Man Of Few Words

Chapter 84

During the few days it took to write the Bangladesh story, a little bit of strength and energy came back to me and my head cleared. I felt ready to see Inge, so I called her and invited her to my place the following day. She managed to knock off work a little early, so she arrived here at about 4pm. I was really pleased to see her. I maybe didn't have the energy to fully express it, but I hope she sensed it anyway. I think she did.

The moment she arrived she was curious about everything she saw in my flat. She asked a few questions, but mostly she was just wandering around the place, looking intently at things. I just followed her and offered information and backstories whenever it seemed appropriate. Again, I was telling her a lot of the same stuff that's already in this book.

Whenever she wasn't pointing at something, or picking something up to examine it more closely, I held her hand. It seemed strange walking hand-in-hand around my own home, but then a lot about all this is strange.

Once the tour was over, we reclined close to one another on my big, cloudy sofa. She wriggled slowly and methodically, embedding herself deeper into it, then she lay back her head, closed her eyes and said,

"I'm sleeping right here tonight. Don't try to move me."

We let the silence hang for a while, then I started telling her that I'd already written about us in my book, and would document everything else that happened between us too.

"Including this, right now," I said.

She didn't move or open her eyes. She just left a pause then said something very long and complicated in German.

"Document that."

We both laughed and held each other tighter. We couldn't really stop laughing for a while.

After another long silence, I spoke,

"Inge, can I ask you something?"

"Anything you like."

I was distracted a moment, thinking that it would be interesting to put this to the test by asking her something extremely intrusive and inappropriate. But I smiled, shook my head, and got back to my original question,

"Why?" I let that hang there, expecting her to know what I meant.

But she didn't, so she just let it hang there too.

"I mean," I eventually continued, "Why are you here?"

"To be with you, David."

"Why though? Really... what's in it for you? Wouldn't you rather be with someone who can offer you a future?"

I watched as her expression did not change at all. She took a long, slow, deliberate breath and said,

"I've been with men who offered me a future. But here I am now with you. Because the future they offered was a lie. Or maybe a mistake. It was a future that didn't happen."

After another long breath, she opened her eyes and turned to me.

"And it hurt, David."

Her eyes were misting up, but she didn't break eye contact.

"This way it will hurt too. But at least this way it's a hurt that I can see coming, that I can control a little bit."

She closed her eyes.

"I can keep at a safe distance."

I touched her cheek with my hand and kissed her softly between the eyebrows. She opened her eyes again and allowed herself the subtlest of smiles.

"So it's just because I'm dying?" I knew it wasn't. I had to believe it wasn't. But I also had to put it out there. I needed to talk about that.

There was no kneejerk protest from Inge.

"I went on a date with you before I knew you were sick, remember? I even ran away when I realised you were sick. And I'm still sorry for that."

I gently pinched her thumb.

"It felt..." she resumed, but then faltered. "Look, I liked you and I felt like it had potential. But then suddenly it was like one of those past betrayals and disappointments happening in fast forward. I suppose when I got on that bus, what I was thinking was, 'Yes, another one. At least he didn't string me along for long.'"

She scanned my face for several seconds.

"And that was wrong." She placed her hand on my cheek. "I felt like you hurt me, but you didn't. So I asked myself, why did I hurt? I didn't have an answer. But I felt that I wanted to see you again, so I told you so."

"I appreciate it," I whispered.

"But that's the truth, David. I don't have answers. I don't have them for my own questions, and I don't have them for yours. All I can do is try to tell you and show you how I feel. And I didn't mean that your illness makes this better. I just meant that when I thought about it, there were ways in which it could be..."

"Better," I said bluntly but not aggressively.

With a brief sigh, she said, "Safer."

She shifted around, slid down a little and embedded herself more deeply into the recess between my chest and arm. Then she closed her eyes, and I did too.

Another peaceful ten minutes or so passed before she cleared her throat and said,

"I didn't see or smell any food. You are going to feed me, aren't you?"

"I've arranged for a banquet of Thai food to be delivered," I said coolly.

"Ah," she said pushing her hand into my chest. "But what if I don't like Thai food?"

"You like Thai food."

She relaxed. Of course she likes Thai food.

"What did you order for me?"

"I order enough food for half a dozen people. A bit of everything. We'll treat it like a buffet and I'll eat the leftovers for a few days."

"Oh, now I'm getting hungry," she said, rubbing my tummy and not her own. "Will it be soon?"

"I don't know. Shift up a bit and I'll check the time."