THE VICTIM
This is the story about my good-for-nothing life, tale or confession of a man who aimlessly wandered in life until one day he was lured into a trap. I am not going to hide anything from you. You should tell me at the end of my narrative who was wrong and who was right in the chain of events that led to the tragedy I am about to describe. You should know that I am the man who had been tossed about in the storms of life many times. I am afraid that this time I simply crumpled up under the strain, attaining the highest point of despair. I killed someone. However, as you will see from my confession I am not a murderer, but was forced to commit a crime by some unpredictable circumstances.
At first glance, my story could look quite banal. But in every dramatic narrative there are always martyrs and saints, victims and executioners. I am called the executioner when in reality I am the victim. The executioner does not usually reveal the true nature of his soul and his emotions. He possesses such a destructive power that it can only be compared to one of the most horrific natural disasters since such a tormentor ruins you from inside and outside, kills slowly. The executioner, I am not, but I often use words as the most effective weapon of destruction.
Then who am I? I am neither a writer nor an artist. I am a scientist and I consider myself a logical thinker. I like to play with words in order to build a paradoxical logic to confuse my opponent. However, I am an emotional person and, therefore, I usually combine logic with emotion. Following my scientific instinct, I am taking the interlocutor away from the gist of the story by a simple phrase-mongering. At the end of our conversation, he is left with nothing else, but to admit that I was right. This is the game I enjoy as much as I enjoy my victory over women. By nature I am an aesthete and a player. I like any kind of competitions and I always play my games beautifully. As a rule, I usually come to a finishing line as the winner.
The circumstances I am going to describe here may appear to you as very trivial – love, jealousy, passion. This notwithstanding, I want to make an attempt to reveal to you the truth, not the falsification of truth, but the real truth without any distortion or exaggeration. I want to tell you the truth without defiling it by any ruse or resourcefulness, the truth which may be merciless not only to others, but also to myself. I think that any lie under certain circumstances can be taken for the truth. Most of the time, the liar would not admit to himself that he lied, as well as the person who tells the truth never doubts the truthfulness of his words. They say that the truth is one. But is it one? Maybe the truth, as well as the lie, is only a sign of our autosuggestion? The more complicated is the person, the more complicated is his concept of truth. The confidence in their rightfulness is not always determined by the events, but rather by the interpretation of them in their consciousness. After all, the person who brings the truth to the world is just a bore. Unfortunately, only the truth about others entertains the crowd, especially when it has so many spicy details. I never talk badly about people and especially about women I have been involved with. Although, I never considered that they should know the truth about me.
My life belongs to me and only to me alone. To conceal does not mean to lie. And to lie in order not to hurt is not a crime until the crime is solved. I can admit with my strong conviction that many men would agree with me today. The truth belongs only to women. They are too sensitive to lies; their pretension is built only on their pure and unsubstantiated intuition. And this is my trump in any love game. Probably, I make an impression on you as being a Don Juan, but a womanizer I am not.
I have a tender heart beneath my thick skin. But does anybody know about it? Does anybody care how much I suffer? When my wife left me, I thought my life had ended. During my sleepless nights, I wept like a child. A bitter feeling rankled in my heart. I stared at the phone, waiting for any messages from her. How could she be so cruel? I am a serious, honest, and truthful man. You may ask: “What about betrayals?” Yes, she had never forgiven me for them. But she could never understand that she was the only woman I had ever loved. She didn’t want to see that under the mask of a strong man there was a heart of a child. I am full of contradictions, like the ocean wind that changes its directions and gains its destructive power from the depth of the ocean.
One thing I know – I am not guilty, and I am going to prove it to you. A man is judged by his actions. And he is judged not much by the people who surround him, but by himself. I will be my own prosecutor and my own defender. We are at the imaginative court where the truth is judging the lie and where one of them will become a winner. As you probably guessed, I’ll be talking about myself and I have to be introduced to you.
