Traumatic run-ins with women and other trifles, extract, book 2, travelling, part 1

Stepping into the cul-de-sac, Alice closed the door behind her. 
The sky was already dark blue. Below, Rio de Janeiro was glittered with millions of lights. 
Alice took a deep breath, and her skin started to tickle. Yes, she was on an adrenaline high.
She slipped into her jacket and looked to the right. One of the Dono’s men leaned against the wall, ignoring her. On the left stood Jazz and Anthony, watching her, vague smiles on their faces.
‘Let’s go,’ Alice said. 
On the first corner, Mike was waiting for them in a car small enough to navigate even the narrow streets of this favela. 

***

Entering the glittering five-star hotel was surreal, after being in the favela. Alice stopped and looked around. Gleaming surfaces, marble and gold, artificial laughter ringing through the large hall, towering ornamental plants, a couple of stuffed jaguars, towers of fruits at the bar … 
How did this happen? And why hadn’t it unhappened yet? Why did this rift between human worlds still exist?
Alice sensed that Devery was watching her, but she couldn’t take her eyes off this strangely glittering world. She had spent days here without seeing it, without giving it a thought. It was just another hotel. But now this world seemed like one big riddle.
Alice twitched when Audry and a woman of colour came into focus. 
‘Hi, Alice. Devery,’ Audry beamed.
As if waking from a dream, Alice looked at them and murmured: ‘Hi.’
‘We’re meeting at half past seven for the girls night out,’ Audry went on, ‘here in the lobby. You need to change into something more fun, Alice. Do you want help with the make-up?’
Alice was in some weird space between two realities. Yes, that’s what this was. She was stuck somewhere in between. On one side was the favela: a girl with empty eyes, a puffing dono in a room full of disillusioned sweaty men. And on the other side was this palace. Nanda was right. This was a palace. But she, Alice Adler, she was in neither place. She was stuck between the worlds. 
Alice shook her head.
And something slowly hammered home. 
‘A girls night?’ Alice asked, incomprehension manifesting on her face.
‘Yes, we’re all going out. Haven’t you heard? We’ll have such a fab night without the tedious boys,’ Audry added, winking at Devery.
Alice stared at Audry while several retorts fought to be the first one out. The winner was: ‘Hell, no. I hate girls nights. I can’t deal with something like that tonight. Besides, there are neither girls nor boys on our team. And—’ 
Devery touched Alice’s shoulder and Alice stopped, looking at Devery’s hand, first puzzled, then she grimaced. 
Inhaling she turned to Audry again. ‘Really, I can’t. Sorry.’ 
Audry shook her head. ‘What’s wrong with you, Alice?’
‘Audry,’ Devery intervened. ‘Not tonight.’
‘But—’ Audry started.
‘Audry, let’s go,’ her colleague urged in a low voice. ‘You heard Devery, “not tonight.”’ 
Finally Audry gave in and allowed the other woman to steer her towards the lifts.
Alice looked after them, feeling even less grounded.
‘You need a walk and a drink,’ Devery said quietly. 
Alice looked at him. There was no reproach in his eyes, rather understanding. At least understanding why she was in some weird space.
‘We should leave before you blast someone else to pieces,’ Devery added gently.
‘Yeah,’ Alice murmured, suddenly feeling very tired.

They had to wait for Security to organise their tail, and Devery suggested to wait outside.
‘Out of sight?’ Alice muttered.
‘Yes.’
They left the hotel via the pedestrian entrance.
And there it was again, the glittering lights inside, darkness outside. Though, the darkness was broken by the headlights of the cars, rushing along the road that separated the hotel from the beach. 
Without thinking about it, Alice went to the palm trees where the little boy had been waiting for Nanda. 
Alice sat down, leaning her back against a trunk.
Devery sat down next to her. 
They both drew up their legs, their arms on their knees.
Alice tried to focus on the green-blue stripes of light that illuminated the beach. 
She was glad they had taken off the bulletproof vests in the car, and Mike even had a fresh T-shirt for her but—
‘It doesn’t help to dwell on the rift between misery and affluence,’ Devery said in a low voice.
‘I know. I’m just having trouble to snap out of it. Right now everything feels like— Both realities feel terribly unreal. And I’m caught in a gap between them.’
‘The walk will help, and remembering that we are doing everything we can with our project.’
‘What if the project doesn’t make a difference?’
‘It already makes a difference for every member of our teams. And if it doesn’t make a difference for a wider range of people, then we can at least say we tried everything we could think of.’
Alice wanted to smile, but she wasn’t there yet. ‘Are we underestimating the extent of poverty on this planet?’ she asked instead.
‘I think we’re lucky to do so. If we allowed the full extent of misery to hit us, we wouldn’t get a night’s sleep. Well, you and I wouldn’t.’

(…)

She was glad that Jazz came in this moment, bringing a jumper for her and a jacket for Devery. Despite the mild air, taking a jumper was a good idea. In wintertime temperatures could drop to twelve degrees at night.
‘Giselle, Kenny and two locals will shadow you,’ Jazz told them. ‘Devery, do you remember the bar, we went to last time?’
‘Of course. Is it still a good place?’
‘Yes. Mike and Dona just checked it out.’
‘OK.’
‘Alice, workout tomorrow morning?’
‘Mhm,’ Alice mumbled.

