A Neverending Affair (8 page)

Olaf had booked them
in a small hotel at the Augusteijenkaai, three blocks away from Gravensteen, the castle. It was a pricy place with a very nice view over a channel, and it was a genuine fourteenth century building. Well, the facade was genuine, even if the interior looked like it had been totally refurbished. Ronia had indicated her approximate arrival time at the railway station, and Olaf went there to meet her. The train arrived twenty minutes earlier than she’d estimated, and she looked around and realized that she was early. She hung around at the exit and soon saw Olaf crossing the station square. She was filled with warmth, and she felt butterflies in her tummy and a pulse between her legs at the sight of him.

Oh, I am silly
, she said to herself. I’m like a teenager, filled with hormones. The guy is married. Perhaps he likes me, but he’s already in a relationship. Maybe he only sees me as a good friend. Next he’ll start to share his marital problems with me, seeking my advice on how to make his wife happy. “Just fuck her silly,” I will tell him. “In the end that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?
But is it really?
she thought.

They met, hugg
ing and kissing on the cheek as a greeting.

“Let me take your bag,
” Olaf offered. “It’s a bit of a walk. You know, most of the Belgian cities built the railway station outside the city walls. In a way, it’s nice, as it means that they maintained the old city centers, but it does mean that the train is a bit far.”

She handed her bag to him.
She felt shy, and didn’t know what to say. Her excitement over meeting him was rapidly turning into embarrassment. Was it perhaps the same with Olaf? He was quiet and thoughtful. They walked in silence for a while. After a while, Olaf started to tell her stories about Gent, its history, etc. He was speaking rapidly and a bit forced. She didn’t want to tell him that she actually knew most of the stuff that he was telling her, that what he said sounded like he had just lifted it from a tourist brochure, but she couldn’t contain her amused expression.

Suddenly he stopped and asked
, “You know all this, don’t you?”

Now don’t blow it
, Ronia. Guys want to be admired for their wits and knowledge and their potency, and any blow to their self-esteem in that regard is likely to be unproductive
, she told herself, but still it slipped out of her: “not all of it.” When she saw his sad look, she tried to make it better by stating that she had “never known exactly which year the Gravensteen was built.” In the end, that made it even worse. She cursed herself.

Silence again. “So how is the hotel
?” she asked. That turned him into a better mood.

He knew she would love it. “Nothing special
, but I hope you will like it,” he said with deliberate understatement. 

And she was indeed delighted when she saw the hotel. He had the key to her room, which was next to his. When he opened the door, he realized that he had made a mistake not checking it beforehand. Because of the location of the room next to his, he had assumed that it would have the same view, but it didn’t. Its window was facing the other side of the house with a firewall half a meter away.

“Sorry, I should have checked the room
,” he apologized. “We should switch. The room itself is nice, but there’s no view, and I know you want a view. You even specifically asked for it. Mine has a very nice view. Please take it.”

“I couldn’t do that. You keep your room.”

“Please, Ronia, I beg you. Accept my offer.”

She looked at him and then laughed.

“What?”

She continued lau
ghing.

“What
? Please tell me what’s funny!”

“Did you ever see that movie
Room with a View
? It’s one of those sweet English romantic dramas.”

“
I’m not sure.”

“In the beginning, the main character and her chaper
one have checked in into this Italian pension. And the chaperone is making a lot of fuss over the fact that there’s no view; they had been promised view and so forth. She goes on and on about it. And then this old chap offers his and his son’s room instead. Of course, they decline first, but in the end they accept. The son and the girl fall madly in love. But ultimately, she goes back to England, and there she meets the chosen one. Very sweet, very romantic, etc. etc.”

“Now I know which one you mean. They do get each other in the end like in any good movie, don’t they?”

“They surely do. In the novel by Forster that the film is based on, the ending is less happy.”

“Please take my room
, Ronia,” he repeated.

“Let’s have a look.”

He opened his room, almost a bit embarrassed over it being next to hers. She went out on the balcony and saw how nicely it sat over the channel.

“How could I resist this
?” she asked after some hesitation. “Thanks, Olaf.” She pressed a kiss on his cheek.

He got confused and embarrassed and didn’t know what to do or say, so he just stood there speechless.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“Oh, you didn’t
,” he blushed. “You didn’t, Ronia. You made my day,” he almost said, but didn’t.
But not Liv’s,
he thought when he hastily left the room. He went back to pick up her bag, and then started to pack the few things he had unpacked and brought them to the other room. They agreed to meet at six thirty.

Olaf didn’t know what to do or think. There was no point denying that he was attracted to Ronia.
A bit of flirting does no harm,
he thought. He actually noted that his love making with Liv had improved lately, and so had she. She even mentioned it the night before he left for Gent. He told her that it was because she was so hot and attractive. Which of course made her hotter and more attractive, so it was all well.
Perhaps the French tradition of having lovers isn’t such a bad thing,
he thought.
If everybody has them, it still works out nicely, and we are all equally wicked and not divided into saints and bad guys. Would I like Liv having a lover?
Of course, Ronia wasn’t yet a lover; he was still afraid of that first step, of crossing the line.

In the evening
, they went out for a walk. It was a rather mild evening. They bought mussels and french fries from a
frietkot
and sat on a bench in a
béguinage
, something like a monastery, Ronia thought. A soft drizzle began to fall, and they sought refuge in a dark bar.

“Do you like Belgian beer?” he asked.

