Hanif Kureishi: Collected Stories

As both their wives were interested in psychology, they had planned, last Christmas, to go to Jake’s flat for lunch to meet his wife and girls, but it fell through.

Now Eric glimpsed Jake scurrying towards the café. They shook hands and Jake sat down.

‘How are you, sir? It’s been too long,’ Jake said. ‘Was the last time at the beginning of the year? It was probably February. I remember I had the prawns. I need a beer badly. Will you join me or are you all right with that?’

‘Yes, I’m on white wine now,’ said Eric. ‘I consider it part of my new diet, which I’ve been enduring for three months.’

‘Congratulations!’

‘I haven’t lost one ounce. I was always a thin kid. I took myself for granted.’ He patted his stomach. ‘I’m complacent.’

Jake said, ‘It’s not going well?’

‘Last night the wife and I had an orgy involving a packet of chocolate biscuits, so I’ve had a terrible day, the guilt like a dagger. But I have started exercising. I run, or amble, rather, by the canal, listening to that great music you send me. And you? What’s your news?’

Jake had put on the glasses which hung around his neck from a string, and was looking eagerly at the menu. Eric guessed that Jake was a little older than him, about forty-five probably. Jake had seemed stolid, large, but now looked somewhat scrawny, with the collar of his shirt too big for his neck. Had he shrunk in some way? Resembling an ageing professor, he had always been more earnest than Eric, with a more literal character. You’d have to be such a type to adore so much the icy longing and melancholy of Norwegian jazz.

‘You have lost weight,’ said Eric. ‘Much more than me. I envy you.’

‘I’m glad. That’s good news at last.’

‘What about you? What have you been listening to? Anything new?’

‘I haven’t had any concentration recently,’ said Jake. ‘It’s been crazy, tragic. I promise I’ll get some new stuff to you next month.’

‘I’d love that. I get so bored, don’t you?’

‘Do you want the menu?’

‘I already know what I want,’ said Eric.

‘Okay. Can we order? I’m starving.’

Eric called the waiter over; they ordered a beer for Jake and food for both of them.

‘Eric, why did you ask me if I get bored?’

‘Perhaps because the last time we met you mentioned that things were not good between you and your wife, though they sounded normal to me. She refused to come across and you’d decided to become celibate for a while. A harsh deprivation, but not the most unusual suffering.’

‘Yes, I remember telling you I was prepared to endure it until she recovered. She’d begun therapy with a Jungian, I think I said. Eccentric but not too weird.’

‘It amuses me,’ said Eric. ‘He slept with his patients.’

‘What?’ said Jake. ‘Why did you say that?’

‘Jung, if I remember rightly, was different in that respect to Freud, who didn’t mess around. Yet Freud said sexuality was the main thing, and Jung insisted it wasn’t.’

Jake said, ‘My wife had always wanted to study so I agreed to support her while she had therapy and trained to be a psychologist — though such a wish is said to be in most cases a sure sign of mental instability —’

‘Of course.’

‘But not always?’

‘Oh it is, always,’ said Eric, calling for another glass of wine.

Jake went on, ‘My wife sneers at Scandinavian jazz music, in particular the Lord of the Rings names — Frode, Arve, Arild, Siguard. But her weakness is for dresses, like my sweet girls. She claims what she wears makes her mood, so she has filled the flat with them.’

‘With her moods?’

Jake laughed. ‘Unlike your wife, she is expensive.’

‘Tell me,’ said Eric. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask this. Do you organise your music in terms of the artist, the year, the country, or something else? Personally I like to keep my artists together, it almost sexually excites me.’

Jake laughed. ‘I organise by artist, but in special cases by label. But there’s no doubt these are demanding and sometimes terrible decisions.’ He went on, ‘Not that I’ve had time to do any filing.’

‘Why is that — too much work?’

‘My mother died.’

‘I am sorry,’ said Eric. ‘That’s tough.’

‘Thanks. And a few days before she passed on, Julie decided to tell me she liked the therapist, she loved him. He was wise, intelligent and he understood everything about her.’

Their food came and they began to eat.

‘Why is it I like the food so much in this mediocre place?’ said Jake.

‘Next time,’ said Eric, ‘as you always come all the way to me, we should eat at your local.’

‘Yes, we must do that,’ Jake said. ‘Eric, I know little about therapy, but I had heard that affection for the quack was part of the process. It was natural, if not normal. It was the cure.’

‘Amazing,’ said Eric. ‘I have always fancied being hypnotised. Have you tried it?’

‘Are you saying you think I need it?’

‘I have no idea if you do. I think I do!’

Jake said, ‘Julie was becoming impatient with my Jung jokes. She knew about the theory of idealising the therapist. She said it wasn’t just that. She was, in fact, actually sleeping with him.’

‘You’re kidding? With the actual Jungian?’

‘She said she wanted to be with him. He wanted to be with her. She said we all have an ideal, and at last she had found him.’

‘Jake, are you only having a starter?’ said Eric with concern. ‘Will it be enough for you?’

‘I haven’t had an appetite lately, so this is welcome. I’m going to scoff all the bread too.’ Jake went on, ‘I told Julie this was madness. I would have to report the therapist to the authorities for the sake of other patients. But the main thing was the cohesion of our family. The well-being of the girls at home with us. They’re young — nine and seven.’

‘That was tolerant if not noble of you,’ said Eric. ‘What did she say?’

‘She told me I had to find my own place as soon as possible. Well, I was quite sick after hearing this.’

‘Oh God, Jake.’

‘The day after I had to leave town to be with mother for the last week of her life. While I was down there with her, doing this awful duty at her bedside, I spoke to Julie and the girls on the phone. They were concerned about me. It was as if nothing had happened. I hoped nothing had happened. But it had, Eric. It had definitely happened. “Did you find somewhere to live?” asked my wife. “You’re kidding, how can I right now,” I said, “when Mother is taking her last breath?”

‘Almost the moment Mother died I came back straight away. I had a feeling, you know. When I got home my wife had left, with the girls. She had gone to the small town in France where her mother and family lived.’

Eric said, ‘I think women often prefer their mothers to their children.’

Jake pushed his plate away and said, ‘I need another drink. You?’

‘Please.’

‘When I dashed to this beautiful country place — where I’ve been often and which I like very much — Julie was hostile, almost insane with hatred. I said the children barely speak French, they must come home, they need their school, their friends. This is all too sudden.’

‘Of course.’

‘Has this ever happened to you — that someone you think you know intimately has changed beyond recognition? She was cold and formal, as if talking to someone she didn’t know. I’d always liked her, though she had her problems. I liked her voice. She was curious, and interested in gardens. I wanted to make one with her, helping her. But I realised she’d gone somewhere else. Her eyes were dead now, Eric.