‘Yes, but weren’t you worried about me?’
‘Of course not! You’re a grown woman! You’ve had arguments with men in the past and got over them okay. Why would this be any different?’
Victoria stared at Marcus, speechless. Then her brain started hunting for a suitable response. It was difficult, because his argument was based on him seeing her as a grown woman and she didn’t want to undermine that.
‘Listen, Marcus,’ she said, as though to a child. ‘Phones calls are not just about communication. People call each other to show that they care.’
‘Some people, perhaps,’ said Marcus. ‘But it’s not true for everyone. I mean, I never call my son, but that certainly doesn’t mean I don’t care about him.’
‘You never call your son?’ said Victoria.
‘No, I don’t,’ said Marcus. ‘And it’s not because I can’t be bothered, by the way. It’s a conscious choice.’
‘But why?’
‘Because, in the early days of the divorce, when I spoke to him on the phone, it would always end up with both of us crying. Plus, according to my ex, he would jump every time the phone rang hoping it was me and then burst into floods of tears when it wasn’t. So his mother and I sat him down and told him there was a new rule: He could call me whenever he wanted — and his mother promised that she would never say no — but I would never, ever call him.’
‘How old was he?’
‘Between four and five.’
‘But that’s terrible.’
‘No, it’s not,’ said Marcus. ‘It was a practical approach to a tough situation. And, more to the point, it worked. He called quite a lot to begin with, but the more he got used to seeing his father every other weekend, the less he felt the need to call. Nowadays, he only calls if something happens and he really can’t wait to tell me.’
‘But what about when you miss him?’
‘I deal with that alone.’
‘But that’s awful!’
‘It’s necessary,’ said Marcus. ‘Besides, I’m the adult and he’s the child, which means it’s my job to be there for him when he misses me, not the other way around.’
Marcus turned his chair and stared over the balcony into space. For the first time, Victoria felt the extent of his emotionality. Marcus was always so calm, so rational, that she thought he lacked emotions, but now she realised that he was seething with them. The phrase ‘can of worms’ came into her head and she felt it fit Marcus perfectly.
‘I have a question,’ said Victoria.
Marcus turned his head to look at her. Victoria took a deep breath.
‘Why are you here?’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’ said Marcus. ‘I’m here because you wanted to talk.’
‘Yes, but why?’ she insisted. ‘I mean, why are you with me? Why are we together?’
‘We’re not “together”,’ said Marcus. ‘You have your life, I have mine, and we see each other in our spare time.’
‘Yes, but why? And don’t say you’re in it for the sex. Oh wait… the sex is crap, so it can’t be that!’
Marcus slumped in his chair, groaning under his breath.
‘Oh, don’t give me that!’ said Victoria, waving a hand in the air. ‘You knew exactly what reaction you were going to get! Marcus, you just can’t say that to a woman!’
‘Why not?’ he said, his gaze snapping in her direction. ‘You keep telling me what a strong, independent woman you are! So how about I say what I think and trust that you’re strong enough to handle it?’
‘Being a strong woman doesn’t mean having to deal with a man’s shit!’
‘What do you mean “a man’s shit”? You asked me a question and I gave you an answer! Okay, it wasn’t the answer you wanted, but so what?’
‘You told me I was crap in bed!’
‘No, I didn’t! Those were your words!’
‘Marcus…’ said Victoria, leaning on the table and forcing herself to lower her voice. ‘You basically told me that having sex with your ex-wife was better than with me.’
‘No, I…’
Marcus hesitated. He seemed to reconsider.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘I didn’t actually say that, but I’m not going to deny it.’
‘Well, how do you think that makes me feel?’
‘Not good, I imagine. I can certainly understand why you’re upset. I would even understand if you feel it’s a dealbreaker.’
‘Oh, really?’ said Victoria, narrowing her eyes. ‘So tell me, Marcus, if I were to say that it was a dealbreaker… what would you say?’
‘I would say: Fair enough.’
Victoria stared at the man. She couldn’t work out which feeling was worse — the anger or the contempt.
‘You would just… let me break up with you?’ she said slowly.
‘Of course,’ said Marcus. ‘Victoria, if a woman doesn’t want to be in a relationship with me, what’s the point of talking her into it?’
‘Well, here’s a thought!’ said Victoria. ‘You could do something to show that you want her! You could at least try to change her mind!’
‘If I knew how to do that,’ said Marcus, ‘do you think I’d be divorced?’
‘Well, maybe you didn’t try hard enough!’
Marcus stared at her for a moment. Then he leaned on the table, his hands clasped tightly together. It made Victoria nervous and, when Marcus spoke, his voice was cold.
