He was smiling already.
‘You’re cruel.’
‘You’re right. Oh, what’s this? It’s called My Love Has Disappeared. I think the original English title is Diary of a Mad Housewife.’
‘Since being with you, I can see just how pure I am. These days I’m Juliet of the Spirits all the way.’
‘Oh, that’s here too.’
‘But it’s the things I don’t like about you that make me feel sorry for you. It makes me think about how hard it must be to live like you do. See, I begin by liking what I don’t like about others. I’m a person of love.’ I smiled faintly, like a masochist.
‘Love is everything. Youth seems so wonderful! Life is beautiful,’ Jane said in his superficial way. Then, he proceeded to do an exaggerated ‘shaking with emotion and crying’ act. I laughed lifelessly. When I asked him to ‘pull a stupid face’, he did it immediately. He let his eyes roll back and his mouth gaped lazily. He put on a funny voice.
‘That was an idiot under a fig tree. Next up is an idiot wandering around a local high street.’
As always, I began to laugh. I felt a twinge of loneliness but I laughed anyway.
‘If you don’t want to watch a film, let’s see if we can get some pirate radio on the go.’ He fiddled with the tuner.
… is a request we received, but we don’t have the record. So I’ll sing it and play some random chords. Well then—Theeey asked me how I knewww…
‘What’s this supposed to be?’
‘“Smoke Gets in Your Eyes,” I think. I used to be a disc jockey,’ he said.
… My true love was truuue…
‘These days even the news is in DJ-speak. It’s so irritating.’
‘It’s a frivolous culture.’
‘But this is a good song. Do you know it? Apparently, Eva Braun used to sing it when she smoked because Hitler hated cigarettes.’
‘Large-scale con-artists like him often have a spartan side to them. I also have an extremely stoic side to me. Don’t laugh,’ he said.
‘Do you have some ambition you’re not telling me about?’
‘I do like to stand out. I’m thinking of going into entertainment. Something like that.’
‘You can’t be an actor,’ I said frankly. ‘A real actor needs to be able to feel things. Are you ever moved or inspired?’
‘Of course not. When I’m being thankful, I think, “This is a moment when I should be thankful,” and then I press start on my heart mechanism. Besides, I don’t ever feel surprised.’
Suddenly, I felt the space that we occupied (a vague concept in itself) start to shrink and recede. Life as a fresh and complex entity was drying out and threatening to disappear fast. The caretaker of the soul hung his head low in shame.
‘Oh dear, god has disappeared somewhere,’ I screamed. Is this a bad trip from all the grim talk?
‘God’s down on the deep range,’ Jane whispered quietly, almost like he was singing. Yes. God has left the monastery and may have met his end at the bottom of the sea.
‘Is there a god for you?’
‘There is.’
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Will he forgive you?’
‘Nah.’
After a while, time began to flow more slowly.
I took a breath.
A wonderful moment – the joy of knowing that my own creation and the creation of the universe are intimately connected. The certainty that the present was predetermined. Yes, that’s it. We will return millions of times over. Life might merely be a momentary bolt of lightning in the dark, after which the self melts into the infinite darkness. But it means that we will continue forever without interruption. I was filled with a baseless delight.
Time flowed even slower. It was taking on a sense of eternity.
Now! Now only happens now. But now exists everywhere. The past and future have vanished and countless nows continue infinitely. That is why I can keep going forever. I am completely free and can go to any now I choose. I can exist anywhere. Firmly, in any time.
‘Are you hungry?’ Jane purred.
I smoke two cigarettes once eleven o’clock rolls around. Thinking to myself that I really shouldn’t do these things… I go to the bathroom anyway and swallow my pills. I take more each time.
My body is slightly feverish, always. I have no strength whatsoever. I feel so heavy that I can’t do anything. Somewhere always hurts.
‘Maybe I’ll go see him tonight.’ I’m talking to myself.
‘Quit it with that guy,’ the manager tells me sternly. ‘There’s nothing in it for you. Best case scenario is you getting knocked up with an unwanted baby. What is he to you anyway?’
The manager and Jane have become very hostile to each other.
‘My paramour?’ I pick up my bag. ‘Yeah, I think I’ll go see him.’
Time feels strange these days. I’m no longer able to change the speed of time according to my desires. Time has become patchy. It feels like it’s passing by at a terrifying speed. Sometimes I have these momentary lapses of consciousness. It’s like an episode of microsleep.
Before I know it, I’m outside Jane’s apartment.
‘You look tired,’ he says, his eyes searching. ‘What have you been up to since last week?’
Last week? It seems like only two or three hours ago that we last met. Oh, that’s right. It was last week. But why does it feel so firmly attached to now?
‘You’ve been acting strange, recently.’ Jane anxiously wraps his arms around my neck.
‘Maybe you’re right.’ I have no confidence. I feel like a puppet on a string. I’m being moved by someone else, with no will of my own.
‘Are you taking the drugs?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘They give me relief. I’m probably headed towards destruction.’
Whose life is this? It’s completely empty.
‘Poor thing. Why do you hurt yourself so much? Is it on purpose?’
‘Maybe so.’ Not that it matters. Am I trying to make him a witness to my collapse? ‘What kind of relationship are we in?’ I whisper at him, moving my face closer.
‘A stoic and static one.’
Is he struggling? Why does he struggle instead of me? Maybe I’m not actually struggling? Am I taking more drugs because he won’t identify with me?
‘I want to do something for you but I can’t.’ He nuzzles his fuzzy cheek against mine.
‘You’re probably the type who would feel regret if you killed someone. Even though you’re cold.’ I say something like that with my face and voice inexpressive. We never raise our voices.
‘But I’m not cruel.’
‘Yeah, that’s right. The difference between cold and cruel is that to be cruel, you need to have feelings but to be cold, you don’t, right?’
‘Can you stop saying that?’ Jane shakes his head. Is it so scary to watch another person self-destruct?
‘I don’t think I would feel any remorse about killing someone,’ I continue. ‘I don’t know how I got this way. It’s like I’ve crumbled into pieces. I’m starving for time. God has gone away somewhere. If someone invented a matter regeneration machine, it would be my god.’
He shakes his head.
I keep going. ‘I have no remorse about having no remorse. So what can I do? I can only watch myself go to ruin.’
‘Let’s stop with this repressive relationship. It’s not good. It’s not good for you.’ Jane’s eyes look the same way they did when he watched me sleep. When was that? I can’t remember.
‘I’m driven only by my desires. Let me do what I like. God, I’m tired. I’m going to lie down.’