Understanding Garbo

1. Joey

“You lucky son of a bitch!” said Hal. Joey laughed. Hal repeated emphatically, “Lucky son of a bitch! I bet I’ll never see her. I could go to every party in this town for the next fifty years and still never see her.”

          “Well, I was lucky. Dead lucky.”

          “Tell me about it. Every little detail.”

          Joey smiled. “Well, it was just another party …” They looked at each other and laughed. “Pete asked me along - you know Pete?”

          “Sure.”

          “His father’s a director. He’s one of my dad’s patients. Had some work done on his wisdom teeth or something.” He paused. “Well, anyway, he said there was a party over near his place in Beverly Hills. His folks were going, and he asked me if I wanted to come.”

          “Whose place was it? Anyone famous?”

          “No. Some Swedish writer.”

          “What’s he written?”

          “Oh, artistic stuff. Novels, I think. His Christian name began with E … E … Ernst, or something. I’ve never heard of him, but they’re probably trying to get him to write scripts.”

          “Like all the others.”

          Joey nodded. “Well, anyway, whoever he was, I never met him. I was just there with Pete to have a laugh and look around-”

          Hal interrupted. “And then she arrived?”

          Joey laughed. “Hey, wait for it! I’ve only just got there!”

          Hal also laughed. “Okay, okay, so you’ve only just got there …”

          Joey smiled. “Right.” He paused. “Well, we had a drink and looked around the garden a bit. Then, as it was hot, we came back and stood in the shadow of the house.”

          “Were there lots of guests?”

          “Quite a few, but I didn’t recognise many of them. I’d say they were mostly intellectuals. Writers’ types. All glasses and small eyes.”

          “Women?”

          “Yeah, some. Not much in the way of starlets, though. Mostly wives.” Joey paused. “To tell the truth, it was pretty dull. Pete and me were in high spirits, but no one else was. We didn’t really fit in there, and we were thinking about going. But somehow we just never did.” Joey smiled. “And now I’m glad we didn’t.”

          “Are we getting near the moment?”

          “Sure, we’re getting very near.” Joey smiled. “Am I keeping you hanging on?” Hal grinned. Joey prepared himself to serve up the meat of the story. “So we’re standing around, Pete and me, talking and laughing, when suddenly all the voices stop and there’s complete silence. Not one person was speaking and just for a second the air seemed to go cold.”

          Hal could barely contain his interest, and gabbled: “And then what happened?”

          Joey, knowing he was in control of the tale and of his listener’s attention, took a long, almost sadistic pause before saying, “Well, we both looked round, and there, emerging from the side of the house, was Greta Garbo.” This name was so powerful and so suggestive that for an instant neither of them said anything. Then Joey resumed. “She was standing there with an old man - probably the man who’d brought her - and everyone was looking at her. I don’t think anyone could believe it. Nobody had known she was coming. What was she doing in Hollywood?” Joey’s voice quietened. “Then I think we all put two and two together. There’d been some story about her making a comeback. She was supposed to have put her name to a contract. Obviously she was here to talk about it.”

          “You think she’ll make more films?”

          “No doubts. I’ve read about it. She’s just come back from Sweden - her first visit since the war ended - and now she wants something to do. And I guess she thought that while she was in town she’d come and see our host.”

          “You reckon they were old friends?”

          “Yeah, I reckon. She and the old guy certainly got a big greeting from the writer and his wife.”

          “Was everyone still staring?”

          “Pretty much, although they probably didn’t mean to. They couldn’t help it. Finally eyes did drift away from her, but I think everyone must still have been watching her from the corners of their eyes.”

          “Did she go indoors?”

          “Yeah, she did, but not for a while. She stayed by the door talking with the writer and his wife and the old man.”

          “Could you hear what she was saying?”

          “No, not then. We were fairly close. Like from here to there.” He pointed at a distant object. “But we were too far to hear what was being said. Of course, later we did.”

          Hal’s eyes shone. “Really?”

