Delicacy

by David Foenkinos

  He walked into Charles’s office again. The latter’s mouth was full. He was trying to calm down by eating a Krisprolls. We often try to relax with the help of things that get on our nerves. He was shaking, twitching, letting the crumbs fall from his mouth. Markus was dumbfounded. How could a man like that be in charge of a company? But the most dumbfounded was definitely Charles. How could a man like that be in charge of Natalie’s heart? From the perplexity of both was born a moment hanging in time, in which neither could imagine what was going to happen next. Markus had no idea what to expect. And Charles didn’t know what he was going to say. More than anything, he was in a deep state of shock. But how can it be possible? He’s repulsive … he has no body to speak of … he’s limp as a noodle, you can see it right off … oh no, it can’t be … and then, he has this way of looking sideways at people … oh no, how horrible … not at all Natalie, this guy … nothing at all, no, no … oh it’s disgusting … it’s out of the question for him to keep hanging around her … out of the question … I’m going to send him back to Sweden … yes, that’s it … a nice little transfer … I’m transferring him tomorrow!

  Charles could have spun his gears like this for a very long time. He was incapable of speaking. But really, he’d called him in, so he had to say something. To gain some time, he offered, “Want a Krisprolls?”

  “No thanks. I left Sweden to stop eating that kind of cracker … so I’m not going to start doing it again here.”

  “Ha … ha … very funny … ha … hee!”

  Charles exploded into gales of laughter. The dickhead had a sense of humor. But what a dickhead … they’re the worst, the ones who look depressed and surprise us with humor … you’re not expecting it, and bam, a joke … That had to be his secret. Charles had always thought that was his weak point, that he hadn’t made the women in his life laugh enough. He even wondered, thinking of his own wife, whether he wasn’t gifted with a talent for making them gloomy. It’s true that Laurence hadn’t laughed for two years, three months, and seventeen days. He remembered, because he’d noted it in his calendar, the same way you keep track of the eclipses of the moon. “Today, my wife laughed.” Still, he had to stop digressing. He should say something. What was he afraid of, after all? He was the boss. He was the one who decided on the totals for the lunch vouchers, which did amount to something, after all. No, really, he should get a grip. But how could he speak to this guy? How could he look him in the eye? Oh yes, the fact that he could touch Natalie was disgusting. The idea of his putting his lips on hers. What a sacrilege, what a violation! Oh Natalie. He’d always loved Natalie, it was obvious. We never get over our passions. He’d thought it would be easy to forget. But no, the feeling that had passed had only hibernated in him and was resurfacing now in its most cynical dimension.

  He saw another solution, and it was more radical than a transfer: fire him. He had to have committed some professional violation. Everybody makes mistakes. But then, he wasn’t everybody. His going out with Natalie was proof of that. Maybe he was a model employee, one of those who works overtime with a smile, who never asks for a raise—one of the worst, consequently. This genius might not even be in a union.

  “You wanted to see me?” Markus tried to say, interrupting the long moments Charles had just spent in the apnea of shock.

  “Yes … yes … I’m just finishing thinking about something, then I’m yours.”

  He couldn’t make him wait like that. Or else, what if … he left him like that all day, just to see his reaction? But whatever strategy he used, it would work in some way. Because now that he thought of it—there’s nothing more uncomfortable than to remain opposite someone who doesn’t speak to you. Especially when it’s your boss. And any other employee would have shown signs of anxiety, would have maybe sweated a few drops, made a gesture, crossed and uncrossed his legs … but this time, well, it wasn’t the case. Markus had spent ten minutes, maybe fifteen, without moving. With perfect stoicism. It was unheard of, now that he thought about it again. This man had to be endowed with great mental strength.

