“We talked about how much fun we’d had the day of our failed engagement, you remember, at your aunt’s house in Newport, and he invited me to come back there whenever I wanted. He was very friendly.”
“Will you go back?”
“To Newport?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t think so. It wouldn’t make sense. You’re not there and I don’t think it would be appropriate to accept the invitation, although I must say I was tempted. Your father and your aunt are wonderful, just like Jaime. Ah, I forgot! We agreed to meet up and play tennis one of these days. I don’t get to do it that often and your brother invited me. I couldn’t resist.”
“So now you’re making a play for my brother,” I said angrily.
Esther was silent for a moment or two. I imagined her biting her lower lip as she looked for the right words to reply.
“I could go for him, Thomas. I don’t owe you anything. But neither Jaime nor I would allow ourselves to do it. Your brother has a highly developed sense of honor and he wouldn’t do anything that could upset you. For you I’m a ship that has passed in the night, but even so he wouldn’t allow himself to start anything with me. You should know him better.”
“My perfect brother!” I said angrily.
“Look, you’re right, he’s a wonderful person. Educated, intelligent, a gentleman, and handsome too. He’s got it all.” Esther had gotten angry.
“And when’s the wedding?” I was still trying to rile her up.
“You’re an idiot, Thomas. You don’t deserve Jaime’s support, or mine.”
She hung up on me. I dialed her number again but she didn’t pick up. I kicked the sofa and cried out because I nearly broke a toe. I was jealous, very. I couldn’t bear to think that Esther and Jaime…But at the same time I realized that my brother would be much more able than I was to appreciate Esther’s qualities. Yes, they deserved each other. I didn’t know anyone better than the two of them apart from John, and merely recognizing this made me so angry I could hardly breathe.
I got drunk. I drank a bottle of whiskey on an empty stomach. The maid found me stretched out on the floor the next morning. She wasn’t surprised. Not anymore.
I couldn’t get up until the afternoon. I spent a good part of the morning throwing up, and my head throbbed so hard that I thought it was going to explode. But I made an effort and went in to the office. Jim Cooper offered me a detailed plan of what we could do in Spain. It wasn’t bad, but it needed a little more spice, a little more wickedness. I decided to send him and Evelyn to get the lay of the land while I took a trip back to New York. I couldn’t bear the idea that Esther and Jaime might become friends.
6
John was pleased to see me, as always. I dodged his hug and shook his hand. He put up with it.
He had just gotten back from the office. He was about to have lunch by himself and he asked me to join him. I accepted. I needed him to tell me what he knew about the recent friendship between Jaime and Esther. So I had a quick shower and went to the dining room, where María was waiting impatiently by the soup tureen. She looked coldly at me. I looked coldly back at her. María was very old now, but she seemed not to have forgotten my childhood exploits. We didn’t like each other. Perhaps she knew me a lot better than the rest of the family did. Also, she hadn’t ever forgiven me for the way I had treated my mother. María had loved her deeply. María thought of me in much the same way that Roy did: I was a wretch, a scoundrel.
John said nothing to me about Jaime and Esther; he must not have known that they had seen each other.
“You made a mistake breaking up with that girl. She’s a good kid and she seemed to love you. Maybe you could try again.”
“Yes, perhaps, except that your son Jaime’s getting in the way,” I said suddenly, disconcerting him.
“Jaime? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“He ‘bumped into’ Esther. He invited her to visit Newport and to play tennis with him.”
He said nothing. He seemed to be digesting my words. María watched us both as she served the roast. I could see the dislike in her eyes. It pained her that I was not more affectionate with John. María pursed her lips and served me a very small portion of meat. It was her way of punishing me.
“I don’t think that your brother would have orchestrated the meeting. It’s not the kind of thing Jaime would do. But…well, you shouldn’t have left. She won’t wait for you for the rest of her life. She’s a good kid, like I said, and sooner or later someone’s going to realize just how good she is and marry her. If you love her you still have time to try again, but if you don’t, then don’t get involved in her life…Or in anyone else’s.” John looked straight at me and I could see the hurt in his eyes.
“So, you think it’s good that Jaime’s getting my girl,” I said, angrily.
“Jaime couldn’t play a mean trick if he tried. If he said he met Esther by chance then he met her by chance. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being nice to her. Esther and Jaime got along when they first met, and getting along with someone doesn’t have to mean anything more than just that.”
“There’s no going back. I’m not going to marry her,” I said, with a conviction I did not feel.
“So why are you worried?”
“I think Jaime’s being disloyal, sticking his nose into my life. Esther is a part of my personal network.”
“And you’ve come all this way to tell him that? You’ve traveled for nothing. It’s clear that you don’t know your brother very well. Listen to me. Don’t fool yourself. Esther doesn’t belong to you, she can do whatever she wants. She’s free and she owes you nothing. You left New York and abandoned her, remember. And don’t let yourself be carried away by jealousy. Neither Esther nor Jaime deserve it.”
