I know what this is now. This is that scene in Last Tango in Paris, the only one that anyone really knows or cares about.
The one that begins when Maria Schneider walks into Marlon Brando’s apartment, calling out to announce her arrival. Not getting any response, she thinks no one’s home. But Brando’s sitting there on the floor, eating bread and cheese, saying nothing, not letting on, just waiting for her to arrive.
He already knows what’s going to happen. He’s already decided where this is going. What’s he going to do. She’s oblivious. And she makes herself oblivious because, in some ways, she wants it to happen too.
He’s been waiting here for me too, because he knew that I’d arrive. And I turned up right on cue.
Ready for my scene.
‘Are you afraid?’ he says, moving towards me.
‘No,’ I say, realizing it’s true.
And I’m really not. But even if I was, I wouldn’t give him the pleasure of knowing.
All I’m thinking is, what’s his game? And where is Anna?
‘Should I be afraid?’ I ask.
He pulls me towards him and I don’t resist because I understand that this is where it’s all been leading.
I wanted to come here. I made it happen.
I came by necessity. I had no choice.
I had a talent. And I was spotted.
He pushes me down onto the dais on my back. He already knows what he wants and he’s going to take it. I look up and see the statue. I see a goat and a horny devil on top of her. Myself and him in unholy union . But he doesn’t reach for my beard, he reaches for my throat.
By the time I realize what he’s doing his hands are already upon me and everything’s moving so fast that it’s moving in slow motion.
His hands are clasped around my throat.
I try to scream but it comes out as dead air. I struggle but he knows that he’s stronger than me. I’m pinned to the platform with the full weight of his body bearing down.
I can feel his hands slowly tighten around my windpipe.
And I flash on what happened to all those girls. I flash on what could have happened to Anna. And it all seems obvious now. It all seems so clear.
I should have paid closer attention. I should have listened to my head and not my body. I should have seen this coming.
Nobody wants to die. Not here, not like this.
I don’t want to die. Not here, not like those girls.
But it’s too late for second thoughts.
He’s squeezing the life out of me.
And I summon every ounce of strength and every last drop of air in my lungs to rasp:
Screw you.
He leans down until he’s in my ear and I hear him whisper, ‘Can you feel me?’
His hands tighten.
Then everything goes black.
The next thing I know I’m lying on my back, looking up at a vast, uninterrupted expanse of blue sky that stretches from one horizon to the next. No sun, no moon, no clouds. And even though the color is flat and featureless and completely uniform, it seems like it’s arched over me, as if I’m looking at the curvature of the earth. I feel a slight breeze brush against my body but, at this point, I can’t tell if I’m submerged underwater or floating through the sky.
Ghostly white gulls glide above my head like sentinels. And if it weren’t for the tips of their wings, that look as if they’d been stained with India ink, I’d think they were just floaters drifting in front of my eyes from staring too long into the infinite blue. They soar across my field of vision, some bigger than others on colliding paths at different altitudes, even though it looks as if they’re all inhabiting the same plane. I see a flock of starlings dart back and forth across the sky like a shoal of fish, turning on a dime to catch the current.
I raise my head to look around. I’m lying naked in the middle of a large stone platform raised no more than a foot from the ground. There is a ruby red silk robe with elaborate gold embroidery spread out underneath me like a sheet. And my arms are half in and half out of each arm of the robe. And stretching out from the platform in every direction, as far as the eye can see, are rows of empty bleachers.
I start to feel dizzy so I rest my head again look up at the sky and I feel like I’m flying, like I’m soaring through the atmosphere with the birds. I feel something catch in my throat, something like a feather. It tickles my throat and blocks it at the same time. I can’t breathe and I start to panic. I choke myself to try and dislodge it. Nothing comes out of my mouth, but whatever was there has gone now and I gasp for air, as if it’s the first breath I’ve ever taken. As if I’ve died and been reborn. With that gasp comes a searing pain that shoots across my throat, down into my chest and through my lungs, as if I’m breathing in fire.