(…)

They said goodbye to Jazz and Anthony, and then crossed the road to the promenade. After a few more steps, their shoes sank into the sand. 
‘Barefoot?’ Devery asked.
‘Yes.’
After taking a moment to feel the cooling sand with their bare feet, they strolled towards the water, shoes slung over their shoulders. 
This corner of the beach was quiet, just a few people taking an evening stroll, the sea calm, shallow waves running across the wet sand before retreating again.
When they reached the edge of the water, Alice stopped, inhaling the fresh salty air, taking in the wide sea and the billions of stars. 
As she took some slow, deep breaths, she found a quiet corner within herself that was okay, that wanted to forget for a bit and just stroll along a beautiful beach in an incredibly self-contradicting city. 
They turned right, and Alice wondered whether they would walk the full length of the beach. But she didn’t feel like asking or talking. Instead she focused on the wet sand, and occasionally stepped aside to avoid a wave. 
It was maybe twenty minutes later when Devery started to talk, telling Alice stories about his former visits to Rio. Among others, he protected a human rights campaigner, two representatives of an Amazonian tribe and a photographer who documented the favelas. 
Alice listened and thought about Devery a little. Of course, he would know what a day like this could do to a person. He had been on endless THE missions. He would know that you needed some distraction and probably a drink or two to— to find some balance again. And maybe to activate a bit of stubbornness so that the despair you witnessed wouldn’t overpower you. 
At some point, Devery asked casually: ‘Say, Alice. What’s wrong with a girls night?’
‘Don’t know,’ Alice answered, not quite ready to have a conversation. Listening was fine. The salty air was fine. 
‘OK. Let me rephrase,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you like a night out with other women?’
Hm. It seemed like Devery wanted an answer, or maybe he was tired of doing all the talking. 
Alice sighed inwardly and peered at his face. But it was too dark to read his expression. ‘I just don’t like girls nights. I’m not saying it can’t be good. I just never got lucky. Just silly talk. Last time I went, I popped an e to help me through it.’
‘You did?’
‘Yeah. It was fun. I had neon horses ride up my arm while the girls did something with my hair. Mind you, we girls were all in our twenties.’
Devery shook his head. ‘But you don’t mind a bit of trash talk.’
‘Not at all. I just can’t do the girly trash talk or the hair doing. Never got the hang of it. Never tried either.’
‘So you’re fine with male nonsense?’
Alice looked puzzled and stopped. She dug her toes into the wet sand. Then she said with a lopsided smile: ‘I guess they tone it down in my company?’
Devery chuckled. 
‘On second thought,’ Alice added, walking again. ‘No, I don’t like anyone’s trash talk when it comes to gender. And maybe I prefer the company of men because then the gender stuff stays out.’
‘They still treat you as a woman.’
‘I tend to ignore that.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. Take yourself, you treat me as a colleague.’
‘As my boss.’
‘Same, same. You don’t pay me compliments.’
‘You don’t like compliments.’
‘Well, in your company, I don’t feel treated like any gender in particular. I’d say between you and me, gender doesn’t matter.’
‘Well, yes. Though, when you put it like that, it sounds a bit depreciating.’
Alice frowned and stopped, letting a wave wash over her feet. Then she turned to Devery. ‘That’s an interesting point. What if some of the gender trouble is caused by us hoping to be liked, even hoping to be desired? I mean, I don’t care for the approval of other women because they don’t matter to me when it comes to mating. But I might care for the approval of a man.’
‘You mean subconsciously?’
‘Yes, of course. So me treating you as a colleague could imply to you that you aren’t attractive to me, and that could bother you.’
‘This isn’t about us, is it?’ Devery asked, pushing his hands into his jacket pockets.
‘Of course not.’
‘OK. Yes, until you mentioned it, I didn’t wonder what you think of me as a man. I know you respect me and my work.’
‘I do.’
‘But when you implied that me being a man doesn’t matter, it did affect me. So, yes. Maybe we hope for approval.’
‘And maybe that’s one of the things that makes it difficult for men and women to be at ease with each other.’
‘Because there’s always the impulse to seek approval?’
‘Yes. And there’s always the disappointment when we don’t get the approval. I wish I knew a way around that.’
‘You don’t?’
‘Well, for me it’s like you just said. So long as the subject isn’t brought up, it doesn’t cross my mind. But if you told me how hot these women over there are, I’d feel less attractive, and I’d want to impress you.’
‘Not really though?’ Devery asked, taking his eyes off the three Latinas who were walking up to the promenade, laughing.
Alice chuckled. ‘Not really. But the impulse would be there. Hell, he thinks they’re sexy, and that must mean I’m not. Don’t like it. Have to do something about it. Maybe, it’s really some kind of primal impulse.’
‘Hm. Is that where we assure each other that we are attractive?’
Alice chuckled. ‘Personally, I’d prefer it if we kept the being-attracted-to-or-not out of our work and walk.’
‘Yeah, that’s probably best. Though—’
‘Really, I don’t want to know what you think of me, and I don’t want to comment on you.’
‘Aren’t you at all curious?’
‘I am. I just don’t want to know because I can’t think of an answer I’d like. If you think I’m unattractive, it would bug me no matter how much I’d tell myself not to be an idiot. If you think I’m attractive, I’d worry whether I could still be relaxed around you.’
‘Hm. So, you want a gender-neutral palship?’
