Encounters - the follow-up

Read the first part of Encounters to make more sense of this.

(Approaching the cafe, pretty and normal in the late morning sunshine, Jack feels faintly ridiculous that she has made such elaborate plans to make sure this meeting doesn’t go off the rails, that she is safe, that she has built this Karsh up into some sort of dangerous sex maniac hypnotist who might spirit her away from a public place in broad daylight to ravish her. He’s just a man, right? Who has to eat, like anybody else; who likes the park on a sunny morning, like anybody else. Why has she dressed herself up, so — it’s over the top, obvious, surely? But it’s too late now.)

- Um .. Hi! .. ah .. Mr .. Mr Karsh .. I .. I hope you don’t mind me — us — disturbing you like this, but you said ..

- Not at all! It’s a pleasure to see you, Jack!

(Karsh had begun rising as they approached; he is dressed immaculately, but at the same time perfectly ordinarily; white open-neck shirt, blue jeans, brown leather boots, his ugly, fascinating face relaxed, friendly. He opens his hands in a gesture of welcome. Jack had forgotten quite how his lean body, despite his — to her mind — advanced years, conveys poise, agility and strength all at the same time — like a dancer’s.)

.. and your friend, too!

- Oh, yes, of course! You haven’t met! Stupid of me! This is Anita .. uh, Anita Dodds, of the Sisters’ Solidarity Campaign ..

- I’m glad to meet you. Thanks for coming, Ms Dodds. The SSC? Yes. Yes I know your work — just a little — we helped fund last year’s Advancement Project, which I believe your organisation participated in? Good, good — that was a remarkable show that you put on — I was impressed.

Will you sit? Good. Perhaps a drink? Something to eat? I’m afraid I have finished my meal so I can’t eat with you. Just drinks, then? Perfect..

(He keeps up small talk while drinks are ordered and delivered, clearly working to help Anita — who had been told she was going to meet a disgusting sexist pig from whom, if she could hold her nose long enough, she might be able to gouge some funds for her radical women’s project. Although she is not initially convinced, he soon shows that he does, in fact, know rather more about her work that she knows about him, and — more — that he seems genuinely interested in — and not at all reactionary about — the bluntness of the approach her project takes towards women’s advancement. At the same time, he is reserved, listening more than speaking, asking opening questions, so that, by the time the drinks arrive and serious business of donations is broached, it is Anita who is more relaxed with Karsh than Jack.)

- So, Jack; not to be crude about it — I do have other appointments this afternoon — I imagine that you have introduced me to Anita as director of the charity you want me to write a cheque to?

- Um .. yes .. yes. uh .. They do really important work.

- I quite agree. But my offer was made without strings attached. Of course, I am more than happy that you have chosen such an interesting and challenging project to receive the funds I offered — I so much prefer giving money to people who want to shake things up than to people who want everything to stay the same, just with the nasty bits smoothed over. Too, I am very happy to have met Ms Dodds — Anita; perhaps this will be the beginning of a longer connection between my foundation and the SSC.

But there really is no need for any sort of pitch, or presentation. This is a donation made in your name, Jack, as of right.

(He writes the cheque there and then, without formality, with a fountain pen that looks as if it might well have cost more than the figure on the cheque — which is not ten thousand, as promised, but twenty thousand.)

- Use it to shake things up, Ms Dodds, please. It won’t be recorded as a tax deductible, so that you don’t need to mention my name — unless of course the idea that you have received a donation from me will be useful to you in any way, in which case, of course, I will be happy to go on record about my support for your work.

(Impressed in spite of herself, Anita is nevertheless uncomfortable with this man about whom so many rumours circulate, and is keen to leave. She looks at Jack — whom she hardly knows, and in some ways is even more suspicious of as an entitled do-gooder — expecting the girl to do as she had said she would — give the guy some speech about how he was no better than he ought to be. But the girl seems to have lost focus.)

(Silence.)

- Well, ladies — if you’ll forgive the term — there are other matters I should attend to, so, if that concludes our business ..?

(Jack appears shocked by this perfectly banal sentence, eyes widening, shifting her position sharply. Her voice seems shrill, forced. This meeting has not gone at all as she had imagined it would. She had expected some fireworks between Anita and Karsh, to have him exposed as superficial, at the least; to hear Anita take him down a peg, call him a misogynist would have been excellent — but this .. this blandness — Anita smiling politely — it’s all wrong!)

- No. No! I .. I have something to say!

You.. you can’t just brush this away with money. Money .. money is .. is nothing to you — you have so much of it; this is nothing to you, nothing! I’m ashamed of myself for coming here, for taking this bribe. I .. I did it because I know SSC will do great things with it. But you need to know that it makes no difference — no difference at all, to what I think of you, how you behaved …

(She trails off, breathing hard, pink in the face.)

(More silence, of a different kind. Both Anita and Karsh are waiting, leaving Jack space — Anita’s expression supportive but non-committal; she doesn’t really know what happened at the garden party — Karsh’s unreadable, although it is clear he heard every word, that he’s paying attention. He speaks into the silence at last.)

