Tales of Freedom Page 3
‘Yes. I just want to know.’
‘Well then, yes. You know I do. We wouldn’t have stayed together all this time if I didn’t.’
‘You stupid fool!’ cried the young woman.
‘What?’
‘I said you stupid fool.’
‘What did I say wrong?’
‘You know perfectly well why we’ve stayed together all this time.’
‘I know,’ said the young man, perplexed. ‘I’ve just said it.’
‘You bloody moron.’
‘Look, I’m sorry if I didn’t say it with enough tenderness.’
‘Who cares about your idiotic tenderness?’
‘It’s just that I thought you’d be bored by it.’
‘We stayed together precisely because we did not really love each other.’
‘I admit there’s an element of that.’
‘We simply wanted to love one another, didn’t we?’
‘Yes. Correct,’ the young man said, brightly. ‘The want precedes the process.’
‘You idiot. I mean we desperately wanted to be in love with something or other. We were lonely people. It seemed more sensible to fall in love with another person who also wanted to fall in love, than to love a chair or a cat or an idea.’
‘Correct again. The process then invents itself.’
‘We knew all along that what other people thought was love was really a well-organised routine on our parts. An intricate pattern of tolerance and organisation. A relationship.’
‘You can’t say we haven’t had a good life together. All those holidays, visits, our jobs, Christmases, surprises, ups and downs, the new house that we bought.’
‘And the baby.’
‘Yes, the baby. That was special, wasn’t it?’
‘Yes. It was very special. I hated having it.’
‘No you didn’t. Do you remember what you said at the time?’
‘I think I groaned madly all the time.’
‘I mean afterwards.’
‘I said it was nice to have that load off my belly.’
‘No. Not then. Stop being facetious about an important experience in our lives.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what you said.’
‘Go on, then.’
Two
AS HE SPOKE his face became radiant. His gestures became more expressive. For a moment he was transfigured in the strange light of the clearing.
‘You said that while you were having the baby it felt as if you were creating new spaces in the universe. You felt that as you pushed and pushed you were pushing the universe, moving it, opening up new worlds, expanding the miraculous spaces. You said you felt like God.’
‘I couldn’t have said that. It was a horrible experience. I couldn’t move for days.’
‘That’s why God had a rest on Sunday.’
There was silence.
‘You are so naive,’ the young woman said, gently, ‘and yet I love you.’
‘I love you too.’
‘There you go again, idiot. Always parroting me.’
‘I’m not parroting you.’
‘Then why do you say you love me?’
‘Because I do.’
‘What is love, then?’
‘That’s a difficult question,’ said the young man, taken aback. ‘The only way to tackle a question like this is to be honest. Love is what two people feel. An attraction. Something wonderful. It sort of gets you here.’
He dramatically placed his hands over his heart.
‘You mean,’ said the young woman, coolly, ‘like a heart attack?’
‘No. Look, let’s not get into this.’
‘Why not? I’ve got to understand what you mean.’
‘It’s a feeling, you see,’ said the young man, struggling. ‘A great feeling. When you see the one you love you sort of tremble, your throat feels dry, your hands become clumsy, you … all that.’
‘I think you are trying to describe a seizure.’
‘Look, didn’t you ever feel anything like that for me in the beginning?’
‘No.’
‘But you said you did.’
‘I only shook a bit and blew my nose a lot.’
‘Those are symptoms.’
‘I had a cold, remember.’
‘You even shed a few tears.’
‘Dust in my eyes.’
‘When we were together, really, for the first time, I was proud to note that you wept.’
‘You had a habit of scratching me,’ said the young woman. ‘I couldn’t bear it and I couldn’t bear to tell you.’
‘You never loved me then.’
‘I did. In a different way.’
‘I suppose you did,’ said the young man, crestfallen.
‘Look, stop behaving like a baby. Come closer to me. We haven’t touched one another for a long time. Come on, come closer to me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course I am.’
‘That would be so wonderful.’
‘Come on, then.’
The young man smiled, and moved farther away from her.
‘That’s better,’ the young woman said. ‘You feel so warm. I can take you better like this. Come a bit closer still.’
‘This is really lovely,’ said the young man. ‘You feel soft and velvety.’
He moved farther away from her.
‘You know this is why I was against us having separate bedrooms. Touch can be a profound experience,’ the young man said.
‘It should be.’
‘It’s pure electricity.’
‘Magic.’
‘Wonder.’
‘Let’s lie down together and just enjoy each other in silence.’
They lay down, and mimed being close together. They behaved as if they were touching each other, with great feeling and delight.
Three
THEN, AFTER SOME time, in a gentle voice, the young man said:
‘It would be nice to find a room.’
‘Yes,’ replied the young woman, ‘I’ve been dreaming about that ever since we got lost.’