          Joey said confidentially, “Oh sure.” Hal said nothing. But he was impressed. Then Joey suddenly became solemn. “Hal, I’ve been to tons of parties since my father came out from the east. I’ve seen many of the big stars, like you have. Seen ’em up close. Gable, Tracy, Jimmy Stewart, Joan Crawford, Myrna Loy. I even know some of them. Robert Taylor, Robert Montgomery, Mickey Rooney, William Powell. But Garbo … Garbo …” He shook his head. “I just don’t know what to say.”

          He didn’t need to say anything. Hal knew exactly what he meant. “Were you frozen to the spot?”

          Joey treated this question with great seriousness. “No, no, I wasn’t. But I could have been. No, somehow I brought myself round and said, ‘Joey, you’d better pay attention to this moment and not lose it. You may never see her again, and so you want to get a grip on yourself and take everything in.’ So I did. I studied her in as much detail as I could.” He laughed to himself. “And wow! Was she …” Hal enjoyed this and laughed as if he himself had been there. “I tell you, Hal, when I saw Garbo I forgot all about Lana Turner.” The significance of this made them laugh loudly. “I know now that that was just infatuation.”

          Hal laughed. “Youthful folly!”

          Joey smiled. “Absolutely.”

          “But what was she like? For Chrissakes, Joey, what was she like?”

          “Well, the first thing I noticed about her - apart from the fact that she was wearing pants-”

          Hal interrupted. “Pants?"

          “Yeah.” Joey took a breath and began again. “The first thing I noticed about her was her hair. That’s nothing new. The first thing I notice about any woman is her hair. But Garbo’s hair was neat and soft and shiny. Hair to die for.”

          “And her eyes?”

          “Blue. Blue and intelligent. Watching. I got the feeling that she saw everyone and everything around her. I think she saw as much of us as we did of her.” He paused briefly. “And she’s quite tall. I always thought she would be. And she’s very slim. What a body!” They said nothing as they both had private thoughts about Garbo’s body. Joey was the first to stop daydreaming. “And you should see her skin. Hal, you should see it. You think Ed’s sister Daphne’s got good skin - and she has - but you should see her against Garbo. And Daphne’s twenty years younger. I’ve honestly never seen anything so beautiful in all my life. No person. No animal. No thing.” It was pointless for Hal to speak. He just waited for Joey to continue. “And I looked at her feet.” Hal laughed. “You know, just to see if she’s got big feet, just like they all say she has.”

          “And has she?”

          Joey smiled. “No. They’re beautiful feet. Perfectly in proportion with the rest of her.” The two young men exchanged smiles. “Hal, just let me say that if anyone tells you that love at first sight is impossible, don’t believe them.”

          They smiled again. “Okay, Joey, so Garbo turned up unexpectedly at the party, and you had a good look at her. What happened next? Did you lose sight of her?”

          Joey was amused. “Lose sight of her? What do you take me for? No, as I said, I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity. And neither was Pete. We decided that we weren’t going to let her out of our sight all the while that she was there. When she went indoors with Mr and Mrs Swedish Writer and the old guy, we followed them.”

          Hal laughed. He was impressed with his friend’s tenacity. “Everyone always says that you’ve got cheek.”

          “Well, why not? If you don’t try, you never know. And anyway, we weren’t the only ones who went on after them. More or less everyone else did too. It was just that we were more honest about it. We didn’t inch closer to the door and then slip inside. We just followed them straight in.” Hal’s mouth was agape. He wished, more than anything, ever, that he’d been there. What an adventure! What a tale! “In fact,” continued Joey, “we followed them in so quickly that we nearly walked into them. They’d stopped to get some drinks in the lounge, and we had to make small talk and pretend that we weren’t looking at them. Well, at Garbo.”

          “Did she like being looked at? I mean, we’ve heard all about her and what she’s like.”

          “Well, I think she’s used to it. She must be. She’s spent most of her life performing for other people. She’s been famous for years. It’d be pretty peculiar if people didn’t look at her. If they didn’t, I reckon there’d have to be something wrong with them!” They both laughed. “Other actors don’t mind.”

