The Story of My Wife (41 page)

"Do be careful, though; don't antagonize him." And she gave me an imploring look. Why did she say that? Oh yes, because I stepped on one of Kodor's "extraordinary" cigars.

"Pick it up," he said to Mrs. Cobbet when it fell on the floor.

"No, she will not," I said and crushed it with my foot.

Kodor took it lightly, or at least acted as though he did. "Serves me right for being a skinflint. It's only the best Mexican cigar money can buy. But fifteen bob will get me another, right?"

There was silence in the room. No one answered him . . .

And then we began to sing. I must say I enjoyed drinking that night more than ever. I kept saying to myself: nothing can top this. It's exactly what I needed: to drown my life in booze. And wouldn't you know it? Everything began to look rosy, and even more so when Mrs. Cobbet sat down to the piano.

"Why don't you sing something?" Kodor asked. Mrs. Cobbet suddenly looked up. "I am sure Jacob would like to hear you, too." And to me, by way of explanation:

"She has a lovely voice. I ought to know, I am paying for her lessons. But she never wants to sing for me."

The glass began to shake in Mrs. Cobbet's hand, and she spilled some wine on her dress. She got nervous, it seems. And then something happend that I didn't quite understand.

"How am I to sing?" she complained indignantly. "You always come up when ... eh, they'll grumble again that I am not letting them sleep."

"Now, now," Kodor said. "When it comes to me they are not so touchy, you know that. Anyway, they are not home. You were right here, weren't you, when they said they were going to the movies tonight."

As I said, I didn't know what they were talking about, and didn't much care. Anyhow, Mrs. Cobbet relented finally and burst into song, accompanying herself on the piano. The music resounded in the room, it swelled and flowed, I was awash in sentiment.

"Cloud, dark cloud, why hang over me?" she sang. "My heart aches only for yooou" was next. Then this: "The night is full of secrets, dear / But whispering leaves make them clear." Silly hit tunes they were, as can be seen. But with what conviction she sang them, what passion! She practically melted into a world of cheap fantasy, she was transfigured.

But truth to tell, I got caught up in it, too, I couldn't resist the urge to sing myself. And Kodor was beside himself with joy at seeing me like this.

"See now, you can still have a good time with us." And then added: "I feel honored."

But who cared about
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I was like a heady explorer making his way through unchartered territory; I felt powerful, expansive. Besides, I know nothing more pleasurable than drinking and then breaking into song. The whole world seemed to be mine, I felt at one with the vast outdoors. It's true, what I sang were rousing sailor songs. One of them was about the shin-shin-girls, which begins like this: "You shin-shin girl, Tokyo's pearl," and ends with a loud cry of "Shin-shin-shah!" The other was the more familiar: "When the last penny's out," but I sang that lustily, too, I belted it out . . .

Mrs. Cobbet, in the meantime, was beaming with pleasure, why I don't know. A trained singer I am not. And those songs! Inane little ditties, all of them, not sentimental even, which she might have expected after her sappy tunes. Maybe she's admiring my strong lungs, I thought. That I have, no question about it. My performance made the windows rattle. That and the storm outside. It's true: the wind howled and lashed the windows while I was carrying on inside. And when I stopped, the racket ceased, too, or so it seemed. And Mrs. Cobbet must have thought she was already on the high seas—her smile was beatific.

We made the mistake, you see, of gabbing away foolishly right in front of Kodor. At first, it was only things like: how pleasant all this is, how happy we are to be here and so forth. To which Kodor automatically answered, Yes, yes, he was awfully glad I was so pleased. But he was really out of it. He just sat there in an arm chair with his eyes closed, as if dozing quietly. I knew he wasn't but still... I sat down next to her on the piano bench, and leaned closer, as if getting ready to turn the page but making sure her gorgeous black hair touched my ear. And indeed, I felt her snuggling up to me, nestling her flushed little face close against mine. Now who could resist such advances? Looking down, giving my shoes a thorough inspection, and addressing the floor, all I said was: "How very sweet." And immediately thereafter: "I am sailing towards India. Will you come with me?" But all this right under Kodor's nose, as if he were no longer around.

