Story of a Sociopath

by Julia Navarro

  It was a memorable night. Sunrise found us at Blanca’s apartment, where we’d gone for one last drink. We said goodbye with the sorrow of those who know that their time together has ended.

  When everyone had left Blanca started to make coffee. I was still standing, in spite of how drunk I was.

  Blanca had been concerned all night about not forgetting to eat. “You have to soak up the alcohol with something,” she insisted, and I did as she said.

  She prepared a tray with a pot of coffee and a plate of toast, butter, and jam. We breakfasted almost in silence. We were exhausted.

  “I have to get to class. If you want you can stay and sleep awhile.”

  “No, I’ll go back to the hotel. Then I’ll have lunch with the others. We need to talk about the future.”

  “You think today’s the best day to do that? You can’t decide your future when you’re tired.”

  “And why not?” I asked, surprised by her assertion.

  “Because you’re all on edge, you want to sleep, your head hurts…Your brain will be telling you to rest but since you can’t, you’ll be irritable. You might even end up getting angry. I’d put off the conversation until you’re back in London. When are you leaving?”

  “Today,” I replied, ashamed for not having said so earlier.

  “Then you’d better rest for a few hours at your hotel.”

  “Huh. I didn’t know you were so eager to get rid of me.”

  Blanca looked at me very seriously and took a bite of her toast, putting the words she’d prepared to say to me in order.

  “We’ve had fun, Thomas. But I’ve always known that you were just passing through. If I’m perfectly honest with you I’d have liked it if that weren’t the case, if you had fallen a little bit in love with me as I have with you. But you’ve been honest with me. You’ve never led me to believe that I mean anything more to you than the good times we’ve shared together. I won’t say it doesn’t hurt. Of course it does. But things are how they are. You were only in Madrid temporarily and at some point you were going to have to leave. And that point is now—today is the day. Period. Like the corny cliché goes, it was good while it lasted.”

  She stood up and went into the bathroom. I listened as she shut the bolt and then the shower water began to run. I got dressed. The coffee had helped to clear away some of the dull fog in my brain from the alcohol.

  I left without saying goodbye. Blanca didn’t want goodbyes. I didn’t want to spoil what we had had with a tearful scene. I preferred to remember her good side.

  I realized that I knew hardly anything about Blanca. During the time we had shared we’d barely talked about ourselves; we had joined our naked bodies together but not our feelings, not our emotions. From her, however, I would always have a love for Chopin’s piano sonatas.

  On the way to the hotel I saw a florist. I should have gone inside, bought two dozen red roses and sent them to Blanca. But I didn’t. I don’t know if she would have expected me to do something like that. Maybe she would have liked it.

  I imagine her surprise upon opening the door and finding the boy from the florist handing her a bouquet. No card. Not that that would have fooled her. She’d have known it was from me.

  —

  But I didn’t do that. I sent no roses. Blanca was already out of my life. She meant nothing to me. Why waste my time on some useless gesture? Now I know that I should have done it. She deserved it. She was the only woman who asked nothing from me, whom I didn’t deceive precisely because she expected nothing from me. Or did she? Roses might have taken the edge off her sadness.

  —

  Midmorning I went to López’s agency. He was in the office, working with the rest of the team as if he hadn’t spent the previous night drinking. We had lunch together. It was a professional goodbye. Then I went back to the hotel to pack my suitcase and, following Blanca’s advice, told Cooper and Evelyn that we’d talk in London. It was Friday. We’d have the whole weekend to think. It would do us good.

  When I got back to London I went to Madame Agnès’s that same Friday night. Yoko was talking to an older man. Or rather, he was talking and she was listening with a smile, as if whatever he was saying was the most important thing in the world to her.

  I watched her for some time as I drank a glass of champagne. I listened to Madame Agnès prattling on, complaining about my absence.

  When the gentleman talking to Yoko stood up, I took advantage of the moment to approach her. Her smile didn’t change. It seemed frozen on her face.