          “Did she drink much?”

          “She drank something. I don’t know what it was. Maybe something Swedish.” He paused briefly. “They had drinks and left the room. We went with them.”

          “Naturally.”

          “Naturally.” Their grins were infectious. “You want to know what happened next, right?”

          “Right.”

          “Well, they all went into the hall and stopped there in front of some old piece of furniture. A chair. It seemed to interest them. Then they looked at a table, opening out one of the leaves. I must say that it looked kind of funny. All these serious people talking about wood. But I suppose it’s alright if you like it.”

          Hal tried to cut through the irrelevancies. “So by now you must have been close enough to hear Garbo’s voice. You said you heard what she said. So what did she say?”

          “Yeah, I should have mentioned that. It was while we were in the lounge watching them get their drinks that we first heard Garbo’s voice. It was deep and clear, like a voice in a church. Of all of the voices of the four of them, hers was the one that stood out. Dramatic training, I guess.”

          “Yeah, but what did she say?”

          “I don’t know. They were all speaking Swedish.” Hal made a face of disappointment. “I did try and remember a few of the words they said, just in case I could find out what they meant later, but I’ve forgotten them now. I’m sure it was all pretty mundane stuff. Nothing as exciting as what we thought they were talking about.”

          “So was that all you saw Garbo do? Admire furniture.”

          “No, no. But that was what they were doing in the hall. That, and looking at paintings. Of course all the while that they were doing that we had to stand there and pretend that we weren’t looking at them. It would have been boring to watch anyone else, but with Garbo I guess it was pretty much a pleasure.” He looked thoughtful. “What surprised me was that she moved quite heavily. I don’t know if she’s always like that, or whether it was because she was tired. Maybe it was all the travelling she’d been doing, but she did look kind of weary.”

          “Yeah?”

          “Mmm. Weary but beautiful.” They both smiled, glad to put Garbo in a positive context again. “But you know, as I stood there, I had the strangest compulsion.”

          Hal was massively intrigued. “Compulsion? What kind of compulsion?”

          “To speak to her. To talk to Garbo.” There was a brief silence as they considered the magnitude of this. Joey resumed. “Of course, I’ve read as much about Garbo as anyone else, and I’ve even had the lowdown from people who said that they knew her. I know that the one thing you never do with Garbo is rush up and try to speak to her.” He said, parrot-fashion: “Look at her only when she looks at you, speak only when she speaks to you, avoid conversation about her private life or her films. Never ask for an autograph.”

          Hal anticipated Joey’s next word. “But?”

          “But … I just had the urge to speak to her. I thought she might be different for me. I thought I might be the one to change it all. The one to break the rules. After all, this might be my one and only chance of being in the same place at the same time as Garbo. I had to make it count.”

          “But weren’t you nervous? I could never even dream of talking to someone like that.”

          “Well, no, I wasn’t. Actually, I felt really confident. I was wearing my new linen suit - you know the one - I had on my red silk tie, and I was feeling great. I thought she might well like the look of a young man like me.”

          “Didn’t I say something about you having cheek?”

          Joey smiled modestly. “Well … you know. But I really didn’t see why I shouldn’t. I had nothing to lose. It was just a question of waiting for the right time.”

          “Was Pete going to speak to her?”

          “No. He said he was going to leave it to me.”

          “Wise. Very wise.” He paused briefly. “But what were you going to say to her?”

          Joey produced a cagey smile. “Ah … well that was the difficult thing. What to say. Not because there was so little to say, but because there was so much. There was so much I wanted to find out that I hardly knew where to start. As I watched Garbo move further down the hallway I tried to prepare a witty, irresistible speech. Something with a snappy opening, a brilliant middle, and a devastating end. I was planning to finish by asking her out to dinner.”

          Hal roared with laughter. He kept laughing. Joey could see the joke, but he didn’t feel it was as funny as Hal thought it was. Eventually, and reluctantly, Hal stopped laughing and said, “Maybe you were being a bit ambitious.”

