on even one for enough time to read

sudden dizzy and soon, his body was

more that the lead. This inability to

threatening to tip. Lynn had to grab him

concentrate was perhaps the single more

by his coattails to prevent him from

detrimental aftereffect of his operation.

hitting the banister or from a greater

In times past, he adored watching the

disaster.

PBS Great Performances broadcast from

That whole week long, Bantcho

the

Met.

Now,

however,

he

had

felt like the spoiled nephew or relations

enormous difficulty keeping his gaze

who rarely visited, but always did

focused on his 18-inch screen, even for a

everything in style.

single aria. The only sections of the paper

The Times ran a small obit a few

that he could digest were the color

days after Lynn died. Banthco recognized

inserts. And so, Bantcho disinterestedly

the old headshot that ran with the piece.

flipped through the advertisements for

He learnt that Lynn’s first husband had

instant coffee, cereals and collector’s

died quite suddenly in the early 1920s,

stamps.

just when his wife’s theatrical career was taking off. Though Lynn continued to

At 10am, Bantcho began to get

haunt the London stage for the next

ready for the matinee performance of

thirty years, a conservative choice of

Verdi’s Macbeth. After a short bath, he

reparatory and a hasty retirement ensured

shaved carefully for the first time that

that her name was erased from public

week. He removed a suit from his closet

consciousness.

was

and unzipped the protective plastic

surprised both that she had lived so long

around it. He draped it over his bed and

and that the Times had thought her

inspected it looking for creases and other

worthy of memorializing.

offenses. Finding none, he proceeded to

Indeed,

Bantcho

Bantcho made himself coffee and

dress. From his top drawer, he selected a

peeled apart the hefty paper section by

gold silk bowtie. He wanted to look his

section. There were maybe a dozen or so 101

finest for today: his first day back at the

Bantcho had risen from his seat

opera.

and was walking towards the door. He At 11:30, Braulia Serano received

regretted that he did not have anything

a knock on her door. She opened to find

with which to repay his neighbor’’s

Bantcho, who looked primmer and more

kindness. Instead, he asked if he might

elegant than she could remember seeing

sing her a song. Braulia had accepted this

him in some time. “Good morning,

form of recompense on many past

Madame,” he bowed courteously to the

occasions and saw no reason to object

elderly lady. Braulia responded with a

now. She became an attentive audience as

“Good Morning, maestro,” and held the

he sang “Nessum Dorma” in a voice that

door as he came inside. Bantcho asked

was hoarse, but undeniably full of feeling.

the old women if she could possibly fix

Braulia clapped enthusiastically

him some lunch. He had been in the

and called after him to drop by that

hospital so recently and hadn’t gone

evening for dinner. “Thanks very much,

grocery shopping in some time.

Madame, for the invitation, but I am

Braulia

this

otherwise engaged. You see, Madame, I

unexpected visitation and hurried off to

plan to die today.” Braulia had never

the

her

shared a morbid sense of humor and

neighbor’s request. She returned shortly

hearing these words from one who had

with some pasta and soup and joined him

recently been so sick filled her with

at the table. Batcho ate the food hurriedly

horror. She scolded him and told him

but respectfully. He gave his belly a pat to

not to talk of such things. “That’s a

show that he was satisfied. “You know,

terrible thing for anyone to say, but

Madame,” he began, “I ought to marry

especially you. You are so fond of life,

you someday.” Braulia let out a high-

Maestro. Go home, pull up your shades

pitched squeal. “Why, maestro, after 14

and think of happier times.”

kitchen

was to

excited comply

by with

years of living next door to each other,

Bantcho thanked his neighbor for

what suddenly changed your mind?”

the encouragement. She said goodbye to

Bantcho sat with the lazy expression of a

him and waited by the door as Bantcho

man digesting his food and shrugged.

walked down the hall toward the 102

elevators. From her vantage point, she

possibly enhance the performance in any

could

clutch

way. Though none of his friends would

melodramatically at his heart (he had a

have ever suspected it of him, Bantcho

great sense of theater) and mutter, “Oh!

actually made loud noises of disapproval

This is going to kill me.”

during the opening scenes. Those around

see

Bantcho

him told him to keep quiet and let them Bantcho didn’t usually sit in the

enjoy the opera. Bantcho was offended

upper balcony. He knew enough people

that others could tolerate, much less

at the opera who furnished him with

enjoy, such a travesty. Bantcho knew this

seats in the orchestra. He reckoned,

couldn’t be the same work that had made

though, that he would feel bad accepting

him fall in love with opera when he was

a complimentary ticket to this particular

13.

performance. It was the one and only

At 3:25, the lights came up for

time in his life that he felt the absolute

the

second

intermission.

Bantcho

necessity of paying his own way.

remained in the balcony while most of

His one regret was that it should

the audience around him filed out for

be such a lackluster performance. What a

drinks or the restroom. He looked about

bad stroke of luck. During the past few

him and saw that he was pretty much

weeks, many of the stars of the

alone up in the balcony. Now’s the time,

production had dropped out and all sorts

he thought as he got up from his seat and

of backstage drama and intrigue that

walked to the balcony railing. The drop

usually remained hidden from the public

seemed far more dramatic that he had

had

almost

expected it to be looking up from the

truth,

orchestra and Bantcho wondered if he

Bantcho did not mind not seeing the

shouldn’t have chosen a seat in the

originally-billed singers. But the entire

Grand Tier. He sat down on the railing

first act was filled with a palpable

and firmly gripped the brass bars to his

atmosphere of failure. Everything from

sides. He felt himself gently begin to sway

the chorus to the ballet to the sets

and closed his eyes. An usher called out

seemed too thoughtlessly deployed to

from the back of the section for him to

become

embarrassingly,

widely, publicized.

In

103

get off the railing. Bantcho opened his

Now, he lay sprawled out on the

eyes slightly and squinted at the usher

red velvet carpet, blood issuing from his

who approached with determined gait.

head, mouth and nose. He was blind and

For a moment, Bantcho froze and felt

deaf to the screams and chaos that his

certain that the usher had torn him away

spectacular plunge had caused among

from the rail. At 3:30, he let out a sigh of

those who had remained in the theater.

relief and dipped backwards, loosening his grip finger-by-finger from the bars.

Luben was sitting in the living

The descent was quicker than he

room after lunch with his wife listening

had anticipated and more painful. He

to the radio broadcast of the matinee

hadn’t considered, for one, that the

performance.

momentum from tipping backwards

intermission opera trivia to bring a report

would cause him to flip over several times

about a man who had just leapt from the

in the air. He had always been slightly

upper balcony. There would be a slight

anemic and all this somersaulting made

delay until the third act. The opera trivia

him incredibly dizzy. He hadn’t expected,

resumed, and the announcers kept

either, to hit his skull against the Grand

stalling for time. Luben waited for more

Tier railing. When he finally reached the

information about the man who had

ground after covering a distance of 80

jumped, but was more impatient for

feet in an astonishing 2.2 seconds, part of

them to get back to the opera. After an

a broken seat fell on top of him. He lay

extra hour of opera trivia, the managing

face-up in the left orchestra aisle, around

director came on the air to say that the

row Y. The impact of the landing

rest of the afternoon’s performance had

snapped his spine, while few of his ribs

been cancelled, owning to an unfortunate

cracked under the weight of the broken

incident. Disappointed and irritated,

seat. Bantcho had been knocked out

Luben switched off the radio and

almost immediately, when his head

shuffled over to his record collection to

crashed into the brass railing.

decide what next to listen to.

104

They

interrupted

the