The Dangers of Limerence: Part One
This is based on the 1985 Belgian film Istanbul, directed by Marc Didden and starring Brad Dourif and Dominique Deruddere. Like a lot of people, I watched it for Dourif and was spellbound by how strange and attractive he was... Until the big plot twist when I felt sick to my stomach.
Watching it again recently made me wonder what would happen if another woman (besides the one who shows up at the beginning and towards the end) joined Martin (Brad Dourif) and Willy (Dominique Deruddere) on their road trip. How would the dynamics change? How would she respond to the dark revelation towards the end? What would she do? How would the two men treat her in response?
This is what I came up with.
It was a cold Tuesday night in Ostend.
Alice was working her usual late night shift at the dive bar - one of two jobs she held in a desperate attempt to scrape by on what little she had. With each meagre paycheck, her plans for a grand, illustrious future continued to elude her.
It was the younger man who spoke first. He was the smaller of the two, with thinning black hair, a boyish face, and that mischievous gleam Alice had seen in the eyes of many patrons after their fourth or fifth round of drinks.
"So, what are you doing tonight?" he slurred, a silly grin plastered across his impish face as he leaned against the bar.
Alice rolled her eyes. "Babysitting," she replied sardonically, wiping the inside of an empty pint glass.
"Bit late now, eh?" the man giggled.
"Oh, they're allowed to stay up late." She placed the now clean glass on the shelf beneath the bar. Glancing at her watch, she added, "But they'll have to go to bed soon, unless they want to spend the night in a dump."
The man smirked, peered over his shoulder and, to Alice's surprise, spoke in English. "Last orders!"
"How 'bout one for the road?"
Another man staggered clumsily to the bar. He looked to be in his mid thirties. Angular face, wavy hair that fell to his shoulders, and piercing blue eyes that were a little unfocused in his drunken state.
"Can you handle one more?" Alice asked in English, raising her eyebrows like a stern mother.
"Soon find out," he replied in a southern American drawl.
Alice cast him a sideways glance and poured the men their last drinks.
Maybe it was the validation she was receiving from the strange pair, or perhaps it was simply boredom. Whatever the reason, Alice left with the two men after closing time. They were both rather eccentric and seemed like the sort of guys who knew how to have a good time. What was waiting for Alice at her run-down apartment but shitty food, broken plumbing and other bitter reminders of the life she would rather leave behind?
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Later, the trio set up camp on the beach. The men had sobered up somewhat. Contrary to Alice's assumption, they'd only just met that night. They all introduced themselves - the Belgian's name was Willy, the American's was Martin ("Sometimes John," he added).
As the night wore on, Alice found herself becoming drawn to Martin. There was a quiet intensity behind his eyes, and his cat-like features were sharp beneath the soft glow of the campfire. He seemed to have a similar effect on Willy; so much so that when he invited them to join him on his trip to Istanbul, they both accepted. It seemed they had valid reasons for doing so. Willy had lost his job; Alice was looking for excitement.
Though Martin spoke mainly to Willy, Alice did catch him stealing a few glances her way. She wondered what he thought of her. He was a foreigner, after all. Perhaps he saw in her the same kind of exotic allure she saw in him. But he was fascinating beyond the American drifter mystique; he had a certain je ne sais quoi that Alice found intriguing. She looked forward to travelling with him.
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The trip had already taken an unexpected turn. Martin refused to take the train, so they spent hours at a roadside waiting for someone charitable enough to pick them up. After hitching a ride with Beatrice, a woman on her way to Ghent, they stopped at a hotel, which Alice had hoped would lead to a carnal encounter with Martin. Instead, she had a threesome with Willy and Beatrice; Martin made himself scarce.
During the act, Alice imagined it was Martin fucking her; pale skin damp with sweat, dark blond hair beautifully dishevelled as it had been last night on the beach, eyes dark with lust as she writhed against him. That fantasy alone made her come harder than Willy's efforts.
He's probably waiting to get me alone so he can have me to himself.
Afterwards, Alice left Willy and Beatrice lounging in bed while she slipped on a bathrobe and went into the bathroom to take a shower, only to be met with the sight of Martin lying on the floor and groaning. Feeling a sudden rush of panic, she knelt beside him and gently took his hand that was clutching his shirt.
Martin's eyes snapped open; he looked like he'd seen a ghost. The wild rogue from last night was gone. In his place, there lay a wan, fragile figure whose gaunt frame trembled as he hauled himself upright. He sat with his back against the side of the tub.
"Steady," soothed Alice, placing both hands on his tense shoulders. "What is it?"
He cast his eyes downward, raking a trembling hand through his hair.
"Would you like a drink?" she asked.
He rubbed the back of his neck and exhaled through his nose.
"Something you ate?" Alice reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear.
He recoiled sharply, as if she'd raised her fist at him, and turned to face away from her.
Martin's reaction to the gesture made Alice withdraw, a wave of guilt consuming her at the thought of upsetting him. She slowly got up and left him sitting there on the bathroom floor, hardly sure what else she could possibly do.
Alice sat on the edge of the bed, having a smoke while Willy and Beatrice were still entwined in each other's arms. A few minutes later, she heard the hiss of water as Martin turned on the shower. That haunted look in his eyes was seared into Alice's mind. It was the look of a man whose heart had been cruelly dashed to pieces. She wondered what previous lover had hurt him enough to cause such distress. Shit -- she was probably to blame for his breakdown earlier. She'd seen the stolen glances; he wanted her, and only her.
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Later, Beatrice paid for the room and departed, leaving Martin, Alice and Willy to continue their meandering journey. They ended up at a street festival that night in Ghent, where Martin surprised his two companions by getting onstage with an acoustic guitar and performing. Alice was bewitched by his haunting vocals as he sang of sorrowful roads and oceans full of tears. Martin hadn't spoken a word to her since the incident in the hotel bathroom, but as his willowy hand danced over the guitar strings and his voice drifted over the crowd, Alice felt as though he were telling her his life story of being an orphan in a storm, haunted by the highways.
When the song ended, Martin left the stage to thunderous applause and rejoined Alice and Willy. They were approached by an elderly ex-pilot named Albert, who took them to a bar and bought them cocktails.
Alice sipped her drink and smoked in silence while the men conversed. She was still hung up on what happened at the hotel; when Willy left the table, followed by Albert, she seized the opportunity as she sat opposite Martin.
"I'm sorry," she said quickly.
Martin leaned back in his chair and cocked his head.
"For earlier this evening," she added, taking another drag on her cigarette. "If you wanted... I mean, that is, if you're interested..."
Martin made a gesture for her to get to the point, but at that moment, there was a commotion followed by Willy storming back in while Albert was doubled over in pain. Alice barely had time to register what was going on. Several patrons at the bar tried to attack Martin and Willy, but they managed to fight them off; the trio made a lucky escape out the back door just as the barmaid got on the phone to the police. Adrenaline pulsed through Alice's veins as she and her companions disappeared into the night. She wondered if they'd always run into trouble like this.
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