Story of a Sociopath

  “I…I don’t want to disturb you, but I just wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss.”

  “Come in…Please, come in.” Suddenly I was happy to see someone who was there just to see me.

  “No, no…I only came here because you wouldn’t answer your phone. I had to ask Paul Hard for your address. It was actually he who told me about your mother. Apparently it was in the society news.”

  “So you’re still in touch with Paul?”

  “I teach at his academy a couple days a week.”

  “I see, so you’ve found something to do that’s not related to your family’s restaurant.”

  “I also work for an ad agency. I’ve worked on several campaigns now. But I couldn’t say no to Paul. One of his teachers left and he needed someone to fill in but didn’t want to have to pay too much, so he called me.”

  “A good girl, as always. You seem…”

  Yes, Esther seemed different. The ugly duckling had not become a swan but her appearance had improved. She wore her hair in a way that conveyed style. She was wearing a blazer that was not bad although it was cheap, and she even had makeup on. Yes, she’d improved noticeably.

  “Come in and have a drink.”

  “No, I don’t want to disturb you…”

  “Stay awhile, since you’re here.”

  I went with her to the kitchen, where María and Fanny busied themselves with putting canapés on trays.

  “Do you need a hand?” Esther offered.

  “A little help would be great…There are more people than we were expecting,” whispered María.

  Esther smiled at me and started helping Fanny make the canapés.

  “I’ve had a lot of practice. I’ve been helping at my parents’ restaurant for years.”

  “Yes, but you’ve come here to express your condolences, not to make sandwiches,” I protested.

  “You know I’m incapable of being idle.”

  María and Fanny were grateful for the unexpected help from Esther. While Esther and Fanny filled the trays, María went in and out of the kitchen and passed the trays around for the guests at the wake. Aunt Emma also assisted with that task and, although she was surprised at the presence of a stranger in the kitchen, she didn’t say anything.

  Jaime came looking for me. He seemed annoyed, but if he was planning on reproaching me for anything he held his tongue when he saw Esther.

  “Thomas, I’ve been looking for you. There are lots of people here and they’re asking after you. Everyone wants to express their condolences. And…well, Lisa’s parents have just arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Ferguson. Of course it’s you they want to see.”

  “The Fergusons? Look, I’m not in the mood to keep listening to people’s drivel. Everyone keeps saying the same things. ‘Your mother was so good.’ ‘What a great loss.’ And then they want me to tell them about me, what I do for a living and why I don’t live in New York.”

  “Our obligation is to welcome all these people who’ve kindly come to be with us,” Jaime insisted while glancing uncomfortably at Esther, whom he didn’t recognize.

  “Your brother is right,” she said, as she put another coffeepot and some cups on a tray.

  “You are…?”

  “Esther Sabatti. You won’t remember me. Actually, I’m almost glad you don’t. We met at your brother’s graduation.”

  “Oh, I remember now! Sorry, Esther, but there have been so many people that I no longer know who I recognize and who I don’t,” my brother explained, although I was sure he didn’t remember her.

  “Esther is helping María and Fanny; she’s been making sandwiches and canapés for an hour,” I said as if I were proud that someone I knew was capable of doing something useful.

  “Oh, well! I’m grateful. I’m sure María and Fanny are too, although…Thomas, I don’t think it’s a good idea for your friend to be here in the kitchen.”

  “Don’t worry. I’m fine and I’d rather be here. I don’t know all those people and I don’t mind lending a hand. But, Thomas, you should go and be with your friends.”

  “I’m not going to leave you here,” I replied, feeling awkward.

  “I’ll stay awhile longer to help and then I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

  “Yes, that would be best,” said my brother.

  “Go see the Fergusons, I’ll come in a minute,” I said to Jaime, who left the kitchen in a huff. Then, to Esther, I said, “Give me your phone number and address. We could have dinner tomorrow, if you like?”

  “Tomorrow is your mother’s funeral and burial,” replied Esther, aghast.

  “But by midafternoon it will all be over. I hope so, at least. I’ve never understood why after a funeral everyone has to go back to the dead person’s house to continue eating and drinking.”

  “Come on, Thomas, now’s not the time to say those things. And I live where I used to live, and my phone number’s the same as when we were studying at Paul’s academy.”

  “Okay, but I don’t have it anymore. Write it down for me before you go, okay?”

  I didn’t enjoy seeing the Fergusons. I didn’t actually want to be reminded of Lisa. I’d put her out of my mind. She was a thing of the past. I barely paid attention to them. I slunk away as soon as I could.

  —

  The house was full of people until eight. I remember I had an intense headache. I’d barely eaten, had had too much coffee to keep myself awake, and the repetitive conversations were getting on my nerves. I sighed in relief when María closed the door behind the last stragglers to leave.

  Jaime took the lead again and almost ordered our maternal grandparents and uncle to go home.

  “Uncle Oswaldo, it’s best if you go and rest. Tomorrow will be even harder than today. The funeral Mass is at nine. The burial is at eleven, and then we’ll come back here for some refreshments.”

  Our grandparents protested. They wanted to stay and keep vigil over their daughter, but Jaime was unyielding, so they left at the same time as Grandpa and Grandma Spencer and Aunt Emma.

