I nodded, I found that I was disappointed, although I was uncertain of the precise source of my disappointment—was it because she would be leaving when we had only just begun talking, or was it because she had yet to tell me anything of her brother, Anton, or was it simply because I would soon be left alone, and to my own devices? Of course, I murmured. She took out her wallet and placed a bill on the table. As I reached for my bag, she held her hand up. Please, she said, it’s a coffee. She stood and waited for me to follow. We divorced a long time ago, she continued as we made our way toward the door. In fact it happened when I was pregnant with my younger son. Her voice was calm and untroubled, it was clear she was speaking of a drama that had long since been resolved. Of course it’s important for the boys to know their father, but in many ways their uncle is the primary male presence in their lives, and his wife is more than an aunt to them.
I hesitated, and then said, You’re lucky to be so close to your brother. I thought she paused for a moment before she pushed the door open and turned to face me. We’re twins, she said. She didn’t say anything else, and I walked with her several paces until she came to a stop. I must have looked bereft, because she suddenly said, as if on impulse, Why don’t you come to dinner one night? I’ll invite my brother, you can see our funny little family in action. Do you have any siblings?
No, I said.
She nodded, as if she now understood something about me. I’ve often wondered what it would be like, she said, to not have a brother or a sister. Or rather, I have been thinking about it a great deal, of late. Abruptly, she turned to go. I will email you, she called over her shoulder, we’ll find a day. Before I could reply, she had hurried off. As I watched her go, I felt my phone vibrating in my bag. I immediately retrieved it, heart racing. The screen was black and there were no messages. I must have imagined the vibration. I looked up. Eline had disappeared from sight and I was alone. I stood in the middle of the sidewalk, there was a sharp and unpleasant wind. I counted the days and then I counted them again. It had been over a week since I had asked Adriaan when he was coming back, how things stood with Gaby, it had been another week of silence.
12.
I moved out of Adriaan’s apartment that weekend. I could no longer see any reason to stay, there was nothing for me to do except leave. I went through the apartment and I gathered my things—piece by piece by piece I withdrew. There was more of me there than I thought, as I continued to fold my clothes and collect my papers, doubt surged up inside me. And once I had packed my bags and as I stood in the doorway with my suitcases, I felt doubt and also regret. I looked around the apartment where I had spent the past month, and was overcome at the idea of never returning. How had this happened? I was aware even then that I was acting on a feeling that might yet fade or otherwise mutate. But on some level it was too late. I turned to go and realized that I did not know where to leave the keys. The mailbox did not seem sufficiently secure, not when I did not know how long it would be before his return. And so after I had locked the door behind me, I put the keys at the bottom of my bag. I gave myself that.
* * *
—
It was an adjustment, moving back to my old apartment. I was somehow less at home there than I had been in Adriaan’s apartment. The place felt as if it belonged to a stranger, or a person I no longer recognized. The temporary nature of the accommodation was more glaring than before, it was as if the rooms had been hollowed out in my absence, as if the walls were now made of paper. Despite myself I was still waiting—for Adriaan to come back, at the very least for him to respond to the message I had sent, asking if we could speak.
I did not tell him that I had moved out of the apartment. Perhaps some part of me thought that if we spoke, if he explained the reasons behind his silence, I might go back to the apartment, unpack my bags as if nothing had happened, wait for his return. But he did not respond and for days the silence from Lisbon occupied me, like a fog in the brain. Eline’s email, when it arrived, briefly interrupted the monotony of that waiting. She invited me to dinner the following week. It would be herself and her brother, a small and simple gathering while the boys were with their father and her brother’s wife was out of town, she had invited Jana but unfortunately she was busy. Still, she hoped that I would join them. I replied to say that I would come, and that I was looking forward to it.
Her house, when I arrived, was lit throughout. The drapes were drawn back against the darkness, as if to declare that the residents of this home had nothing to hide. I stood outside and wondered what it would be like to live so exposed, to be so fearless. From the street, you could see directly into the ground level, and although there were no figures, the room was like a stage set, there was a great deal of intimate information in the details visible through the drapes, the large kitchen table and the clutter of children’s toys, a dog bowl and bed.