I don’t know whether my father had intended to return to the office that day, but he did, probably to avoid me. I’m sure the conversation had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
I stayed in the study thinking about what to do. My brother was at Harvard and wouldn’t be back until the weekend. It was Wednesday, so I would have to wait to confront him.
I was pouring myself a glass of my father’s whiskey when María came into the study. She stood in front of me. She wasn’t very tall or particularly broad, but she seemed to have grown, such was the anger she had to master in order to look at me.
“Why don’t you leave him alone? Your father is sick. Do you know that he had a heart attack a week ago? He fainted in his office.”
“So what? Does that stop us from talking to each other?” I said, angry at her interference.
“Talk? You don’t talk, Thomas, you radiate evil. You hurt everyone who loves you. The surprising thing is that there are still people who are able to love you. You behaved toward her like…like…”
“Like a pig?” I knew she was referring to my mother.
“Yes. You behaved wretchedly and now you’ve come back to hurt your father. Why? You owe him so much, and he loves you. He’s always looked out for you. He’s moved mountains to make you happy. He’s given you everything. You owe your father respect, at least.”
“He’s not my father.”
“Really? He’s really not your father? I thought that your father was the person who wiped your nose, watched over you when you were sick, put you up on his shoulders, played basketball with you, helped you with your homework…He never lifted a hand against you, though maybe he should have. He’s always been kind to you, excusing your faults, finding explanations for your rage. Don’t you dare say that John is not your father, because you are lucky that he’s behaved like the best and most generous of fathers in giving you his love.”
“When did you get a new job? Have you stopped being a maid and switched to family counseling? You have no right to meddle in our lives. And don’t you ever scold me again, or I swear I’ll get John to fire you.”
“You know what, Thomas, I don’t know anyone worse than you. You are a bad perso
n. And you don’t need to remind me that I am the maid, although neither your father nor your mother have ever treated me like a servant; they’ve always made me feel like a part of the family.”
“Well, you’re not a part of my family, so don’t get on my case. Stop telling me what you think, I don’t care. You’re a nobody, you’re nothing!”
María turned around and left the study. I thought I heard a sob. I didn’t care that she might be crying. She thought she could interfere in my business because, having known me since I was a child, she believed she could talk to me as an equal.
If I had obeyed the basic norms of decent behavior, if I had felt even a single spark of affection or pity, then I would not have treated María like this. I could have listened to her and agreed. That would have been enough:
“Did my father really have a heart attack? What happened?” I would have asked.
María would have gone into detail and I would have listened patiently.
“What did the doctor say? He must have given him something…You know what? I’m going to call the doctor. I want to know exactly what’s happening with my father. And don’t worry; I’ll try not to upset him. You’re right, he doesn’t deserve it.”
—
But I didn’t say any of this. All I did was say out loud just how much her very presence irritated me. She knew me as I truly was. She had seen me grow, get older, watched this motiveless malignity build its nest in me, this hatred for my mother that I felt without knowing why, this unease because I had not found my proper place in the world.
Yes, I should have pretended to listen and borne her reproaches with my lips tightly sealed, even if only out of respect for her age. But I didn’t have it in me to behave like that.
I called Jaime. He didn’t pick up. I was surprised, because I didn’t think he’d be in class, although I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know if he’d be on campus or at his office. I thought enviously about how my brother was on the verge of getting his degree. Soon he would be working for the same firm as John, and as my grandfather James before him. I couldn’t stop thinking about James Spencer as my grandfather, for all that I tried to force the idea out of my mind. I knew that I only had two acknowledged and authentic grandparents, my mother’s parents, Ramón and Stella, and my only other direct relative was Uncle Oswaldo, that simple man who made me feel ashamed. That was why I rejected my maternal grandparents. Stella liked to say that I was identical to Oswaldo: “Just look at him, like two peas in a pod, the same eyes, the same hands,” she would say to my mother when she came to visit us. I would run away. I didn’t want to hear it. The notion that I resembled my uncle Oswaldo was insulting to me. But my grandmother Stella was a simple woman who couldn’t understand why I rejected her. “He’s a very unfriendly little boy. You spoil him and you’ll ruin him,” she used to say to my mother. And my mother would nod, nervously, aware of the rage that filled me and afraid I would do something I shouldn’t, which would confirm what my grandmother had said.
I had not seen my maternal grandparents since the day we buried my mother. From time to time they would call me, but I would not pick up the phone. Whenever I saw their number on my phone screen I would refuse to answer. I had nothing to say to them, and there was nothing they could say that would interest me. It was all ancient history. People I had never felt close to, whom I did not love. I won’t say that my behavior toward them weighed on me. It wouldn’t be true. Now that my grandparents are dead and my uncle Oswaldo is withering away, suffering from dementia in a nursing home, I still don’t regret it. What did I have to do with them? I hadn’t chosen them.
But to return to that day in New York, I felt, once again, furious with the world and with myself. Because I couldn’t speak with Jaime I started to call Esther, then thought better of it and decided to go look for her.
She would be about to leave her office. I caught a taxi and arrived just as she stepped out of the building.