  My brother ordered María to go to bed and asked Fanny to come back early the next day.

  Suddenly Jaime, John, and I were alone in the study, the three of us sitting next to my mother’s coffin. John didn’t seem aware of anything, not even our presence. His gaze was fixed on my mother’s lifeless face.

  “Dad,” whispered Jaime, “you need rest too. Get some sleep, I’ll stay with her; then Thomas can take over. I promise I’ll wake you up soon.”

  “Thomas? Thomas is going to stay with your mother?” John asked Jaime, but looked at me as if he were unable to conceive of such an idea.

  “Yes, of course, just like you and me. She won’t be alone tonight. There will always be one of the three of us,” Jaime assured him.

  “No, no. I’m staying with her, you can do what you like.”

  “Don’t be stubborn, you’re exhausted. You’ll make yourself ill if you don’t sleep a little.” Jaime was wasting his patience on him.

  “Leave me alone, I said I’m not moving from this spot.”

  We stayed silent for a long time. I think it was midnight when I got up and left them alone with her. I was too tired to keep sitting motionless, staring at a dead body, even if it was my own mother’s.

  In the morning, my father and brother were exhausted. Jaime had not wanted to leave my dad alone and they’d stayed with my mother the whole night. I’d be lying if I said that at that moment I felt worried about John’s health. I thought he was stupid for not getting some sleep, and my brother was even more stupid for following his lead.

  Would I have done the same now? I should say no. I know I should have stayed with them and even tried to comfort John. I imagine things could have been thus:

  “Dad, Mama wouldn’t have liked to see you this way. You need to listen to Jaime and get some sleep. We’ll take turns.”

  And when he protested, I could have taken him gently by the arm, making him get up. But first I would have hugged him, and Jaime would have jo
ined that embrace.

  “The past doesn’t matter, what matters now is that we give my mother a good farewell. I loved her even though I was not able to show it, and I love you. You are my only family.”

  —

  But none of this happened and that night I slept like a log, although I awoke just as the sun was rising. I was cold.

  The day went by more quickly than the previous one. I suppose having to go to Saint Patrick’s and then to the cemetery and back home made the hours pass swiftly.

  I was surprised to see Esther sitting in a pew at the back of the cathedral. She was hearing Mass as if it were the most natural thing to her.

  She left without giving me time to say anything, and I was annoyed. I didn’t know why but suddenly I seemed to feel the need to be with her.

  That afternoon, when we were alone again, Jaime wanted the three of us to have dinner, John, him, and me. But I said no.

  “I’m planning to go back to London in two or three days.”

  “That’s fine by me, but that shouldn’t stop you from having dinner with us tonight.”

  “We’ve had the funeral already, we’ve buried her. There’s no point in continuing to lament. She’s not here. She’s gone forever. That’s that.”

  My brother looked furious. I thought he was considering whether to punch me, but in the end he shrugged.

  “Do what you like. I think the least you owe Dad is to have dinner with him tonight. He’s devastated and needs our support.”

  “I see, another one who talks about duty. Your aunt Emma also told me I’m indebted to John.”

  “Yes, you’re indebted to your father, as am I—because he’s our father, the only one we’ve had, and you know full well how much he has loved us and loves us still.”

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “I speak for myself and for you. You’d be a bastard if you said Dad didn’t love you.”

  “Effectively, I am a bastard, but you knew that already. The only one who didn’t know was me.”

  “What you are is an idiot. You know what your problem is? Your problem is not other people, your problem is you, the way you are. You should get yourself checked.”

  “Enjoy your meal.”

  I left the house, slamming the door behind me. I knew I was being churlish, that Jaime was right and the least I owed John was to offer him consolation. But I was running away from a scene that I would have found too unbearable. John, Jaime, and me sitting at the table while María served a consommé and then a piece of roast. My brother would retell stories about my mother that involved the three of us, and he would even do the impossible and get my father to smile at some memory he was especially fond of.

  I may well have chimed in with a mea culpa, saying I’d been an overly active child and my mother was always on edge, and then I’d admit that I had loved her very much and I’d been fortunate to be able to tell her so before she died. I could have even added that I was lucky to have them.

  But instead, what I did was take a taxi and go find Esther. I dialed her number, as I gave the taxi driver her address.

  On the phone, she told me it wasn’t the right evening for us to go out for dinner, but I insisted.

  “Look, I need to be with someone who isn’t family or I’ll end up going crazy. If you don’t want to have dinner with me then I’ll dine alone.”

  In the end she accepted. I took her to dinner at what used to be my favorite Chinese restaurant in Chinatown, Joe’s Shanghai.

  I discovered I felt great when she was around, better than with any other person I’d ever met. And that very night, after dinner, as we strolled back to her house, I asked her to marry me. I myself was surprised at the proposal.

  “Are you asking seriously?”

  “Yes. Will you marry me?”

  “No, we don’t know each other well enough. Besides, you just told me you’re planning to go back to London. It seems to me you’re not very sure what you want. And…well, nobody decides to get married just like that, out of the blue.”

  “Why?”

