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Back The Martins Save as PDF
Contents (99)
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  93. EPILOGUE
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Now I feel bad for being facetious. I am giving you the impression that I took all this lightly, as if it were just one more task to be ticked off the list before I could devote myself to other more important ones. If I decide to keep this part in my book, it’s because I am fascinated by the subject. I could have written a whole novel on what it means to have sex for the first time. It’s an enduring obsession that becomes an unforgettable moment; and it’s also one of the rare events in your life that cannot be rehearsed. In reality, it’s probably not a big deal if you make a mistake, but anyone of even a vaguely romantic nature tends to put themselves under an enormous amount of pressure. Beneath her haughty, casual attitude, Lola was fragile and anxious; she knew both the pro of the situation (her desire for the boy) and the con (his reputation). She was well aware of the hand she held, and now it was a battle between her body and her mind. I had to try and help her solve this equation, despite the fact that I myself was the type of person to procrastinate for hours over romantic feelings and carnal acts; I felt like a vegetarian who’d been sent to sort out a dispute in an abattoir.17

  1. 17. Albert Cossery uses a similar metaphor in A Splendid Conspiracy: a head louse in the kingdom of the bald.

61

A bit later that day, I again thought about Valérie’s ‘everything is back to normal’. I was finding it ever harder to believe. It was the type of message you send hastily in the morning to reassure the witness of a disaster. I imagined that she wanted me to write it down in my book, to immediately alter the reader’s opinion. I had to be careful: my characters were capable of falsifying reality to present themselves in the best possible light.

I didn’t want to call Valérie, in case she thought I was being too pushy. I was there to follow them, not stalk them. I went round in circles, trying to work out what to do. To kill time, I packed my suitcase. It had been a while since I’d last travelled anywhere. Inevitably, I thought about Marie. Even the tag tied to the handle of my suitcase was a reminder of our last journey together. Tangible proof that we had known happiness. We had gone to Budapest; as if hiding behind that destination, all the other cities we’d visited together rose up to the surface of my mind. And so, as I chose what to pack for Los Angeles, I remembered Venice, Vienna, Reykjavik. I missed all our elsewheres terribly, and now I found myself wishing that it was the two of us going away together. Marie and I had only agreed to go out for a coffee, but I yearned for Istanbul to be hiding behind that cup.