I’ve never been to Lisbon.
It is a beautiful city, he said, as if he could not help but be honest. Very different to this one. Gaby would like the children to stay in Lisbon, but it is difficult. They miss their school here, they have their friends, they cannot simply stay in Portugal because their mother wishes it. At the same time, they need their mother, of course.
Adriaan was hesitating, he did not want to tell me very much more about whatever had taken place in Lisbon, or perhaps he did not know how to put it into words. He looked suddenly tired, and I understood that what had happened had been its own thing for him, in the way that these past months had been for me, and it occurred to me that many years into one possible future, we might be living together in some state of sustained harmony, that against the odds we might yet have succeeded in growing old together. We could be one of those couples whose mutual understanding had such depth and history that we no longer needed to explain things to each other, our routines set long ago, our knowledge of each other, and of our relationship, absolute. And still we might never have told each other what took place these past two months. This time would remain a blind spot in the rearview mirror of our relationship, around which we would carefully maneuver, until the act of that accommodation became second nature, until we no longer even noticed it.
Does that mean that Gaby will remain in Lisbon? I asked. Yes, he said quietly. The children will stay here with me and go to Lisbon during their school holidays. It is not ideal by any stretch of the imagination, I tried very hard to convince Gaby of this fact. But she was adamant. And so I brought the children back with me and we are here once more. In many ways, it is a relief. I am relieved. It is not what I hoped for the children, but I had not realized until I returned to The Hague how much the situation had weighed on me. It is good to have this clarity, however imperfect the outcome.
He paused. I hope you will meet them soon. My children.
I was offered a permanent contract at the Court.
That is wonderful news.
I declined.
I see.
But I saw that he did not see, or that he was not certain of what the words meant, whether in telling him I had declined the position at the Court I was also telling him that I would no longer be living in The Hague, that I would never meet his children, that there was no possibility of a future between us. I’d had to make the decision without him, I’d had to make it alone. After a moment, he raised his eyes to my face.
Because of the work? Or because of me?
The question was blunt, but I saw that he needed to know, his face was a pure articulation of that need. I looked across the table and at last understood the meaning of what he had just said, that Gaby would be staying in Lisbon and that he had returned to The Hague, that he had come back. It was almost too much to comprehend. Before I could speak he continued.
I’m sorry that I didn’t call more often while I was in Portugal. I’m sorry for the long silence. He shook his head. Things were more difficult than I expected. The truth is that I should have been better prepared, after all I was married to Gaby for over fifteen years. But I did not understand how much things between us had deteriorated. He looked at me and lowered his voice. I am sorry about Gaby. I did not know that she intended to go to the apartment, I did not know that she would be in The Hague at all. I would never have inflicted that on you knowingly.
There was a pressure to his voice, to the way he spoke, and I saw that he understood, or was beginning to understand, how it had been for me those weeks he was away. And although there were things I had intended to say to him, words that had passed through my head many times, words that I had believed needed to be spoken between us, I said only this: I understand. I could understand anything, under the right circumstances and for the right person. It was both a strength and a weakness. I looked at his face and I thought it possible that after all, that despite everything, Adriaan was that person for me.
Perhaps you could leave the Court, Adriaan said, but remain in The Hague?
I reached across the table. He looked down at my hands, as if they were unfamiliar, or as if he were only now seeing them again. He grasped them tightly and looked up at me.
I went to the dunes the other day, I said. They’re beside the Court, and yet I had never walked on them. I had never gone down to the water. It was hard to believe this place had existed all this time. That this open expanse of sea had been just outside my field of vision. I looked down, I didn’t know exactly how to proceed, the words seemed to say so little. Then I learned that I’d been there before, that I’d spent time here in The Hague with my family as a child.