Beautiful World, Where Are You(14)

Dani’s a nice girl, he said.

Yes, said Alice. She seems that way.

Yeah. We used to go out together.

Oh? For a long time, or?

He shrugged and said: About a year. I don’t know – more than a year, actually.

Anyway, it was ages ago, we’re good friends now.

Do you still like her?

He gazed back into the house as if catching a glimpse of Danielle might help him to resolve this question in his own mind. She’s with someone else anyway, he said.

A friend of yours?

I know him, yeah. He’s not here tonight, you might meet him again.

He turned away from the house and flicked some ash off his cigarette, causing a few lit sparks to descend slowly through the dark air. The dog bounded away past the shed, then ran around in a circle several times.

In fairness, if she could hear me, she’d be telling you I was the one who fucked it up, Felix added.

What did you do?

Ah, I was cold with her, supposedly. According to herself, anyway. You can ask her if you want.

Alice smiled and said: Would you like me to ask her?

Jesus no, not for me. I already heard enough of it at the time. I’m not still crying over it, don’t worry.

Did you cry over it then?

Well, not literally, he said. Is that what you mean? I didn’t actually cry, but like, I was pissed off, yeah.

Do you ever actually cry?

He gave a short laugh and said: No. Do you?

Oh, constantly.

Yeah? he said. What do you be crying about?

Anything, really. I suppose I’m very unhappy.

He looked at her. Seriously? he said. Why?

Nothing specific. It’s just how I feel. I find my life difficult.

After a pause he looked back at his cigarette and said: I don’t think I have the whole story on why you moved here.

It’s not a very good story, she said. I had a nervous breakdown. I was in hospital for a few weeks, and then I moved here when I got out. But it’s not mysterious – I mean, there was no reason I had a breakdown, I just did. And it’s not a secret, everyone knows.

Felix appeared to mull over this new information. Is it on your Wikipedia page? he asked.

No, I mean everyone in my life knows. Not everyone in the world.

And what did you have a breakdown about?

Nothing.

Okay, but what do you mean you had a breakdown? Like, what happened?

She exhaled a stream of smoke through the side of her mouth. I felt very out of control, she said. I was just extremely angry and upset all the time. I wasn’t in control of myself, I couldn’t live normally. I can’t explain it any more than that.

Fair enough.

They lapsed into silence. Alice drained the last of her wine from the glass, crushed her cigarette underfoot and folded her arms against her chest. Felix looked distracted and continued smoking slowly, as if he had forgotten she was there. He cleared his throat then and said: I felt a bit like that after my mam died. Last year. I just started thinking, what’s the fucking point of life, you know? It’s not like there’s anything at the end of it.

Not that I really wanted to be dead or anything, but I couldn’t be fucked being alive most the time either. I don’t know if you would call it a breakdown. I just had a few months where I was seriously not bothered about it – getting up and going to work and all that. I actually lost the job I had at the time, that’s why I’m at the warehouse now.

Yeah. So I kind of get what you’re saying about the breakdown. Obviously the experiences would be different in my case, but I see where you’re coming from, yeah.

Alice said again that she was sorry for his loss and he accepted her condolences.

I’m going to Rome next week, she said. Because the Italian translation of my book is coming out. I wonder if you’d like to come with me.

He showed no surprise at the invitation. He put out his cigarette by rubbing the lit end on the wall of the shed in several repeated strokes. The dog let out one more yelp, down at the end of the garden.

I don’t have any money, Felix said.

Well, I can pay for everything. I’m rich and famous, remember?

This drew a little smile. You are weird, he said. I don’t take that back. How long are you going for?

I’m getting there on Wednesday and then coming home again Monday morning. But we can stay longer if you prefer.

Now he laughed. Fucking hell, he said.

Have you ever been to Rome?

No.

Then I think you should come, she said. I think you’d like it.

How do you know what I would like?

They looked at one another. It was too dark for either of them to glean much information from the other’s face, and yet they kept looking, and did not break off, as if the act of looking was more important than what they could see.

I don’t, she said. I just think so.

Finally he turned away from her. Alright, he said. I’ll come.





6


Every day I wonder why my life has turned out this way. I can’t believe I have to tolerate these things – having articles written about me, and seeing my photograph on the internet, and reading comments about myself. When I put it like that, I think: that’s it? And so what? But the fact is, although it’s nothing, it makes me miserable, and I don’t want to live this kind of life. When I submitted the first book, I just wanted to make enough money to finish the next one. I never advertised myself as a psychologically robust person, capable of withstanding extensive public inquiries into my personality and upbringing. People who intentionally become famous – I mean people who, after a little taste of fame, want more and more of it – are, and I honestly believe this, deeply psychologically ill. The fact that we are exposed to these people everywhere in our culture, as if they are not only normal but attractive and enviable, indicates the extent of our disfiguring social disease. There is something wrong with them, and when we look at them and learn from them, something goes wrong with us.