‘Yeah, that sounds good, gender-neutral, attraction-neutral. Working and walking together without any worries or needs to impress.’
‘That’s not the worst of possible -ships.’
‘Yeah.’
‘Still, a few silly girls nights don’t explain your panic when you got invited tonight.’
‘I didn’t panic.’
‘It’s been a rough day, but your panic had nothing to do with it.’
‘True enough. Well, I had a few traumatic run-ins with women.’
‘You had what?’ Devery burst out, stopping and staring at Alice.
‘A few traumatic run-ins with women,’ Alice repeated with an amused smile.
‘Tell me one,’ Devery retorted disbelieving.
‘I could tell you seven.’
‘Alright. Seven then.’
‘I’m not sure it’s seven. And if I told you, I’d have to remember them.’
‘Just tell me.’
‘Look, if you really want to get into this, let me make one thing clear. From where I stand, there’s no such thing as a woman or a man. There are just millions of different people. Though, there is Amen.’
‘Alice!’
‘Alright,’ Alice gave in. ‘But, we do agree that there are loads of great women and loads of great men?’
‘Only you had a few traumatic run-ins with some women?’
‘Exactly.’
‘OK. So tell me.’
Alice hunkered down for a moment to let seawater run over her hands and to think. It was such a beautiful night. And where would she even start? 
When she got up again, she said: ‘Alright. For example, in my religious time, in my teens and early twenties, I witnessed many wives who made life hell for each other.’
‘How?’
‘They constantly judged each other’s performance as wife and mother. For example, after the Sunday service, we would all sit together, have some cake and talk. And one mother would say to the other: “What? Your child still doesn’t eat with a spoon?” And another would say: “It’s time you taught you child how to use the toilet.” And similar exchanges. And that every Sunday. Or I remember, one time I visited a wife. And the first thing she said was, directly after opening the door: “I’m so glad you’re not fussy about cleanliness. When one of the wives visits me, everything has to look perfect.” To this day I have no idea why these women made each other’s lives even more scrutinised and even less appreciated than it already was.’
‘That doesn’t sound like a specific religious experience.’
‘Maybe not. But it’s where I witnessed it many times, and I never understood why they had to judge each other, or why they had to make a fuss about the other wife’s performance or the state of development of their children.’
‘Alright, that is problematic.’
‘Mind you, it’s not like the men were free from pressure. They married, as was expected of them. Got fat, which was regarded as a sign of a good wife’s cooking skills. And they tyrannised others with their superior wisdom to avoid being tyrannised themselves. And they bought a house and had loads of children, who all needed feeding. And occasionally, they had to buy their wife a dress to show their appreciation for her cleaning skills. Sometimes flowers would do too. I mean, these men had to make a fair amount of money to show off the kind of holy family that was deemed respectable. And in all that, there was little fun to be had. Besides, fun was dangerous and probably the devil luring you into something very bad. I remember a married pastor. He told me, in the most woeful tones, that he wanted to run away with me, indicating that this, of course, could never happen. And oh, did he suffer — while totally ignoring that he was irritating an irritated young woman who was about to break with her faith, and who had slightly different problems.’
‘Wow, so you had traumatic run-ins with men too?’
Alice’s face hardened. But, of course, Devery couldn’t see that in the dark. He could sense something though, judging by his next words: ‘Maybe, that’s a truly stupid question to ask a woman?’
‘I really wish it wasn’t,’ Alice retorted a bit snappy. Then she took a lungful of the mild evening air and added: ‘Let’s just stick with the women, shall we? Besides, for all I know, it would be truly stupid to assume that men never have traumatic run-ins with women, or with men.’
‘I’m sorry. And you’re right. So, what else happened?’
Alice lost herself for a moment in the starlit sky. Then she returned to the beach, let a wave play around her ankles and said: ‘Ah, you know, small things. For example, women who would try to please just about any man while dissing and backstabbing other women. Women dismissing another woman’s ideas while applauding any man’s suggestions, no matter how brainless. A men’s word trusted, a woman’s word scrutinised. A man’s action excused or justified, a woman’s action judged and rejected. A woman belittled, a man in the same situation elevated. Sometimes I wonder whether some women are afraid of supporting other women, like supporting a woman would make them look weak or stupid. While supporting a man is always right even if he’s wrong. But then a man is just a human, isn’t he? And humans make mistakes.’
Devery chuckled.
‘In fact, you can use the bible to prove that a woman isn’t a human.’
‘I don’t believe that.’
‘And I did some thorough forgetting after I broke with Christianity so I don’t remember the relevant verses any more. But I do remember the glee of the men who made a case for it.’
Devery shook his head. ‘So your traumatic run-ins happened in your religious time?’
‘Oh no, far from it. For example, I remember a photo shoot with a new executive, some weeks before Tom invited me to New York. He was male. The other members of his management team were female. I mean, I tried to focus on my work, on getting a picture while they sat around a table talking. But the way these grown-up women, in executive positions, tried to please that man … Honestly, I felt so embarrassed for and about them, just watching them giggle and nod and sucking up to him. Though, it wasn’t like the executive was any better. He loved to hear himself talk and revelled in all the attention. Until later, when he complained to me — the outsider — that these women lacked drive and vision. It was so weird.’
