Forgotten Life. Brian Aldiss

guys have generally tried their hand at writing, had no joy at it, but ever after think they have special insights into writers’ lives. He’s probably straight out of university, probably only twenty-three or twenty-four – half her age. No real experience of life. They probably did it last year too, and I never found out. There I was, being nice to him. Oh, of course he was all over me when I arrived at the Luxor from New York. By that time, they’d probably been doing it all round the States. It’s the sense of betrayal … I can’t see how Sheila could possibly – And all the time he was “Green Mouth” this and “Green Mouth” that. I said to him, “Look, when we’re not performing in public, couldn’t you relax and call her Sheila? Green Mouth is only her trade name.” And he said, “Oh, I do zees only to show respect.” Respect, and the whole time he was bloody well shafting her. I mean, there are rules about these things, and the Americans know that as well as anyone else. I’ve never been anti-American. Rather the reverse. Of course, Arthur Bloody Hernandez is probably from Puerto Rico. I wondered if I wrote to Swain and complained if they’d sack him. Sheila is their most valuable property. They wouldn’t want to lose her. Of course, I suppose they might argue that it was Arthur Hernandez, damn him, by offering his services, who kept her there instead of with a bigger organization. I know Random House made overtures. They have business arrangements with her publisher on this side of the Atlantic. Maybe I should try to persuade her to – no, I couldn’t do that. It wouldn’t work.’

      ‘You feel more anger against him than against Sheila?’

      ‘Really, I don’t blame her. Well, not much. I have always been generous. Quite generous – in fact, more generous in that respect than she’s ever been with me, by a long chalk. It was just a passing fancy – well, no real harm done. One must have a perspective, yet all the while the other person just goes on acting however they feel like, without restraint. I really don’t think Sheila has much power of self-analysis. You can see that in her novels. No kind of self-analysis. Her characters, even the sensitive ones, just barge ahead and act. She is very warm natured. All credit for that. I do try to be generous. Even when I walked in and caught them at it – there was her big soft white bum, Mrs Emerova, she on top and you could hardly see him at all, except for two nasty little thin hairy legs, like a beetle crushed by a cream puff – I’ll never forget it. You may – you should – try to be detached but it still hurts deeply to catch your wife in flagrante delicto, and on top, too. Jealousy is hard to eradicate. She gave me such a look. I simply backed away into the sitting room. Knocked over a vase of flowers. Couldn’t think what to say. At such a time, you find yourself completely at a loss. Now why should I have felt such a fool? I suppose it’s because – there’s a whole tradition behind it, a whole rich tradition. The cuckolded male is a figure of fun, even to himself. It’s not so bad for a woman who catches her husband at it. She tends to engage more sympathy, don’t you consider? It’s something to do with the shape of the sexual organs, basically, I suppose. The male equipment looks a lot funnier than those rather pretty little purses you women have. I just stood there shaking but, in a minute, out he came, all dishevelled and looking a bigger fool than I felt, tucking in his shirt. When he saw me, he made a dash for the door to the corridor, so I ran after him and managed a good kick up the arse to help him on his way. That was the most satisfying bit of the whole affair. I rather hurt my left leg doing it.’

      ‘Kicking him satisfied you?’

      ‘What do you think? Then out she came, dressed, but hair dishevelled. Wanted a drink and a cigarette. Did I tell you she smokes when she’s on these tours? Cigars if nothing else is available. She’s like a demon. Well, it is all a bit testing. I sympathize with her and I do see why she’s got to do it. And I said to her, quite quietly and decently, “I know you’re under pressure but this has got to stop”, and she said, in a sort of level voice, “I’m enjoying it too much to stop.” That’s what she said. “I’m enjoying it too much to stop.” As cool as you like, Mrs Emerova. I’ll tell you the effect that sentence had on me, shall I? She never wrote a sentence half as powerful. It just destroyed me. I suppose I didn’t look any different. She gave me a drink from the drinks cabinet and I drank it. But something went inside me. I still feel … of course I do. It was bad enough to be told she was enjoying it. One does enjoy these affairs. The surreptitiousness, the sense of … But to rub it in … And then to say point blank that she meant to continue, whatever I felt about it. What I felt about it didn’t matter to her in the slightest. How can you recover from that? It’s so unlike her. Generally she’s so considerate. But perhaps she’s been like that all the time. I mean, how long have we been married – and all the time she was secretly quite indifferent to what my feelings were if they got in the way of her pleasure? “I’m enjoying it too much to stop …” Christ, what an insult. It’s as if I’m bleeding inside and yet, now we’re back home, I have to continue as normal. We both continue as normal, as if nothing had happened. It’s grounds for divorce, isn’t it?’

      ‘Do you want a divorce?’

      ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I want. It’s a crowning insult, isn’t it?’

      ‘Did she mean it as an insult? Was she not also upset at that moment?’

      ‘I should hope she was! Isn’t it at such moments that the truth slips out? How often had they had it off together? Not just in Boston. New York, Philadelphia, Chicago, Salt Lake City, Los Angeles. Can you imagine, they might have done it in Salt Lake City? Ugh … At least I seem to have put paid to Hernandez. I made sure they weren’t alone together for the rest of the time we were there. And I don’t think he had the appetite for it after being found out. Men don’t, do they? There are rules to the game, you know, and if you’re caught out, fine, then however much it costs you say you’re sorry and you stop. You stop, don’t you, for the sake of the other person’s feelings? Isn’t that the rule? You and the other woman know you run that risk. If found out – all over. Finish. Isn’t that the rule?’

      ‘Do you think of it as a game with rules?’

      ‘There are rules, aren’t there? Remember your ethology. In everything there are rules, in every species. Otherwise civilization falls apart. Even when two nations threaten each other, rules remain. If that wasn’t so, then the planet would have been destroyed long ago. Even nations which hate each other obey rules, almost unwittingly. How much more so between individuals. How am I going to live now? Am I supposed to go on as if nothing had happened?’

      ‘What has really happened? Sheila returned to England with you, didn’t she?’

      ‘I can’t talk to you, Mrs Emerova. You’re supposed to offer me something, you know. A therapist is supposed to use his or her own feelings in the service of the patient. That’s me. How should I best behave in this mess?’

      ‘Do you feel it is a mess? Your marriage is continuing, isn’t it?’

      ‘It’s continuing, yes. But for how long? What’s she thinking? Is she longing for Hernandez every moment of the day? “I’m enjoying it too much to stop.” It puts me off my stroke, I don’t mind admitting. Yes, I do mind admitting it. I feel that when we have intercourse she’ll just be thinking of him all the while, and making comparisons.’

      ‘Does that make you feel inferior?’

      ‘Oh, Christ, it makes me feel bereaved. Our calling has little defence against bereavement. How am I to know what she’s thinking?’

      ‘May you not suppose that she wants everything to continue as normal?’

      ‘What right has she to hope that? I’m the one who should be deciding about that! Instead, I’m arranging for a party for her next Thursday, to celebrate her latest effusion …’

      ‘Doesn’t that suggest that you both want everything to continue as normal?’

      ‘Well, it can’t continue as normal, can it? That’s not possible. Not while I still have so much anger inside me. Okay, under the stress of the tour, when she’s the cat’s whiskers and the whole world’s bending an ear to her, I quite understand that then she’s feeling so good that she wants the odd extra bit of adulation – I mean, this guy Hernandez, he has no interest in her