could they not hear him or smell him?
‘Can I really say anything here?’ said the man. ‘I’m asking because I realized when I was talking to Carrie that there’s always some kind of limit on what I can say. I mean, I can only say the sort of things to her that husbands are supposed to say to their wives, and when I’m out with a friend, I can only say the sort of things that friends are meant to say to each other.’
‘This is the place where you’re allowed to say anything. There are no limits.’
‘You’ll just think this is stupid…’
‘I don’t care whether it’s stupid or not.’
‘And you won’t tell anyone what I say?’
‘Why would I do that?’
‘You promise?’
‘Alan, I’m professionally bound to respect your privacy. Unless you’re confessing to a serious crime. Or planning one.’
‘I’m confessing to bad feelings.’
‘Then tell me what they are.’
Josef thought that what he really ought to do was to put his fingers in his ears. He wasn’t meant to hear this. He was meant
‘I’ve been thinking,’ said the man. ‘I was talking about wanting a child. Wanting a son. So why aren’t I just going to have fertility treatment and taking Viagra? It’s a medical problem, not something to do with my head.’
‘So why aren’t you?’
‘I had this feeling about my son, about this little boy, this boy who looks like me. It was like a hunger. But these attacks I’ve been having, where I’ve been almost collapsing, fainting, making a complete idiot of myself. They’re not about that hunger. They’re about something else as well.’
‘What are they about?’
‘Guilt.’
Another silence.
‘What kind of guilt?’ said Frieda.
‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said the man. ‘And I saw it like this. I want this boy. I want him kicking a ball with me. And I’m here wanting him to be with me. But he’s not there wanting me to be with him. Does that make sense?’
‘Not entirely,’ said Frieda. ‘Not yet.’
‘It’s obvious. They don’t ask to be born. We want them. I guess it’s an instinct. But what’s the difference between that and an addiction? You take heroin to stop you wanting heroin. You’ve got an itch for a child and you get a child to stop that itch.’
‘So you think having a child is a selfish act?’
‘Of course it is,’ said the man. ‘It’s not as if you consult the child.’
‘Are you saying you feel guilty because your desire to have a child is selfish?’
‘Yes.’ Long pause. ‘And also…’ He stopped. Josef agreed with Frieda – there was something else going on here. ‘Also, it’s this urgent kind of wanting. Maybe it’s what women feel.’
‘What do you mean by that?’
His voice was a mutter. Josef had to strain to hear him.
‘I’ve heard of women who don’t feel complete until they’ve had a child. It’s like that but even more. I feel – I’ve always felt – as if there’s something missing from me, kind of like a hole in me.’
‘A hole in you? Go on.’
‘And if I had a child it would plug that hole. Does that sound creepy?’
‘No. But I’d like to explore this urgency and hunger more. What would your wife say if you told her that?’
‘She’d wonder what kind of man she’d married. I wonder what kind of man she married.’
‘Maybe a part of a marriage is keeping some things to ourselves.’
‘I had a dream about my son.’
‘You make it sound like he exists.’
‘He did in the dream. He was standing there, like me that age. Red-haired, little school uniform. But he was far away, on the other side of something huge, like the Grand Canyon. Except it was completely dark and incredibly deep. I was standing on the edge looking across at him. I wanted to go to him but I knew that if I stepped forward I’d fall into the darkness. It’s not exactly a happy dream.’
Now Josef thought of his own little sons and he really did feel ashamed. He pushed the joints of his fingers into his mouth and chewed them. He wasn’t sure why. Maybe as a punishment or to take his mind off what he was hearing. He didn’t exactly stop listening to the words but he stopped translating them. He tried to let them become music that just flowed past him. Finally, he could hear that the session was coming to a close. The voices changed in pitch and became more distant. He heard the door open. This was his chance. As quietly as he could, he got up and started to climb up the ladder, gently, to avoid any creaking. Suddenly he heard banging.
‘Is that you?’ said a voice. There was no question about it: it was her voice. ‘Are you in there?’
For a desperate moment, Josef thought of staying silent and maybe she would go away.
‘I know you’re there. Don’t pretend. Get through that hole and come round here now.’
‘I heard nothing,’ said Josef. ‘It’s no problem.’
‘Now.’
‘How long were you there?’ said Frieda, white with anger, when they were face to face.
‘I was asleep,’ said Josef. ‘I was working there, fixing the hole. And I slept.’
‘In my room.’
‘Behind the wall.’
‘Are you completely insane?’ said Frieda. ‘This is private. It’s as private as it’s possible to be. What would he think if he found out?’
‘I will not tell him.’
‘Tell him? Of course you won’t tell him. You don’t know who he is. But what did you think you were doing?’
‘I was asleep and then the voices woke me.’
‘I’m so sorry that we disturbed you.’
‘I try not to listen. I am sorry. I will not do it again. You will tell me the times to work and I will block the hole.’
Frieda took a deep breath. ‘I cannot believe I’ve held a therapy session with a builder in the same room. But all right, that’s fine. Or fairly fine. Just fix the bloody hole.’
‘It will only be a day. Or two days. Or a little bit more. The paint is slow to dry now it is cold.’
‘Do it as quickly as you can.’
‘But there is one thing I don’t understand,’ said Josef.
‘What’s that?’
‘If a man wants to have a child, then you do something about that. You don’t just talk about it. You go out into the world and you try to solve the problem. You see a doctor and you do whatever it is so you have a son.’
‘I thought you were asleep,’ said Frieda, with a look almost of horror.
‘I was sleeping. The noise woke me. I heard some talk. He is a man who needs a son. He made me think of my own sons.’
Frieda’s expression of anger slowly collapsed into a smile. She couldn’t help herself. ‘You want me to discuss my patient with you?’ she said.
‘I thought that it wasn’t good just with words. He needs to change his life. Get a son. If he can.’
‘When you were overhearing, did you hear the bit where I said it was completely secret? That nobody would know what he told me?’
‘But what is the point of just talking, if he doesn’t do anything?’
‘You mean like lying asleep instead of repairing the hole you fell through?’
‘I will fix it. It’s almost done.’