  At that moment, Markus was merely paralyzed by a very uncomfortable feeling of uncertainty. He didn’t understand what was going on. For years, he’d never seen his boss, and now the man had summoned him to wrap him in silence. Each of them presented an image of strength to the eyes of the other, and neither was aware of it. It was up to Charles to speak first but—not a chance. His words were locked inside him. He was hypnotized, and kept looking right into Markus’s eyes. At first he’d thought about getting rid of him, but a second possibility was occurring to him. It was obvious that, in conjunction with his hostility, a certain fascination was forming inside him. He was very far from wanting to turn him away; he had to see him at work. At last he began to speak to him.

  “Sorry to have made you wait. It’s just that I really prefer taking time to weigh my words when I’m speaking to someone. Especially when it’s a matter of announcing what I have to say to you.”

  “… “

  “The thing is, I’ve had wind of your management of file 114. You see, nothing escapes me here. I know everything. And I must say that I’m very happy to count you among us. And I’ve talked about you in Sweden, too, and they’re very proud of having a countryman who is so efficient.”

  “Thanks …”

  “But I’m the one who’s thanking you. We feel you’re a driving force in this company. What’s more, I’d like to congratulate you personally. I think I’m not spending enough time with the good elements of this firm. I’d enjoy getting to know you better. Maybe we could go to dinner together, hmm? What do you think of that, hmm? Hmm, good idea, isn’t it?”

  “Er … okay.”

  “Oh, great, I’m so looking forward to it! Anyway, there’s nothing but work in our lives … we’ll be able to talk about lots of other things. I think it’s good sometimes to break through the barrier between bosses and workers.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Well, then, tonight … Markus! Have a nice afternoon … and hurray for work!”

  Markus left the office feeling as stunned as the sun during an eclipse.

  Eighty-three

  Number of Packages of Krisprolls

  Sold in 2002

  22.5 million

  Eighty-four

  The rumor spread throughout the company: Markus and Natalie were an item. The truth: they’d only kissed three times. The fantasy: she was pregnant. Yes, people embroidered. And to determine the extent of a piece of gossip, you only need to add up the visits to the coffee machine. Today, the number promised to be legendary. Although everybody in the company may have known Natalie, no one really knew who Markus was. He was an unobtrusive link in the chain, the basting thread for a garment. As he went back to his office, slightly stunned by what he’d just experienced, he felt a great many eyes on him. He didn’t understand why. He stopped in the men’s room to check for creases in his jacket, loose locks of hair, spaces between his teeth, and the color of his face. Nothing to do with any of that; everything was in place.

  This focus on him kept growing as the day went on. A lot of employees found excuses to come and see him. They asked him questions, or said they’d come to the wrong door by mistake. Maybe it was just coincidence. One of those days incredibly full of events, without anyone really knowing why. It’s the moon, his Swedish aunt, who was famous in Norway as a fortune-teller, would have said. With all these interruptions, he hadn’t really had time to work. That took the cake: he hadn’t done a thing on the day his boss congratulated him. Maybe that’s also what was getting in his way. Sudden encouragement isn’t taken easily when you’ve never been in the dress circle before, when no one has ever noticed what you were doing. And then, there was Natalie. Always inside him. More and more. Their last date had given him a lot of confidence. Life was beginning to take a strange turn, gently moving past fears and uncertainties.

  Natalie, too, had felt something stirring around her. It had only been a vague
feeling until the moment when Chloé, an expert in confrontations, had dared ask, “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “Okay.”

  “Everybody is saying you’re having an affair with Markus. Is it true?”

  “I already told you that it has nothing to do with you.”

  This time, Natalie was really irritated. Everything she’d liked about that young girl seemed to have evaporated. All she saw in her now was a base obsession. She’d already been shocked by Charles’s attitude, and now here it was again. What were they all getting so worked up about? Chloé went for broke and stammered out, “It’s just that I can’t at all imagine you …”

  “That’s enough. You can leave,” said Natalie heatedly.

  Instinctively, she felt that the more they criticized Markus, the more she’d feel close to him. That what was happening was forcing them closer together in a world that was far away from the incomprehension of others.