* * * * *
When I look at myself in the mirror I see a very attractive, enchanting, young-looking, fifty years old man. I am lean, neat, well-built. I have blond hair which unfortunately has begun to thin. I have the icy blue eyes on the well-tanned face. I possess such an ingratiating smile that it can disarm any woman. I consider myself an expert on female psychology and have never made a mistake in finding the right path to a woman’s heart. I am calculating and yet emotional at the same time. I love nature and I deeply feel music and poetry. I love life, every moment of it. You probably already guessed that I am an optimist and I never lament about the past for too long even if something unpleasant happened in my life before. I simply push away those worm-like thoughts and step into the next phase of my life without any regrets about the past events. Surely, I can remember the past, but I can equally forget it. And it was always like that until my wife left me. And that is how it all happened.
* * * * *
The heavy clouds struggled with the sunrays, trying to cover them with a gray blanket of fog. The air swelled with humidity. It felt, as if the large drops of water were hanging in the air, and merging with each other, created a wet shroud of mist. The rain was about to pour down. Everybody impatiently waited for it to happen, but unfortunately, the rain had been delayed for the past two weeks. The city glowed and glanced angrily into the sky, expecting a miracle. People were worn out by the heat, tired of sweating under the hazy sunlight. The evening rapidly descended, pushing the daylight into its secret nest. Finally, the first large drops of rain broke the mist. The rain fell down unexpectedly, giving way to some northern breeze.
I was on my way home in a perfectly good mood if not to consider that some, yet unrecognized fear gnawed at my heart. Tanya, my wife, and I were going on vacation to Paris. I had been dreaming about it for a long time. I have recently noticed that Tanya changed towards me. It’s not that I annoyed her, but rather disturbed her. In the evenings, she would comfortably plunge in the armchair across from the television set to kill couple of hours with some dull movies or live shows. I could not understand how she could watch this trash. Before, she used to read books, go to the theatres and listen to her favorite operas. But now! And, yet, in spite of all our differences, I was still in love with my wife. I have just recently bought for her some of my favorite books by Nabokov, and among them “The Defense of Luzhin.” I knew how much she liked the ‘Chess Novella” by Stefan Zwieg. But she didn’t open the book, even when her girlfriend (and mine too) highly recommended it to her. I discovered Nabokov’s novels just recently. I was especially impressed by “Lolita.” It touched my heart with some new, unknown strings.
My thoughts were interrupted on the word “strings,” when approaching my house I glanced out of the window. Through the shroud of mist, I saw that the luggage packed for our trip with my belongings had been waiting for me outside in the pouring rain. Tanya, dressed in an elegant sky-blue business suit, dragged my last suitcase outside the house. It was of a bright yellow color and it looked impudent and loud against the background of our modest brick house. First, I was befuddled. Then I realized that I was unexpectedly assaulted with a volley of enemy fire. Unfortunately, sensing the inevitable, I didn’t have much time to make some arrangements for the ensuing combat.
I got really angry and jumped out of the car screaming: “Tanya, stop it! What are you doing?” I snatched the suitcase out of her hands and began pulling it back into the house.
“No…..,” Tanya cried out and threw a withering look at me, or I should rather say, squealed with her face awry, “you would never enter my house again.” She was in one of her dangerously belligerent states.
With these heart-rending words, she wantonly threw down a fan of photographs which dispersed on the wet ground right in front of my feet. These were the photographs of Susie, my ex-lover, who happened to be Tanya’s best friend. I was in love with Susie for some time, and as a token of my appreciation of Susan’s love for me, I made numerous photographs of her in all kind of seductive poses. Probably Tanya didn’t like it due to the fact that now I rarely took her pictures. She was obviously jealous of Susie and kicked up a fuss out of nothing.
As a matter of fact, I loved to take pictures. I even studied photography, and therefore, Susan’s pictures were quite good. She was a pretty young woman, a little bit languid, a little bit lazy with the huge breasts, big submissive eyes with a catlike expression and some unexpected dewy innocence. The pictures had been hidden in my rucksack in our basement. So, I concluded that Tanya went through my belongings. I could not take such an insult -- I felt a lump of anger rolling in my throat. I hardly restrained myself from hitting her. But instead, I suppressed my growing frenzy and made a great attempt to bear her ugly reception with dignified composure. Meanwhile, without paying attention to my reaction, Tanya turned around and walked slowly, with a sort of saunter, towards the house. It maddened me and in a hurry, without a word, I threw my suitcases into the car and moved away from her, leaving behind my unhappy past. I realized that Tanya was now crowing with gusto over her victory, but she could not break my spirit. I knew that somehow I would squeak by without her, perhaps with the help of someone else. Finally, I made a successful attempt to suppress my temper tantrum. I drove for some time meditating on what to do next when I noticed that the rain suddenly stopped and a colorful rainbow appeared on the sky, right in front of my eyes, as a sign of hope.
