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Yet, Malcolmson remains largely naïve to reality. While he admits he was the cause of the entire problem when he cheated on his wife by running off with Diana, an American woman he met on a train: “Diana she described as a flatchested American nymphomaniac and predator, the worst type of woman in the world,” he clings to the faint hope that time will heal all wounds and that Elizabeth will take him back (16). But the use of the term predator brings to light Malcomson’s problem: his ex-wife Elizabeth sees Diana as an animal who stole her husband, stability, and life in general. Diana killed it all, and as prey, Malcolmson gave in, fell apart, leaving behind only a carcass in his wake. Of course the marriage was terminated, but said divorce came after Diana left for another man. The American murdered it all.
Thus Malcomson finds himself locked out of his old life. His wife both hates and blames him for their breakup, he lives alone in a flat he obtained to be with his now wayward lover, and he only has “reasonable access” to their children (17). He can see them when he wants to, but that want is only on Sundays at 3pm. So he dutifully arrives wearing the same suit and attempts to take them to either the Zoo or the same movie every time. Somewhere in the thick of it all he is fired from his job, he grows a beard, and begins drinking to excess at odd hours of the day. While he attempts to reason with his actions and his, he cannot see the reality of his predicament, thinking time would save him, time would bring him back, time would place him back in his wife’s flat and their old bed and their old life: “But he didn’t say anything, knowing that wounds had to heal” (17). But time is not on Malcolmson’s side, for yes time allows Elizabeth’s pain to fade and in doing so find and meet a replacement man. Malcolmson is haunted by the visage of his unknown other, his replacement. This replacement cements itself in reality of his wife’s new fiancé Richard, a man that will replace Malcolmson in all roles, crushing his spirit and sending him deeper into the spiral of depression.
As these events play out, Trevor captivates and inspires. He shows life through Malcolmson’s eyes only to yank away the curtain and thrust Elizabeth’s reality upon us: “It enraged her that he was sitting in an armchair in her flat with his eyelids drooping through drink and an unlighted cigarette in his hand and his matches spilt all over the floor. They were his children, but she wasn’t his wife: he’d destroyed her as a wife, he’d insulted her, he’d left her to bleed and she had called him a murderer” (26). And he was a murder, is a murder, for he destroyed their family and then himself. For he does not understand what reasonable access entails, for he cannot grasp the truths of reality and understand where he truly stands.