“You mean Stella Artois and such?” she said

“No, no, I most certainly don’t mean Stella Artois, even if that is Belgian beer by name and orig
in. Stella is a beer and it is Belgian, but that’s the end of the story. It is no different from Heineken, Tuborg, Budweiser or any of the other big brands. No, I mean the real thing, beers like
trappist
beers, like
geuze
, like the ales.”

“
I’m not sure I ever tried any of those,” Ronia admitted.

“But you like beer, don’t you, or do you prefer wine?”

“It’s not either/or. I can enjoy both. Not at the same time though.” 

He ordered them a Westmalle trappist and a Hoe
gaarden wheat beer. He let Ronia try both while entertaining her with encyclopedic knowledge about Belgian beer and brewing.

“Where did you get all that knowledge from?”

“My mother’s family originates from Belgium, from a brewer’s family. I have cousins here and they made it their mission to teach me how to enjoy Belgian beer. After that, I was hooked.”

“This white beer is nice
.”

“Shall we order another one?”

“No, let’s call it a day and return to the hotel. We have a lot to do tomorrow, don’t we?”

“Good question
. I actually don’t really know. I mean, I do know that we’re both scheduled for this seminar at noon, but for the rest, I don’t know. I guess we’ll hang around at the stand and assist a bit.”

“Who
’s manning it, Selma?”

“No, one of her underlings
, and then Rachel, a basket artist from Rwanda, and Fatima, the gifted girl from Dar es Salaam, the Muslim girl I told you about,” he added, even though he immediately regretted that attribute. He didn’t like to use simple classifications for people, “black,” “socialist,” “Muslim,” etc. He felt they tended to dehumanize the person you are speaking about.  

“OK, let’s go
.”

He took her
by the arm
,
and they wandered towards the hotel. The rain had stopped
,
and the air was fresh. He steered them via the Graslei
and over the Sint-Michielsbrug, offering a piece of information here and there. She admired the view, the old buildings and the whole setting. 

“It is a great place
,” she said. “There are all these old buildings, but it is very much a living place, not at all a museum, a bit like Amsterdam. Thanks for showing me around.”

“OK
, here we are,” he said as they approached the hotel.

“Thanks again for a very nice evening
, Olaf,” she said when they reached the hallway outside her room. “I’m afraid you spoil me. Beware, it can become a habit.”

“I enjoy it
, and I think you are worth spoiling.”

“Olaf, please don’t say things like that
,” she said, looking down, her lower lip trembling.

“Ronia, what is it?” he
asked.

“Don’t be naïve
, Olaf. It’s the whole thing, the romantic evening, the beautiful room, the allure of Gent, how nice you are to me, how much fun we have together…” She stopped, turned towards the door, put the key in the lock with a firm move and turned it. She opened the door. Then she turned back to look closely at him. He was just standing there, waiting for what would happen. She pressed a kiss on his mouth, turned around and went in, closing the door rapidly behind her without saying anything more or turning around.

Olaf stood a while outside the room, contemplating what to do.
Why didn’t I embrace her and return the kiss instead of just standing there? Should I knock on her door and ask if I can come in?

In the end
, he decided not to. If she went in like that, this is what she wanted, he had to assume. He went back to his room. He felt unsettled and could not go to bed, so in the end he went out again, taking a long walk. He tried to think, to probe his own feelings, what he wanted. There was no doubt that he was attracted to Ronia.

But what does tha
t mean? What do I want? Do I want to leave Liv? No, no, I don’t. But I feel so alive with Ronia. She brings something out of me I never felt before. To be in her company is to get an injection of a rejuvenating and invigorating agent.

And well, he could not deny that he also had less no
ble and ethereal feelings. He was aroused just by her presence. His groin was aching. Coming back to the room, he took a shower. Letting hot water hammer his back, he released himself. He went to bed and slept well.

Ronia pressed her back against the door and hyper-ventilated.
What is it with this man?
she thought.
Why do I react so strongly? I should not fall in love with him. It’s one thing to have fun. Perhaps even making love is all fine, but not to fall in love. But that seems to be what’s happening. If I kiss him for real, I think it would be a done deal for me. I really have to quit this. I don’t even know if he’s really in love with me. He certainly made many of the right moves, but now when I kissed him he was stiff, didn’t open his mouth, didn’t try to hold me...

She slow
ly went about her evening ritual, washing her face, brushing her teeth, taking off the necklace and the one copper earring she always wore in her left ear. The cuff had a Celtic design—she was attracted by the Celtic culture. She gazed into the mirror, looking for herself, looking for answers, but she didn’t pose the right question.

How could she? There are no “right questions” to be asked when we are in that stage of emotional turmoil. Our intellect is simply not working as it should
, or perhaps it is overpowered by emotions.

In bed
, she read a bit, a novel she had picked up at the railway station in Paris. It was a modern thing about a group of middle-aged people bored with life starting a sex circle with like-minded people. The novel was supposedly a great piece of work, a deep analysis of the existential angst of the modern human being, but for Ronia it came across as pornographic, and as such not a bad one. The only thing in the novel that really drove it ahead and made it worth reading was the sex. She felt her swell and her nipples harden and touched herself. She started off by thinking about the people in the book, but the closer she came to climax, the more she thought about Olaf. She felt his hands all over her body. He whispered in her ear that he wanted to “fuck her hard and harder again.” She fell asleep afterward but had a restless night.