* * * * *
Driving away from Tanya, I contemplated for some time if I should go to Susie’s house. I knew that she already had a new boyfriend and her husband was away on business trip. Nevertheless, I dared to take a chance and call her. To my surprise, Susie was home alone and was happy to see me. We had one of our best times together. Ultimately, she was a hearty woman and was not harboring any grudge against me after I had left her. In the morning, she looked even more enchanting in a short silk gown. What I liked about Susie that in the morning she wore no make-up and hardly paid any attention to her appearance. However, it happens only in the morning. During the day, one would have difficulties in recognizing her face under the layers of paints. And yet, I admired the shape of her legs and the voluptuousness of her body. When Susie noticed that I was watching her, she suddenly pouted her lips and muttered, scarcely looking at me:
“You have never loved me, honey. After our time together you always rushed to your wife.”
I hated it when she started to analyze our relationships. I tried to reassure her by using my usual lengthy colloquial form:
“Look, Susie, you are wrong. Let me explain something to you. In real life, we are all actors,” I looked at her and noticed some kind of interest in her sleepy eyes.
“I do not understand you. Why? An actress, I am not, although it was always my dream to go to Hollywood.” She leaned her elbows on the kitchen table and got lost for some time in day-dreams. I waited patiently. She raised her head and said in a firm voice:
“You should not leave me. My life is boring without you. Do you remember our first trip together to…”
I frowned. “Please, do not interrupt me, Susie, and try to concentrate on what I am saying. Going back to my original thought…For example, we always want to appear better than we really are. There are some elements of lies and even games in such behavior. Women put layers of make-up on their faces, pencil their eyes and paint their lips with bright lipstick. They wear tight clothes to reveal the seductive parts of their bodies.”
“What are you talking about? You know that I hardly use any make-up.” Susie became agitated. I liked to watch her reaction when she was angry, but I ignored her remark and went on with my statement.
“This is exactly what I am coming to. Such a woman makes a man feel giddy. Before you even find the truth under the mask of her make-up, you are already trapped into the net of her false charms.”
“Who are you talking about?” She was about to cry.
“Susie, please do not interrupt me. It is not about you or us. I am generalizing. You better make some coffee while I am talking.”
She shrugged and began moving around the kitchen in her slow, catlike pace while I continued: “And who is the victim in this case? Yes, I am an amorous, I am easily carried away, but I fall out of love as fast as I fall in love when I discover that their beauty is just a lie. However, for that short period that I am with her – she is being loved. I give her everything she had ever dreamed about: tenderness, love, attention.”
“It’s a lie. You didn’t love me.”
“Susie, please don’t start it again. This is exactly what I’m trying to tell you. Men don’t lie. Women do. After all, you have a boyfriend who supposedly loves you. The feelings come and go. It is not my fault. I like this physical and emotional state of being in love and I need to be in such a state all the time, only then I am happy. I bathe in this feeling, as if I bathe in a warm bathtub with hot water. It envelopes me in languor and makes me feel relaxed. Not everyone has such a gift – the gift to give your love to others.”
She put two elegant cups with coffee on the table and sat across from me. She looked pale.
“You should not take it too much to your heart. You always arouse a desire whenever I see you. How many women would like it? By the way, do you know that again you caused destruction between Tanya and me?” After all, I needed to talk to somebody about my break with Tanya.
“Oh, I am eager to hear it!” She smiled and put a piece of cake into her mouth.
So, I shared with Susie my misfortune. To my surprise, it didn’t leave any impression on her, except the incident with her photographs. She was obviously pleased that her pictures affected my wife’s decision and that she played such a significant role in my life again. At the door I pulled her closer and gave her a passionate goodbye kiss. I suddenly realized that I would never see her again. After all, she was not a woman with whom I could share an intelligent conversation.