  “I’m pleased to see you,” I said, extending my hand.

  Yoko shook it briefly. She didn’t seem uncomfortable, just indifferent.

  “What days do you come to Madame Agnès’s house? I’ve asked about you before, but they told me they don’t know when you come.”

  “Yes, I usually only say so on the day itself. I don’t like to make commitments. I come when I need to. Sometimes I go weeks without being here.”

  “And today you needed to.”

  “I’m sorry, but you know personal conversations aren’t allowed here. And that’s something I fully agree with. Please don’t ask questions, Mr….”

  “Spencer. I see you’ve already forgotten who I am.”

  “Mr. Spencer, this is a very pleasant place. Everyone’s a gentleman here. The conversations are interesting most of the time, although sometimes there’s a tendency toward small talk.”

  The old man approached us. He didn’t seem concerned to see Yoko talking to another man. Everyone obeyed the rules here, so there couldn’t be any conflict. Madame Agnès came over immediately. I imagine she wasn’t concerned about the old man’s manners, but she was about mine.

  “My dear, I’d like to introduce you to someone. Will you excuse us?”

  And taking my arm, she dragged me to the other end of the room. A man was there talking to two young women. One of them I had never seen before. She couldn’t have been any older than twenty. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and didn’t need it. She had incredibly long black eyelashes, as black as the long hair she wore loose. She was wearing a plain pink dress and no jewelry. She didn’t need that either. She was truly beautiful.

  “Nataly, I’d like to introduce you to a dear friend of mine, Mr. Spencer. Anne you already know, and I think Mr. Smith too. Oh, but your glasses are empty! Let me get you some champagne.”

  I joined the conversation. There was nothing else to do, unless I wanted to make a fool of myself and have Madame Agnès instruct me to leave and never come back. Even so, I stood in such a way that I could watch Yoko.

  The group was having some insipid conversation about horses. Mr. Smith (clearly not his real name—his face reminded me of someone I’d seen on television during a session of Parliament) was prattling on about a Thoroughbred’s form. Nataly and Anne listened intently, as if they really cared about the correct distance between a racehorse’s knee and hoof. I knew nothing about horses and simply listened and nodded like the girls did.

  When “Smith” took a sip of his champagne, Nataly seized the moment to ask me to accompany her to the buffet. The girl wanted to get away from that bore. She must have thought that if she had to spend the rest of the night with him he’d treat her like one of his mares.

  We served ourselves some salmon and sat close to Yoko and the old man.

  “You like her, don’t you?” she asked me, looking at Yoko.

  “What do you mean?” I replied in surprise.

  “Everyone who’s with her always comes back to find her again. She must have some exceptional skills. She drives them crazy,” she said brazenly.

  “Well, I don’t know—”

  “Of course you do. I’m certain you’ve been with her—you can’t stop looking at her. Careful now, because Madame Agnès won’t let you out of her sight. You know how strict she is with the rules.”

  “And you’ve got a mouth on you,” I replied.

  “It’s the third time I’ve come here. It’s not b
ad. And yeah, I have a hard time following the rules. You can’t say who you are, you can’t go on dates outside the house, you can’t have personal conversations…I guess that’s how she keeps all this working without any problems.”

  “Since neither of us cares for the rules, what do you do?”

  “I study at the University of London. It’s my first term and I’m saving up for the admission fees to Oxford. I’m very good at quantum physics. But not everyone can afford to study at Oxford, as you can imagine. It’s not just paying for admission, the rest of the course is expensive too, and so is living there.”

  “And your parents?”

  “Immigrants. They’ve lived here thirty years. I was born in London. As you can imagine they can’t afford to pay for me to study at Oxford. They’ve done enough to get me this far.”

  “Where are they from?”

  “My father’s Mexican, my mother Indian. I’m a real mix.”

  “Did they meet here?”

  “Yes. My father came here to earn a living and got a job in construction. He met my mother at the dry cleaner where she was working. They had nothing in common, but they got on, and even though my mothers’ parents were against it, they decided to get married. My mother is an untouchable.”

