The Comic Destiny
Page 3
Book Three
One
In another clearing, in the forest, a young man and a young woman sat at a distance from one another. They were surrounded by a dense screen of trees and shrubs. There were muted bird-calls in the air, and the faint noise of a baby crying. On a tree there was a sign which read ‘Eden to Let’.
The young man and young woman, with their hands outstretched on the ground, barely touched one another. The sky was clear.
‘I wish you wouldn’t be so cruel to me,’ said the young man.
‘I’m not being cruel to you,’ replied the young woman.
‘Yes you are.’
‘No I’m not.’
‘Do we have to argue again?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why do we have to argue and argue?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the young woman. ‘I suppose it’s the most important part of our relationship.’
‘No it’s not.’
‘Stop telling me what is and what isn’t.’
‘I’m not telling you anything. I’m just disagreeing, that’s all.’
‘Well, stop that as well.’
‘We don’t have to go on like this, you know.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because we are married. Much more than that, we have been together for a long time and we should have reached a deep understanding by now.’
‘Well, haven’t we?’
‘I don’t know,’ said the young man. ‘It’s just that we argue and fight and hurt each other so much.’
‘And don’t you find any satisfaction in that?’
The young man smiled with pleasure, and then said:
‘I can’t say that I don’t.’
‘Then what are you blathering about?’
‘It’s just that, you see, we are here all by ourselves. There’s nobody else around. We have no need to pretend that we don’t get on with one another. You know how people used to envy us our passion and how, because of that, they used to spoil things for us, and how, because of that, we had to disguise our feelings. Well, now that we’ve been wandering about together there is no need for all that. I mean, I really want to discover you again.’
‘God, you’re a moaner,’ said the young woman.
‘Why do you say that?’
‘Well, for the past many years we’ve been discovering each other again and again. After a fight we discover each other. After you’ve gone away to live with someone else and you’ve run back, we’ve discovered each other. After I had the baby we discovered each other again. Don’t you get tired of these discoveries?’
‘No, I think discoveries are wonderful.’
‘You mean like discovering our capacity for cruelty?’
‘That as well.’
‘And discovering our insecurities?’
‘Yes. Yes.’
‘And that it is our cruelty and weaknesses that bind us together?’
‘Yes. Wonderful symbiosis.’
‘And secretly discovering how much we hate each other’s strengths and beauties?’
‘It’s all part of it.’
‘And that we’ve made a tolerable hell for each other?’
‘A tolerable hell is better than an impossible heaven.’
‘You are a fool,’ said the young woman.
‘So I am.’
‘But I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘I feel a lot of tenderness for you.’
‘I feel a volcanic warmth for you.’
‘You seducer.’
‘You… I don’t know what.’
‘Do you love me?’
‘Do you promise,’ said the young man, ‘that if I answer honestly we won’t get into another argument?’
‘Yes. I just want to know.’
‘Well then, yes. You know I do. We wouldn’t have stayed together all this time if I didn’t.’
‘You stupid fool!’ cried the young woman.
‘What?’
‘I said you stupid fool.’
‘What did I say wrong?’
‘You know perfectly well why we’ve stayed together all this time.’
‘I know,’ said the young man, perplexed. ‘I’ve just said it.’
‘You bloody moron.’
‘Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t say it with enough tenderness.’
‘Who cares about your idiotic tenderness?’
‘It’s just that I thought you’d be bored by it.’
‘We stayed together precisely because we did not really love each other.’
‘I admit there’s an element of that.’
‘We simply wanted to love one another, didn’t we?’
‘Yes. Correct,’ the young man said, brightly. ‘The want precedes the process.’
‘You idiot. I mean we desperately wanted to be in love with something or other. We were lonely people. It seemed more sensible to fall in love with another person who also wanted to fall in love, than to love a chair or a cat or an idea.’
‘Correct again. The process then invents itself.’
‘We knew all along that what other people thought was love was really a well-organised routine on our parts. An intricate pattern of tolerance and organisation. A relationship.’
‘You can’t say we haven’t had a good life together. All those holidays, visits, our jobs, Christmases, surprises, ups and downs, the new house that we bought.’
‘And the baby.’
‘Yes, the baby. That was special, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. It was very special. I hated having it.’
‘No you didn’t. Do you remember what you said at the time?’
‘I think I groaned madly all the time.’
‘I mean afterwards.’
‘I said it was nice to have that load off my belly.’
‘No. Not then. Stop being facetious about an important experience in our lives.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what you said.’
‘Go on, then.’
Two
As he spoke his face became radiant. His gestures became more expressive. For a moment he was transfigured in the strange light of the clearing.
