So far, our relationship has been based around sex. We have had sex on every surface of his room, but sometimes we don’t have sex, and it seems more like he just wants me around. He often reads his tablet or a book while I watch the clouds go by or cook some snack. Sometimes he gives me something to read as well.
So to my surprise, after all this time, it turns out that he likes to talk. I have been encouraging him as much as I can. On occasion, he seems to be just on the edge of revealing some secret, stopping himself in the middle of a conversation as if he cannot say any more, but wants to. These moments occur usually during some story about the past where he comes to what the topic of the story has resulted in. He likes to talk in a linear fashion from past to present. He never talks about the future. Maybe that is where it stops, like we are all stuck in time, and there is no future. It certainly feels that way, living here.
So far, he has evaded my questions about our life here at the resort as well. He talks mostly about his previous life. He also likes historical information. My thoughts often drift away when he talks, so I only hear half of what he says. Most of it is just the ramblings of a wealthy egotist. Though, sometimes, he likes to talk about world events and history. Most of which is the usual dominant patriarchal history, the great leaders and their actions. He often talks about the “heroes of the age”, in whichever age he happens to be talking about. I believe he identifies with all of them. He talks about great historical achievements as if he or his people were part of them.
At times, he stops talking as if he has said too much, or the conversation went into a direction he could not talk about. Usually there is a bit of a silence while he gathers his thoughts. During these moments, I try to remember what it was that he last said and take note of it, then I do my best to redirect the conversation into comfortable topics. I want to remember where he stops talking so I can figure out what he is not saying. I do not quite feel comfortable to pressure him to open up about it.
I asked him what he did before he came here. He said he was in banking. A fluke, in his mind, he never liked banking. However, it turns out he was good at it, and made billions for his investors. At some point, he shielded them, and diverted attention away from a catastrophe that would have resulted in a great deal of blame being laid on investors and the banks. So, he was given the opportunity to retire and move here, instead of going to prison, as a special bonus for his service.
Once, I said, “Twenty five is a great age to retire.” He gave me one of those glares like I crossed a line and I became quiet again. After a moment, I redirected the conversation.
“Were you ever married?”, I asked him.
“Once, but it didn’t last”, he said with almost regret.
“Did it end badly?”, I asked, hesitantly.
He said calmly, “No, we just grew apart. By the time our daughter, Sarah, was off in college, we realized that we had nothing in common anymore. We started seeing other people and divorced when it became convenient.”
I knew I should not have said anything but, I could not stop myself, “How could you have a daughter in college? You’re not even 30.”
He stopped where he was, like he did not know what to say. There was a long awkward quiet where I thought he almost looked like he wanted to punch something. I remained quiet. It was the wrong question to ask. I could not follow it up with anything frivolous. He had to know that I knew it was a mistake to ask him. It was a glaring question that raised other questions in a way that cannot be glossed over.
Finally, I said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
I was scared that I screwed up. I did not think he would hit me, but I have seen it happen so often to the other girls I wondered when he might. I tried to keep him talking on safer subjects. Even so, the rest of the afternoon was uncomfortable. We continued the pleasantries but there was this unanswered question hanging around in the silences.
Later, he told me that he was not angry at me for raising questions, but he is angry at the rules he is subject to. He likes me a lot, he trusts me, and there was a great number of things he would love to discuss, but he cannot. Such topics are not to be talked about, bound by the contract of living here.