Necropolis

by Santiago Gamboa

  Soon afterwards, while still on Capri, Gunard met Renate Schlink, a young Swiss woman who was spending her summer vacation there. They chatted one afternoon on the beach and she showed great interest in his stories about chess, which were the young man’s whole life. When night fell, as in a scene from a novel, they entered the sea holding hands, watched the stars come out, and kissed each other in the warm waters of the Tyrrhenian Sea. Renate had already had some experiences with men, and she it was who threw aside her bikini and rummaged in Gunard’s swimming trunks. Going with the flow, he penetrated her, stunned by the revelation of what a conversation with a woman could lead to. Then he felt a trembling in his pelvis and was about to withdraw, but she stopped him and received his seed, which much to the surprise of both of them reached its target. One afternoon three months later, as Gunard was analyzing a position in a game between Mikhail Tal and Botvinnik, he received a call from Zurich in which Renate said to him in an anguished voice, listen, you want to hear something strange? You’re going to be a father!

  Soon afterwards, there was a hastily arranged civil wedding in Monte Carlo, and the two families, who knew each other from Capri, showed great understanding toward the two young people and were even happy, in spite of the suddenness of the whole thing and the fact that it had all come about by accident. Gunard’s father had an additional reason to feel happy. He was relieved to have this proof of his son’s masculinity.

  After the wedding, Renate and Gunard settled in Gothenburg, in an apartment owned by the Flø family in the Ulmbjorg district–in a building that today houses the Hotel Osaka–but in spite of the rich, cushioned life they led, Renate Schlink, thanks to the dark, oppressive atmosphere of those far regions of the world and its obvious effects on the psyche of anyone born in more southern latitudes, went through a crisis and said, I don’t know what you think or want to do, but I’m going to have my child in Switzerland. Gunard, who had a conciliatory personality, left with her and soon afterwards their son was born in Zurich and christened Ebenezer.

  Two months later, Theodor Momsen joined him and settled into an apartment on Heinestrasse, very close to the Schlink residence, so that he could continue the young man’s chess training.

  Gunard would spend the day in his study facing the Lindenhof, studying games with Momsen, while Renate remained in her parents’ house with little Ebenezer. One night, coming back later than usual, the young woman went up to the study to say hello to her husband and gave a cry of horror. Gunard was sitting by the window, with the light off. He had put on one of her dresses and a blonde wig. What are you doing? she asked, on the verge of tears, switching the light on, but he said, please turn that off, I prefer the dark, I’m looking at the moon.

  Obviously I’m not talking about that! she said, I want to know what you’re doing in those clothes! Oh, he said, it’s just that I feel freer this way, as if my spirit could fly all the way to the moon and sit down in one of its craters and think in solitude or think about how strange and miraculous it is to be alive while I travel those lunar valleys and linger before the vast depths, and Renate wept bitterly, and said, you’re going crazy, darling, chess is driving you crazy, you have to stop playing and live like other people, go shopping, look at what’s in the windows, meet friends, have a few beers, that’s what you need. Her tears turned into a nervous breakdown.

  She tore the wig and the dress off him, which only made things worse, because she saw with horror that he had also put on her underwear—bra and panties—and Gunard said, you want me to be somebody else and go to bars, but I’m fine just staying here by the window, looking at the moon, don’t you see? I’m not harming anyone, not you, not little Ebenezer, and when he said this she replied, be grateful that he’s just a baby and doesn’t know anything, how do you think he’d feel if he saw his father dressed as a woman? Gunard looked at her and replied, he’d be curious and would ask me why I do it, and I’d answer the same way I answered you, I’d tell him the truth, and he’d have to understand, Renate, because he’s my son and he’d be happy to see his father at peace.

