My Tango With Barbara Strozzi

10 Barbara Strunk

OK, I love him or so it seems. But is love enough? Do I want to spend the rest of my life with a guy who writes boring? I’m trying not to be a talent snob but I’m not sure he’s got what it takes to come up with an interesting book. Sticking with him through weeks and months and years of boring would be really heavy work. When I rejected Brian and he asked me if I could do better I said, ‘Maybe I already have.’ But have I? Brian has talent and he’s getting better all the time. He’s fun to be with and he makes me feel good. I like the kind of person he is and he likes the kind of person I am. That can’t be bad, can it? He’s taller than I am too.

I was thinking these thoughts (and feeling guilty) as I lay in bed with Phil beside me. I could tell by his breathing that he wasn’t asleep either. I was still awake when the Underground started running and the room got light. I guess we both got some sleep then, and around seven Phil got up, went to the bathroom, showered and got dressed. I followed him, and in due course we appeared in the kitchen, kissed each other good morning in a small way, and had orange juice, toast and marmalade and coffee. ‘Let’s eat out tonight,’ said Phil.

‘OK,’ I said. ‘See you,’ and left for work.

The studio was always a cosy place and this morning’s music was Emmylou Harris but the eye I was painting was giving me a cold and fishy stare and I felt shut off from the world. At lunchtime I went to The Blue Posts hoping to see Grace Kowalski and there she was with Irv and a half of Directors. ‘Hi,’ I said. ‘Have you posed for Brian yet?’

‘Yup,’ she said. ‘He did some nice studies of my face. He really looks when he draws.’

‘Well, he has to, doesn’t he.’

‘No, what I mean is that he doesn’t show off with style, he’s modest and respectful and plays it straight.’

‘Funny — I’ve never thought of Brian as modest.’

‘When you’ve known somebody for a long time you get used to seeing them always the same way and you might not notice that they’ve changed. Brian thinks the world of you.’

‘I know.’

‘How is it with you and Ockerman? Still too soon to say?’

‘I don’t know — maybe too late.’

‘If they both disappeared by magic and you could make only one of them reappear by pushing a button, which one would it be?’

‘The one that’s no work,’ I said.

‘Well, there you have it,’ said Grace. ‘Let me buy you a drink. What’s your pleasure?’

‘Thank you. I wouldn’t mind a dry martini — the American kind that’s mostly gin with just a little vermouth and an olive.’

‘That sounds radical,’ said Grace.

‘This is a time for radical decisions,’ I said.

‘Radical martini coming up,’ said Grace. ‘And I’ll have a vodka to keep you company because it’s that kind of day. You stay put and I’ll fetch the drinks.’

When she came back with the martini and the vodka and a couple of packets of crisps she said, ‘What’ll we drink to?’

‘Absent friends?’

‘Good one,’ said Grace. ‘Absent friends!’

The absent friend I was thinking of was Brian. After work I didn’t go to my place and I didn’t go to Phil’s. I went to Cheyne Walk and stood at the door. If he’s in and alone when I ring the bell, I thought, that’s it. I rang the bell and he came down and opened the door. ‘Hello,’ I said. ‘Can I come in?’

Later, as we lay comfortably together watching the sky darken to evening I said, ‘Did you think you’d ever see me again?’

‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I had no idea when or how but I couldn’t believe you’d be out of my life for ever.’

‘You feel like home.’

‘That’s how you feel to me. Have you …?’

‘Ended it with Phil? I have to tell him but I don’t think he’ll be surprised.’

When I rang Phil up he said, ‘Is this a Dear John call?’

‘Were you expecting one?’

‘Yes. I felt it coming on when we were eating the pizza.’

‘I don’t know what to say.’

‘You don’t have to say anything. It was just one of those things, just one of those crazy things — a trip to the moon on Barbara Strozzi. Now you’re Bertha Strunk again.’

‘I feel so sad, Phil.’

‘I think you probably feel more relieved than sad. Let’s not try too hard for an exit line — we can nod and smile if we pass each other in the street but for now let’s just say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye,’ I said, and he rang off. Brian was down in the studio; I was alone, so I cried for a while, remembering what Phil and I had been to each other — what I thought we’d been anyhow — remembering what we’d said and done. And felt? Were my feelings real? Was I real, or just some kind of machine that did whatever it had to do to gain its objective. Shitty! And scary. And very, very sad. I was a selfish bitch who’d dropped Phil because life was easier with Brian but all I had now was sadness and I didn’t know if I’d ever feel good again.