I have always shone at my job working remotely and I can earn good money no matter where I am, so I know what I’m talking about. The analysis of financial reports and business plans, as well as real estate evaluation projects, will put food on my table no matter where I am on the map.
I’m almost at the door before I hear him say quietly, ‘You don’t need to think about that.’
I turn around and see his brown eyes staring at me angrily. Alex is breathing so heavily that I can see his chest moving up and down, barely able to contain his anger, but he still somehow manages to repeat calmly, ‘You don’t need to think about that.’
‘About what?’ I ask.
‘About what you’ll get after the divorce.’
‘I never have thought about it, Alex. After all these years, you still don’t know me,’ I say wearily. ‘Your apartment is still waiting for you in Chișinău. I was only ever keeping an eye on it and... using it to get away from it all sometimes.’
‘I know about every one of your visits to that apartment. I know everything about you,’ he says, turning his attention back to his tablet. He is unable to look me in the eye because, in the whole time we’ve known each other, this is the most repugnant conversation we have ever had. ‘And I repeat, you don’t need to worry about what will happen after the divorce, because THERE WILL NEVER BE ONE.’
He lifts his eyes back up to mine and they no longer reflect his annoyance and irritation. For a second, he seems like the old Alex – the kind, tender man to whom I was once so attracted.
‘You should never be too sure of anything, Alex,’ I remind him. ‘I always thought that I would grow old with Tim, but my life took a very different turn, as you know, and completely against my will.’
He frowns as if in pain.
‘Are you unhappy with me?’ he asks quietly.
‘Are you happy with me?’
We leave each other unanswered. An hour later, I see Alex standing out on the terrace, hands deep in the pockets of his trousers, staring out at the sea.
*** ‘Wait For Me’ by Moby ***
That evening, there’s a small party for close friends. Alex knocks tentatively on the door of the children’s room to invite me personally, and I agree.
We sit on the beach at the foot of our house wrapped in blankets, warming ourselves by a small fire and drinking beer, cooking steaks on a barbecue and chatting. Or rather joking. Them, but not me, because I’m sitting quietly, studying Alex and his most intimate circle of friends – Kristen, Anna, Mark, Jacob and Gabrielle – the same friends that were on the white settee at the party not so long ago. In the cozy solitude and orange flames of the bonfire, I find them all genuinely amusing, quick-witted, interesting: it’s immediately obvious that they have known each other for a long time and are comfortable and relaxed in each other’s company like a family.
I have noticed that Alex can be different, too. He is tough, overbearing and uncompromising with everyone except his friends, Estela, the children, and me. I have never seen him behave like that before, and it certainly doesn’t fit with the image I have built up of him over the years.
Now, though, his striking appearance is in sharp contrast with the way he talks to people – business-like, dry, often dismissive – when it’s his subordinates, colleagues and business partners, that is.
He also has another side to him – the one he reserves for women, for those who lust after him. I still know very little about my husband, and the way he allows other women to touch him pains me deeply. He is married to me now and, to my mind, this should come with certain restrictions on his behavior. It doesn’t matter what’s acceptable here, and it doesn’t matter how things are done where I come from. What matters is how I feel when other women kiss and hug him, when they draw his attention away from me. If he’s my husband, then he’s also all mine, isn’t he?
So now, I watch the way Alex is with his friends: gentle, relaxed, smart, occasionally funny. He easily deflects jokes made at his expense and makes jokes himself, but he has a particular sense of humor – he is never spiteful; he never offends anyone or causes them pain. I discover new sides to his personality, the depth of his kindness and his genuine goodwill towards people. I see his integrity and stalwartness. All these discoveries are warming my interest. I want more. I want to see and know all of him.
During a jokey squabble on elegant ways to change one’s appearance, a question is directed at me personally that forces me out of my silent contemplation.
‘Valeria, do you know what the tattoo on Alex’s chest means?’ Kristen asks, like she’s casting a fishing rod in my direction, and everyone there, except for Alex himself, greets her question with noisy approval. ‘It’s a huge secret he keeps all to himself! Has he revealed it to you?’
Alex hasn’t said a word about far more serious things than his tattoo. He never felt the need.
‘No, he hasn’t said anything to me about it either,’ I reply. ‘But then, I’ve never asked. It’s not difficult to work out, though.’
All six pairs of eyes immediately turn towards me. Alex looks at me with an expression I can’t read, which is rare. Usually, I can tell his mood and what he’s feeling just by his eyes, and, sometimes, it even feels like I can read his thoughts.
‘So, what is it? Don’t keep us in suspense!’ Kristen begins to fidget impatiently, and I suddenly wonder how she knows what Alex has on his chest. When they were relaxing on the beach together? Swimming in the pool?
Quiet now, they all wait for my answer, but I can’t give away other people’s secrets.
‘If Alex hasn’t told anyone about it, then it obviously signifies something important to him. It’s pretty clear he doesn’t want to share it with anyone, so it wouldn’t be right for me to speculate.’
Kristen instantly turns playfully towards Alex and drapes herself around his neck.
‘Let her tell us, Alex! Tell her not to be such a bore!’
He doesn’t reply but stares into the fire, deciding whether he should give his permission or not. Then he looks up suddenly and agrees.
‘Why not? She’s only speculating.’
‘Are you sure?’ I ask.
‘I’m sure.’
Taking a deep breath, I let out all of my thoughts in one go.
‘There’s nothing mysterious about the tattoo. Everyone knows that a tree is the symbol for a person’s roots, a representation of the family in all its manifestations: fertility, heredity, kinship, parental and filial affection. In a word, the tree symbolises love – the kind that you only get in a family. So, there is nothing random about his choice of image. The crown of the tree is made up of initials, and it’s not difficult to guess whose. Some of them are inked in pale blue, almost grey, which are probably the initials of loved ones who aren’t around anymore, and the brighter colors are for those still living. There’s a bright green M, for example, which obviously stands for Maria – green symbolizes a close kinship. There are a few smaller green letters that probably represent Maria’s children. There’s also a scarlet V intertwined with a scarlet A, and I would hazard a guess that these initials are mine and Alex’s, but I don’t think they can be because they were already there when we first met, unless I’ve misremembered it. So, there you go.’