The Reader

The Reader

'It's finished.'
Of all things I did not anticipate this.
'What?'
'I said it's finished. It's over.'
'But it hasn't even properly begun, I mean you can't just end it like
that.'
'Oh please don't tell me you didn't know this was coming. I told you
when we first met that it could not be a long-term thing, and if it
hasn't begun then how can it end? It was a bit of fun, nothing more,
nothing less. Please don't go complicating things Darren.'
And what she said was true of course, she had said it couldn't be
long-term, and it had been fun. Still, when she said it could only be
meaningless there was still some part of me that thought she didn't
really mean it would be meaningless. Yet hadn't that been its
prerequisite? Accepting the premise of mutual detachment I had become
involved. Was there ever a trap better laid?
'You can't tell me that that first night was meaningless Rachel. If it
meant so little why did it feel so good, so right? I didn't imagine it,
we shared that Rachel, we made it, we were really making love, that was
really us.'
It was only as the syllables slipped out of my mouth that I realised
how serious I was, and how I was speaking a softer, new, familiar
language. I was saying things other people said.
'Darren, it was so good precisely because it was meaningless, there
were no responsibilities, no future. It was pure passion, selfishness.
And now you're spoiling it all. You want to try and recapture it
because you're a fool. You can never recapture that feeling because it
had no obligations, either to the past, the present or the future. You
can't use it as a bargaining chip or a model. Take it for what it was,
a moment out of time, beautiful but over. Gone. Don't idealise it,
don't dream it. Move on. Get over it.'
So because I thought it had meant something I had lost it.
The mid-afternoon of the room was swallowed in wide sunlight; two huge
windows framed the city, more completely, the sky. My mind scattered,
looking for subjects, hiding from the shock of this impact. I had been
dreaming, it was clear. I knew it then, I knew it with the clarity of
the disabused now. Why had I been dreaming? because I had been happy?
because I wanted to be happy? That was not the cause of my present
maladjustment however, or not the primary cause. It was not the dream
alone, but the fact that I had been foolish enough to believe it, that
was the root of my misjudgement. As if anyone could be so unwise enough
to believe this fantasy. The light had not altered its appearance, the
wooden boards of the floor drank it up as if it were rain.
'I don't know what to say.'
She half-collapsed to the floor, clumsily, in exasperation.
'Darren, don't dramatise the situation. You knew this would happen all
along. I didn't ever lie to you. I'm not saying it wasn't good, or that
I didn't enjoy it or that I don't like you. You really shouldn't take
it personally.'
So she had sat down. She would stay, perhaps.
'But that's precisely the point isn't it. I shouldn't take it
personally. Do you know what an insult that is? It's nothing to do with
you. What is that meant to mean? As if it's irrelevant who I actually
am, I am unimportant. What was important is finished. . '
I fumbled the words,
'So what do you do now? Go somewhere else looking for the same spark,
some other body to burn in your fire, then sweep the ashes away again.
What is it, some kind of compulsive male mind fuck with you?'
I had gone too far, my hostility was too obvious. It didn't make me
look strong, it made me look pathetic, just as I felt.
'I don't fuck anyone's mind. Certainly not without their
permission.'
She smiled, her teeth mingling with the sunlight. I wanted to cry but
my eyes were dry and clear, as if my senses could only perceive the
world now through raw disillusion. It was this starkness, I realised,
that I was hiding from. This made a comfortable sense.
'Look I'm sorry. I really didn't think you'd take this so badly. I
didn't mean to hurt you.'
'You mean to tell me that this has never happened to you before in all
your previous rendez-vous'.'
'It depends. Maybe it is my fault, maybe I did misjudge you. I thought
you understood. I thought you could handle it. Yes it has happened
before but I thought I was able to stop it now, before it happened, to
avoid it. I really didn't mean this to happen.'
There were worlds on the other side of the glass, behind that animated
body, under the boards, beyond the walls, worlds where this
conversation wasn't happening, wasn't heard, would never happen,
perhaps some worlds where it had already happened or had yet to happen,
even some where it might happen perpetually. I felt no jealousy, no
urge to physically escape the room. I merely wondered what would follow
in those worlds the events that had occurred in this. These boundaries
were unbridgeable however, discrete, impermeable. It was simple. I was
alone, another part of me was dead - a loss as ordinary as any
other.
'You didn't mean this to happen? Is that meant to make me feel any
better? I don't believe it, you've left me nothing but junk. Why have I
got all the shitty . . feelings?'
'Because you wanted it that way.'
'I didn't want it that way. I didn't know any better, okay? and I
couldn't, or wouldn't believe you. I wanted, I want something more.
Can't you see what I'm saying Rachel?'
'Don't say anything else Darren. I want something more as well. But not
from you.'
'You don't want more Rachel, it's different, you want exactly the same.
You tell me I'm a fool for wanting to recapture what we briefly had,
but aren't you doing exactly the same but instead of trying with one
person you just want to consume everyone. You're a glutton and a
hypocrite.'
'I'm not a fool if I succeed though, if I do recapture it. Passion dies
Darren, and then you're left with a dream, a dream which simply
prolongs the agony of the reality. I've done you a favour Darren. This
is the beginning of your education. You'll thank me for it.'
And still I couldn't cry. It didn't matter now though, I had a new
emotion to abuse.
'Don't fucking patronise me. I don't want no bollocks education from
a,' I paused to divert myself, 'nymphomaniac.'
'Is that what I am? I often wondered. Well then, I presume we're
finished.' She stood.
'Since you don't want me here any more and everything has been cleared
up, or as well as can be expected under the circumstances, I'll be
leaving.'
She moved towards the door and I began to panic. She was leaving my
world, it was shrinking before my eyes. I thought of blocking up
windows and then the sun, the light I was hung from. I thought I could
approach her in darkness, I thought it would bring forgetfulness, I
thought no intimacy there would be missed. Instead I felt the water I
had been waiting for, not from my eyes but from my forehead. It was my
body that wept. I stepped away from the doorway so she could pass
through, past me. She hesitated, beside me. I was still facing the spot
where she had been standing, as if still stuck in that conversation.
She leaned over and kissed my cheek.
'Bye,' she whispered.
I said nothing. I remained motionless but I caught the remnants of her
in her scent. A bottled scent yet so perfectly replete, as beautiful
and commonplace as a blossom, or a book. The door closed behind me. I
think it was then that it began.