Simon Lelic - A Thousand Cuts

I can’t say I knew him well but I know the signs. And I know Maggie. She’s one of my best friends, in or outside of school. And because she’s one of my best friends, I can say what I’m going to say without malice. That’s what friends are for, don’t you think? To praise you when you deserve it but to be honest about it when you don’t. To support you, to be faithful to you but not to lie, not to tell you that you’re right when you know that actually you’re wrong.

Maggie was wrong. What she did, what she’s done: it’s wrong. She should have told him. She shouldn’t have done it in the first place if you want my opinion but when she did she should have told him. She shouldn’t have left him to find out for himself. She shouldn’t have left him to find out how he did, when he did, in the way he did. But I suppose that was part of the plan. I’m not saying there was a plan, not a plan as such, because as much as she was fooling Samuel she was fooling herself. But underneath it all, there was a plan. Deep down, she knew what she wanted. Do you see?

You don’t. You’re lost. I’ve lost you. Where did I lose you?

No, no, no. Since then. Since they broke up.

You mean you don’t know? You didn’t hear? She didn’t tell you, did she? I can’t believe she didn’t tell you. Although I can of course. Of course I can.

I won’t start at the beginning because clearly you know the beginning. I’ll start at the end.

They broke up. Samuel and Maggie. You know this. She told you this. It was a long time coming, them breaking up. She probably told you that as well. Samuel had problems, you see. Clearly he had problems but well before all of this happened it was obvious that he wasn’t coping. Which, by the way, is why Maggie found herself attracted to him. She’s a motherly one, Maggie. I don’t know if she’s ever been with a man she couldn’t mother. They’re kids usually. Not literally of course, I don’t mean literally, but mentally, they’re children. They need protecting. They need looking after. Which shows you how caring Maggie is as a person. Which explains why she’s always so generous as a friend. It’s a strength of hers definitely but also a frailty.

So Samuel, he didn’t settle, he didn’t mix and he didn’t have any control over his students. I don’t know much about his private life but I think that’s partly because there was never very much to know. Maggie, it seemed to me, was his private life. She became his private life. Before she asked him out, Maggie was terrified that he would say no. I told her, no way. Don’t be ridiculous. I said, he’s besotted with you, you can tell. He used to watch her. I used to watch him watching her. Me, I would have found it creepy. Or maybe I wouldn’t have. Maybe I’m just saying that because of what he’s done. Either way, there was no possibility that he would have turned her down. The only reason he might have done would have been because he was shy, scared, afraid of being with a woman. And at one point it occurred to me that maybe he would say no, precisely for that reason, but it was too late to say anything to Maggie by then and anyway he didn’t.

You know all this. She asked him out and he said yes. They went together for a while, a few months, but Samuel had his problems and Maggie couldn’t help, that’s the gist of it. She tried and all the while she was trying she became more… more… what word should I use? I’m not sure she was in love with him. I hope for her sake that she wasn’t. But she was fond of him. More than that, she was attached to him. Attached like ... I don’t know, like an owner gets to their dog. No, that’s awful. What an awful analogy. Like a nurse, say. Like a nurse to a patient, like in The English Patient , you know, the film. All I’m trying to say is that even after they split up, Maggie was still involved. Emotionally. She had the sense to break it off with him because it was going nowhere, it was driving her insane, and as I said to her, she was wasting her life. So she broke up with him but not in the sense that really mattered.

This was oh gosh. February. March maybe. The end of February. But that, really, was just the beginning. It was the beginning of a whole other phase.

They broke up and Samuel said nothing. That’s what Maggie told me. Literally, he said nothing. Okay so maybe it wasn’t a shock but you still might expect a few words. If not of regret then of anger or desperation or misery perhaps, of despair. But Samuel curled up. You know, like spiders do, the way they wrap their legs around themselves whenever they feel threatened. Like that.

And Maggie, she’s convinced it’s because he didn’t care, that he never cared, when of course it’s exactly the opposite. Samuel just went on being Samuel, cold, withdrawn, solitary, but his behaviour was so exactly like it had been before that it was obviously just an act. It was obvious to me anyway. Maggie, though, she couldn’t see it. And it hurt her. You know how humans are seventy per cent water? Seventy per cent, sixty per cent. Something like that. Maggie is seventy per cent emotion. She cares easily – she can’t watch the news, she tells me, because it’s worse for her than watching Casablanca – and she hurts just as readily too. So Samuel, after they split up, he’s treating Maggie like she’s just another colleague, like she’s me or Matilda or Veronica, which means he’s basically in denial about her existence. And Maggie can’t stand it, I mean she hides it in front of him, she hides it very well considering, but she’s questioning herself, she’s questioning her self-worth, she’s questioning how she looks, the sound of her voice, the size of her hips, she became obsessed with the size of her hips. We have our little chats, you see. During lunch usually, if neither one of us is on duty. And for several weeks that’s all we spoke about: her; Samuel; Samuel and her. I didn’t mind. I suppose maybe it was a bit much sometimes. Once or twice I swapped days with George or Vicky just to give myself a break but on the whole I didn’t mind.

At first she blamed herself, like I say, then after a while she started to blame Samuel, which was progress, I thought, and closer to the truth of it, more to the point. He’s Asperger’s, she said. He must be. He can’t engage. He won’t commit to anything more emotionally demanding than a book. And I don’t suppose she’ll mind me telling you this but their sex life: it was stillborn. They did it once, she said, and she cried the whole of the next day. She didn’t come in to work. She stayed at home and stripped the bed and sat in the bath and ate Quality Street and in the evening she made herself throw up. I don’t know what Samuel did. Probably he just went on being Samuel. Probably he assumed it had gone okay. He was a man after all.

So anyway, that’s why she did it. She wanted Samuel to show some passion, to show that he had feelings for her. Deep down, that’s what she wanted. She told me she was over him. She told me and I suppose I believed her. She had stopped talking about him. Or if she talked about him she also laughed about him. Our little chats went back to how they used to be. I stopped switching rotas. If I switched at all, it was to bring mine into line with Maggie’s. I genuinely thought she was over him. Clearly, though, she wasn’t. Clearly she wasn’t because how else could you possibly explain her decision to go to bed with TJ?

Here’s how Samuel found out. This was May probably, late April, the end of April. Maggie had been going with TJ for about a week or so. Don’t ask me how it started. Basically Maggie was lonely and TJ was sweaty and they happened to run into each other when they were both in the mood for sex. End of story. Although it wasn’t. It should have been. It should have been just that one time. Guess where they did it by the way. I shouldn’t tell you this but guess.