Free The Tenant and The Motive by Javier Cercas Page A

Christmas.’
    â€˜Whether at Christmas or in the spring, it doesn’t matter,’ said Mario. ‘The main thing is the decision’s been made. Scanlan dominates the committee, and it’ll do what Scanlan wants. Today he told me I’m a mediocrity, that I don’t publish enough, basically, that I don’t measure up. He called me in to humiliate me, Branstyne, and also to cover his back, to be able to fire me with impunity, almost with a clear conscience . . . What gets me is that he’s such a cynic’
    â€˜It’s his job.’
    â€˜To be a cynic?’
    â€˜To make the department function according to regulations.’
    â€˜And for that he has to fire me?’
    â€˜For that he has to make sure those regulations are respected.’
    â€˜Now you’re starting to sound like him.’
    There was a silence.
    â€˜Everything’ll work out,’ said Branstyne at last, in a conciliatory tone.
    â€˜Don’t be an idiot, Branstyne,’ said Mario, no longer repressing the fury pounding in his temples. ‘Nothing’s going to work out here because there’s nothing to work out. At this point I’ll be happy just to make it to June without them cutting my salary again.’
    Tina came into the dining room, made herself a Martini and went to sit on an arm of the chair where Branstyne had fallen silent. Since the silence persisted, Tina asked, ‘What were you talking about?’
    â€˜A mutual friend,’ answered Mario. ‘Daniel Berkowickz. Since he arrived here the whole world’s been smiling on me. First it was my ankle, and from then on it hasn’t stopped. I used to be paid a salary; now I get a third of a salary. I used to think I had a secure job; now I know I won’t last long in it. I used to have an office; now I’ve got a sort of stable that can only be called an office so as not to offend the Chinaman and the nutcase I share it with.’ He paused. He looked at his Martini, the pieces of ice floating in the liquid. He added, ‘I also used to have a girlfriend.’
    â€˜But it was just as if you didn’t,’ said Tina softly. ‘You never paid her any attention.’
    Mario didn’t say anything; he kept his gaze fixed on his glass, swirling it gently to move the ice around. Branstyne, sunk ever deeper into his armchair, seemed unwilling to emerge from the silence in which he’d enclosed himself. Tina drank a sip of her Martini without taking her eyes off Mario. She asked, ‘What’s happened with Ginger?’
    â€˜I suppose she got fed up,’ said Mario. ‘The truth is she didn’t give me much explanation.’
    â€˜And don’t tell me you’ve decided to fall in love with her now.’
    â€˜I probably already was before,’ Mario ventured, raising his eyes and looking at Tina with a malicious or ironic expression that she didn’t understand. ‘Only I didn’t know it.’
    Tina stood up from the arm of the chair and went to sit down on the sofa, beside Mario’s armchair.
    â€˜Look, Mario,’ she began in possibly an admonishing tone. ‘Forgive me for being direct, but someone has to be with you. What you’re saying is fine for someone under twenty years of age. After that it’s pathetic, if not worse. Only adolescents and idiots insist on wanting what they don’t have and not wanting what they have. Only adolescents and idiots are incapable of appreciating something until they’ve lost it.’ She stopped for a moment; then she went on. ‘You know perfectly well you made Ginger suffer terribly. What she’s done is only sensible: I confess in her place I would have done the same thing myself, except much sooner.’
    â€˜You seem to think people are conspiring against you or something,’ Branstyne intervened in support of Tina, sitting up a little in his armchair and crossing his legs. ‘It’s