‘Do you know how many times Lizzie threatened to break-up with me while we were together?’ he said. ‘Five times. Twice she wanted to call off our engagement and three times she wanted a divorce; the actual divorce was time number four. And that’s not counting the many, many times she’d say things like ‘I should divorce you’ as a kind of joke. She only stopped when our son was old enough to understand what the word meant. And when I say five times, I’m talking about serious situations where she was adamant she wanted to end things — and each time I managed to find a way to turn things around. One of those ways involved… letting her sleep with someone else.’
A tear ran down Marcus’ face, followed by another. He gritted his teeth and wiped them away before fixing his gaze on the woman in front of him.
‘Victoria, I tried everything I could think of to save my marriage,’ he said. ‘Even Lizzie would back me up on that one. And the one thing I learned from that experience is that trying to change a woman’s mind is a fool’s game. It’s a fool’s game! And I will never. Do it. Again.’
Victoria looked at her hands. She didn’t know how to respond. She found herself gazing at the sliver of blue sky just visible through the huge windows, between the roof of the building opposite and the coffee house ceiling. The only other customers on this balcony were sat away from them and she felt isolated and alone.
‘Marcus, I’m sorry about what Lizzie did to you,’ she said.
‘I’m not–‘
‘Please let me finish.’
Victoria gave him a look. Marcus bit his lip and gestured for her to go on.
‘As I said, I’m sorry about what she did to you,’ said Victoria. ‘I’m sorry you feel she took your son away and in no way do I want to downplay the impact I know it’s had on you. But I am not Lizzie. I am Victoria, a completely different woman, and I find it very unfair that you treat me as though I were Lizzie. I’m not. I’m me.’
‘That may be true,’ said Marcus. ‘But the essential dynamics of our relationship are the same.’
‘I thought you said we didn’t have a relationship?’
‘No, I said that we weren’t “together”. That’s not the same as not being in a relationship.’
Victoria shook her head in irritation. She remembered with chagrin how happy she had been to find an intelligent, articulate man. Now, she hated it.
‘What are you talking about?’ she said. ‘What do you mean “dynamics”?’
‘The dynamics which govern the way that we talk to each other,’ he said. ‘The way that we end up having the same fights. And the fights I have with you are essentially the same as the fights I had with Lizzie.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
Marcus leaned forwards and looked at her the way a bank manager might look at a customer who asked what a redemption policy was.
‘There are two narratives in our relationship which are competing with each other,’ he said. ‘The first is that you are a wonderful, beautiful woman who deserves to be loved and cherished by a man worthy of your attention. The second is that, in reality, we are both average-looking, somewhat damaged people, neither of whom deserve anything, who need to work with the material they’ve been given. Now, I’m very clear on which narrative I believe in, but you seem to be struggling. It’s like your head believes the second narrative, but your heart wants to believe the first. And my feeling is that, in the end, your heart is going to win. Everything you’ve said and done since the moment I met you indicates a woman who is absolutely determined to get what she believes she deserves.’
‘You make it sound like a mental illness,’ said Victoria.
‘I prefer the word dysfunctional.’
‘I’m sure you do.’
Victoria looked at Marcus. She looked at him for a long time, her body still, her hands relaxed and unclenched. It wasn’t that she felt calm. She felt nothing. It was like experiencing a vacuum where feeling used to be. She looked down at her coffee cup, now empty except for some remnants of milky foam sticking to the sides. She tipped her cup to look at it.
‘Do you know what I think?’ she said, looking back at Marcus. ‘I think there’s a good man inside of you. A truly good man with a lot to offer a woman. But you have been so hurt by the divorce that you’ve come up with this terrible rationalisation to protect yourself. And I understand why you’d do that, Marcus. I really do. It takes courage to believe in Love and I can imagine that a divorce might be a real blow to that courage. “Once bitten, twice shy” and all that. But I do believe in Love, Marcus. I haven’t given up on it. And I absolutely cannot be with a man who has. I’m sorry.’
Marcus’ expression showed a complete absence of surprise. He leaned back, put his hands on his lap and looked at Victoria without hostility.
‘Are you saying we’re done?’ he said.
‘I think it’s for the best,’ she said. ‘Don’t you?’
‘Victoria, it is entirely up to you.’
She gave a sour nod and reached for her coat and shoulder bag. When she stood up, Marcus rose too.
‘No, I’d rather you stay seated,’ said Victoria. ‘Your standing up is supposed to show respect, but the fact is you have no idea what that means. And I’m not offended, by the way. I know that something happened which made you emotionally crippled and you’re just not able to respect a woman’s feelings. But it’s more honest if you stay sitting. You should only act like a man if you know how to be one.’