  The next day Renate called her father-in-law in Gothenburg and told him what she had seen, and he asked, but do you have normal relations? She said yes, many times, she had no complaints about that side of things. Then Gunard’s father replied: it’ll pass, it’s something he’s had since he was a child and finds it hard to let go of, but it’ll pass, believe me, and by the time she put the phone down she was feeling somewhat reassured. From that night Gunard’s father and Renate sealed a secret alliance based on fear of something they did not dare name, which was the possibility that Gunard was a homosexual and was hiding it, or refusing to accept it.

  Renate started taking precautions, like keeping her closet locked and collecting her used clothes every day. She also, very reluctantly, started not coming home at nights. The routine had been that she would spend the day with little Ebenezer in her mother’s country house outside Zurich and come back late in the afternoon. But now when the time came for her to leave, she would feel a great sense of unease, so she would call Gunard and say, I’m staying here, Eby has a cough and I don’t want him to be in the cold air, and he would reply, don’t worry, darling, I’m going to miss you, but I’ll see you tomorrow.

  During this period, Gunard usually stayed up late studying games, alone or with Momsen, and now that Renate was staying away more frequently, three or even four times a week, he would sleep in the study and the next day the maids or even Renate would find him asleep over the chess table, a cup of cold coffee beside him. He has to give up this evil game, she would say, the damn thing will be the death of him.

  She immediately launched a campaign against chess, deciding that she would never leave him alone but constantly create things they urgently had to do together, always involving little Ebenezer. When it was his time to study with Momsen, Renate would press him to go with her on some errand or other that, according to her, could not be postponed, and he would obey. But one night he said, Renate, I want to get back to chess, so don’t schedule any activities between nine in the morning and five in the afternoon. She lost her temper and said, it’s obvious you don’t care about our life, it’s obvious what happens to your son doesn’t interest you, it’s obvious I don’t matter to you. When she saw him looking at her in silence, without contradicting her or arguing, she lost her temper and said: what you want is to be alone so you can wear my clothes and my underwear! And she added, beside herself, God knows what you get up to with Mr. Momsen when I don’t see the two of you, do you act like a woman? does he like my panties? was he the one who taught you to dress like that?

  Gunard said nothing, unable to think up any answer to such accusations. He merely shrugged his shoulders and looked at her curiously, until she burst into tears, struck her chest, and head and said, admit you’re having an affair with him, admit you’re a lousy queer and you love him, admit you’d give your life to be with him all the time and sleep with him and spend Christmas with him, admit it, monster, admit it now!

  Gunard replied: I don’t know why you’re saying that, Theodor and I do nothing but study chess, that’s all I have to say, and he opened the front door. Before he could go out, Renate ran and threw herself in front of him. She traced an imaginary line on the floor and said, if you cross this you can’t come back, you’ll be gone forever and little Ebenezer and I will be on our own. Gunard hesitated for a moment, looked down at the line, and strode across it. Then he said: the field is clear, when you calm down you can come back, I’ll be waiting for you with the same love and concern I’ve always had for you and our child.

  Then he turned and went out, and she watched him walk along Lindenhofstrasse and turn toward the Limmat. What hurt her most was that Gunard did not look back or give any indication that he was interested in what he was leaving behind. Quite the contrary. From the way he was walking, which she knew well, he seemed lost in thought, the kind of thoughts she had never been privy to, connected with that evil game, so she
closed the door with dignity and, remembering an old movie, said to herself, he’ll be back in a few hours begging my forgiveness, groveling on the floor wanting to come in, an image that gave her back her pride. And she went upstairs to wait for him in one of his rooms.

  The wait was in vain. Gunard did not appear that evening or night, or the next day, or any of the days that followed, so Renate, feeling desperate and guilty, decided to call Mr. Flø in Gothenburg and tell him everything. Gunard’s father was very worried and said to his daughter-in-law, leave everything to me, I’m on my way.

  The next day he landed in Zurich, booked into the Hotel Eden au Lac, facing the lake formed by the River Limmat, and there he met with Renate, who explained the situation with tears in her eyes, all the while embracing little Ebenezer.

