suspicion.
‘This is so confusing,’ she said. ‘I opened up for the first time with you, even though I knew you were dying. It makes me feel mad, like I chose you because of that. Sometimes I wish we’d never met. It’s a miracle to be able to feel again, but it’s so raw. I have no detachment left, none at all. It’s like a drug, it’s so real. But I know I have to let go of you. If I stay with you it’ll destroy me. If you leave now maybe I can thank you for bringing me back to life.’
I was transfixed by her emotions. I have never felt so close to another person.
‘I can’t stand you going,’ she said, ‘either now or ever, but I know I probably couldn’t love you if you weren’t. Christ, Charlie, it’s so horrible. Can’t you stop it from hurting?’
‘Stay a little,’ I mumbled, ‘stay.’
Angelique brushed my cheeks with the back of her fingernails, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘We need another day,’ I said more forcefully. ‘I’m not asking for any favours. I fetched the last of my money.’
‘You have more money?’
‘Yes, my last million francs. We can carry on just as before, but we’ll have tomorrow to live consciously.’
‘You expect so much from that word,’ she said.
‘Imagine the intensity,’ I went on, ‘now that we know everything. You see, I’ve reached a kind of barrier too. I was convinced that you were cold and manipulative. I was reproaching myself for choosing someone who was bound to reject me. We’ve both been caught up in our histories, but tomorrow, for one day, we could set aside all the things that stop us from loving each other completely. And then we could part knowing at last what it means to be intimate with another person.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘maximum intensity.’
I was moved when Angelique, who hadn’t yet lost all the money I gave her at lunch, suggested we go home. We went straight to bed but, instead of the hectic passion we expected, found ourselves clinging to each other doubtfully. It wasn’t that passion had been replaced by protectiveness; we were simply appalled by what was happening.
It was too late to hide and too late to reveal ourselves as well. We clung to each other, wishing we had never met; we rolled apart, wishing we could interfuse. Gradually the unease grew: the marrow fear, the worm on the hook, the tears in the womb, the screaming tedium of death’s row, the unbearable thought of the unbearable thought. Angelique had told the truth. How brave, how distinguished, how futile. No shortage of ashes, not a phoenix in sight.
Neither of us slept all night.
‘I can’t stand this,’ I said in the morning.
‘You wanted another day,’ she reminded me.
‘Another forty years would suit me better,’ I said.
‘Another day like this,’ she said, bent over her folded arms, as if she had been stabbed in the guts.
‘I don’t think I realized how frightened I am of dying until now,’ I said. ‘It’s really desperate.’
‘You’re the one who wants to live consciously .’ She spat out the word like a bad oyster.
‘I think I thought it would be more rewarding.’
‘There’s nobody giving out prizes—’
‘I’m not that stupid,’ I interrupted. ‘I just … when it comes down to it, I don’t know where I got hold of the idea that it would be better to be in a more direct relationship with what’s going on.’
‘Neither do I,’ she said. ‘Nudist colonies are famously unsexy.’
‘I almost forgot,’ I said, walking over to the cupboard, fetching my small carrier bag and dropping it at her feet. I unzipped it and parted the flaps with my toe. She glanced down at the sheafs of fluorescent green banknotes. A desultory gleam, like a rat’s tail, slithered across her expression and disappeared. I realized I had destroyed her way of life and I was offering her nothing to put in its place. She loves games because they have rules, their catastrophes are organized. By abandoning her gambling she
‘This is so confusing,’ she said. ‘I opened up for the first time with you, even though I knew you were dying. It makes me feel mad, like I chose you because of that. Sometimes I wish we’d never met. It’s a miracle to be able to feel again, but it’s so raw. I have no detachment left, none at all. It’s like a drug, it’s so real. But I know I have to let go of you. If I stay with you it’ll destroy me. If you leave now maybe I can thank you for bringing me back to life.’
I was transfixed by her emotions. I have never felt so close to another person.
‘I can’t stand you going,’ she said, ‘either now or ever, but I know I probably couldn’t love you if you weren’t. Christ, Charlie, it’s so horrible. Can’t you stop it from hurting?’
‘Stay a little,’ I mumbled, ‘stay.’
Angelique brushed my cheeks with the back of her fingernails, her eyes brimming with tears.
‘We need another day,’ I said more forcefully. ‘I’m not asking for any favours. I fetched the last of my money.’
‘You have more money?’
‘Yes, my last million francs. We can carry on just as before, but we’ll have tomorrow to live consciously.’
‘You expect so much from that word,’ she said.
‘Imagine the intensity,’ I went on, ‘now that we know everything. You see, I’ve reached a kind of barrier too. I was convinced that you were cold and manipulative. I was reproaching myself for choosing someone who was bound to reject me. We’ve both been caught up in our histories, but tomorrow, for one day, we could set aside all the things that stop us from loving each other completely. And then we could part knowing at last what it means to be intimate with another person.’
‘Yes,’ she said, ‘maximum intensity.’
I was moved when Angelique, who hadn’t yet lost all the money I gave her at lunch, suggested we go home. We went straight to bed but, instead of the hectic passion we expected, found ourselves clinging to each other doubtfully. It wasn’t that passion had been replaced by protectiveness; we were simply appalled by what was happening.
It was too late to hide and too late to reveal ourselves as well. We clung to each other, wishing we had never met; we rolled apart, wishing we could interfuse. Gradually the unease grew: the marrow fear, the worm on the hook, the tears in the womb, the screaming tedium of death’s row, the unbearable thought of the unbearable thought. Angelique had told the truth. How brave, how distinguished, how futile. No shortage of ashes, not a phoenix in sight.
Neither of us slept all night.
‘I can’t stand this,’ I said in the morning.
‘You wanted another day,’ she reminded me.
‘Another forty years would suit me better,’ I said.
‘Another day like this,’ she said, bent over her folded arms, as if she had been stabbed in the guts.
‘I don’t think I realized how frightened I am of dying until now,’ I said. ‘It’s really desperate.’
‘You’re the one who wants to live consciously .’ She spat out the word like a bad oyster.
‘I think I thought it would be more rewarding.’
‘There’s nobody giving out prizes—’
‘I’m not that stupid,’ I interrupted. ‘I just … when it comes down to it, I don’t know where I got hold of the idea that it would be better to be in a more direct relationship with what’s going on.’
‘Neither do I,’ she said. ‘Nudist colonies are famously unsexy.’
‘I almost forgot,’ I said, walking over to the cupboard, fetching my small carrier bag and dropping it at her feet. I unzipped it and parted the flaps with my toe. She glanced down at the sheafs of fluorescent green banknotes. A desultory gleam, like a rat’s tail, slithered across her expression and disappeared. I realized I had destroyed her way of life and I was offering her nothing to put in its place. She loves games because they have rules, their catastrophes are organized. By abandoning her gambling she
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