Hanif Kureishi - Collected Stories

Slowly, they climbed the stairs to Ed and Ann’s apartment for supper.

At around eleven-thirty they returned home, watched each other drink a glass of water — it was part of their new health regime — and went to bed. Upstairs, Ann and Ed were in bed, too.

Ed and Ann felt it was a tragedy that they knew the layout of Ed and Ann’s flat upstairs. It was the same as theirs. But Ed and Ann had also placed their chairs, shelves, table, bed and other furniture in the same position. By the banging of doors, even the flushing of the toilet, the use of the shower, the scraping of chairs on the wooden floor, the selection of music, and the location of their voices and then the silence when they went to bed, they would know where Ed and Ann were in the flat and what they were doing.

After work the following day, Ed and Ann went to a local pub to eat and talk. Ed and Ann upstairs were already home. The TV was on and they’d changed out of their work clothes. Ed and Ann guessed the couple upstairs would be making supper.

But when Ed and Ann left the pub to walk home, they turned a corner and bumped into Ed and Ann who said, — We’re off to that place you said served good food.

— Thank you for supper last night, they said. — We enjoyed it.

— We enjoyed having you, said Ed and Ann. — We must do something else together.

— Yes, said Ann, staring at Ann. — We must! We’ll come round to you! We’ll wait for you to set a date.

— We’ll do that, said the other Ann.

Ed and Ann watched the other couple go into the pub.

When they got home, knowing Ed and Ann upstairs were out, Ed and Ann were able to talk in their normal voices.

— We will have to invite them back.

— Yes, said Ann. — We had better do that. Otherwise we will appear impolite.

— Maybe we should invite someone else, too, said Ed. — Another couple, perhaps.

— It’ll make it less of a strain.

— Why should it be such a strain anyway? he asked.

— I don’t know.

But neither of them thought it a good idea to invite another couple. For some reason they didn’t want anyone else to see them with Ed and Ann upstairs. It might mean they had to discuss it.

At work, one lunchtime that week, Ed brought up the subject of his neighbours with a friendly colleague. Ed hadn’t told Ann that he was intending to talk about this with anyone else, but he had to: the situation seemed to be making him preternaturally tired and paranoid. Sitting on the tube, where he could see the other Ed at the other end of the carriage reading the same book, what could he do but wonder whether anyone else was similarly shadowed?

— Suppose, he told the friend, — that a couple moved in upstairs who were very similar to you.

Once he’d relieved himself of this, Ed awaited his friend’s reply. Of course the friend didn’t see how this could be a problem. Ed tried to put it more clearly.

— Suppose they were not only quite similar, but were — how shall I put it? — exactly the same. It’s as if they’re the originals and you’re only acting out their lives. Not only that, you thought they were petty, and a bit dim, and that their lives were dull, and that they were not generous enough with each other — they didn’t see how much they would benefit from more giving all round — and they had nothing much to say for themselves … You know the sort of thing.

The friend said, — Naturally, they’d have the same ideas about you, too.

— I guess that’s right, said Ed, nervously. — Let me put it like this: what if you met yourself and were horrified?

— I wouldn’t be horrified but so amused I’d laugh my head off, said the friend. — Am I such a bad person? Is that what this important conversation is about?

Of course what Ed had described was not something of which this friend had had any experience. How could he possibly appreciate how terrible and oppressive such a thing could be? The only people Ed and Ann knew who had had this experience were Ed and Ann upstairs.

Ed and Ann tried to forget about their upstairs neighbours. They wanted to go about their lives as normally as possible. But the night following Ed’s conversation with his friend, there was a knock on the door of the flat. When Ed opened it, he saw it was Ed. It turned out that both Anns were at evening classes and should be back soon. Ed wanted to borrow a CD he had heard Ed mention at supper. He had lost his own copy and wanted to tape Ed’s.

— Come in, said Ed. — Make yourself at home. I wasn’t doing anything important.

Ed offered him a drink. Then Ann phoned to say she was having a drink with a friend. The other Ann did the same. Ed stayed until the bottle was finished. He poured it himself and even asked if Ed minded turning off the TV — it was ‘distracting’ him. He talked about himself and didn’t leave off until both Anns returned, around the same time.

When Ed and Ann were under the bedsheets, Ed said, — How could he do it? Just turn up and put me under that kind of pressure? I could have been …

— What? said Ann.

— Writing a piece about that journey I made to Nepal two years ago.

— Which I bet you weren’t doing, said Ann. — Were you?

— Maybe I was about to start washing out my best fountain pens. Ann, you know I’ve been intending to.

— I’m afraid you’ll never begin that other journey, the deepest one, inside!

— I don’t want to hear that! You make me feel awful!

She said, — What do we do in the evenings but watch TV and bicker? Tell me, what did Ed say?

— I learned a lot. He’s in the wrong job. Can’t get along with the people he works with. He has ambition, but it is unfocused. You go out of your house, people always say — it’s the first thing — what do you do? They judge you by what you’re achieving and by your importance. Yet to him everyone else seems cleverer and with a much better idea of what’s going on. He realises that whether he feels grown up or not, from the world’s point of view he is now an adult.

— He knows he’s not going to be rich!

— Rich! Nothing is moving forward for him. His fantasy is to be a travel writer. As if! Doesn’t know if he’ll ever make a living at it. Doesn’t even know if he’ll ever begin. His friends are making a name for themselves. He gets up in the morning, contemplates his life and can’t begin to see how to fix it.

— Do they discuss it? Do they talk?

— Talk! He complains that she doesn’t know whether to stay with him. She doesn’t know whether this is the best of what a life can offer. She really wants to be a teacher, but he won’t encourage her. He thinks she’s a flake, interested only in her body, wasting their money on fake therapies and incapable of saying anything with any pith in it. There’s a man at work who’s older, who guides her, who will guide her away from him. I expect he’s fucked her already.

— Oh, she wants to be inspired!

— Is that what she calls it?

— Wait a minute, she said. — Can you please stop? I have to get a drink of water.

— Go on then, drink! he said. — The couple’s sex life has tailed off but they don’t know if this is a natural fluctuation. If they have children they’ll be stuck with each other in some way or other for good. Neither of them has the resources to make a decision! It’s trivial in many ways, but in others it’s the most important thing in their lives. All in all, they’re going crazy inside.

— Some people’s lives! said Ann.

For the next two weeks Ann and Ed went out after work, together sometimes, but mostly separately, not returning until late. Ed even took to walking around the streets, or sitting in bars, in order not to go home. He kept thinking there was something he had to do, that there was something significant which had to be changed, but he didn’t know what it was. Once, in a pub in which there were many mirrors, Ed thought he saw Ed from upstairs sitting behind him. Thinking he’d seen the devil, he stood up and rushed out, gasping and gesticulating at nothing. He took to spreading out his newspaper and sitting on it beside the pond in a small park near by, wondering what ills could be cured by silence. Except that one evening, under the still surface of the pond, he saw pieces of his own face swimming in the darkness, like bits of a puzzle being assembled by God, and he had to close his eyes.