          Joey had to agree. “Maybe. But maybe not. I would certainly have asked her - I’d set myself up to - but whether she would have accepted or not …”

          Hal laughed again, this time trying to restrain himself a little. “I think we’d have to say that it would have been unlikely.”

          “Well …”

          “But carry on with the story. When does she leave the hall?”

          “Only after quite a while. We’d been watching her fairly intently - us and, by now, several others - and we’d seen her get nearer to a room which she was obviously going to be taken into. As she got closer to the door of the room I felt almost as if I was in another world. I could see just one thing - Garbo - and I could hear nothing around me. It was strange. It was like watching her in one of her old silent movies. This seemed to go on for ages, although probably it was just a couple of minutes.” He paused. “Then she and her friends went into the room.”

          “And you couldn’t follow her?”

          “No, we did. We went right in.” Hal smiled in admiration. Joey continued. “We went through the same door that Garbo had gone through and, expecting to find a small room, we found ourselves in a large one.”

          “And?”

          “There she was, with her friends. And now they’d been joined by some new people.”

          “Swedes?” Hal asked keenly.

          “I don’t know. They were too far away from us to tell.”

          “Did you manage to get closer to her?”

          Joey smiled. “We were trying to. There were lots of other people in there with us - all with the same idea. They wanted to be closer to Garbo. Still, I was determined that if anyone was going to speak to her it was going to be me. Though by now I was feeling a little anxious about it. I knew I had to do it - or at least try to do it - but maybe I was beginning to wish that I didn’t.”

          Joey paused. Hal prompted him. “So?”

          “So … we got nearer. And by now I’m feeling like nothing on earth. I’d never felt so nervous. When I first decided that I was going to speak to Garbo, I thought it would be easy. Now I knew it wouldn’t be. In fact, I was starting to tremble. I was beginning to feel sick. But I knew I had to go through with it.”

          “Where was Garbo now?”

          “She was over by the far wall, standing with the writer and his wife and the old man and another man. They were next to a door. And Hal - I’ve just remembered this - next to the door on the other side was the funniest thing.”

          “Go on.”

          “A couple were sitting in a chair, necking. Just a few feet away from Garbo, a couple were sitting there necking. They must have been the only people at the party who didn’t know she was there, and even if they had’ve done I don’t think they would have looked round.”

          Hal shook his head in disbelief. “To think that they were so close to Garbo and didn’t know it …” He mused on this. “Did you know them?”

          “No. Never seen them before.” He smiled. “I wonder what Garbo thought.”

          “I wonder.”

          “I wished it was her and me.” They both laughed.

          “Who knows, if you’d asked her out it could have been.” Again they laughed. “So, Joey, Garbo’s standing in a group, talking - at least I assume she’s talking.”

          “Yeah, she was talking. Talking and listening.”

          “Laughing?”

          “Garbo Laughs!” They smiled to each other. “No, she wasn’t laughing. She smiled once or twice - polite smiles, I think - but mostly she was serious. Actually she looked a little sad.”

          “But you were the man to cheer her up?”

          Joey grimaced. “Alright. Alright.” He paused. “Well, by now I’d got my routine as polished as I was ever going to get it. I’d got my smart comments carefully prepared and all I had to do was walk over and talk to her.”

          Joey stopped speaking. The effect was dramatic. Hal could hardly bear to wait for what was coming next. Finally he had to say, “Well?” and then again, when he met with no response, “Well?”

          “I was just about to go towards her when she and the old man left the room by the door that they’d been standing beside. I wasn’t too bothered because I just thought that we could follow them into the next room. But when we went to the next room, expecting it to be large, we found that it was small. We also found that Garbo wasn’t in there.”

          “So you looked around for her?”

          “We did. Us and several dozen others. We went into that room and went through the doors that led from it, but there was nothing to be seen. No one.”

          “Strange.”

          “Very. We looked all over the house. Upstairs and down. We went out into the grounds. But we had no success. Garbo had only been at the party for around fifty minutes, but that was obviously long enough. She’d gone.”