Alice exhaled noisily. ‘Or women who were my friend whenever single and disappeared as soon as a new catch was in their net. And after the next breakup, they would knock on my door again.’
‘And you didn’t?’
‘No. I didn’t want to exclude anyone, only because I had a boyfriend.’ 
‘Recommendable.’
‘Maybe. And then you have all this crap about how women supposedly are. I look down the list and think: I hate handbags, I hate gossiping, shopping is annoying, emotional fuss makes me wanna run away, and I have no idea why anyone would care about shoes and so on. Often women are pictured as consumerist, needy, clingy, teary or bitchy simpletons, and I simply can’t identify with any of that. That’s insofar traumatic as I get confronted with these stupid stereotypes, only because I have boobs. And I have to listen to: “women are, women do,” or “of course, you like that, you are a woman,” or “you decide on the colour, you women know so much more about colours.”’
Devery chuckled. ‘I see your point. But few women are—’
‘Yes, I know. And we have some really cool women on our team.’
‘But you don’t like every women on the team, especially on this trip with Daria and Kim in London?’
‘True,’ Alice conceded. ‘Nor do I like all men. And actually, I like to dislike people.’
‘What?’
‘Look, it’s just another leftover from my time as a Christian. Back then, I was told I had to like everyone. So my teenage-self asked the obvious question: “What if there’s someone I don’t like?” And the answer was to pray for that person and for myself until I liked that person.’
‘And you did?’
‘Sure. I wanted to be a good Christian. But one thing really got me. While I fought with disliking two or three people, it never occurred to me that someone would dislike me.’
‘Because you’re such a great person?’ Devery teased, kicking a football back to a group of youngsters who were playing a bit further up the beach, two lampposts illuminating a small sports field.
‘No, it simply hadn’t occurred to me. I was a teenager. Of course, I had some insecurities. It was more like: why would anyone bother with disliking me? And I was surprised that anyone else should struggle with the same problem. Besides, the woman who told me she didn’t like me was such a good Christian. How could she struggle with something that basic?’
‘Sounds pretty messed up.’
Alice laughed, swung her leg and kicked water into the sea. ‘You have no idea. Anyway, one of the things I did, after deciding to break with Christianity, was to never again force myself to like anyone. So whenever I get a chance to dislike someone, I take it and remind myself that I’m free.’
‘But won’t people be hurt?’
‘Probably. But it’s unnecessary to be liked by everyone. I think it’s more important that we’re fine with ourselves. And that we find the people we like. And, of course, that we don’t make a fuss about disliking someone, or diss someone we can’t connect to. And we shouldn’t take someone’s dislike personal. See, I don’t like sweet wine. But that doesn’t mean anything’s wrong with sweet wine — I guess.’
‘Hm. I don’t think I agree. Sometimes it takes time to get to know a person. And maybe, if you’d gone to the girls night, you’d be able to appreciate more women on our team.’
‘Maybe. Or maybe not. If I spend time with them alone, that’s when I get to know them better. At a girls night, I might see a side of them I’d dislike.’
‘You just said you like to dislike.’
‘Look, to me disliking is a reminder that I’m free of rigid rules. As for our teams, I prefer to like the people I work with. But that doesn’t mean I have to go to a single gender party. I don’t even understand the idea of a girls night. And honestly, shouldn’t we be comfortable enough with each other, no matter the gender?’
‘Yes. But there are things you can discuss more freely if it’s just blokes.’
‘But why?’
‘We are a bit shy when it comes to the other sex?’
‘Why?’
‘I’m not doing this with you, Alice. You’re probably right, and it shouldn’t matter. But right now, it still does.’
‘Yeah. Sorry. I know. I actually had a chat with Leo about something like that, single gender dos, safe spaces. But the thing is, I don’t want to get involved in single gender dos.’ 
For some minutes, they walked in silence, listening to the gently lapping waves and the distant voices of some other night walkers. 
Then Alice said: ‘You know, the most peculiar experience I had with women was in a women prison.’
 ‘What?’
‘It was so weird. I was still a Christian, eighteen years old. I did an internship in an organisation which worked with ex-cons. These Christians lived in small communities with the ex-prisoners and helped them to get a handle on life again. Among other things, I was part of a choir that performed in prisons during the services, and we visited men prisons, mixed prisons and youth prisons. One time, we travelled through Hungary, solely to hold services in prisons. I liked singing in Hungarian. It’s a shame I don’t remember a single song. Anyway, one day in Hungary, we went to a women prison, and it was—’ Alice stopped and dug her toes into the wet sand.
‘Traumatic?’
‘You bet. I mean, I had been to all those other prisons, and I talked to many prisoners. But nothing compared. At first, we were shown around the prison, and we talked to some of the women. Many knew some German.
I recall talking to a woman who had been sentenced to three years because of an abortion. I couldn’t believe it. Three years for an abortion. I mean, as a Christian, I was against abortions. But three years imprisonment seemed brutal. And I realised that I had never thought about punishment. An abortion shouldn’t happen, was my thinking. But if it did, it did. It’s something we forget. If we are against abortions, we’re also complicit in enforcing measures that destroy existing lives and families.
Anyway, the dormitories in the prison were large. The ones for people with lesser offences had windows you could look out of. But the dormitories for people with more severe sentences only had windows high above. I mean even if you stood on someone’s shoulders, you wouldn’t reach them. 