  “That’s some story.”

  “Like so many others. There’s nothing that special to it. London is full of people like me, don’t you think? And where are you from? You look South American, but you’re rich, that’s clear to see.”

  Nataly had the gift of spontaneity. I enjoyed talking with her, but that didn’t mean I stopped watching Yoko. I tensed up when I saw her leave the room accompanied by that geriatric. I knew where they were going. They would go upstairs to one of those soberly decorated, elegant suites. A lounge with a table on which there was always champagne and canapés, and a door that led to a bedroom.

  “You really like her?” Nataly asked, as she in turn watched me.

  “Don’t pry,” I admonished her.

  “I’m not, but if you don’t want Madame Agnès to get angry at you then you ought to hide it better. Are you going to spend the night with me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You mean you don’t want to. I get it—you came here looking for Yoko. In that case, I can’t stay here with you much longer. I have to work.”

  “We don’t need to go to a room. I’ll pay all the same.”

  “But that’s not in the house rules. Madame Agnès won’t like it.”

  “How long do you think that old guy will take?” I asked, referring to Yoko’s companion.

  “However long Yoko wants. She’s a miracle worker, or so I’ve heard around here. Never less than an hour, of course. This is a respectable house; it would be vulgar for a gentleman to be with a girl for any less than an hour. That’s what Madame Agnès says.”

  “Well then, we’re going to break the rules. We’ll go upstairs to a room and come down in half an hour.”

  “I’m not sure…”

  “That’s what we’re going to do.”

  I grabbed her hand and pulled her along rather roughly. Madame Agnès was watching and frowned. She required her girls to be treated with care. Before we could leave the room she planted herself in front of us.

  “Everything all right, Nataly?”

  “Of course, Madame.”

  “Would you like to eat something more substantial and relax awhile, or would you prefer to stay here and have another glass of champagne?” she asked Nataly, not looking at me.

  “Mr. Spencer and I thought we might like to talk somewhere a little less noisy,” Nataly replied determinedly.

  “Perfect. I’ll send up a nice chilled bottle of champagne.”

  We went up to a suite. Nataly went to the bathroom and I waited for the champagne to arrive. The waiter took only a couple of minutes.

  Nataly returned barefoot to the room and sat on the sofa. I handed her a glass, which she sipped unwillingly.

  “Honestly, I don’t really like champagne. I’d prefer a Coke. But they don’t have it here.”

  I let out a loud burst of laughter. If Yoko didn’t exist, I could end up liking this girl. She was unabashedly candid.

  “You don’t like alcohol?”

  “Not at all, but I can’t turn down champagne. It’s a house rule. What are we going to do?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Well, if you really don’t want Yoko to slip past you we shouldn’t be here longer than forty-five minutes. Will that be enough time?”

  “For me to sleep with you?”

  “Of course.”

  “Yes. Come on, leave the champagne and let’s go to the bedroom. You’re right, we haven’t got time to lose.”

  She stood up reluctantly. I guess she was hoping that, since I was so interested in Yoko, she would be free from the obligation of another sex session. I could have let her off, but I didn’t. That champagne and that room were going to cost me a great deal, so I thought I’d get my money’s worth.

  Nataly mechanically went through the motions. She didn’t even bother to pretend. She must have thought that since I liked someone else it wasn’t worth going through all the effort to make me believe that I was Tarzan himself.

  She slipped away from me gently, saying that it surely must be time. She got up and went to the bathroom, and when she came out she had an air of freshness and innocence about her, as if she hadn’t just got out of bed.

  “Do you know where Yoko lives?”

  “No, she doesn’t talk much. And Madame Agnès doesn’t like us to make friends. We come here, we do our job, and then we leave. You know that we aren’t all alike. Yoko is the quietest—she ignores us even, as if she thinks she’s special.”

  “You don’t like her?”

  “I don’t care about her. I imagine she’s here for the same reasons we all are. She needs to be. It’s a quick way of making money. You come twice a week and you take home eight hundred pounds. Not bad, don’t you think?”