  Chloé left the office, feeling like a stupid idiot. She so wanted to have a privileged relationship with Natalie and had gone about it like a fool. Nevertheless, she really was shocked. Didn’t she have the right to express it? What’s more, she wasn’t the only one. There was something outlandish in the idea of those two being together. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Markus, nor even that she found him repugnant, it was just that she couldn’t manage thinking of him with a woman. She’d always considered him a UFO from the world of men; whereas, in her eyes, Natalie had always represented a sort of feminine ideal. That is why their association disturbed her and instinctively pushed her to react. She was well aware that she’d been insensitive, but when everyone asked her, “So? So? Any information?” she figured her privileged position ought to hold some real weight.

  Eighty-five

  Excuses Used by Employees

  to Go and See Markus

  I’d really like to take my wife on vacation

  to Sweden this summer. Have any advice to give me?

  *

  Got an eraser?

  *

  Oh, sorry. I went to the wrong office.

  *

  Still working on 114?

  *

  Is your intranet working?

  *

  It really is a drag that your fellow Swede died

  before he had the time to see the success of his trilogy.

  Eighty-six

  In the middle of the afternoon, Natalie and Markus took a break together and met on the roof. It had become their refuge, their vault. As soon as their eyes met, they understood that something unusual was happening. That both of them had become targets for others’ curiosity. They began to laugh at such idiocy and held each other close, the best way to create silence. Natalie murmured that she wanted to see him that evening and even wished that evening were now. It was beautiful, it was sweet, of an unexpected intensity. Markus was embarrassed, because he wasn’t free. It was a dreadful quandary: he was beginning to consider every second without Natalie as meaningless, and yet he absolutely couldn’t cancel dinner with his boss. Natalie was surprised and didn’t dare ask what he had planned. She was particularly astonished to find herself suddenly in a weak position, the one who waits. Markus explained to her that he was having dinner with Charles.

  “Tonight? He invited you to dinner?”

  At that moment she didn’t know whether she should laugh or be furious. Charles didn’t have the right to have dinner with a member of her team without even informing her. She understood immediately that it had nothing to do with work. Up to now, Markus hadn’t really been trying to dissect the reason for his boss’s sudden interest. After all, it was plausible: he was doing a good job on 114.

  “And did he say why he wanted to have dinner with you?”

  “Um … yes … he wanted to congratulate me …”

  “That doesn’t seem weird to you? Do you think he has dinner with every employee he wants to congratulate?”

  “You know, I found him so weird that nothing he does seems weird.”

  “That’s for sure. You’re right.”

  Natalie adored Markus’s way of taking things. It could pass for naïveté, but it wasn’t. There was something sweet about it in a childlike sense, a capacity for accepting situations, even the wackiest ones. He went up to her and kissed her. It was their fourth kiss, the most natural. At the beginning of a relationship, you can analyze almost every kiss. Everything stands out perfectly in a memory that advances slowly into the confusion of repetition. Natalie decided not to say a word about Charles and his grotesque motives. Markus would discover for himself what was hiding behind this dinner.

  Eighty-seven

  Markus had gone quickly to his place to change because his get-together with his boss wasn’t until nine o’clock. As was his habit, he wavered among several sports jackets. And opted for the most professional-looking one. The most serious, not to say the grimmest. He looked like an undertaker on vacation. Just when he needed to take the suburban train again there was a problem. Already, the passengers were beginning to get excited. They lacked information. Was it a fire? A suicide attempt? No one really knew. The panic reached Markus’s car, and his first thought was that he was going to keep his boss waiting. Which was the case. Charles had been sitting there for more than ten minutes, drinking a glass of red wine. He was feeling annoyed, even very annoyed, because no one had ever kept him waiting like this. And certainly not an employee of whose very existence he’d been unaware that same morning. However, at the heart of the annoyance another feeling was born. The same feeling he’d experienced that morning, but this time it was coming back with more force. It had to do with a certain fascination. That guy was really capable of anything. Who would dare arrive late to a meeting like this? Who had the ability to fly in the face of authority like this? There was nothing else to say about it. This man deserved Natalie. It was undeniable. It was mathematical. It was chemical.