There were about fifteen women in each dormitory. Sleeping hall would be more accurate really. The bare walls were so high. 
Anyway, each woman had a bed and some kind of chest at the foot of her bed. And that was it.’ Alice inhaled. ‘Now, all of this was depressing enough. But what struck me most, was the way these women treated each other.
It was with a loathing I’ve never seen before or after. There were the weak inmates who got kicked around. And the strong inmates who reminded me of female prison guards in Nazi movies. There was a soulless brutality in the way they bore themselves, spoke and treated each other. Some with empty eyes. Others with an unrelenting harshness and aggression, you wouldn’t believe. 
It was terrifying. 
Admittedly, I was very young, and I wonder sometimes how I’d see them today.’ 
Alice shivered and decided to put on the jumper. Shoes and jacket in the sand, she pulled the jumper over her head, and then slipped back into her jacket. Shoes back over her shoulder, she continued, walking slowly: ‘Anyway, after the tour of the prison, we held the service. I can still see the room. We stood on a rather high stage and looked down on our audience. There were maybe fifteen rows of chairs and an aisle in the middle. Compared to the rest of the prison it was a friendly room, with light-coloured walls and light coming from the tall windows. And then, something incredibly strange happened. For the first half an hour or so, it was as if we were singing and preaching against a wall. High. Massive. The audience full of stiff figures and impassive faces. There was no getting through to them.
And then suddenly— 
It was as if someone had turned a switch. 
And they all started to cry.’
‘You’re kidding.’
‘No. It really happened. And it still puzzles me.’
‘But you have a theory?’
‘Not much of a theory, more like a few guesses. One of them is: if you treat a human being — be they women, men, prisoners, refugees, job seekers, protesters, fruit pickers, even populists — if you treat any human like a stupid animal, chances are they’ll start behaving like a stupid animal. Or in other words, if you treat someone like a pig, they might start behaving like a pig.’
‘Because these women were in those sleeping halls?’
‘Maybe that too.’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Regarding women— For centuries, women have been treated as vulnerable, as inferior to men and as dependent on having a husband. Even dependent on keeping a husband — and happy. Surely, that has affected the way women see themselves, the way they act, and the way they deal with each other. And some of these effects could be: a lack of self-esteem; a lack of fighting spirits; an internalised belief that a woman is worth less than a man. And maybe there is a need to distinguish themselves from other women, who must be even more inferior; or a need to receive approval from a man, whose judgement must be superior to that of another woman; or an internalised fear of losing a man to another woman, and thereby seeing any other woman as a potential competition. 
Not one of these points would inspire anyone to stick up for another woman, or to find a way to get through the hell of prison together. And maybe these women lost their footing in a prison full of women because in a single gender prison, there’s no one they could or would want to please or impress. There were just rooms full of reminders of their own perceived inferiority and vulnerability.’
‘That’s pretty dark.’
‘Yes. It’s also possible that some or all of these women experienced domestic violence, and now played out what they had suffered at home.’
‘Dark. Dark.’
‘Yes. And maybe, when they started to cry, they finally gave in to their grief, regardless of how that made them look in the eyes of the other women. Maybe before, they felt driven to demonstrate their superiority over all these inferior women, and they couldn’t allow emotions to interfere. And think about it, it’s often women who plot to keep up a certain appearance, who make a fuss about how other people perceive them or their family. There’s so much anxiety and such a need to appear superior, to get it right, to please. At least that’s what stories often tell us.’
‘Dark. Very dark.’
‘Mhm. Though, it doesn’t explain the soullessness I witnessed.’
‘Let’s go up there. It’s a quiet bar with a nice view.’
‘The one Jazz talked about?’
‘Yes.’
‘But you know there might be an explanation.’
‘For what?’
‘For how the inferiority complex came about. Maybe it all started as some sort of survival tactic. If I pretend to be weak, then a man will do things for me, and I can save my energy for other things.’
‘That’s a useful strategy.’
‘Yeah, that’s the intriguing bit. It’s clever and stupid at the same time. You don’t often get that.’
‘True.’
‘Only, if you get stuck in it, then the man will actually believe he’s stronger and cleverer, and he’ll treat the woman accordingly. So, it might all have started with prince saves princess, and it got to stupid woman, superior man.’
‘Dark again.’
‘It’s just a thought.’
They walked in silence on the soft sand until they reached the kiosk bar on the promenade. In the background, Samba music was playing on the radio, and the rhythmic sounds were mixing with the traffic noises from the main road. 
There were maybe twelve round table, a third of them occupied. Among the few guests were Mike and Dona from Jazz’s team, who looked quite convincingly like a couple. 
Devery chose a table closest to the beach while Alice went to the bar. 
Some time later, Alice returned with two Caipirinhas, a bottle of water, cheese bread and pasteis, all carried on a tray. ‘I thought you might be hungry too. The pasteis have all sorts of fillings, but I don’t know which is which.’
‘No problem. And thanks.’
After a while of contemplative drinking, snacking and watching the beach, Devery asked: ‘So you don’t think the world would be a better place if it was run by women?’
‘The world would be a better place if gender didn’t matter.’
‘Smart. But really, what’s your view on the matriarchy?’
‘Don’t get me started on mothers.’
‘Alice.’
‘Alright. A world run by women. First image that comes to my mind is the women prison. Sorry. Let me try again.’ Alice fell silent. She looked at the beach and the ocean, without seeing either. 