- You are right, of course. The money has nothing at all to do with my behaviour. As we both know, the money gave you an excuse, if you wanted one, to meet me here today — for whatever reason — to allow you another chance to express yourself, if you so wished — as you have done.

To be clear, though, although I do indeed control a great deal of money, it is not nothing to me. Money is a tool for changing the world — and changing the world is an enormous task. As it happens, I’m pleased to assist Ms Dodds and her sisters in their attempts to change the world, but you may rest assured that I did not acquire huge amounts of money by treating it as nothing. I am very well aware — more aware than I suspect you are, Jack, of what money means, of what it means not to have money, to need it desperately.

So that I hope you will not let Ms Dodds think that that cheque is in any way a bribe. It is a sincere gift — and to a cause I consider worthy. There is nothing to bribe anyone for. I behaved as I did, and do not regret it, or feel the slightest shame. Your opinion of me is whatever you feel, and I do not expect the money to have changed that.

Life is not, perhaps, as transactional as you assume it to be, Jack. People are themselves, and they remain themselves, wherever the money goes, whatever they might do for money.

If I had paid you that money to have sex with me, for instance, and you had consented, it would not be the money that changed you — if indeed you did feel that you had been changed, but rather your own decision to accept that deal.

(At this, Anita Dodds sees that there is something rather deep going on between these two, that she wishes no part of. She rises, lifts a hand, briefly, to Karsh, looks carefully at Jack, giving the girl time to do what she clearly should do, and take this as a chance to leave herself - Make sure I leave when you do, Anita, please? - the girl had said. But now, it seems, Jack is not interested in leaving, looking at Anita only briefly, blankly, and the woman turns to go, happy to leave these two to whatever strange dance it is that is going on between them, glad that she is not herself subject to awkward desires.)

(Karsh stands, polite as before, shakes her hand lightly, and lets her go. Not seating himself again, he turns and signals to a waiter for the bill, remaining standing.)

- Are .. are you leaving?

- Why yes. As I said, I have things to do.

- But .. but you said we might .. that we might talk about f..feminism ..

- Is that, truthfully, what you want to talk about? For myself, if we were to be talking, I would rather you told me whether you take it in the ass. Whether you like it that way, even if it hurts.

(She has been staring at the table through this exchange, but now her whole body jolts; she becomes utterly focused on him, eyes wide, staring, although her mouth is closed and her expression is not readable. He bears her look impassively, a look of mild interest in his eyes.)

(Her throat works, then stops. Silence expands; Karsh waits, Jack trembles, eyes on her hands, twisting together on the table .. Her throat works again, convulsively, she is breathing hard. Her voice comes at last; small, and low, and rather quiet, the tone not angry, as before, but almost wondering; soft and very clear — obviously wanting him to understand her.)

- Yes. Yes, I do .. do take .. take it that .. that way. It .. it does .. hurt, a little. But I do .. I do like it, sometimes.

(He sits down; calm and casual, while she trembles, visibly, blushing wildly, shaking her head as if in disbelief at the words she has just heard herself speak. He reaches out his hands a little, spread wide.)

- Will you take my hands?

Thank you. And thank you for those words. They were — I think — the first thoroughly honest words you have spoken to me. Honesty is not necessarily a virtue, but I will say this — I will not lie to you. Ever. I may not always answer your questions in full, but what I do tell you will be the truth.

(He lifts his hands, carrying hers, a little, and then moves them apart. As she looks up, not sure what he is doing, he lets her see; he is looking at her breasts. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look up — moves her hands a little, deliberately, a few times, not rushing. She allows herself to be inspected, trembling, but placid.)

- It is, for instance, true that I find the thought of your lovely breasts, naked, available to me, entrancing.

(He smiles at her — a simple, happy smile, then lays her hands down onto the table, sits back.)

- It is also true that it would please me if you would agree to come with me, now, and let my staff make some arrangements so that you will be able to accompany me on my plane, this evening, to come to Morrocco, where I have a few days business — to stay in my villa — swim, sunbathe — see the sights — there are some excellent restaurants; the Kasbah is something everyone should experience.

- I .. I ..

- I can’t ..

- It .. it would be ..

- No.

- I mean .. you .. you would .. would want me to ..

- Perhaps — but that would depend upon you. I am not a Bluebeard, my dear. Still less a rapist. This is a genuine invitation.

- I .. I don’t know..

(He laughs — a comfortable, friendly laugh, with no ‘side’ to it at all. A man at ease with himself and the world.)

- Don’t stress yourself about it, Jack. It’s not worth it. There’s really nothing complicated going on here except the thoughts in your head, winding themselves into knots.

I’ll go and see what’s happening with the bill, now, and then I’ll leave. You’re welcome to come with me, if you want. You’ll need to go shopping with one of my girls — my treat — so there’s no time to waste if you’re to enjoy that.