She didn’t seem surprised to see me. But she didn’t make any attempt to give me a kiss, and received mine without enthusiasm.
“I wanted to see you,” I said, and I took her arm and adjusted my pace to hers.
“I knew you’d come,” she said peevishly.
“But you’re not happy to see me.”
“Sometimes you tire me. Everything with you is always complicated. You’re not even an amusing friend.”
“I don’t want to be your friend. I want to marry you. I came here to ask you to marry me.”
“I would have liked that once, but now I don’t think it’s a good idea. In fact I think it was a stroke of luck that you left and that we didn’t go ahead with the wedding. It would have been a disaster.”
“You’re wrong. I love you and you loved me even before I loved you. I haven’t done well by you, but I’m here to sort that out. You are the only woman I can live with.”
“Yes, I’m sure. But you aren’t in love with me. You trust me, and that’s more important for you than love.”
“I don’t understand you.”
“Yes, you do, and you know I’m right. I don’t judge you. Ever since we first met I’ve accepted you for who you are. You have never had to pretend in front of me, to try to be something you’re not. That’s why you want to live with me, because you know you can tell me anything without shocking me; you also know I’ll give you good advice, and try to help you. But love, as I told you before, is something different. I thought you might learn to feel something for me, but you can’t love anyone, not even yourself.”
“I love you, Esther. I swear that I love you.”
“No, although you might think you do. In fact, all you need is for someone to give herself up to you unconditionally. Someone who will not blame you for being who you are, someone you can trust, whom you can tell everything that you do or think. And you think that the only person you know who wouldn’t betray you is me. You’re wrong. Your father and your brother wouldn’t betray you, and your aunt Emma wouldn’t, and your grandparents, the Spencers, wouldn’t either. And although I don’t know them, I’m positive that your mother’s parents wouldn’t betray you. There are lots of people who love you. The problem is that you don’t love them, and that’s why you feel so alone.”
“You’re right, the only person I love is you.”
“No, you don’t love me either.”
We walked hurriedly, but not in any particular direction. Esther was speaking with a degree of agitation, and every one of her words went straight to its target. She was right. Everything she said was right. That’s why I needed to have her by my side. That’s why I had gone to look for her in New York and why I was ready to do anything to make her agree to marry me, to be with me. With her I would stop feeling so alone.
We were silent for a long time. It was comforting to have her near me. Her mere presence calmed me down, gave me strength. With her by my side I felt capable of anything.
“Where do you want to go for dinner?” I asked her, sure that she would abandon anything she had planned for me. I was right.
“I need to call my mother; I told her that I’d give her a hand at the restaurant tonight. The whole place is reserved for a birthday party.”
I gave her arm a thankful squeeze, and then I stopped and gave her a kiss, which this time she did not reject.
“Come on. We can go to any old Chinese restaurant.”
“I’d rather go to a nice restaurant. It’s a special occasion. We have to celebrate finding each other again.”
“We’re not going to celebrate anything. I’m not wearing the proper clothes and you aren’t either. I just got out of work and I’ve been in the office since eight o’clock this morning. Look at me.”
“You look wonderful,” I said, sincerely.
Esther had learned to dress well. Stylishly. She was not wearing expensive clothes because she could not afford them, but she knew how to combine the various elements of her wardrobe and she carried off her look. I thought she was attractive, in her black
jeans, high-heeled boots, and long, unstructured jacket, which she might have bought just as easily at some couture house as at a secondhand shop. She looked Parisian.
She led me to a French restaurant in Tribeca. I didn’t know it, but it seemed to be fashionable. There were lots of admen there, and artists, and musicians…There weren’t any tables available, but I slipped the maître d’ a sizable tip and, after ten minutes and a series of protests from people who actually had reservations, he led us to a corner table. It wasn’t the best, but we would at least eat. The only thing I wanted to do was please Esther, to convince her once again that the best thing for both of us would be to share our present and our future. But I decided not to be a bore about it. I knew that in order to find a way through her suspicions I would have to make her laugh. Women grow more relaxed when they laugh, they become more trusting, and it’s easier to get to the heart of their emotions. I spent some time telling her about my life in London, but I did so in a comic style, so that she would laugh at me. She asked me about Roy and Suzi and I explained what had happened. I hesitated before doing so, but in the end I did it. She appreciated my sincerity.
“You behaved like little shits,” she said, without showing any sign of anger.
“Yes, you’re right. But Suzi made it very difficult for us. She was about to throw the whole operation into the garbage. They would have fired me. Plus, it wasn’t me who dug up all this crap about her father’s past. Bernard Schmidt served it to us on a plate. And Neil’s very good at pulling strings, seeing what he can uncover.”
“But you’ve ended their marriage. Suzi is never going to forgive Roy. As soon as she can, she’ll leave him.”
“She can’t do it.”
“The day her father dies she’ll do it. You’ll see,” she spoke with certainty.
I was always surprised by her capacity to understand the human condition. While I was busy with the present moment, she always went further, and did so by analyzing the ins and outs of people’s personalities.
Story of a Sociopath Page 41