          They sat and digested the story. Not a word was said for a full five minutes, then Hal started as if to speak but stopped. Finally, a couple of minutes after this, they eventually looked at each other, shook their heads, and laughed. Hal said, “To think that you’ve seen Greta Garbo.”

          “Saw, but never spoke to,” said Joey.

          “Maybe that’s better.”

          “Maybe it is.” Joey laughed to himself. “To tell the truth, I was pleased when I found out she’d gone. I don’t know if I would ever have got the words out.”

          “I hope I see her sometime.”

          “Oh, I reckon you might.” He looked Hal in the eye. “And you won’t be disappointed.”

*

2. Greta

“Olof, it’s so hot tonight. So humid. … Do we go through here? … Oh, round the side. Thank you. … No, that’s fine. Thank you.”

          All I want is to be treated like an ordinary guest. An ordinary person.

          “This is a nice place, Olof. It’s got character. … There they are. Ernst and Ellen.”

          Oh, so many people. They look and they look - as if they’ve seen a ghost. Perhaps they have. The ghost of the movie star. They’re so rude.

          “Oh Ernst, Ellen, it’s so good to see you. You both look very well. … Thank you. You’re too kind. … Yes. Yes, it is. … Olof and I were just saying that you have a nice place here. Well tended. Clean looking. … You will? Oh, I look forward to it. … Art treasures, eh? … No, I’m sure they are. … You’re just being modest. … Oh, you know, it’s so good to be able to speak Swedish again. It seems to be all I’ve done recently, what with going home again and now meeting you. But soon it will be all English again. … Sweden? I can’t tell you what it meant to go back. It was so painful being here during the war and not knowing what was going on at home. Sometimes I thought I would never return.”

        Yes, I felt more like a foreigner than I’ve ever felt before. Exile has made me more unhappy than anybody can ever know. Right from the beginning. My life at times has been almost unbearable.

        “Changes there? Yes, I found many changes. But what is it people say? The more things change, the more they stay the same. Home is always home. … But Ernst, Ellen, you two here, in Hollywood. … I suppose, though, it was just a question of time. They were always going to ask you. … Ah, yes. But Ernst, be careful of the corrupting influence of this place on your art! … I see. Well, good luck to you!”

          But I don’t joke. Not really. For some it’s an adventure. For others it’s the place among all places which they should be certain to avoid. I think I’m one of those people. And yet …

          “Yes, I’m sure it does. The climate is fine for some, but not always Scandinavians. Stay in the shade!”

          Hollywood, Hollywood. The name rankles. I wanted to come here. Then. And how it turned out. It ruined my life. I wanted money and I wanted fame, but to get them I had to give my life to others. I had to make the matter of my life over to those people known as ‘moguls’. Ignorant people, philistine people. And I had to lose myself to them - the people known as fans. Them and their rudeness.

          “Yes, yes, I think so. … Shall we? That would be nice. … No, I don’t see much of the place these days. But I still have friends. Now I’m more a person on the move. I want to see the world. … Yes, we do. But it’s not always possible. … No, sadly.”

          And still they look. Do they think I’m blind? Do they think I can’t see them? They think by turning away and looking from the corners of their eyes that they’re subtle. But I know. I see and hear them all more clearly than they see and hear me. Men in suits and hats and women in expensive dresses. Why don’t they let me alone? Why don’t they refuse to buy my image?

          “Yes, I am. I’d like one, thank you. … Do we go through here? Olof, you first. … Oh, yes. … This is just the kind of style I’d have myself. You have excellent taste! … What have you got? … Yes, I’ll have the same. … Skål! … And you. … Mmm, it’s a relief to get indoors. It’s so hot. … No, I’ve never been much of a one for sunbathing. … I don’t blame you. I’ve often said the same thing myself. … Yes. … Yes. You’re lucky. … Oh, I see. Through there? There? Right.”

          And so the watchers follow me in. Even here, at a party. In Hollywood. Among people who should know better. Are there no standards? Is there no decency? No etiquette? And some don’t even wait a second before they come in. They just barge through at the same time as us and nearly knock us over. The young are as bad as the old.

