“But what else is there?”

“Enjoying each other.”

“Knowing is enjoying, for me.”

These were the sort of wrangles we liked. After, we walked back in silence.

I noticed, out at sea, a large yacht with little boats carrying provisions out to it. I’d forgotten that everyone from the Center had been invited to a party on it that evening. I hadn’t taken much notice at the time, but there were numerous rumors about the owner. He was either a gangster, film producer, or computer magnate. I wasn’t sure which was considered to be worse. I was surprised when Patricia announced at breakfast that we were all going. I was intending to miss it; I couldn’t see that Patricia would even notice my absence. How things had changed since then! Hadn’t she said to me, a couple of hours ago, “See you tonight!”

I couldn’t defy Patricia and remain at the Center. If I was going to leave, I’d have to know where I was going.

I said goodbye to Alicia and went to the roof to think. I discovered myself to be even more furious than before about what Patricia had done to me, and furious with myself for having failed to escape untouched. I would insist on sleeping alone tonight and leave for Athens by the first boat. I packed my bags in readiness. I was young; I could run.

5

I WENT TO eat in a taverna in town, reading at the table. After a few pages, I thought, “I can do this.” I pulled some paper from my rucksack and started on a story, which offered itself to me. It was something seen, or apprehended as a whole—almost visual—which I felt forced to find words for. My hands were shaking; without literature I couldn’t think, and felt stifled by a swirl of thoughts which took me nowhere new. But writing and the intricacies of its solitude was a habit I needed to break in order to stray from myself. Some artists, in their later life, become so much themselves, they go their own way, that they are no longer open to influence, to being changed or even touched by anyone else, and their work takes on the nature of obsession. Margot once said to me, “When you think or feel something important, instead of saying it, you write it down. I’d love it to rain on your computer!”

It did. I put away my pen and paper, paid, and left.

At the Center the voices, usually so quietly fervent, were almost raucous. Everyone, apart from Patricia, who had yet to appear, had gathered in colorful skirts, dresses, and wraps. Some wore bells on their ankles; many wore bras. The night air, invariably sweet, vibrated with clashing female perfumes; jewelry flashed and jingled. Excitement about the party on the yacht was so high that some people were already dancing.