Unexpectedly, if this is the right thing to say, given that I could and should have expected that Lauren would send me a few words just before departing for Los Angeles, this morning I got a wonderful electronic-mail message from her:

Every day I go to bed feeling like I’ve bathed in napalm and then been patted dry with shards of glass. I wake up in this cloud both real and constructed. I cannot help wonder about the how and why of it all between us. I just wondered if we could see each other before I go. I need to be held by you. Despite it all, the obvious impossibilities et cetera, you still are central to me. I know Milena has an important test tomorrow, and it’s my last day in London. I just thought I’d ask. I don’t need to talk, nor to try and understand or anything else. Just need to see you and smell you for a brief moment.

I responded immediately, without a moment’s hesitation. I started by giving her a few details about my plans for today and tomorrow, with the emphasis on my obligations toward my mother, and then I added a few words about the problem she faces:

I appreciate your tone. I understand everything. And yet, I would be so much happier if you came out a bit more strongly, a bit more definitely. I would love it if you could say—this is what I want. Period. That would be music for my ears. Life is not easy, of course. But it has to be made easier by one’s will.

Indeed, Lauren is facing a Gordian knot. That is the best metaphor available, and I am sorry I did not think of it while I was writing to her just now. Her fingers bloody after years of desperate trying, she cannot possibly untie the damned thing. She must cut through it with all her might, but this is something she appears to be constitutionally incapable of doing. As always, someone else will have to do it for her. Her own king of the entire world.

Addendum I (December 24, 2000)

Having received my reply, Lauren asked me to see her before her and the children’s departure for Los Angeles. She offered that I come and see her in her studio the same day. Six o’clock, she suggested. “I’ll be there,” I wrote back without any hesitation. Several hours later we were in each other’s arms. It was wonderful seeing her again after more than two weeks. So much love connects us. She looked very beautiful to me, I must add. She was beautiful and poised and powerful. A strong woman, Lauren. We made love, of course. Then we went to Sophie Botros’ traditional Christmas party, to which we were both invited. Lauren had her car with her, and so we picked up Yolanda Sonnabend on the way there. After an hour, we took our leave and returned home, so that the children could enjoy a little time with me, too. Unfortunately, I had to return to Reading that night because of both my mother’s health and an early-morning engagement in the office, but the short visit with the family was enough to restore my hope, as well as Lauren’s. God knows were we are heading, but our love is capable of surviving much battering. Splitting up is not an option now. Not now. Not yet. And perhaps this is how it will stay.

Addendum II (December 27, 2000)

She did not resist my roving hand as I was kissing her, but she was a bit unsure of herself—or perhaps of us—when I first pulled her pants down and then mine. I was fully erect by then. I turned her around, guided her to one of her grandparents’ enormous swiveling armchairs, of which she had the remaining two in her studio, and made her kneel in it. Then I spread her open and entered her from behind. Only afterwards I noticed we were both facing a big mirror leaning against the wall. We were both fully dressed, and the position was quite awkward, but it was so good to be in her again. I massaged her lower back as I poked into her deeper and deeper. It did not take her long to begin showing signs of real pleasure and of deep desire. She came a few minutes later. This was the very first time she had an orgasm in that position. The pulsations of her vagina filled me with joy. When I asked her whether I could come in her, she told me that I could. She watched me in the mirror as I went faster and faster. I, too, came quickly and easily while her vagina was still alive with sporadic tremors. Then I helped her up and we kissed again. Lauren put the two armchairs together, we took off our shoes, and reclined opposite each other. As we massaged each other’s feet, we talked in hushed voices. Now our talk was easy and smooth and unhurried. Now we were man and woman again.