‘You said that while you were having the baby it felt as if you were creating new spaces in the universe. You felt that as you pushed and pushed you were pushing the universe, moving it, opening up new worlds, expanding the miraculous spaces. You said you felt like God.’
‘I couldn’t have said that. It was a horrible experience. I couldn’t move for days.’
‘That’s why God had a rest on Sunday.’
There was silence.
‘You are so naive,’ the young woman said, gently, ‘and yet I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘There you go again, idiot. Always parroting me.’
‘I’m not parroting you.’
‘Then why do you say you love me?’
‘Because I do.’
‘What is love, then?’
‘That’s a difficult question,’ said the young man, taken aback. ‘The only way to tackle a question like this is to be honest. Love is what two people feel. An attraction. Something wonderful. It sort of gets you here.’
He dramatically placed his hands over his heart.
‘You mean,’ said the young woman, coolly, ‘like a heart attack?’
‘No. Look, let’s not get into this.’
‘Why not? I’ve got to understand what you mean.’
‘It’s a feeling, you see,’ said the young man, struggling. ‘A great feeling. When you see the one you love you sort of tremble, your throat feels dry, your hands become clumsy, you… all that.’
‘I think you are trying to describe a seizure.’
‘Look, didn’t you ever feel anything like that for me in the beginning?’
‘No.’
‘But you said you did.’
‘I only shook a bit and blew my nose a lot.’
‘
Those are symptoms.’
‘I had a cold, remember.’
‘You even shed a few tears.’
‘Dust in my eyes.’
‘When we were together, really, for the first time,
I was proud to note that you wept.’
‘You had a habit of scratching me,’ said the young woman. ‘I couldn’t bear it and I couldn’t bear to tell you.’
‘You never loved me then.’
‘I did. In a different way.’
‘I suppose you did,’ said the young man, crestfallen.
‘Look, stop behaving like a baby. Come closer to me. We haven’t touched one another for a long time. Come on, come closer to me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘That would be so wonderful.’
‘Come on, then.’
The young man smiled, and moved farther away from her.
‘That’s better,’ the young woman said. ‘You feel so warm. I can take you better like this. Come a bit closer still.’
‘This is really lovely,’ said the young man. ‘You feel soft and velvety.’
He moved farther away from her.
‘You know this is why I was against us having separate bedrooms. Touch can be a profound experience,’ the young man said.
‘It should be.’
‘It’s pure electricity.’
‘Magic.’
‘Wonder.’
‘Let’s lie down together and just enjoy each other in silence.’
They lay down, and mimed being close together. They behaved as if they were touching each other, with great feeling and delight.
Three
Then, after some time, in a gentle voice, the young man said:
‘It would be nice to find a room.’
‘Yes,’ replied the young woman, ‘I’ve been dreaming about that ever since we got lost.’
‘You know, a nice cosy room where we would have no arguments, no jealousies, no routines, no boredom, no fights.’
‘Yes. No jobs, no poverty, no diseases.’
‘Don’t talk about diseases,’ the young man said, with a hint of fear.
‘I’m sorry, I forgot.’
‘Yes. No ideologies. No need to conform.’
‘And no loneliness and fear and insecurity.’
‘A room where we can go on creating beautiful spaces and expanding the universe.’
‘Yes. Really pushing it all back and making it all real with our vitality,’ said the young woman.
‘There would be no networks, no shrinking of self.’
And certainly no skeletons.’
‘Neither in the cupboard, nor outside it.’
‘Wouldn’t it be nice,’ said the young woman tenderly, ‘to have the baby there with us?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a shame, though.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you suppose,’ wondered the young woman, ‘that such a room exists?’
‘No. But it’s worth dreaming about.’
‘If it doesn’t exist I’ll settle for any old room. I feel tired.’
‘So do I,’ said the young man. ‘But let’s not talk about tiredness.’
‘Yes. I forgot again.’
‘There’s too much to escape from.’
‘And nowhere to escape to.’
Four
They were silent and then, suddenly, in a burst, they began speaking again, with urgency.
‘I can’t bear it,’ said the young man.
‘Neither can I.’
‘I’m tired.’
‘I’m ill.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘I’m sick of everything.’
‘My head hurts again.’
‘So does mine.’
‘It really hurts.’
‘I think I’m going to scream,’ said the young woman.
‘I’m going to cry.’
‘I don’t think I can move.’
‘Neither can I.’
‘I wish somebody would help us.’
‘I can’t bear it.’
‘I’m afraid.’
‘I’m terrified.’
‘I think we are alone.’
‘I’ve always been afraid of that.’
‘Are you there?’
‘Yes,’ said the young man. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s hold each other.’
‘Yes.’
They stretched out their hands. The tips of their fingers barely touched one another. There was silence.
