Santiago Gamboa - Necropolis

They talked about the tournament, and Topkin’s victory (his fourth successive one in Zurich), and the strange final position, with two knights crossed and a bishop in the middle. By the second glass of champagne, Cécile’s cobalt-blue eyes had done the trick, and Gunard, with the same innocence with which he did everything, said, it’s a pity you’re married, I’d love to spend the night with you. Cécile replied, it’s true I’m married, but there are exceptions to everything. Then she handed him a piece of paper and said, write down the address of the place where I have to go so that you can have what you want, and then she returned to her husband’s arm.

Gunard went back to his studio feeling somewhat confused and without holding out any hope, but just before midnight there was a knock at his door, and there she was. She kissed him and said, quick now, this first time will have to be very quick. They made love on the carpet and when they had finished she leaped to her feet, adjusted her clothes and went to the door. I’m taking your telephone number, she said, I’ll be in touch very soon, goodbye. And she left.

Gunard sat on the couch in the studio, naked, unable to believe what had happened and with an angel in his throat, to quote Rilke.

For the first time, he felt there was something that could distract him completely from the world, from his own world, and so he sat naked on the couch for the next two days, waiting for Cécile, unwilling to get her smell off him.

She did not come. Instead, Renate showed up. Gunard opened the door without putting anything on, like some mad satyr. Renate looked at him with contempt and said, well, you’re making progress, at least you aren’t dressed like a woman, and he said, you don’t know who I am, and sank into complete silence. He refused to tell her if he was coming home or if he wanted to ask for a divorce. Nor did he speak when she asked him, as tactfully as she could, what exactly did you see that night in Edvard’s car? At last Renate left and he was able to return to his couch and his thoughts, which were all of Cécile’s body and her smell and the way she pronounced every syllable before she had left. He went over and over her words, “I’ll be in touch very soon”; he made an effort to see her as she had said it, analyzing her facial muscles, the way she pushed her lips forward in a smile, the kiss she blew him on her index finger, the noise of the door as it closed.

Two more days passed and Momsen, who until now had never given him any advice on anything other than chess, decided to help him, saying: Gunard, a man sitting on a couch waiting for a woman is a classic situation, what you’re doing now has been done at least once by most of our fellows, that’s why I understand you, that feeling of being at the bottom of an abyss, the rapid heartbeats, the loss of appetite, and the conviction that if that person doesn’t return, a slab of granite will fall on our head and we’ll be buried in a wave of grief and solitude, I know that, it stops us breathing and puts us in a highly sensitive state, any story reduces us to tears, the words of every song hurt us, we can’t go to the movies and concentrate, the whole universe is a metaphor for that person we’re yearning for, who doesn’t come, that’s the way it is, you’re experiencing something tremendously human that has inspired a great deal of poetry and art, because although it’s unpleasant to live through, once we’ve overcome it, it becomes a source of ideas, esthetic ideas, even scientific ones, and it’s the best inheritance we can leave ourselves, always remember, there’s nothing worse than the frivolity and foolishness of those who have never suffered, those whose fears are abstract concepts, no, my friend, what truly moves us men, what drives us to dig in the magma where what doesn’t yet exist can be found, what makes us search for what we lack or what we are not, is the fear of going back to those solitary hours, the fear of being unable to breathe, the fear of losing the certainty that the world, after a night in darkness, will return to the light because there is somebody close: all that is at the origin of creation, don’t forget that chess is an esthetic, use this experience to make yourself strong.

When Momsen had finished, Gunard said, I’m sinking, Theodor, I can’t help sinking, farther and farther down, I don’t want to avoid it, I’m not the one who chose to be like this, it’s the situation and it’s Cécile and it’s what grew in me after being with her, something inside me that’s alien, like an illness we can only cure with waiting and silence, because there’s no substance or bacteria that needs to be cured, the organism is healthy, I don’t want to do anything to stop the fig tree growing and choking me, why should I? the idea of death through love is something we only understand when we’re on the verge of dying for love, Theodor, thank you for your advice and experience, they’ve been very useful to me today.

After the talk with Mr. Momsen came the longed-for prize. There was a rap at the door, and when he opened it the world starting turning again, the planets resumed their orbits and their muffled noise, and night and day stopped being the two faces of a frozen sphere. Gunard’s heart swelled to the bursting point when he heard Cécile say, forgive me, my husband forced me to go with him on a ridiculous journey to Venice, but all I did was think about you, the surge of the canals brought me your voice, I demanded a separate room in the Hôtel des Bains to think about you in the middle of that vast ontological lagoon, I couldn’t stand being with him, I don’t want to be touched by anyone but you, touch me, kiss me, come inside me.

They rolled on the floor and made love as they had the first time, until night fell and they phoned out for something to eat, and sat on the couch, eating pizza and drinking Burgundy.

They stayed like this for three days until there was another knock at the door and Gunard heard Renate’s voice through the air vent, but he did not let her in. She wanted to know if he was planning to come back home, if he was planning to leave little Ebenezer, if he thought his marriage wasn’t worth the bother of an explanation, and added: I haven’t the slightest idea what you thought you saw that night in Edvard’s car, but it must have been a hallucination, the product of your obsession, don’t you think?

Gunard opened wide the door of his study, pointed to Cécile lying naked on the cushions, and said, let me introduce the new woman in my life. Then, turning to Cécile, he said, this is my ex-wife, I hope you get along well. Renate looked at him with eyes full of hatred and said, how long have you been screwing this whore? Cécile got in ahead of Gunard — although he had not in fact planned to answer — and said, madam, I’ve been here for three days and we’ve made love twenty-two times. Before these three days, only once, last week. Don’t worry, this is new, believe me.

Renate glared at her, turned to Gunard, and said, I don’t know how you’re going to justify this to your father, and then, much to everyone’s surprise, Gunard said, he already knows, my father already knows, and he fell silent again. Renate was terrified when she heard that and only managed to say: now I understand. Then she walked out, slamming the door, and Cécile and Gunard embraced.

The next person to arrive was the banker Seymour W. Maeterlinck. He had learned Gunard’s address by bribing his wife’s chauffeur and now here he was, in front of the two of them, accompanied by his lawyer. Maeterlinck came straight to the point, and said, very well, I see you’ve decided to make a new life for yourself, I shan’t stand in your way, I will only ask you to sign a few papers, Mr. Heep? The lawyer, Uriah Heep, handed her a folder of documents and said, madam, please sign here, at the bottom, next to your name.