From the moment I began my way to the airport to spend my vacation alone, I knew that it was the beginning of my new life without Tanya, the only woman I loved. I predicted that from now on my life would be full of novel and interesting adventures. Nevertheless, my marriage was sacred for me. I believed in God and marriage happens in heaven. Tanya would always remain that little girl whom I had known from my childhood. Now, looking back, I can’t even tell if I had been happy with her. And although we lived our intellectual lives separately, we had never argued, not like many of our friends. Some didn’t even hide their family problems. The others simply pretended to be happy. Even if those marriages didn’t fall apart, the spouses lived like birds locked in a cage. I could not imagine my life without Tanya. Freedom without her looked useless to me. Now everything in life became too accessible, easy to get, especially freedom which used to be locked in a frame of time and duties. But if there is a frame, we can’t call the freedom, freedom. In all likelihood now, whether I wanted it or not, I was a free man. And a deep sense of offense had been replaced with the sense of a new beginning.
* * * * *
Upon my return from vacation, I began looking for an apartment, while temporarily living with my relatives in Brooklyn. The search for the right place took longer than I had expected. Finally, I found a flat in a small town in Northern New Jersey not far from Tanya. I removed from my old house two single beds, the old table, some chairs, and books, including Nabokov’s Lolita. And of course, I also took with me my favorite tapes. I forgot to tell you that I love classical music and especially operas. I love it passionately and often in the evenings, alone, I listen to my beloved Traviata by Verdi, enjoying every note of it. I especially love the third act of the opera which opens with a short musical introduction built on a familiar scene of the dying Violetta. Great sadness emanates from his ethereal music. I usually cry, listening to the tragic sounds of my favorite arias.
Deep in my heart, I knew that sooner or later Tanya would regret what she had done to our marriage and would call me back. Therefore, I felt that I was a temporary tenant in this apartment. But for now, I had to think about my life without Tanya.
Soon after I settled in my new dwelling, I called my son. Our phone conversation was not as pleasant as I had expected – he took his mother’s side. My heart always palpitates when my own son does not make an effort to understand me. He, as well as Tanya, is annoyed by my manner of speaking.
“What happened, dad? Why did you upset her again?” He required before I could even start my explanations.
As I have mentioned before, I like to debate and argue, taking my opponent away from the main subject. I argued interminably.
“Why don’t you ask me first about my vacation? Time and again, you show your insensitivity, exactly like your mother. You disregard my feelings. God gave us the ability to feel the pain of others. You have grown selfish and disrespectful.” I went on and on. And when I finally returned to the original point of our conversation, by this time, my son had already lost the initial aspect of his argument. Now, the entire conversation was about him.
“You are wrong about me, dad.” I heard his voice shaking.
“You are wrong about me, too, son.” I said in a soft voice.
In my strategy of arguing, the most important tactic is to attack without the possibility of being interrupted and to inset his or her opinion into my long reasoning, mostly rather to assuage the offensive then to be attacked.
“Look, dad, I think it is time to allow me to insert a word in our “peaceful” discussion. I know what happened between you and mother. Don’t use your tactic on me.” My son tried to bring me back to his original question, but I cut his thoughts short.
“Don’t interrupt me. I think the subject we are now discussing is not less important than your mother. In fact, you, as well as your mother, could never understand or even appreciate me. But this matter we will discuss some other time.”
As a rule, I do not allow my opponent to avoid my attacks -- his arguments have to be straight to the point and not contradictory to mine. I can’t stand objections. I enjoy my speech, when going into unnecessary details I return to the original idea and suddenly go back into the wilderness of my arguments, never losing my temper. I judge the capability of one’s mind with a precise clarity. I attack deliberately and cruelly, and I was always a winner, beating down the opposition with an ingratiating smile. In such cases, my son would get furious and leave the room, slamming the door. This time he simply hung up the phone.
Tanya would often retreat to our bedroom, not being able to prove her point, and cry quietly in there. Because of my good nature I usually felt sorry for her. I would go to Tanya, take her into my arms, assuring her of my love, slowly pushing her to the bed where we usually ended our arguments in love-making. However, our problems and our differences didn’t go away, but accumulated, slowly destroying our relationship.