‘Are you there?’ the young man asked.
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m still afraid.’
Then, from the surrounding forest, the sound of bird-calls intensified momentarily.
‘Those birds sound strange,’ the young man said.
‘I can’t hear them.’
There was another silence.
‘Are you there?’
‘Yes.’
‘This silence frightens me,’ said the young man. ‘Say something. Anything.’
After a long pause, the young woman said:
‘This could be the best moment of our lives.’
***
There was another stretch of silence.
‘I’m afraid,’ said the young woman, after a while.
‘So am I.’
‘I wish someone would come along.’
‘So do I.’
Five
In the depths of the silence there was a faint trace of music. Pinprop emerged from the woods, into the clearing, with the table and chairs balanced in a compact form on his head. He stopped in the middle of the clearing and contemplated the young couple lying on the ground. Soon Old Man and Old Woman also appeared from the woods.
‘This seems an ideal spot,’ said Old Man.
‘Our destination is the only ideal spot,’ said Pinprop.
‘This seems a stained ideal spot,’ said Old Woman.
‘Do you think we should drive them away?’ Old Man said, indicating the young couple, who did not notice the new presences.
‘The place where hyenas sleep is not ideal for the lion,’ intoned Old Woman.
‘If I may be verbose,’ said Pinprop, ‘I’d like to say that these precincts have been defiled with gloom. We should proceed, sir and madam, to where there is no confusion.’
‘No skeletons,’ said Old Man.
‘No repetitions,’ said Old Woman.
‘No trees, sand or water.’
‘No words.’
‘What do you say, sir and madam?’ asked Pinprop.
‘I am tired. I can barely walk,’ said Old Woman.
‘My life is draining out of me,’ said Old Man.
‘People never really die before they have arrived ideally, sir and madam,’ observed Pinprop.
‘We are too old to chase ideals,’ said Old Woman.
‘We are too old to seek new beginnings,’ said Old Man.
Then they fell into their ritual of remembrance again, speaking without hearing the other; interrupting, overlapping, in their inward speech outwardly spoken. Old Woman began.
‘I remember on all those trees,’ she said, ‘how I saw the many dreams I had composed for myself in the arrogance of youth. And I saw on those trees that…’
‘I remember to forget,’ Old Man said, ‘how that strange tribe systematically eliminated me from their routines and finally drove me to the edge of their mountains. I must try to forget the starvation and the suffering and how I had to eat wood and roots for many days.’
‘… the real failure of my life,’ Old Woman said, ‘was that I had dreamt at all and I had too many dreams and I chased them till I grew old in sorrow. For the dreams grew up too and deserted me. And when he had been driven from the city I knew that I could never dream any more. I was considered a success but I was dying inside and nobody knew it. And I saw on all those trees that our houses were burnt down and every
single thing I had done had disappeared. Now I am here with nothing behind me and nothing before me except chaining Pinprop and listening to him for the rest of the days of my life.’
‘I thought I was going to die but…’
‘We have no time,’ bellowed Pinprop, butting in, ‘to stand here to remember and forget. This table is heavy on my head.’
‘Chain the insolent clown!’ screamed Old Woman.
‘Cut him to pieces!’ shouted Old Man.
‘Castrate him!’
‘He is already castrated.’
‘Then do it again.’
‘Let’s chop off his fingers,’ snarled Old Man.
‘I’m starving.’
‘Let us at least arrive first,’ said Pinprop, emolliently.
‘A sound idea,’ agreed Old Man.
‘I’m tired,’ said Old Woman.
‘Let’s proceed.’
‘A yes to all that,’ said Pinprop.
Then they were gone into the depth of the silence, into which a faint music was receding.
Six
In the silence of the clearing the young man and young woman were still lying on the ground.
‘It’s very quiet here,’ the young man said.
‘I can hear a baby crying.’
‘That’s strange. I can’t hear anything.’
‘Can’t you hear a baby crying?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Why?’
‘It sounds like our baby.’
‘Our baby? What a sweet sound it must be.’
‘Actually, it isn’t. It’s an irritating sound.’
‘I wish I could hear it,’ said the young man.
‘So do I.’
Seven
Silence settled on them like dew.
‘It’s very quiet all of a sudden,’ the young woman said.
‘Yes. It is.’
‘I do wish someone would come along.’
‘So do I.’
‘I feel very lonely.’
‘It’s not a nice feeling, is it?’
‘I wish we could find a room. Any room, where I can just lie in bed and stay there for the rest of my life.’
‘I wish we could.’
‘Stop mimicking me,’ said the young woman.
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘Shall we go and look for a room?’
‘I don’t think we will find one. But trying might give us something to do.’