Against the maelstrom

He does not even have to look down at the faces of the other guests. He already knows what they look like. Superficially full of life, apparently cheerful What else could you expect when you have so much money to spend? Why would you behave differently when you can afford it to dine in a Michelin star restaurant?

He believes, he understands it. Because he knows himself? The fragile laughter, the good mood, the short charges, the long silence. They all still want it so badly. The full life, an unapproachable future. As if time has no hold on them. As if death were something like the plucked feathers of a shot duck. Something that you do not have to pay attention to. Something that you throw away carelessly.

But in the meantime, a bitter battle is raging in the minds of those present in the Sketsj restaurant. They realize the decline. They experience how time withers their skin, crumbles their bones, bleaches their blood. But they do not feel it yet. They still feel so beautiful, so young, so real, so promising, so vital, so lively.

And how bad is that? This play, the stage? When you have enough people around you who also believe in it, who also act as if time stands still? What is unfair about that? What does it hurt when you lie a little about yourself? Who is affected when you close your eyes to your own old age, your own decline, your shaky present?

He looks at his wife. How much she still resembles the girl from before. Despite the brittle haze of decay. He smiles at her when she looks up mischievously at the stately waiter. The servant brings them the next dish. The Duckling breast with red cabbage jam.

This is his favorite restaurant. The high blue ceiling, the well-chosen artwork on the wall, the comfortable chairs, the golden table light, the soft piano music, the lovely guests. He should feel satisfied right now this evening. Maybe happy. But he feels cheated, inauthentic, tired. Tired of the game? Tired of this maelstrom of feigned cheerfulness? Of this quasi jauntiness?

“I have to tell you something,” his wife suddenly says, very seriously. He is startled by her voice. He knows this voice. Now he has to pay attention. It's no longer time for jokes, cheesy comments.

“You won't like this, but I am seeing someone else. Actually, already for a while. I am completely fed up with it. This dozed off life. This slow death. This passive watching as the days kill our joy of existence. We have become pitiful fossils, miserable shadows.”

All this time she looks at him with her misbehaving eyes. So, he would not miss a word of her message? So, the words are clear?

The duckling breast with red cabbage jam falls out of his mouth. The leftover makes a soft, dull sound on his plate. Some guests next to them look up in surprise. It leaves him cold. Everything that was so familiar, so ordinary, so normal, everything is suddenly strange, crazy, horrifying. He can only stare at that creature on the other side of the table. She is still able to eat. Small bites. But still. Yet, his throat is as dry as cheap sandpaper. How long have they been together? Almost fifty years! A lifetime, half a century!

His body shakes with anger. He expects that an unreal rage will take control of him any time soon. He fears that he will get up in no time, that he will start knocking over tables, shouting, cursing, crying, ranting. But he stays put. And just keeps staring into those deep mocking eyes. And he can't help but admire her. How she dares to go against the maelstrom with her wonderful, honest strength. While he, the guests, wither a little more every day, she at least tries to make something of her life. Despite everything.

Later that evening, in the taxi home, sitting in the back seat. Two wax figures. Suddenly she puts her arm around him and starts laughing. “You really believe it, don't you? I got you there! I thought I'd give that dull, old, boring man a bit of a scare."

She gives him a kiss and leans her head on his shoulder. “Don't worry, old chap! I will always stay with you! In good times, bad times. Even though you could be a bit livelier, daring, funnier.”

Her crackling laugh bounces off the dark windows of the car.