  “She’s a student too. You’ve never crossed paths with her at the university?”

  “No, I’ve never seen her. What does she study?”

  “It doesn’t matter; I thought you might know more than you’re letting on. I’m prepared to pay well for any information about Yoko: where she lives, if she has parents…things like that.”

  “And if she has a boyfriend, of course. I’m guessing that’s what you’re most interested in.” She laughed.

  “Don’t get smart.”

  “I am smart, and it’s obvious that you’re smitten with her. Okay, I’ll try and find out everything I can, but it won’t be easy. Five hundred pounds for the information.”

  “I’ll pay if it’s worth my time.”

  “Then no deal. I don’t want to find something out only for you to decide that it wasn’t worth the effort. You’ll have to pay me.”

  “All right.”

  “I come Tuesdays and Fridays.”

  When we went downstairs I looked around the room but Yoko wasn’t there. I had another glass of champagne with Nataly and decided to leave.

  Madame Agnès came over to say goodbye. Her sickly sweet smile concealed her distrust of me.

  “How early! It’s not even ten. Didn’t you find our little Nataly charming?”

  “Of course, Madame, and I’ll be back very soon in the hope of seeing her. It’s always a pleasure visiting your house.”

  “You’re always welcome here, Mr. Spencer.”

  I decided to wait at the corner until Yoko left and then follow her home. I was sure that Nataly would do whatever she could to earn that five hundred pounds I’d promised her, but I wasn’t certain she’d be able to discover anything.

  Yoko didn’t leave until midnight. I recognized her slim figure wrapped up in a black coat. A taxi stopped outside the door of the house and she got inside. I cursed myself for not having foreseen that something like this might happen. Now I couldn’t follow her. The taxi passed by me an
d I could see her through the window. Our eyes met, though she showed no sign of recognition.

  It was cold and I felt nostalgic for the Madrid night—at this time of year, late March, the air would have been warm.

  Even so, I decided to walk back to my apartment. It wasn’t far, just over half an hour if I walked quickly.

  Once again, I felt overwhelmed by loneliness. The weekend felt too long. I’d said to Evelyn and Cooper that we’d see one another on Monday, but on Saturday morning I called to invite them to lunch. They accepted, anxious for me to unveil my future plans to them. I was as honest with them as I could be.

  “I’m not part of the GCP group anymore, but I’ll still be working for them occasionally on certain things, especially with Roy.”

  “And what difference will that make?” Cooper asked worriedly.

  “It means I can also work for myself and have my own clients, though I won’t be allowed to work for any other agency.”

  “Right, okay…That’s a little odd, isn’t it?” said Evelyn.

  “I’ve decided to set up an agency. I have an agreement with GCP, but my agency could get other clients as long as their interests don’t conflict with GCP’s. And I don’t want to leave Roy hanging. I’d also like to have both of you start right away. We’d find a small office, big enough for the two of you and for Maggie to carry on as secretary and office manager. We’d have to find clients. We’d send a letter to all those mayors we did the campaigns for, reminding them that I was the one to help get them where they are. We’ll also introduce ourselves to all the largest companies to offer our services. Maybe someone might hire us for something.”

  “And how are you going to explain to the press that you don’t work for GCP anymore? First you worked for Cathy Major until you screwed her over with the Green business, then Scott and Roth, then GCP—and all this in just five years. They’ll think that there’s something not right since all these companies are kicking you out,” said Evelyn.

  “You’re right. That’s why we should move fast. We’ll set up a dinner with a handful of journalists and tell them a half-truth—that I’m sick of having a boss and I’ve decided to fly solo, together with your help. And we’ll also explain that I’m maintaining my relationship with GCP for Roy’s business. Let them think I’m ambitious and arrogant. But I want your opinion. Is it worth the effort? Guys, you’re not in any way committed to me, nor am I to you. I don’t think you’d have any problem finding work here in London, and neither would I in New York.”