But he was. And he proved it soon enough. We heard noises outside, the door slammed.

"I guess they are back," Kodor mumbled and gave a big yawn.

"Back? But who?" Now I had to ask. How many times was he going to mention it?

"What do you mean who?" Kodor said. "Why, the neighbors, of course. Actually, they are not neighbors—this is a single apartment. Except I had it made into two when I rented it for her."

But even this he said as if he'd just been awakened and didn't feel like talking yet.

"I want her to live in a place she can be watched," he continued, somewhat louder. "I want to know about every move she makes."

At first I didn't understand. All I saw was that Mrs. Cobbet turned crimson, and in her embarrassment was picking lint off her dress.

"At least you admitted it now," she said and tried to smile. It didn't work, though, for instead she turned very somber. And stood up.

"Why shouldn't I admit it?" Kodor countered. "Should she be here all alone? And worry about keeping house and all that? I had a relative of mine move in, who does it for money—my money. Supports his wife and kids on it. Spint is the name, if you really want to know."

"You don't say," I said, incredulous still. "And you really do know about her every move."

"Of course I do, it goes without saying—where she goes, who comes up here, everything. These people know precisely what their benefactor is interested in ... I bet you think I have no business doing this. But I'll have you know that this is just the way I want it."

I looked around. Mrs. Cobbet stood with her back to me, packing something away, Kodor's fancy cigars, I shouldn't wonder, lest they again fly out of their case. This was a bad sign, though—the sign of total submission. The gilded, finely-crafted wall clock pointed to three, which was a bad sign, too. What the hell was I doing here, anyway? I was quite perturbed, yet couldn't make a move. Was it simple curiosity? To see this thing through? To find out what the old man was up to?

"Wait a minute," Kodor reminded himself. "You mean to tell me you were never here before
...
Ah yes, how could you be, you are such an
Ehrenmann
(that's precisely the word he used), a real
cavalière.
If you were here, you would have been sure to tell me. 'I went up to see your lover last night, old chum,' you would have said ...

"Yes sir, that's what you are, a splendid cavalière, you demonstrated that the last time. Oh yeah, before I forget: I won that suit, you know, I was vindicated . . .

"Leave us, will you?" he barked at Mrs. Cobbet now. "I want to talk business with our gentleman caller. And make me a cup of coffee; I have a headache." Mrs. Cobbet silently left the room.

"Well, bugger," I said to him promptly, "let's hear what you have to say. But I bet you want
me
to talk, right? You thought
I
was going to start spilling the beans now. You'd just love to make me drunk, wouldn't you? You must think you're the only one with brains under your hat, while our heads are filled with . . . what? noodles? (In my rage I didn't know what to tell him first.) And what if I do love your mistress, what then? No one else can love her, only you?"

Ah, but all this felt so good
...
my eyes fairly twitched with pleasure, I was foaming at the mouth from the rush of words that wanted to stream out. What's more, I would have loved to—I don't know—prance about and pick up that miserable old man and force him to dance with me. And pat his bald spot maybe . . .

"Well scoundrel?" I said to him again, "you got plenty scared this time, didn't you?
You,
who always told me that the weak ought to fall by the wayside. Still feel like taking me on, hunh?" And I guffawed right in his face . . .

Dear God. No matter how you slice it, there's cruelty in all of us. And the more ashamed we are of something, the more it comes out. It wasn't very pleasant to think of what I did just before: how I went on and on, making me believe he was fast asleep. I nearly came out with it, nearly told him that 7 was her lover, too. Of course I could have even embroidered on it a little, spiked it with a touch of remorse, moved him with a bit of calculated anguish, pull on his heartstrings with: "Ah before we knew it, we went ahead and did it . . ."

"What a clown you are," I said to him in any case, "what a jackass. What can you do to me? What if I do love her and she loves me? What if that's the case? What if I take her away tomorrow or the day after, if I take her aboard my ship? What will you do then, scratch your head?"

"Take her away? Just like that?" he said quietly. Before this he hardly spoke up, but now he began mumbling again, as if confiding secrets to me, rapidly, voicelessly almost.