Eventually she shook her head. ‘No. The world wouldn’t be a better place if it was run by women. Nor is it a better place for being run by men. Obviously. But I’m sure, it would be a better place if it was run by a good mix of people who don’t suffer from inferiority or superiority complexes, and just get the job done.’
Devery chuckled and frowned. ‘Don’t you feel any affiliation with women?’
Alice thought about it. ‘No. I never wanted to be a woman. Being a girl was fine. Being a human is what I can identify with.’
‘Would you say you are a woman?’
‘Well, my body is rather female. But I identify with being a human. As for mating, I prefer male mates.’
Devery chuckled. Then he said, pensive again: ‘Is this your internalised disregard for women?’
Alice frowned with the hint of a smile. ‘I don’t entirely trust my answer to that question. But I don’t actually think so. Take Nanda or Kim. In my eyes, these two are women head to toe. And I can’t find any fault with them. I like them, and I respect them without any reservations. And I can’t imagine a situation where I’d slight or depreciate them because of a man or for any other reason. And yet, there’s this notion that they’re essentially different from me. Or I am from them. That I’m not one of them. I can’t really explain it, and it’s pretty vague. And maybe it’s just the fact that every human is unique, and therefore another human will always feel somewhat different to ourselves. I don’t know. Though in a group of women, I tend to feel like a stranger, like there’s something I just don’t get.’
 ‘Hm. If you never wanted to be a woman— Is that why you never married?’
‘You know, I once read that a bad marriage is as unhealthy as smoking or drinking. Since I used to smoke heavily, I couldn’t take my chances with another health risk.’
They both chuckled.
‘But you know,’ Alice added. ‘I dislike the gender divisions. And these bleeding men-are-evil-and-better, and women-are-victims-and-better generalisations are neither true nor helpful. We’re all humans, and we’re all absolutely capable of wronging and violating others. And if you think about it— I saw this documentary about genital mutilation, and it was the mother or grandmother of the child who cut away the clitoris — not some man. And circumcision is treated like it’s something to celebrate, like cutting into a baby’s genitals is a great thing to do. And it’s mothers who iron their daughter’s breasts to inhibit the growth of the breasts. And if you think about India. It’s the mothers in law who drag their young daughters in law to abortion clinics, only because they’re pregnant with a girl. It’s women who make fun of other women who don’t have children. Whether we like it or not, women have enabled a vast deal of cruelty, demeaning and injustice towards women. And that’s something I don’t get. Why would a woman who was mutilated or forced to abort a girl, or who was treated like a servant, or like an idiot, or like a possession — why would any of these women treat their girls or their fellow women the same way? Or why would a woman tell her daughter to stay with an alcoholic or with a violent person if the mother herself suffered from living with a broken or abusive partner, and so on.’
‘Hm. Dark again. Did you ever want to be a man?’
Alice smiled a little, took a sip of her drink and thought about it. Did she ever want to be a man? 
‘I don’t think so. I think I was fine with being a girl because of Pippi Longstocking. I could relate to her. She made it possible for me to be a girl. But being a woman or a wife or a mother never appealed to me, and it doesn’t really make sense to me either. Yet, I don’t think wanting-to-be-a-man ever crossed my mind. Though I usually relate to male characters in stories, like Sinbad, Ali Baba, Da Vinci, Cicero or Aragon. But then, maybe I haven’t read enough books or seen enough movies. Though, now that I come to think of it, being a Christian would have been more fun as a man, I think. A woman was only good enough to serve a man, but as a man you got to do real things, so to speak.’
‘Like tyrannising others about how to live?’
‘Yeah. A woman was only allowed to tyrannise young children — and other women.’
‘Unbelievable.’
‘If only it were just a story. But here’s a funny thing. I do have one other positive female image in my mind. And that’s the image of an old, deeply wrinkled, white haired and foremost very wise woman. She is very beautiful in every respect: mind, body and soul. That’s an image I could be comfortable with.’
‘In the far future?’
Alice laughed. ‘Yeah. I’d give it another four to five decades and heaps of still deeply buried wisdom.’
Devery chuckled. ‘I wonder,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe gender is a key for our sex talk.’
‘Very likely. I love the idea of a world where gender doesn’t matter. Where we can be girls in our teens, men in our thirties, and wise old women in our eighties. Where we don’t do stupid comparisons between the genders or silly generalisations or fruitless competitions. Where we are what we are when we are whatever we are, without reference to anyone. No strange expectations or demands. And everyone could love whomever they want to love, wear whatever they like, and take any profession they fancy, without any fuss or prejudice. No one would have to be stronger or more perceptive, or cleverer or more creative, or more resilient or more emotional or any of it. We could be truly ourselves: unique individuals. And the world would be so much richer and a lot more colourful and so much more relaxed for it.’
‘I like it,’ Devery said, leaning back. ‘I even like the idea of living as a woman for a decade or two and then return to being a man.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah. And it’s never occurred to me before. But if we had the freedom to be whomever whenever. Why not take a stroll on every road?’
Alice laughed. ‘Yeah, that sounds perfect.’
‘We’d still be stuck with comparisons between people, though. Some would still want to show off something.’
‘Who knows. Maybe one day we’re so relaxed that we live happily ever after without having to outperform anyone.’
‘I like optimism,’ Devery said.