  Stellan Flø, who knew a lot about domestic disputes, said, if I’ve understood correctly it was you who forbade him to come back, wasn’t it? and she replied, that was what I said that day to stop him walking out, to which Stellan Flø replied, it’s no good putting somebody as fragile as Gunard to the test and hoping he’ll react like any other human being, it was a mistake and we’re going to try to rectify it, that’s why I’m here, I’m on your side. The reason he hasn’t come back is that he agreed to your request not to do so, but I doubt that’s what he wants. Let me talk to him.

  He went to see his son and found him in his study, analyzing a game with his teacher, Momsen. Gunard was very happy to see his father and asked him if he would like a cup of tea; then he said, look at this position, do you think there’s any way the whites can get anything more than a draw? His father looked at the pieces for a while and said, I don’t know, I have no way of knowing, but to be honest I can’t concentrate on chess right now, and the young man asked, is something wrong, father? Stellan Flø, with a mixture of indignation and affection, said, yes, what’s wrong is that my son is throwing his life away and that worries me, doesn’t it worry you?

  Realizing that father and son were about to start a serious conversation, Mr. Momsen excused himself and left, and Gunard said, did Renate call you? His father told him the reason for his visit and asked him what he was planning to do, go back to her or separate and leave his son? Gunard avoided looking him in the eyes and said, Father, everything has been very complicated, she doesn’t understand my way of life, in fact she rejects it, she feels threatened by it. I can’t understand why, my desires are harmless and concern only me, they’re solitary pleasures that change nothing on the face of the earth, don’t you see that, Father? and Stellan Flø said, yes, I do, but you have to realize that to her it seems as if something isn’t working when she comes home and finds her husband in her clothes and underwear, can you at least understand that?

  Gunard insisted that he was not harming anyone. Neverthe­less, his father managed to persuade him to put on his coat and go out to the house, where Renate and little Ebenezer were waiting for him. Nothing especially unusual happened at the reunion. Renate acted with dignity, waiting for words of repentance that did not come, but in the end they gave each other an embrace that left Stellan Flø feeling very relieved, and he invited them to dinner at the restaurant of his hotel.

  What happened later you can all imagine. The reconciliation was the first crack in a dam that was about to break, but the final impulse did not come, as many of you may already be thinking, from another of Gunard’s transvestite episodes, but from the entrance onto the scene of a Norwegian collector, Edvard Gynt, who was in Zurich to handle some financial matters and ended up seducing Renate. This time, it was Gunard who was forced to witness an awkward scene, coming back from his study one day and passing a car parked near the house. Purely as a reflex action, he glanced inside the car and recognized Edvard, with his pants down around his knees. Renate was leaning over him, her blonde hair bobbing up and down at a frenetic rhythm while the collector, with his eyes closed, was sighing and gripping the wheel tightly.

  Gunard waited on a nearby bench and when he saw her get out he approached and said: I saw what you were doing. Renate burst into tears and rebuked him, it’s your fault, you abandoned me. He did not reply, not even with a gesture of anger or sorrow. This exasperated Renate, who said, you’re a closet queen, how do you think that makes a woman feel? He looked at her and said nothing, and she continued: you have sex with me, but only to conceal your true nature, you’re Momsen’s lover, I know you are, so don’t look at me like that, what you saw in Edvard’s car is normal in a woman whose husband has left her, and the judges will understand that if you’re planning to sue me for a divorce, what will they say when they find out you dress like a woman?

  Gunard remained silent, looking at her without malice, and she said, don’t try to take the boy away from me in the courts, if you do I’ll report you as a homosexual and a pederast, and who do you think they’re going to believe? you or me? do you dare to find out? If that’s what you want, you just have to go and tell your lawyer what you saw in that car, and you’ll see how things will turn against you. If what you want is a court case you’ll lose everything and will even have to give me your damn chess sets.

  Having said this, Renate calmed down and went to bed, and he shrugged, turned, and went back to his study.