          “Oh, I don’t think so. But it’s kind of you, all the same. … No, I don’t suppose I will. Not for a while anyway. We’ll have to see. But what about you? … No? … Well …”

        Oh, will it never end, you staring people! Can’t you see how I feel by the way I look through you? Don’t you recognise contempt? Why don’t you realise that I’m a boring person? I’ve got nothing to offer. I’m more ordinary than ordinary.

        “Is it? I never knew. And that’s with me living here so many years. … Maybe.”

        People always want something from me. But I want nothing from them. Just their acceptance of my right to live a quiet life.

        “Really? Yes, I suppose it does. … It can be. … Ah yes, but Ernst’s an educated man!”

        Education. Something I didn’t have enough of. I began this life too young. My childhood was short.

        “Yes. And then you- … Yes. Yes, I see.”

        Too short. Oh, when I think back to when I was young. At the allotment in Enskede with Alva. How simple life was then! I think that that was the happiest time of my life. Growing potatoes. Eating mother’s bread. And when I worked in the department store. And when I was at drama school. Happy times. Simple times!

        “Yes, let’s. Come on, Olof. … Oh yes. … Ernst, Ellen, what a hall! What splendours!”

        Still they follow. They won’t give up.

        “No. … Hepplewhite? Really? … No, you’re right. … Oh, look at the work here. Craftsmanship. … It is. Yes, it is. I’d like this for myself. … Well, I suppose it must be.”

          Oh, it’s so good to be talking Swedish!

          “No, I didn’t know that. … More modest, but very pleasing. … And this too. Just look at the inlay here. You know, that’s so clever. … Did you? I wish I saw things like that. … But worth it. A thing of beauty …”

        It’s good to be talking Swedish. If only there weren’t so many people. A stream of them and then a flood. How would they like to live like this? That young man in the linen suit and his friend. They stare. They stare! And the ones who are talking about me - there! And there! I can hear everything you’re saying! Every single word of it! “It’s really Garbo! I can’t believe it’s really her! Look at her mouth, look at her hair, look at her eyes. Look at her, she’s wearing pants …” This is my life.

        “Oh yes. … Mmm, the brushwork is superb. Here, so fine and careful. Here, so bold. Such artistry.”

          This is my life. And I’m supposed to be grateful for it. How can I enjoy anything with people like these around?

          “And this one. … Yes. Yes, I do. … You have a good eye. … But it is. It’s what you like. The feeling you have for the work. … I know.”

          People, people, people …

          “Mmm.”

        They make me ill. Fans, journalists, photographers. Photographers, journalists, fans. Persecution. What other name is there for it? And who can say that what I’ve had in return is worth it? I’ve lost so much more than I’ve gained. But who ever knows how it’s doing to be?

          “Yes, I did.”

          I’ve got to get out of here. Away from them.

          “Some very fine pieces indeed. … Yes, let’s go through. … My, this is a large room. … Is it? … Yes, I can imagine. … Still, there’s always time. … Remember? Why, yes. Of course. … Hello, it’s so nice to see you again. … Oh yes. It was one of my happiest experiences on film - thanks to you and the others. I learned a lot from you. … It’s very kind of you to say so. … No, it’s a pity that we never worked together again. The studios never know when they’re well off. … Oh, I see. And it’s nice to meet you. … How long have you been married? … Only four months? Well, may I wish you belated congratulations? … Yes. …Yes. … How long have you two known Ernst and Ellen? … Oh. … Did you? … A comeback? Now, now! You mustn’t believe all you read in the newspapers or hear from blabbing mouths. … No. … Never.”

          The same old question.

          “Yes, and you. … Thank you, I will. … Yes, it is.”

          And now it seems that everyone is in here. Everyone I saw when I arrived, plus everyone else in the neighbourhood. And what are they here for? To watch me!

          “Sometimes.”

          They close in on me.

          “Oh no. I don’t think so.”