  Sometimes, when you’re late, you tell yourself that it won’t help anything to run. You tell yourself that thirty-five minutes has exactly the same import as thirty. So you might as well add a little waiting to the other person’s share of waiting, and avoid arriving in a sweat. This is what Markus decided. He didn’t want to seem out of breath and red-faced. He knew it: as soon as he ran just a little, he looked like a newborn baby. So he left the subway terrified at the idea of being so late (and not having been able to apologize because he didn’t have his boss’s cell phone number), yet still walking. And that’s how he appeared at his dinner, nearly an hour late, acting calm, very calm. The black sports jacket accentuated the spectral effect that bordered on the funereal. A little like a film noir in which the hero comes forth in silence from the shadows. Charles had almost finished a bottle of wine while waiting. It had made him romantic, nostalgic. He didn’t even listen to Markus’s excuses about the suburban train line. His arrival was grace incarnate.

  And the evening would find its bearings on the triumph of that first impression.

  Eighty-eight

  Miss Teschmacher and Lex Luthor Discussing Superman

  in the Movie Superman (1978)

  MISS TESCHMACHER: Lex, what’s the story on this guy? Do you think it’s the genuine article?

  LEX LUTHOR: If he is, he’s not from this world.

  MISS TESCHMACHER: Why?

  LEX LUTHOR: Because, if any human being were going to perpetrate such a fantastic hoax, it would have been me!

  Eighty-nine

  During the entire dinner, Markus was astounded by Charles’s behavior. The latter babbled, blabbed, bumbled. He was incapable of finishing a sentence. Flew into sudden bursts of laughter, but never at the moment when Markus was trying to be funny. He was like somebody with jet lag in relation to the present moment. After a while, Markus dared to ask, “Are you all right?”

  “All right? Me? You know, since yesterday, constantly. Especially right now.”

  The incoherence of that answer confirmed Markus’s suspicions. Charles hadn’t gone com
pletely insane. He was quite aware, during rare flashes of lucidity, that he was losing his marbles. But he couldn’t get hold of himself. He was suffering from some kind of short circuit. The Swede sitting opposite him had turned his life, his system upside down. He was struggling to return to reality. As for Markus, although his past was far from eventful, he was close to thinking that this dinner was the most ghastly one of his life. And when it came to ghastly, he was well versed. However, he couldn’t refrain from beginning to feel compassion, the desire to help this man who was going to the dogs.

  “Can I do something for you?”

  “Yes, definitely, Markus … I’m going to think about it, that’s nice. Now, it’s true, you are nice … it shows … in your way of looking at me … you’re not judging … I understand everything … I understand everything, now …”

  “You understand what?”

  “But I understand for Natalie. The more I see you, the more I understand everything I’m not.”

  Markus put down his glass. He’d started to suspect that all of this could have something to do with Natalie. Contrary to all expectations, his first feeling was one of relief. It was the first time that someone had talked to him about her. At that precise moment, Natalie was disengaged from fantasy. She entered into the real part of his life.

  Charles went on. “I love her. Did you know that I love her?”

  “I definitely think you’ve had too much to drink.”

  “So? Being drunk won’t change anything. I’m still lucid, very much so. Lucid about everything I’m not. Looking at you, I realize the point to which I’ve wasted my life … the point to which my life hasn’t stopped being trivial, and a permanent compromise … it will seem crazy to you, but I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told a soul: I wanted to be an artist … yes, I know, same old song … but really, when I was little, I adored painting little boats … it was pure bliss … I have a whole collection of miniature gondolas … I put hours into painting them … into being so precise with every detail … how I would have loved to keep painting … to live my life in that kind of frenzied calm … and instead of that, I’m stuffing myself with Krisprolls throughout the day … and those days go on forever … they’re about as different from one another as the Chinese are … and my sex life … my wife … all that stuff … I don’t even want to talk about it … I realize all of it now … I see you, and I realize …”