‘You know, a nice cosy room where we would have no arguments, no jealousies, no routines, no boredom, no fights.’
‘Yes. No jobs, no poverty, no diseases.’
‘Don’t talk about diseases,’ the young man said, with a hint of fear.
‘I’m sorry, I forgot.’
‘Yes. No ideologies. No need to conform.’
‘And no loneliness and fear and insecurity.’
‘A room where we can go on creating beautiful spaces and expanding the universe.’
‘Yes. Really pushing it all back and making it all real with our vitality,’ said the young woman.
‘There would be no networks, no shrinking of self.’
‘And certainly no skeletons.’
‘Neither in the cupboard, nor outside it.’
‘Wouldn’t it be nice,’ said the young woman tenderly, ‘to have the baby there with us?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a shame, though.’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you suppose,’ wondered the young woman, ‘that such a room exists?’
‘No. But it’s worth dreaming about.’
‘If it doesn’t exist I’ll settle for any old room. I feel tired.’
‘So do I,’ said the young man. ‘But let’s not talk about tiredness.’
‘Yes. I forgot again.’
‘There’s too much to escape from.’
‘And nowhere to escape to.’
Four
THEY WERE SILENT and then, suddenly, in a burst, they began speaking again, with urgency.
‘I can’t bear it,’ said the young man.
‘Neither can I.’
‘I’m tired.’
‘I’m ill.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘I’m sick of everything.’
‘My head hurts again.’
‘So does mine.’
‘It really hurts.’
‘I think I’m going to scream,’ said the young woman.
‘I’m going to cry.’
‘I don’t think I can move.’
‘Neither can I.’
‘I wish somebody would help us.’
‘I can’t bear it.’
‘I’m afraid.’
‘I’m terrified.’
‘I think we are alone.’
‘I’ve always been afraid of that.’
‘Are you there?’
‘Yes,’ said the young man. ‘Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s hold each other.’
‘Yes.’
They stretched out their hands. The tips of their fingers barely touched one another. There was silence.
‘Are you there?’ the young man asked.
‘Yes. Are you?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m still afraid.’
Then, from the surrounding forest, the sound of bird calls intensified momentarily.
‘Those birds sound strange,’ the young man said.
‘I can’t hear them.’
There was another silence.
‘Are you there?’
‘Yes.’
‘This silence frightens me,’ said the young man. ‘Say something. Anything.’
After a long pause, the young woman said:
‘This could be the best moment of our lives.’
* * *
There was another stretch of silence.
‘I’m afraid,’ said the young woman, after a while.
‘So am I.’
‘I wish someone would come along.’
‘So do I.’
Five
IN THE DEPTHS of the silence there was a faint trace of music. Pinprop emerged from the woods, into the clearing, with the table and chairs balanced in a compact form on his head. He stopped in the middle of the clearing and contemplated the young couple lying on the ground. Soon Old Man and Old Woman also appeared from the woods.
‘This seems an ideal spot,’ said Old Man.
‘Our destination is the only ideal spot,’ said Pinprop.
‘This seems a stained ideal spot,’ said Old Woman.
‘Do you think we should drive them away?’ Old Man said, indicating the young couple, who did not notice the new presences.
‘The place where hyenas sleep is not ideal for the lion,’ intoned Old Woman.
‘If I may be verbose,’ said Pinprop, ‘I’d like to say that these precincts have been defiled with gloom. We should proceed, sir and madam, to where there is no confusion.’
‘No skeletons,’ said Old Man.
‘No repetitions,’ said Old Woman.
‘No trees, sand or water.’
‘No words.’
‘What do you say, sir and madam?’ asked Pinprop.
‘I am tired. I can barely walk,’ said Old Woman.
‘My life is draining out of me,’ said Old Man.
‘People never really die before they have arrived ideally, sir and madam,’ observed Pinprop.
‘We are too old to chase ideals,’ said Old Woman.
‘We are too old to seek new beginnings,’ said Old Man.
Then they fell into their ritual of remembrance again, speaking without hearing the other; interrupting, overlapping, in their inward speech outwardly spoken. Old Woman began.
‘I remember on all those trees,’ she said, ‘how I saw the many dreams I had composed for myself in the arrogance of youth. And I saw on those trees that …’
‘I remember to forget,’ Old Man said, ‘how that strange tribe systematically eliminated me from their routines and finally drove me to the edge of their mountains. I must try to forget the starvation and the suffering and how I had to eat wood and roots for many days.’
‘… the real failure of my life,’ Old Woman said, ‘was that I had dreamt at all and I had too many dreams and I chased them till I grew old in sorrow. For the dreams grew up too and deserted me. And when he had been driven from the city I knew that I could never dream any more. I was considered a success but I was dying inside and nobody knew it. And I saw on all those trees that our houses were burnt down and every single thing I had done had disappeared. Now I am here with nothing behind me and nothing before me except chaining Pinprop and listening to him for the rest of the days of my life.’
