4. MR. Q AND HIS FAMILY
Below a hill in the suburbs was a row of red brick bungalows: our Mr. Q and his wife and two sons lived in a small flat here. Mr. Q and his wife were both about thirty-eight or thirty-nine years old (in private, they adamantly considered themselves forty-five, having already seen everything there was to see in the world). They were affable and gentle-easy to be around. They both worked in government offices. After they returned home from an exhausting day, their tiredness was swept away by their lively sons (ages nine and eleven), who threw themselves at them.
Outsiders saw a touching family picture. In the front and back yards, they grew pumpkins, bitter melons, and beans and also raised some snow-white longhaired rabbits, a large tiger cat, and one handsome and heroic wolf dog. Husband and wife loved the country and disliked the urban hullabaloo. In the warm summer sun, the air was filled with sweet scents and the hum of bees. Under the melon rack, Mr. Q would kiss his wife-a long kiss, as if their lips were sticky with honey. Afterwards, they would sit and cuddle on the long stone bench under the melon rack. Hot tears brimmed in their eyes as they immersed themselves in a sort of ancient reverie and forgot all their worries. Only when a bird called would they come to. Then they would be inspired to kiss again. They had lived this quiet, affectionate life for fifteen years that seemed to have gone by in the blink of an eye. From the beginning, they got on very well, and their affection had grown deeper by the day. It seemed that the two had become an indivisible whole. Until Mr. Q met Madam X.
Of course, their temperaments were not at all the same. Mr. Q’s wife was a gentle, cowardly, simple woman. From the first day, she had adored him, and from adoration had gone on to love him. Her love was bone-deep. She had never given any other man a serious glance, because she thought that apart from Mr. Q, men were frightening and incomprehensible. Meeting Mr. Q had been her greatest good fortune. Waiting on Mr. Q wholeheartedly and taking on all the heavy family responsibilities, she now and then felt a young wife’s pride from the bottom of her heart. At times like this, she was no longer cowardly, and her cheeks took on the blush of a young wife; all at once, she became graceful and charming. It was hard to be sure about Mr. Q’s temperament. It was multi-layered. We can also say that he had never fully unveiled his true temperament, so we’ve never come up with a precise assessment. But his two main characteristics-generosity and kindness-were always evident. Other aspects of his temperament that became apparent in the half year of his contact with Madam X never fully emerged. From what he said, his behavior had been repressed because of his sense of ‘‘original sin’’ since the day he was born. No one could figure out how great his potential was, or what kind of abnormal thing he was capable of doing.
Mr. Q was chivalrous and warm. He loved his wife: from the very beginning, he decided he would never hurt her. He would always be a big brother to her and a protective, loving husband. In the beginning, their sex life wasn’t so great, but they worked on it, and with mutual affection as an accelerator, they eventually achieved a great deal of satisfaction. His wife developed from a passive virgin into a lover who could satisfy Mr. Q body and soul. Q appreciated his wife and felt indebted to her. Words like the following added spice to their lives: ‘‘If you ever love another woman, I’ll kill myself on the spot so that the two of you can fulfill your desires.’’ ‘‘It was simply unforeseen that you would fall into my life: it was God making up to me for my long life alone.’’ (The wife’s words.) ‘‘If there is life after death and I could choose another wife in the hereafter, I would still choose you.’’ ‘‘You’re my ideal. You thoroughly changed me and made me a good, pure man. Other women would have corrupted me.’’ ‘‘Is there any joy I haven’t experienced? Is there anything that can move me more than this?!’’ (Mr. Q’s words.) Although nauseating, this illustrates the depth of their love.
Yet, can we say that no one had ever come between them, that their lives had always been calm, with the blue sky and white clouds above and the cat and rabbits below, bees flying around them and little birds and insects sharing their affection? No. This would be a little too ideal. It was at odds with Mr. Q’s frame of reference. Unfortunately, Mr. Q was very sexy. Sensitive women could see from his face and his behavior the carnal desire he restrained. They could also see how crazy he was about sex. Now and then, a lusty vigor would surge up and contend with reason. This both annoyed and confused him. But each time he surmounted the difficulties the demons were stirring up, returned to his peaceful little kingdom, and once more became a good man, a good loving husband.
The year he turned thirty-five (a man’s best time), a gorgeous woman took stock of him and lay in wait at the foot of some dark stairs. She ‘‘grabbed’’ his arm and urgently expressed her desire.
‘‘You live for this.’’ Without listening to his protests, she fixed her eyes on his and waited with half-open lips for his kiss.
He didn’t move. After a long time (the woman felt it must have been ten thousand years), they finally found a way out of the stalemate. Mr. Q sighed and said, ‘‘What is this about? We don’t even know each other!’’
The woman left in a huff. Afterwards, he told his wife that he had felt a passing lightheadedness but had quickly regained his equilibrium and ‘‘had seen through’’ her.
‘‘She’s a common flirt,’’ he said to his wife (in an unduly bland manner that seemed to be glossing over something). ‘‘How can she compare with you!’’
He weaseled out of it, and the woman quickly turned to another man. He felt fortunate and proud: he hadn’t fallen for her trick; the sequel would have been unimaginable. At first glance, a woman might seem special although she actually wasn’t. Wasn’t this proof?
If a man took a risk for this kind of woman, what could he achieve except his own destruction? In general, women were loathsome. If there was another kind, he certainly hadn’t seen it, so how could he prove there was? Up to now, he hadn’t seen any relationship more perfect than his with his wife. He believed there could be nothing better. His vision was so sharp he couldn’t be fooled. He was already forty-five: was there anything he couldn’t see through?
His wife celebrated their (she did not say his, but always said their) victory as if it were a holiday. She couldn’t help but redouble her caresses. She called him ‘‘my poor boy. My poor, solitary little boy.’’ And he redoubled his response to her, ashamed of his momentary, contemptible thoughts. He vowed he would never tell her about this and would always preserve their love’s perfection and purity. Who could compare with his wife? This graceful, pure, virginal person! This soul fully loaded with love! Each time, he marveled and adored her. In their fifteen years together, they’d probably encountered that kind of ‘‘trouble’’ four or five times. Each time, Q dealt with it properly. He would never let such a vulgar thing disturb his angel-like wife’s mood (that would be the same as deliberately hurting her). If he had to, he would tell her afterwards. He would turn it into a joke. He would never let her have uneasy suspicions.