  Weeks later, attending, as an observer, a tournament at Zurich town hall involving Grand Masters such as Elmor Topkin and Constantino Reina, he met a 32-year-old woman named Cécile Roth, who came from a Lithuanian Jewish family and was married to the great Swiss banker and chess enthusiast Seymour W. Maeterlinck. Gunard had that absent expression that took possession of him whenever there were pieces moving across a chessboard, and that was why it took him a while to notice that Cécile could not take her eyes off him. When the games were over (ending in Topkin’s entirely predictable victory) there was a cocktail party thrown by the town council, at which the players were able to talk with the public. It was there that Cécile approached the young Swede.

  They talked about the tournament, and Topkin’s victory (his fourth successive one in Zurich), and the strange final position, with two knights crossed and a bishop in the middle. By the second glass of champagne, Cécile’s cobalt-blue eyes had done the trick, and Gunard, with the same innocence with which he did everything, said, it’s a pity you’re married, I’d love to spend the night with you. Cécile replied, it’s true I’m married, but there are exceptions to everything. Then she handed him a piece of paper and said, write down the address of the place where I have to go so that you can have what you want, and then she returned to her husband’s arm.

  Gunard went back to his studio feeling somewhat confused and without holding out any hope, but just before midnight there was a knock at his door, and there she was. She kissed him and said, quick now, this first time will have to be very quick. They made love on the carpet and when they had finished she leaped to her feet, adjusted her clothes and went to the door. I’m taking your telephone number, she said, I’ll be in touch very soon, goodbye. And she left.

  Gunard sat on the couch in the studio, naked, unable to believe what had happened and with an angel in his throat, to quote Rilke.

  For the first time, he felt there was something that could distract him completely from the world, from his own world, and so he sat naked on the couch for the next two days, waiting for Cécile, unwilling to get her smell off him.

  She did not come. Instead, Renate showed up. Gunard opened the door without putting anything on, like some mad satyr. Renate looked at him with contempt and said, well, you’re making progress, at least you aren’t dressed like a woman, and he said, you don’t know who I am, and sank into complete silence. He refused to tell her if he was coming home or if he wanted to ask for a divorce. Nor did he speak when she asked him, as tactfully as she could, what exactly did you see that night in Edvard’s car? At last Renate left and he was able to return to his couch and his thoughts, which were all of Cécile’s body and her smell and the way she pronounced every syllable before she had left. He went over and over her
words, “I’ll be in touch very soon”; he made an effort to see her as she had said it, analyzing her facial muscles, the way she pushed her lips forward in a smile, the kiss she blew him on her index finger, the noise of the door as it closed.

  Two more days passed and Momsen, who until now had never given him any advice on anything other than chess, decided to help him, saying: Gunard, a man sitting on a couch waiting for a woman is a classic situation, what you’re doing now has been done at least once by most of our fellows, that’s why I understand you, that feeling of being at the bottom of an abyss, the rapid heartbeats, the loss of appetite, and the conviction that if that person doesn’t return, a slab of granite will fall on our head and we’ll be buried in a wave of grief and solitude, I know that, it stops us breathing and puts us in a highly sensitive state, any story reduces us to tears, the words of every song hurt us, we can’t go to the movies and concentrate, the whole universe is a metaphor for that person we’re yearning for, who doesn’t come, that’s the way it is, you’re experiencing something tremendously human that has inspired a great deal of poetry and art, because although it’s unpleasant to live through, once we’ve overcome it, it becomes a source of ideas, esthetic ideas, even scientific ones, and it’s the best inheritance we can leave ourselves, always remember, there’s nothing worse than the frivolity and foolishness of those who have never suffered, those whose fears are abstract concepts, no, my friend, what truly moves us men, what drives us to dig in the magma where what doesn’t yet exist can be found, what makes us search for what we lack or what we are not, is the fear of going back to those solitary hours, the fear of being unable to breathe, the fear of losing the certainty that the world, after a night in darkness, will return to the light because there is somebody close: all that is at the origin of creation, don’t forget that chess is an esthetic, use this experience to make yourself strong.