Quim Monzó - Gasoline

He hears her breathing regularly. Is it possible that she has already fallen asleep? All those endless meetings to set up the summer shows. . He had always thought that even summer shows were programmed years (or at least many months) in advance. Helena, though, has such a nose for the new, such an ability to capture the pulse of the moment, that she can’t plan her shows more than a few months ahead. He has a nice long yawn and tries to go back to sleep. The image of a cockroach appears to him and, as hard as he struggles to erase it, it persists, leaving him more and more wide awake. Then he hears Helena breathing deeply, fast asleep. Before dozing off again (or waking up, as for days now — and, above all, since the night before — it is as if he were sleeping awake or as if he were living asleep) he opens an eye one last time to look at the clock: it’s 5:30.

•

Lately, he enjoys sleeping late more and more. Before, whenever he wasn’t out carousing the previous night, Heribert would get up about 9:00 (neither too late nor too early, he would tell himself), shower, have citrus juice for breakfast, and, around 10:00 or 10:30, go up to the studio, turn on the radio or the record player (now it tended more and more to be the radio, since having to choose which records he wanted to hear put him off), and paint until 2:00. Then he would have lunch — at home if Helena was there, at a restaurant if she wasn’t, since cooking for himself was a bore. The problem is that, tired of always going to the same restaurant, for some six months now he has been having lunch at a different place every day, and so, every time Helena isn’t home for lunch, he has to go farther away since (even counting the times — not frequent — that he’s cheated and gone twice to the same place) he has been to all the restaurants in the neighborhood and in the neighboring neighborhoods. Once or twice he has even taken the subway, crossed the river, and had lunch outside the city. But this isn’t his usual pattern, since it prevents his returning in the afternoon to start painting again (particularly now that he was preparing a double show which, according to Hug and Helena was to be the definitive proof that his triumph of the previous year is irrevocable), and it is imperative that he work in the afternoon because things are not proceeding at their usual pace. This is why he has abandoned his old routine (or lack of one) of doing nothing in the afternoon. Before, on occasion, he would go home, read, or watch TV or a video; or sometimes he would go out and have a look at the art shows. Other times (but definitely only once in a while) he did none of those three things and instead would go to the movies. Now, in his haste to do the paintings for the show, he goes back home and shuts himself up in the studio, to paint or to plan possible paintings (except on weekends and holidays, unless for some reason he considers it imperative). These last weeks, even though he’s been taking notes, at most he’s finished a couple of paintings he considers mediocre; and the date on which they would have to begin hanging the paintings in the two galleries is approaching at a rate that increases daily.

In the evenings, he meets up with friends. Mostly with Hug and Hilari, for dinner. Afterwards their schedules are anything but predictable, and even though he tries not to get home too late, so he’ll be able to get up early and get back to work, he still finds it equally hard to get up. Lately, what he likes best of all is to stay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

•

At nine o’clock sharp, the telephone rings. Helena stirs, buries her head in the pillow so as not to hear it, and goes on sleeping. Feeling his way, Heribert picks up the receiver. It’s Hilari, proposing dinner that evening. Hilari will bring along some girls he knows. They make arrangements. He hangs up. Heribert feels the sleep in his eyes, like fists, but he is too wide awake to go back to sleep.

Ten minutes later he is sitting with a half-grapefruit in front of him, which he is eating, section by section, with the aid of a serrated spoon. When he’s finished, he goes up to the studio, sits before the easel, prepares the paints, and continues painting black sections on the canvas of the man sitting on a stool. He is so tired that it is an effort for him to finish working on the man’s suit and the wood of the bar. A half hour later he hears noise in the kitchen, assumes it’s Helena who’s gotten up, and goes downstairs. While she spreads blueberry jam on a piece of rye bread, he opens a bottle of white wine and pours himself a glass.