‘I thought I was going to die but …’
‘We have no time,’ bellowed Pinprop, butting in, ‘to stand here to remember and forget. This table is heavy on my head.’
‘Chain the insolent clown!’ screamed Old Woman.
‘Cut him to pieces!’ shouted Old Man.
‘Castrate him!’
‘He is already castrated.’
‘Then do it again.’
‘Let’s chop off his fingers,’ snarled Old Man.
‘I’m starving.’
‘Let us at least arrive first,’ said Pinprop, emolliently.
‘A sound idea,’ agreed Old Man.
‘I’m tired,’ said Old Woman.
‘Let’s proceed.’
‘A yes to all that,’ said Pinprop.
Then they were gone into the depth of the silence, into which a faint music was receding.
Six
IN THE SILENCE of the clearing the young man and young woman were still lying on the ground.
‘It’s very quiet here,’ the young man said.
‘I can hear a baby crying.’
‘That’s strange. I can’t hear anything.’
‘Can’t you hear a baby crying?’
‘No.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Why?’
‘It sounds like our baby.’
‘Our baby? What a sweet sound it must be.’
‘Actually, it isn’t. It’s an irritating sound.’
‘I wish I could hear it,’ said the young man.
‘So do I.’
Seven
SILENCE SETTLED ON them like dew.
‘It’s very quiet all of a sudden,’ the young woman said.
‘Yes. It is.’
‘I do wish someone would come along.’
‘So do I.’
‘I feel very lonely.’
‘It’s not a nice feeling, is it?’
‘I wish we could find a room. Any room, where I can just lie in bed and stay there for the rest of my life.’
‘I wish we could.’
‘Stop mimicking me,’ said the young woman.
‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘Shall we go and look for a room?’
‘I don’t think we will find one. But trying might give us something to do.’
‘The only reason I might get up from here,’ said the young woman, ‘is if I know that at some point we might find a place where we can just be.’
‘A place to learn how to dream again.’
‘A place to learn how to forget.’
‘A place to be compassionate.’
‘Any old dump would do.’
‘It has to be a special place, though,’ said the young man.
‘Any rundown squat would do.’
‘It has to be full of magic and love and lovely lights.’
‘Any old dustbin is fine for me.’
‘I’ll settle for the sky.’
‘I’ll settle for a piece of bread.’
‘Yes. I’m hungry.’
‘I could eat you if we had a fire.’
‘I wouldn’t like to eat you. I might make a delicacy out of kissing you, though.’
‘If we don’t stop talking,’ said the young woman, ‘we will never find us a place.’
‘Let’s talk a bit more. We never get a chance to talk.’
‘Are you feeling better?’
‘No. Are you?’
‘Not really.’
‘My throat feels as if it’s made of gleet.’
‘That’s gut-rot.’
�
�It feels like I’ve got a lump of lead in there and I can’t swallow it down.’
‘That sounds bad.’
‘How is your throat?’
‘Bad. But I don’t feel like celebrating my illness right now.’
‘That’s a good idea.’
‘Shall we get going?’
‘Why not? I don’t know if I can manage it, though.’
‘I don’t know if I can either.’
‘Let’s try anyway.’
‘Yes.’
‘I’m ready when you are,’ said the young man.
Eight
AFTER A SHORT silence, a heavier silence, the young woman said:
‘Let’s have an argument.’
‘I’m too tired.’
‘Come on.’
‘Okay.’
‘What should we argue about?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I don’t.’
‘What do you mean you don’t?’
‘I don’t.’
‘You are an idiot, that’s why.’
‘No, I’m not.’
Nine
THE SILENCE BECAME gentler.
‘Let’s go, then,’ said the young woman.
‘Yes. Let’s go.’
‘Let’s go holding hands.’
‘Dreaming about wonders.’
‘That sounds nice.’
‘Let’s go in such closeness that the world will be astonished that, amidst such devastation, beauty and truth can still exist and two souls can still participate in the imagination of life.’
‘Let’s do that,’ said the young woman, ‘while you help me up.’
‘Let’s go in such unity …’
Raising her voice, the young woman said:
‘Do you want to help me up or not?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Come on, then.’
Ten
THE YOUNG MAN got up from the ground, clearly in some pain, and then helped her up. After they were standing, they still kept the distance between them.
‘I hope we find the room,’ the young woman said.
‘Yes. I feel tired.’
‘Let’s go, then.’
‘In unity and love.’
‘Let’s just go.’
‘In peace and tranquillity.’
‘Forget the clichés. Just come on.’
‘Alright …’
‘What’s the matter now?’
‘I’m trying,’ said the young man, ‘to catch a thought.’