‘Me too,’ Alice said with a cheeky twitch of her mouth. Then she added more seriously: ‘The trouble I see is that people might still be insecure about their bodies, even if gender didn’t play that much of a role any more. You know, I think we’re looking for a number of keys. Gender divisions are problematic. But I think the insecurity regarding our bodies might be too.’
‘So you’re saying if we— What are you saying?’
‘Not sure. But I remember my disappointment when I had a one night stand with a fifty year old, a year or two ago. And he was as insecure as a twenty year old. That can’t be right. Or another one night stand who explained to me how I like to have sex. And he was so nervous about getting it right. I mean why didn’t he just ask me what I like? Though, he was a good deal younger. But still.’
They both chuckled.
‘Maybe you are right about the girls night,’ Devery said. ‘Maybe if we mix, we don’t get too stupid. And maybe when we’re separated from each other, there’s something missing, and we start to limp.’
‘Wow, I like that image,’ Alice said. ‘And maybe some of that limping starts in our childhood. If we were brought up by women and men, maybe we’d be much more balanced.’
‘True. But even if we can change that, it’ll take time to get rid of cliches and generalisations.’
‘How about we shoot them into the universe, and they can get lost in another galaxy? Besides, where do generalisations get us? We put people with boobs in one bucket and people without boobs in another, and there: we believe we understand the world.’
‘You do know that men have breasts too?’
‘Alright, let me be more precise: we put milkboobs in one bucket and all other boobs in the other. And we still believe we understand the world.’     
Devery laughed. ‘Oh, look who’s coming.’
Alice turned and saw a cross-looking Andy heading straight for Devery. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t going?’
‘Going where?’ Alice asked.
‘You didn’t tell her?’
‘I didn’t want to add to tonight’s grievances,’ Devery replied with a lopsided smile.
Andy seemed to search for a retort, but then he exhaled and asked: ‘Want another drink?’
Alice frowned. Devery nodded.
It was only when Andy placed the new Caipirinhas on the table that it dawned on Alice. ‘There’s a boys night too?’
‘Yeah,’ Andy said, sitting down next to Alice. ‘Audry and Jesse initiated both and made everyone go. How did you get away?’
‘We just left,’ Devery said.
‘You could have told me!’
‘Sorry, I had no idea you didn’t want to go.’
‘Why would I want to be at a boys night? Everyone is stupid and feels hilarious about it. Mind you, so long as Tom was there, it wasn’t too bad. But he didn’t stay long. And once he was gone, it got ridiculous.’
‘In our team?’ Alice asked disbelieving.
‘Sorry, yes.’
‘Just limping,’ Devery said consolingly.
‘Yeah,’ Alice mumbled.
‘Er?’ Andy uttered.
‘A theory Devery came up with earlier,’ Alice said. ‘If you separate men and women they start to limp and get silly. Anyway how did you find us?’
‘I asked Craig from Security where Devery was. By the way, where’s Leo? I thought he’d be with you.’
Alice smiled broadly. ‘Oh, no. Leo took the night off to have some fun in Rio’s gay scene.’
‘Oh, good on him,’ Andy said, sipping his Caipirinha.
‘Out of curiosity, why don’t you like a boys night?’ Devery asked.
Andy rolled his eyes and Alice laughed. ‘He’s been pestering me with his questions too.’
‘Oh. Well, I’ve been to too many nights like that. Men bragging about bullshit and picking on those of us who’ve never scored high.’
‘Nonsense,’ Alice said. ‘You’re not a macho guy. So what? Macho isn’t even masculine. It’s just something that happens to some of us.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Devery asked.
‘How many drinks have you had?’ Andy added, frowning.
‘Not sure, on both questions. But I have macho moments. Others do too.’
‘Well, we don’t score high on masculinity,’ Devery mumbled.
‘Oh, get off it, Devery,’ Andy retorted. ‘No one would dare pick on you.’
‘You think, only because I’m tall, I can compete on masculinity? And I bet no one picked on you tonight. You’re too close to Alice.’
‘I didn’t stay long enough to find out. But I bet you’ve been with loads of women. And you never heard jokes about your nerdiness, or “I bet you prefer sexbots at least they speak the same language as you,” or assumptions about your insufficient penis length or your miserable sex performance.’
‘You’re wrong,’ Devery nearly shouted and worked himself into a rage. ‘I get jokes about an extra large penis for an extra large man, all the time. And I’ve been with only five women in my forty-three years. And do you have any idea how hard it is to find a tall woman? And the jokes you get when being seen with a small woman? They called me paedophile. And do you know how difficult it is to find anyone if you constantly travel around the world on some secret mission? And one of my girlfriends dumped me because my penis was too long for her comfort—’
‘I knew it!’ Alice burst out and instantly clapped her hand over her mouth. ‘Sorry. Please, continue?’
Devery and Andy stared at Alice in disbelieve.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt. Go ahead? Just ignore me?’
‘To late for that, Alice,’ Devery retorted. ‘You spoiled the fun!’
‘Sorry!’
Andy patted Devery on the back. ‘I’m sorry too. I had no idea. I always thought of you as the cool guy.’
‘And so are you, Andy.’
Having said that, both men turned to Alice and continued to stare at her.
‘What?’ Alice asked with a frown. ‘I said I was sorry.’
‘What did you know?’ Devery asked impatiently.