I am a good scientist, a biologist who made an important discovery about tapeworms in our lives. Due to the nature of my work, I often had to attend conferences and meetings, in other words, to be away from home. Tanya never asked me to take her along with me, never asked me a question when I was supposed to return home from my trip. She trusted me until one day, for the first time, she found out about my involvement with Susie. I was deeply saddened that she could not understand that there was nothing serious between Susie and me.
“I am awfully sorry that I put you in such an awkward position. You know how much I love you.” I said diverting my eyes from her.
“It is simply humiliating. I didn’t deserve it.” She replied, struggling to hide her tears.
I always did a carefully reasoned analysis, but she would not listen to reason. She was simply hostile to my logic. I finally switched the topic of our conversation and proceeded with my old tactic of attacks. The wisest thing for me was never to betray my own intuition.
“What do you expect me to do, to kill myself over one stupid mistake? Do you think you can destroy our happiness in order to build a new life, to throw my life under the bus? Happiness is such a rare thing. Do you think that at your age you can still find a new love? Don’t be ridiculous and look at yourself in the mirror!” I stopped for a second to observe the impression I made on her and then continued:
“Let’s talk for a minute about your faults. Don’t you remember that your mother almost ruined our marriage and you took her side instead of mine? Well, let me tell you this, in any marriage, a woman should always take her husband’s side. Don’t you agree?”
She nodded indifferently, made an ungainly gesture and walked past me, removing herself from the scene in order to avoid any further arguments with me. I hated melodrama, but Tanya liked to play the role of a tragic personality. However, during many years of our marriage, I learned that she was quite helpless in dealing with my logic. I thought that the lack of intellect made it impossible to communicate with her on any level of a cogitative conversation.
However, this incident of my betrayal made a strange impression on my wife. She lost weight and dark circles appeared under her eyes. She didn’t cry, didn’t try to dig into any details and didn’t leave. Hearing our arguments, our son cried, begging Tanya not to break up our marriage. Probably it made an impact on Tanya’s decision to stay, but from now on she looked upon me with suspicion. She somehow forgave me this time and promised never to remind me about it unless it would occur again. And it did, as you already know. I promised with the light heart not ever to betray her again because at this very time I had a brief love affair with my technician, a charming girl in her early twenties, my Monica Levinsky. And although I consider myself a man of principles, I was not going to keep my word and break up my romance with this girl, who was madly in love with me.
In addition, I believe that only a woman has no right to betray her husband, because she is the one who carries a child in her belly. She has no right to take inside her body a foreign sperm. A man – it is a different story. He takes it away from home, and therefore, brings no harm to his wife. Yes, I had love affairs, but I was also a good family man. However, our relations after that incident were never restored. From now on, our heated arguments often turned into a loud quarrel with unpleasant scenes, tears and hysterical screams. My soft and kind nature, my sensuality could not take it any longer. I tried to be patient with Tanya, hoping that one day we would be able to reach an accord. Now, she displayed a constant vigilance on my part that annoyed me and made me feel like a prisoner. I noticed that she began showing signs of vulgarity, losing her childish naivety.
But, unfortunately, I was a driveling idiot believing in our bright future. And although, the last New Year we celebrated separately, in spite of everything, Tanya remained the only woman I loved. I knew that she loved me too and suffered as much as I did. Still, our broken relationship was hard to restore. Our union was falling apart and there was nothing I could do about it. I guess that deep in her heart she had never forgiven me, until one day when I brought to her two tickets for a romantic getaway in Paris, the city of her dream.
* * * * *
I tried to be civil with Tanya, but her unjustified hostility, her cynical unconcern towards me had been slowly killing the last shreds of my feelings for her. After the divorce, the light slowly vanished from my life. And though not a single woman could replace my ex-wife, there was still a bright fire blazing in my heart, a tiny hope that one day I’ll meet a woman of my dream…That day had not yet arrived and it became evident to me that I should seriously engage myself in search for Tanya’s replacement. It was hard to imagine how I would be able to pass my life in solitude. Who would take care of me, of my needs? Some months passed and I was totally prostrated by my search while the abyss between Tanya and me dramatically widened. I began to suspect that she was seeing someone else. A bitter feeling of a betrayed husband began to rankle in my broken heart. So, I realized that she chased her sordid motives to get rid of me and to find herself a lover. I could not sleep, I could not work and I could not eat. I nurtured a plan how to catch her with her lover. I was on a sinking ship and I had to save my dignity, my wounded pride. I endeavored to remain calm for the time being until the right moment would arrive.
