Read Online Delicacy by David Foenkinos - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: David Foenkinos
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claimed she looked at him a lot.
“But how can you see me? I’m always at the back of the class, and you’re always in the first row.”
“The back of my neck told me everything. There are eyes in the back of my neck,” said Marilyn.
Their understanding was born from this exchange.
An understanding that set tongues wagging. That evening, they left high school together under the flabbergasted eyes of everybody. During that period in time, Markus’s self-awareness was still not very acute. He knew he had a rather unattractive body, but being with a pretty woman didn’t strike him as uncanny. He’d always heard, “Women aren’t as superficial as men; for them looks count less. The important thing is to be cultured and amusing.” So he’d studied a lot of things and tried to offerproof of his mind. With some success, it should be said; so that his pockmarked face nearly withdrew behind what you’d call a certain charm.
But this charm was shattered when the issue of sex came up. Marilyn certainly had made a lot of effort, but the day when he tried to touch her wonderful breasts, she couldn’t control her hand, and her five fingers landed on Markus’s astonished cheek. He turned around to look at himself in a mirror and was stupefied by the appearance of red on his white skin. He would always remember this red and associate the color with rejection. Marilyn tried to excuse herself by claiming the gesture had been impulsive, but Markus understood what wasn’t being put into words. Something animal and visceral: he disgusted her. He looked at her and began to weep. Each body has its own way of expressing itself.
This was the first time that he cried in front of a woman.
He obtained the Swedish version of an associate’s degree and decided to leave for France. A country where the women weren’t Marilyn. He’d been hurt by this first romantic episode and had developed a sense of self-protection. Maybe he would follow some path in life that was an alternative to the world of sexuality. He was afraid of suffering, of not being desired, for valid reasons. He was fragile, but had no idea that fragility could be touching to a woman. After three years of urban-style loneliness, despairing of ever finding love, he decided to take part in a speed-dating session. He’d have a chance to meet seven womenand talk to each for seven minutes. An infinitely brief time for someone like him: he thought he would need a minimum of a century to convince a sampling of the opposite sex to follow him on the limited path of his life. But something strange happened: during the first encounter, he had the feeling of something in common. The girl’s name was Alice, g and she worked in a pharmacy h where she was sometimes responsible for the beauty shop. i To tell the truth, it was a simple enough situation: both of them were so uncomfortable with the proceedings that they were able to relax with each other. As a result, their encounter was ideally uncomplicated. After the speed-dating sequence, they hooked up again to extend their seven minutes. Which became days, and then months.
But their story didn’t last out the year. Markus adored Alice but didn’t love her. Even more importantly, he wasn’t attracted to her enough. What a dreadful predicament: for once he’d met someone good, and he absolutely wasn’t in love with her. Are we always condemned to the incomplete? During the weeks their relationship lasted, he made some headway in learning about being a couple. He discovered its strengths and its capacity for feeling loved. Because Alice fell madly in love with him. It bordered on the disturbing for someone who’d only known maternal love (and not even that, really). There was somethingvery sweet and quietly moving about Markus, a mixture of a kind of strength that reassured and a weakness that melted your heart. And it was exactly that weakness that made him put off the inevitable—leaving Alice. But that is what he finally did one
“But how can you see me? I’m always at the back of the class, and you’re always in the first row.”
“The back of my neck told me everything. There are eyes in the back of my neck,” said Marilyn.
Their understanding was born from this exchange.
An understanding that set tongues wagging. That evening, they left high school together under the flabbergasted eyes of everybody. During that period in time, Markus’s self-awareness was still not very acute. He knew he had a rather unattractive body, but being with a pretty woman didn’t strike him as uncanny. He’d always heard, “Women aren’t as superficial as men; for them looks count less. The important thing is to be cultured and amusing.” So he’d studied a lot of things and tried to offerproof of his mind. With some success, it should be said; so that his pockmarked face nearly withdrew behind what you’d call a certain charm.
But this charm was shattered when the issue of sex came up. Marilyn certainly had made a lot of effort, but the day when he tried to touch her wonderful breasts, she couldn’t control her hand, and her five fingers landed on Markus’s astonished cheek. He turned around to look at himself in a mirror and was stupefied by the appearance of red on his white skin. He would always remember this red and associate the color with rejection. Marilyn tried to excuse herself by claiming the gesture had been impulsive, but Markus understood what wasn’t being put into words. Something animal and visceral: he disgusted her. He looked at her and began to weep. Each body has its own way of expressing itself.
This was the first time that he cried in front of a woman.
He obtained the Swedish version of an associate’s degree and decided to leave for France. A country where the women weren’t Marilyn. He’d been hurt by this first romantic episode and had developed a sense of self-protection. Maybe he would follow some path in life that was an alternative to the world of sexuality. He was afraid of suffering, of not being desired, for valid reasons. He was fragile, but had no idea that fragility could be touching to a woman. After three years of urban-style loneliness, despairing of ever finding love, he decided to take part in a speed-dating session. He’d have a chance to meet seven womenand talk to each for seven minutes. An infinitely brief time for someone like him: he thought he would need a minimum of a century to convince a sampling of the opposite sex to follow him on the limited path of his life. But something strange happened: during the first encounter, he had the feeling of something in common. The girl’s name was Alice, g and she worked in a pharmacy h where she was sometimes responsible for the beauty shop. i To tell the truth, it was a simple enough situation: both of them were so uncomfortable with the proceedings that they were able to relax with each other. As a result, their encounter was ideally uncomplicated. After the speed-dating sequence, they hooked up again to extend their seven minutes. Which became days, and then months.
But their story didn’t last out the year. Markus adored Alice but didn’t love her. Even more importantly, he wasn’t attracted to her enough. What a dreadful predicament: for once he’d met someone good, and he absolutely wasn’t in love with her. Are we always condemned to the incomplete? During the weeks their relationship lasted, he made some headway in learning about being a couple. He discovered its strengths and its capacity for feeling loved. Because Alice fell madly in love with him. It bordered on the disturbing for someone who’d only known maternal love (and not even that, really). There was somethingvery sweet and quietly moving about Markus, a mixture of a kind of strength that reassured and a weakness that melted your heart. And it was exactly that weakness that made him put off the inevitable—leaving Alice. But that is what he finally did one
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