  “Because getting married is a serious matter. It’s a lifelong project together, but above all, it requires a very important element: love.”

  I didn’t know how to reply. I couldn’t lie and say I was in love with her because she wouldn’t have believed me. I actually didn’t have any logical explanation except that it seemed a good idea to be with her. And that’s what I said.

  “Okay, that’s a reason but it’s not enough.”

  “And what’s your reason to say no?”

  “I’m not in love with you. I’ve always liked you but that’s it.”

  “That’s something at least. I didn’t know you liked me.”

  “It was obvious.”

  “So…”

  “So you asked me to marry you and I don’t think it’s a good idea. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

  “No. But I think we should try it.”

  “Try…what? Look, Thomas, I can’t afford not to take life seriously.”

  “I’m serious. I want to be with you.”

  “We’ll see.”

  —

  Esther’s serenity was disconcerting. She seemed to know who she was and, above all, what she expected from life. I decided that whatever her hesitations, I would not give up.

  But I had to make a decision. If I wanted to be with her I’d have to stay in New York and I wasn’t sure I wanted to give up what seemed like a promising career in London. Roy kept calling me, asking me to come back. He had big plans and he said he needed me for them.

  I didn’t actually have to make the decision myself because Mark Scott and Denis Roth made it for me.

  When I phoned Maggie to ask how things were going, my efficient secretary said things were going very well and that Cathy was a very agreeable boss. I pretended not to hear that and asked her to put me through to Philip Sullivan instead of Richard Craig, my assistant. I knew that Sullivan would tell me what was going on.

  “Thomas, I sent you a few e-mails and called you, but you haven’t returned any of my calls,” he complained when he heard my voice.

  “My mother died. Now tell me what’s been happening.”

  “You’re out. Mark and Denis decided to hire Cathy to oversee everything, in addition to the electoral department. Mark told us your methods aren’t exactly orthodox, and concern has been raised about…well, you know, about what happened to Roy’s opposition. And Denis says that the agency’s morality and ethics must not be put into question. At first there were rumors that they were searching for another mission for you, but it seems they’ve decided they don’t need you. They are going to sack you. Maggie has actually already packed all your things in a box. Are you planning on coming?”

  “I don’t know…The thing is, I’m not surprised Cathy got her way. She wanted revenge. But I’ll have to come back. I have an apartment, a car, a bank account, and Roy Parker, who keeps calling me.”

  “Thomas…I don’t know what you’re planning on doing, but whatever it is, you can count on me.”

  I was surprised at Sullivan’s loyalty. The computer guy, the IT genius, had a heart too. And I knew I wasn’t his type. He liked men who were tall, blond, and muscular, none of which described me.

  So I had to start thinking about what to do with my life, but I was glad this allowed me to be with Esther. I was in no rush to go anywhere.

  I didn’t tell my brother or John until a few days later.

  “I’ve been fired from Scott and Roth and I want to marry Esther Sabatti, that Italian girl who was in the kitchen the other day,” I announced at breakfast.

  John lifted his gaze from his cup of coffee and looked at me like I was a lunatic.

  After a pause, my brother said plainly what was on his mind: “Poor girl, she seems like a nice person. Why does she want to marry you?”

  “She doesn’t want to yet, but I suppose I’ll convince her.”

  “Is she that desperate?” asked John, trying to fi
nd an explanation as to why a woman would accept me as a husband.

  “Her parents own an Italian restaurant. She works at an advertising agency and also teaches a couple of classes a week at Paul Hard’s academy, where we both studied.”

  “That girl…Isn’t that the girl…?”

  “Yes, the one Lisa tried to hit the day I graduated. She’s always been a good friend.”

  “Well, I didn’t realize you’d kept in touch.” Jaime seemed surprised.

  “Yes, and we always got along. I don’t know why but she’s the only person I feel at ease with, and who I don’t want to piss off,” I admitted.

  “Coming from you, that’s like saying you’re madly in love,” said Jaime.

  “Yes, that’s what I think.”

  “But what I don’t understand is why she…well, why she wants to marry you,” John insisted.

  “Maybe she doesn’t altogether hate me,” I replied ironically.

  “I imagine you’ll wait an appropriate amount of time before getting married. We just buried Mama and the family isn’t ready for celebrations,” my brother advised.

  “Like I said, I still need to convince her. Also, I need to decide whether to return to London or stay in New York. Can’t say either of you seems surprised that I’ve been fired, by the way.”

  “So you need to decide what to do with the rest of your life,” John replied.

  “Something like that.”

  “Well, let us know when you clear that up. But you need to wait at least six months because of Mama,” Jaime insisted.

  “I didn’t say that there’s going to be a celebration, just that I want to get married. But before I do, I need to find a job.”

  “I guess Dad can help you find one, or Grandpa James,” said Jaime, looking at John.

  “As soon as you’ve decided whether you’re staying in New York I’ll make a few calls,” John said.

  “I’ll let you know soon.”

  They didn’t seem much affected by the news that I had lost my job.

  I looked at them and felt the same rage I’d felt as a child. Jaime and John were like two peas in a pod: same hair color, same build, same way of holding a cup of coffee and of putting their index finger on their nose when lost in thought.