* * * * *
The winter came suddenly in the middle of November with heavy snowstorms and wild northern winds. Often, the roads were covered with ice and snow. The heavy icicles hung from the trees, taking down the tree branches. The first snowstorm happened on Sunday evening. It raged outside like an angry beast knocking at my windows, as if it foretold a disaster. By eight o’clock at night, our small town lost electric power and it plunged into total darkness. Slowly, my apartment turned into a cold cell. I immediately thought about Tanya. I had to go to her, to press her to my heart, to lock her in my arms. I would warm her cold body with my love. I was on my way to her house, fully determined to win her back. This act of kindness was my calamitous error.
The deserted snowy road spread in front of me like a white blanket. My car skidded several times and I almost lost control of the wheel. But in spite of the dangerous ride, I took a risk in order to save Tanya’s life. Approaching her house, I noticed a flickering candle in her bedroom. I parked the car and began slowly moving forward. My feet were sinking deep into the snow. The northern wind blustered and was beating down in my face, but I stubbornly crawled to her, like a boy who dreamed about his snow queen. A twig, broken by the wind, fell on my head. I shuddered, but continued walking towards the dark house. The steps were slippery and I almost fell while trying to put a key into the lock. To my surprise, the house was suspiciously silent. I stopped in the middle of the hall listening to the outside sounds. Some candlelight seeped through the chink under the bedroom door. A sudden thought pierced my mind and I tiptoed to the master bedroom.
Believe it or not, but I caught a weasel asleep, so to speak. I finally saw her in the arms of another man. They cooed side by side like two turtle-doves. The candle threw a dim light on his ugly, red face with a sparse beard and the impudent, dingy eyes. She caressed his disheveled thin hair while her naked body was hardly covered with a blanket. My heart swelled with rage. A storm of emotions seized my shaking body. Later, I could hardly recall my actions. I learned how to control my thoughts, but not my behavior. What happened next? I think that in my mind I already hammered to death her lover who had stolen away from me all my dreams. But the horrific thing that struck me the most was that her lover was Susan’s ex-husband. Perhaps, if it would have been just a stranger, my behavior could have been different, but to replace me with our mutual friend, to be wrapped in his arms under the expensive down blanket that I personally bought for her during our marriage, it was beyond my imagination. The other horrific thing was that my old sleepers stood accurately at his side of my bed. He caught my glance and there was a flicker in his eyes that brought back my old emotions. Each time during my affair with Susie, he and I, both acted as though the other person did not exist. Hiding our own feelings, we treated each other with great animosity. Although he looked frightened and pale, at this very moment I didn’t feel sorry neither for her, nor for him (In my mind, he was dead anyway). I only thought that it was how she rendered good for evil. I did what a betrayed husband would have done in my place – I killed her lover. I watched for a second with an icy disdain and full satisfaction the look of horror on her face. After that, I slinked out of the house, leaving her to think it all over. I went back to my flat to get some sleep. I felt tired to my bones. Now, I shudder to think about that night. It made a deep impression on my weak heart.
You may ask me if I have any regrets of my actions. And my answer will be “no”. I am the honest man after all. My only regret is that I have ruined my young life and the scientific world lost the great scientist! I feel sorry for myself and do hope that you, my prosecutors and my jurors, will feel the same way. I can see that some of you are smiling while reading my confession, but look at yourself in the mirror, search deep into your souls. Aren’t you seeing that my arguments have brought up some of your own realization that some time ago your definition of truth was based on your actions in order to justify your own faux pas? Aren’t you all guilty of such things, at least once in your lifetime? I know that one day the truth will prevail and I will be a free man again, but for now…I feel vindicated because that lost love between Tanya and myself blossomed again. She is visiting me often and carries her guilt with fortitude on her fragile shoulders. Meanwhile, life gave me another precious gift. I am deeply in love again…and this time with my beautiful defender…Life goes on…Doesn’t it?