I had reached the hotel, and went up the stone steps leading from the embankment onto the terrace. I thought with some relief that I had only one more dinner to eat at the restaurant, now that I had decided to leave, I could not wait, it could not happen soon enough. As I reached the lobby, I saw Maria and Stefano standing together by the desk. I realized it was the first time I had seen the pair together, despite the fact that they were stubbornly coupled in my mind. They appeared to be in the midst of conversation, perhaps even arguing.
Maria was dressed in her own clothes, she was wearing a pair of blue jeans and a blouse, I had never seen her wearing anything other than the hotel uniform and the effect was jarring. Both she and Stefano were almost unrecognizable; although they looked exactly as they always did, their demeanor, even from a distance, was entirely different from the manner they exhibited while they were working, it was enough to transform them into strangers. In their professional contexts they were polite, reserved to the point of being stilted, all the time they were conscious of being observed.
Here too, they were being observed—Kostas stood behind the desk, he was writing in a ledger, from time to time he lifted his head to look at them with a wry expression, once he even shook his head, it was obvious that this was not the first time he had seen the pair together, behaving in this manner—after all, they were standing in the middle of Maria’s workplace, in the lobby of the hotel. And yet they seemed unconstrained by the setting, they were speaking loudly, gesturing with their hands and even shouting on occasion.
I stood by the entrance. Kostas watching Maria and Stefano, Maria and Stefano watching each other, their attention describing an almost geometric form. I had a towel around my waist, my hair and bathing suit were still wet—the sun had not been sufficiently strong or the walk long enough to dry them out, at least my sandals no longer left wet tread marks on the tiles—and I felt self-conscious opening the door and entering the lobby, it felt intrusive, ridiculous and somehow undignified. I sat down on one of the terrace chairs, perhaps they would leave before too long.
I continued to watch them from where I sat, the driver and the receptionist. Although at that moment there was not exactly an excess of affection between them, they were by no means an illogical couple, they looked well together, they made a handsome pair. They both had youth on their side, which was no small thing. In fact, Stefano was nicer-looking than Christopher, whose looks had long begun to dissipate from age. Seen like that, it was not difficult to imagine them in a passionate embrace, the dispute—assuming it was a dispute, but I did not see how it could be anything else, the signs were unmistakable—could simply be read as a lover’s quarrel.
And yet it was not. I soon saw there was something in the nature of the exchange, the intimacy between them was not unqualified, they did not behave exactly like people who were sleeping together, not even like people who had slept together at some point in the past, or people who necessarily intended to in the future. I couldn’t hear what they were saying from where I sat, of course they would not be speaking English. The glass doors reflected not only my own image but that of the water and the sky behind me, the jumble of chairs and tables on the terrace, the effect obscured the scene inside.
It was frustrating in the way that watching a film without the soundtrack can be, the mouths of the actors opening and closing but no words coming out. I wanted to hear their words, even though I knew I would not be able to understand what they were saying, and the entire affair was of course none of my business. I stood up and wrenched the door open and entered the lobby, sitting down on one of the chairs that was arranged near the desk. I worried that it was eccentric, sitting down in the middle of the lobby in my towel and bathing suit, I expected Maria and Stefano to turn and look at me, I expected Kostas to ask how he could help, if I needed anything.
But none of them reacted, it was almost as if I wasn’t there. I sat in the chair and was transfixed despite myself, it was all too plausible that the problems of these particular people were related to my own—for example, I could not help but believe that the root of their disagreement was Christopher, it was a reasonable assumption. Kostas had said that Maria had been upset to hear about this other woman, that she had been in tears.