Title of a Painting by Kazimir Malevich

White on White (1918)

Forty-five

Afterward, she thought about it: why that kiss? It just happened. We’re not the masters of our biological clock. In this instance it was the one that concerns mourning. She’d wanted to die, had tried to breathe again, had succeeded, then was able to eat, had even succeeded in going back to work, smiling, being strong, affable, feminine; and then time had passed with that wobbly energy of reconstruction, until the day she’d gone into that bar but fled, unable to bear the cruising game, certain she’d never be able to be interested in a man; yet the next day, she’d started walking on the wall-to-wall carpeting, had just done it, an impulse stolen from doubt; she’d experienced her body as an object of desire, its shape and hips, and she’d even been disappointed she couldn’t hear the sound of her spike heels … All of it had come out of nowhere, the unforeseen birth of a sensation, a lucid force.And that was when Markus had entered the room.There was nothing else to say. Our biological clock isn’t rational. It’s exactly like an unhappy love affair: you don’t know when you’ll get over it. At the most painful moment, you think that the wound will never heal. And then, one morning, you’re startled to discover that you no longer feel this terrible burden. What a surprise to notice that the angst has disappeared. Why on that particular day? Why not later, or sooner? It’s the totalitarian decision of our body. Markus shouldn’t have looked for a tangible explanation of that impulsive kiss. It had appeared all in good time. Besides, most stories can often be summed up by that simple question of the right moment. Markus, who’d made a mess of so many things in his life, had just discovered his ability to appear in the field of vision of a woman at the perfect moment.Natalie had read the distress in Markus’s eyes. After their last exchange, he’d left slowly. Without making a sound. As unobtrusive as a semicolon in an eight-hundred-page novel. She couldn’t leave him like that. She was terribly upset about having acted as she did. She also thought he was a nice man to work with, respectful of everybody, and that made her even more upset about the notion of wounding him. She called him to her office. He put file 114 under his arm, in case she wanted to see him for a work reason. But he didn’t give a good goddamn about file 114. In responding to the call, he made a detour by way of the restroom and splashed a little water on his face. Curious about what she was going to say to him, he opened the door to her office.“Thanks for coming.”“You’re welcome.”“I’d like to apologize. I didn’t know how to answer. And to be perfectly honest, I still don’t know …”“…”“I don’t know what came over me. It had to be some kind of physical drive … but we work together, and I must say that it was completely inappropriate.”“You sound like an American. That’s never a good sign.”She began to laugh. What a strange reply. It was the first time they were talking about anything other than a file. She was discovering a clue to his real personality. She had to get ahold of herself.“I sound like somebody in charge of a six-person team that you belong to. You walked in just as I was daydreaming, and I didn’t grasp the real situation at that moment.”“But that moment was the realest of my life,” protested Markus without thinking. It had come right out of his heart.Things weren’t going to be simple, thought Natalie. It was best to put a stop to the conversation. Which she rapidly did. Somewhat curtly. Markus didn’t seem to understand. He stood stock-still in her office without moving, vainly looking for the strength to leave. The truth was, when she’d called him in ten minutes before, he’d imagined that she might want to kiss him again. He’d wandered into this dream and had just understood once and for all that nothing more was going to happen between them. He’d been crazy to think it would. She’d only kissed him on the spur of the moment. It was difficult to admit. It was like somebody offering you happiness and then immediately taking it back. He wished he’d never known the taste of Natalie’s lips. He wished he’d never experienced that moment, because he was deeply aware that he’d need months to get over those few seconds.Markus headed for the door. Natalie was surprised to catch a tear forming in his eye. It hadn’t flowed yet, was waiting to come sliding out in the hallway. He wanted to hold it back. Certainly didn’t want to weep in front of Natalie. This was stupid, but the tear he was going to weep was unexpected.It was the third time he’d wept in front of a woman. Forty-six

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