Enemies

W. has several enemies who have, at various points in his life, made his life difficult. He’s not sure what he ever did wrong, but he’s acquired enemies, much more powerful than he is. One is a Dame who sits in the House of Lords. She has a special loathing for him, he says. Another has systematically prevented W. from getting the jobs he wanted, throwing him off shortlists. Off shortlists!, exclaims W. What have I ever done to him! His enemy feels guilty, W. thinks. He thinks guiltily towards him because of his first incursion. And now, because of his guilt, he’s going to see W. fail.

Have you got any enemies?, W. asks. And remembers that I have: several, almost as many as him. W. met one at a high level meeting, he remembers. She said my name with special venom. She really hates you, says W., because of what you did to her son. I did nothing to her son, I tell W. She doesn’t believe that, he says. She says you ruined his life.

I remind W. of an enemy who set up a blog about me and wrote to me constantly. That’s the kind of person you attract, says W. They either hate you or love you. I’ve had several stalkers, I remind W. There was one person who used to speak to me through my bedroom window, when I was lying there at night. That was just your imagination, says W. No, he was quite real, I tell him. He used to tell me about the Isaac Bashevis Singer books he read through the window, I tell W. I have a special appeal for lunatics, W. notes, he’s not sure why.