"No need to scream," he whispered. "She doesn't have to hear every dumb phrase, she's pretty dumb as it is. You can always have your way with her . . . she'll go for anybody."

"That doesn't scare me," I said. "Don't you try to discourage me. Or do you think people like you can go on shortchanging me forever, and I will say nothing, just laugh it off? Do you
really
think I will never grab at anything, that my greatest pleasure is to see you happy? You misjudged me, my friend; I am just as ruthless as you people, or will be, at any rate. This time you've met your match. If you want one thing, I'll surely want another. And exactly
what
I want you'll find out soon enough." And with that I rose from my chair.

"Are you through?" Kodor said. "Do you want a dowry, too? How about the clothes off my back?" And he actually began to unbutton his coat. "Here, take my dentures, too." And he removed his dentures from his mouth.

I could have laughed even at that, but I happened to look at him just then. (Before I didn't.) And what I saw was not very pretty. He wasn't just ashen, he really looked as if he was about to croak. That's what loose living does to you, I said to myself once, after seeing a dead man with puffy cheeks and rings under his eyes. The poor fellow wasn't even that ravaged, but the look was unmistakable. That's how it was now. Kodor's mouth twitched, his eyes were moist, as if he could no longer cry with real tears. And on top of it: no teeth. He looked like his own grandfather.

"Out, out!" he screeched at Mrs. Cobbet when she opened the door. "I am still talking." He then lay down on the sofa in shirtsleeves and continued mumbling to himself.

And I, for some strange reason, began to think, or rather was struck by the awful suspicion, that Miss Borton might have given me away after all; in her excitement or fear she may have told Madame Lagrange that I was in London. If she said only that much, it was enough. A great deal hinged on that . . .

Oh what an utter fool I was. I should have thought of it before, what with her being such a jittery little thing.

The whole thing was like a flash in the dark, but enough to make me want to leave at once. For by now I knew exactly what I should do, where I should go—the one place in the world where I should be now.

That I fully recovered my senses I need not emphasize. I was cold and hard, like the pipe in my pocket.

"What is it now?" I said to Kodor and stared at him for a while.

He was slow to answer: "I am dying of cancer . . . But what will become of that woman?"

Now he was neither sarcastic nor highhanded. He was sick, visibly, desperately sick. A broken old man.

"Just don't tell her," he warned with his finger. "She may be dumb, an untamed animal . . . still, she loves me."

When I got home I saw a car in front of the house, about to leave. It was around five in the morning. I heard the car door slam—I can still picture the gently falling snowflakes illuminated by the headlights. Suspecting the worst, I pulled down my hat over my eyes as I passed the car, which was just pulling out.

"Bon voyage," someone from the house shouted, and I immediately recognized the voice.

"Who were they?" I asked, stepping up to the well-wisher. And because he was very much taken aback, I also took hold of his arm.

"Who were these people?" I inquired again, and began leading him toward the nearby square which was still enveloped in darkness. Needless to say, the man was Mr. Horrabin Pit, my earlybird landlord, who upon seeing me got so frightened, he almost passed out, even letting his cigar drop.

Would I please stop torturing him, he pleaded; how was he supposed to know who these people were? Whereupon I pushed him just a little.

"Was my wife in the car?"

He began to whine annoyingly, as if he had a nasty earache.

"Well, was she?" The old geezer was tougher than I thought. So I said:

"Listen to me and listen good: I am going to knock your brains out right here, where no one will see it. Nobody will know how it happened.
Was
it my wife sitting in that car?"

He looked at me like a madman.

"Why of course it was," he said all choked up.

"And you call yourself a decent man . . . Protecting people like that? Why, you mean little bastard . . ." And I almost let him have it.

"But this is terrible." And he went on moaning that he was the most miserable of men, and all confused, too, his tongue was stuck, his nerves shot . . . Wasn't it I who told him before I left that my wife was going to spend some time at a seaside resort? Didn't I ask him for a reduction in rent while we were away? He had no idea what was going on, and why I was treating him
so
very unfairly?

"Let's not waste any time. Who else was sitting in the car?"

"Good gracious," he exclaimed, "the world
must
be crazy." Didn't I inform him that that French lady who was here last Christmas would pick her up?