          They seem to circle me, waiting for-

          “Yes, I like it. It’s very pleasant. … Thank you, but no. I haven’t finished this one yet.”

        I get the feeling that someone - one of them, any of them - is going to approach me. One of them wants to say something. To say they’ve spoken to Garbo. To have some Garbo story to add to all the others. Don’t they realise? Don’t they realise!

         “It’s very fine.”

          It could be him, or her, or them. They all want to ask: Why did you stop filming? Can’t they guess?

         “Mmm. … Yes. … Mmm.”

          I don’t want to speak any more. I don’t want to be here.

          “Yes.”

        I stopped filming because of people like you. Isn’t that what I should say? But no, I stopped because I was tired of this town, this city. I didn’t like my work. I wanted to change my life. Filming is for the young.

        “I can’t remember, but I might have done.”

        Nobody understands. They think I must have been mad to give up that life. That privileged position. But is it a privilege to be hunted like an animal?

        “Oh, now! I’m sure that’s not true. … Well, I still don’t believe you. I think you’re telling me a tale. … Really? … No.”

          Like an animal … Oh, I’m so restless. I’m always searching for something that I never find. But that’s not what they want to hear.

          “Pleased to meet you. … Are you? … Well, no. I can’t say that I am. … Oh, but that’s very sweet of you. … Mmm. … Mmm. … I hope it goes well. … Oh, I know. Believe me, I know.”

        This one humours me. He doesn’t touch on difficult subjects.

        “Yes.”

        That young man in the linen suit again. I know he’s going to try and approach me. I know it. It’s happened so many times before. And yet he thinks he’s the first one.

        “Oh?”

          It’s the look in his eyes.

          “And it’s been nice to meet you. … Yes. … Yes. … Thank you.”

        I’m going to leave by that door. There are people sitting over there … two people … and they’re kissing.

        “Yes. … I think so. … Maybe Europe again. … Paris. … Yes, that’s right. … How do you know? … First-hand knowledge? … And what’s it like? … Oh, I see. … That’s very interesting. … Yes, I’d like to go.”

          That couple, they sit there and they never look at me. They never look at me! They don’t even know I’m here! If only … Oh, is it even worth completing the sentence? If only other people were like them. Like me and them. I have no need for gossip, for spying. I have no interest in what other people do with their lives. It’s their business, not mine. But who shares this view these days? These days when every detail is available to anyone.

          “Oh, I’m not so sure. … Then you’re a good judge.”

        Oh, how I envy those two people the simplicity of their lives. I envy them each other. I wish I too had someone to share my life. To make sense of my life. All these people here see Greta Garbo, but they don’t know the reality of my life. The loneliness. The boredom of it. They all have more exciting lives, and yet they’d never believe it. They’d never believe it! I do nothing with my time. I’m the beautiful recluse, and I’m going to be her till the day I die. It’s all too late now.

        “Probably. It’s very likely.”

        I know that I’m a prisoner in my own life. A myth created by my masters. But now I have to live up to the legend. The monster.

        “Mmm. … Really?”

        What would have happened to Greta Gustaffson if she’d stayed in Sweden? She would have got married, had children. She would have been happy. Or would she? Aren’t some people unable to be happy? No matter how hard they try or how much they want to be. Oh!

        “No, actually I don’t feel very well. I’m tired.”

          So tired.

          “Yes, I’m sorry. I’ll have to go. Olof will come with me.”

        The young man in the linen suit gets nearer. Oh why can’t you just go away? All of you.

          “Through here? … No, there’s no need. … Really, dear Ellen. … No, I’m sure I will. … I’ll write to you. … Thank you. Thank you so much. … You’re very kind. … If there’s ever anything I can do. … Goodbye. … Yes, goodbye.”

          Through here.

          “Through here, Olof.”

        In here. In here. Through here. Out here. And gone. Finally gone. I leave them all to search for me. They got what they wanted. They wanted me to stay and let them see me, then to disappear. And I did. I go to bed. I go to bed to forget them and their faces and their manners. I just store them with a million others.