“You look sleepy,” she says. “Give me a kiss. It’s the first one this year, you know. Mmm. . That’s nice. First of all, Happy New Year, okay? How’s it going for you? Mine’s been just perfect. I had a great time. You know how much I like that city. It’s small without being depressing. It’s a shame you couldn’t come. One New Year’s Eve Hannah and I went to eat at a German restaurant, just gorgeous, where the waiters wore black vests and long white aprons all the way down to mid-calf. It was like being back at the turn of the century. And her house is just beautiful, a half hour outside the city. Did you get a lot or work done? You must be just about finished. I’ll be up in a few minutes to see what you’ve done. No? You’ve got to get a move on, sweetheart; there are only three weeks left. And at this rate. . Did I say three? In two weeks they’ve got to be setting it all up. I’m tired of always running ragged at the last minute. At least you (you of all people) could have a little consideration for me. You’re not going to throw all this work out the window, now, are you? You wouldn’t be the first. This past year things have been going so well for you. . With Hug you were getting along, but when you and I got together, it was perfection! This isn’t about me, it’s about the gallery, and (heck, why not?) about me, too. If you would only listen to me and. . Why do you keep Hug on? Are you going to carry him all your life? Could Hug ever have gotten you the press I’ve gotten you since February? You don’t give me enough credit. You don’t listen to me. You listen to him, though. I’m going to call him and have him give you a talking-to. He should at least be good for that. I really think you trust him more than you trust me. Sure he got the world press to lie down at your feet, but I had already broken the ground for you. Who got the city papers to bow down to you? To get other countries to recognize you afterwards was easy. But here, it certainly wasn’t easy. And why did I do it? Because I love you. Come on, give me a kiss. Do you like my hair? You haven’t said a word about it. Now I ought to make a scene, like in the comics, when the husband comes home and doesn’t notice that his wife has a new hairdo. I had it done at Hannah’s hairdressers. And then I was so busy, I couldn’t even call you. Well, not that night, of course; that night we had people over for drinks to celebrate the summer program. In the summer a lot of novices come through and put even more thought into the organization so we don’t fill the summer shows with leftovers. What time is it? Getting up late makes the day so short. I’ve got to run. Mmmm. . I’ve got a date with Hipòlita. Button me up, please. Thanks. Give me a little kiss. I won’t be home for lunch. And get a move on!”

Since neither of them feels like going to a restaurant, as soon as Hug arrives Heribert begins to prepare the shrimp. Now, sitting face to face, across a table set with a white tablecloth, Heribert and Hug are devouring them. As he peels one, Heribert thinks that the shell of a shrimp isn’t all that different from the shell of a cockroach. He opens another bottle of white wine.

“Kid,” says Hug, “I’m here to give you a good talking-to, but since you’re certainly old enough to know what you’re doing, I’ll just remind you that we could lose our shirts here. No temper tantrums, now, and no weird, outlandish games. All artists have creative crises (if that’s what you want to call them, even though I think it’s ridiculous), and all artists get over them, and even if they don’t, they pretend they do and keep on going. Maybe what you need is to have a little fun. Go out with some girls. You certainly don’t have to worry about Helena at this stage of the game, right? You don’t get out to clear the cobwebs enough. Not only that, you let all kinds of opportunities pass you by, and, believe me, you do have opportunities. . You weren’t like this before; you were more lighthearted. Until a few months ago, you were always telling me about one affair or another. You’ve been slowing down, going out less and less. Or are you going out and just not telling me? I’d never forgive you for holding out on me. I’d be incredibly pissed at your lack of faith. And if I say you let opportunities pass you by, it’s because Hildegarda — whom you, of all people introduced me to — is a babe, and if you were interested. . Well, she’s really into you. I’m sure of it, because five or six days ago we arranged to get together for a moment because she had been calling me ever since you introduced us, to show me her work, but since I thought it was odd, the way she looks at you, that you weren’t already involved, I kept putting her off, saying I was busy. . Did you know she used to sing in the opera? She even sang at the Met. Did you already know that, or are you just not surprised? In the chorus, but she sang there, and not everyone gets that far, not even in the chorus. Stop laughing. Now it seems she’s decided to paint, and so she finally got me up to her house to show me her work. Her husband is in Europe, on a tour, since he’s an opera singer, and, listen, you can’t imagine how good it was. It’s been years since I met a woman who melted like butter at the first touch. With such soft, full lips. . and those enormous eyes. I’m telling you this, so you’ll stop being a fool and go for it. And then, get down to work, because in two (two or three?), well, in two or three weeks we have to start hanging canvases. Call her. Really. I don’t mind. You know how we used to. . remember the trouble we used to get into? Boy.”