‘Oh. Penis length. I’ve thought for while that all this talk about penis enlargement must be humbug.’
‘Why?’ Andy asked, blushing.
‘I haven’t been with a thousand men—’ Alice started.
‘Why a thousand men?’ Andy interrupted unnerved.
‘Apparently you need at least a thousand test objects to get a result of statistical value.’
Both men frowned. ‘Continue?’ Devery imitated Alice.
‘Alright. Even though I haven’t been with a thousand men, I can surmise from my limited experience that an average sized penis affords me the greatest pleasure.’
Both men gaped, and Alice continued with an amused smile. ‘Now, I guess that each vagina and each penis is pretty unique. Therefore it makes much more sense to find a good vagina-penis match than to assume that the largest cock is the best cock.’
Both men were blushing now, but Alice was unfazed and went on: ‘I remember one time where I nearly gasped when the penis popped out. It was so big that my hand didn’t fit around it. And it actually scared me. I guess, it went OK in the end, since I don’t remember much of the sex.’
‘Another one night stand?’ Devery asked.
‘Yep. We worked at the same bar. After work, we got drunk and had sex in one of the booths. Nothing special. We went out again. But the next time, I puked all over the table. So that was the end of that. And no regrets.’
‘With how many men have you been?’ Devery asked.
‘Not that many.’
‘Doesn’t sound like it.’
‘I’ve gone without sex for months on end, actually years. And most of these encounters were just brief sex bits. I wouldn’t have cared for a relationship with any of them.’
‘Was it worth it?’ Devery asked.
‘I’m tempted to say: mostly not. But you always learn a little more about what you want or like, and what others might like.’
‘Hm. So you’re saying my girlfriend was right to break up with me because of my penis?’
‘Devery, you’re a great—’
‘Non! Don’t you give me the great guy. Just answer my question!’
‘Alright. In the long run, I’d probably say yes. Anyone who wants to have sex should make sure it’s satisfactory. And I’d congratulate her on recognising what’s good for her, and on having the courage to act on it. Devery, honestly—’
‘No. I don’t want pity. I just want the answer.’
‘I can think of four women in my former church who had a frustrating awakening in their wedding night, and a frustrating sex life ever after. They had fallen in love with their partners alright. But sex before the wedding wasn’t allowed, and so they didn’t know what they were getting into.’
‘And you think they couldn’t have made it work?’
‘Not in a religious group where sex is stigmatised. And if you don’t fit together physically, you can try all you want. It’s not gonna work, is it? But I don’t know. You really liked her?’
Devery was silent for a while, attacking a slice of lime with his straw. Then he let go of the straw and said: ‘Yes. But maybe now, I can stop hating her. I always thought she used my penis as an excuse, and she didn’t want to tell me what was really the matter. But now I’m starting to think that maybe we really didn’t fit together. It’s true, she wasn’t anywhere close to a physical fit. But I got satisfaction. And she should too. Maybe I should call her, and see how she’s doing.’
‘So what is the ideal physical match between two people? Andy asked quietly.
‘I have no idea,’ Alice said. ‘Though— No, I’m not going there.’
‘Come on,’ Devery said. ‘It can’t be worse than what you’ve said already.’
‘Well, if you think about it. It might actually be more pleasant for a woman to be with a smaller man. Breast height. If you know what I mean. Though, on the other hand, kissing might be less enjoyable. I guess you can’t have it all.’
‘I really wish you hadn’t said that,’ Devery moaned. ‘That image will stay with me.’
‘You insisted,’ Alice countered archly.
‘Javiera— What’s she doing here?’ Andy said.
‘Oh. One of my failed attempts,’ Devery muttered, watching the approaching Javiera, who looked stunning in one of Hachiro’s masterpieces, a shimmering green dress, flowing around her body in different layers and with some stripes, all elements designed to both reveal and hide. 
‘Alice, some people are really pissed off about you,’ Javiera said instead of a greeting.
‘Hopefully they’re also pissed by now,’ Alice retorted.
‘Some. Shame you didn’t make it official. It would have saved me the trouble of trudging along to the girls night.’
‘I would have thought you’d like it,’ Alice said.
‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me. Besides, we’re nearly the same age. Since when are we still girls?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Only because I like to dress up and wear make-up, doesn’t mean I’m girly. You know, punching a silly bag might be your way to relax, but for me it’s taking time in the morning. Choosing what I’m going to wear, taking time for make-up and hair. That’s how I relax. And that’s all there is to it.’
‘Sorry.’
‘You’re so full of prejudice.’
‘Tell me about it.’
Javiera rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I know you don’t like me much, but I also know you respect my work. It’s fine by me.’
‘I do respect your work and you.’
‘Anyway, Devery,’ Javiera said, sitting down next to Devery. ‘My husband arrives tomorrow. Please, be nice to him.’
‘You’re married?’
Javiera looked annoyed. ‘You were invited to the wedding three years ago. And you forgot to attend.’
‘Oh, you’re still with the same guy?’
‘Yes. And he’s my husband. Can you believe it, Alice. Devery asked me to marry him when he turned forty, saying it was time for us to settle down. Wouldn’t I agree? When I told him I had been engaged for seven months, and that he had already met my fiancé, he acted shocked. And then he didn’t turn up to the wedding, five months later.’
‘I didn’t act. I had just forgotten about it,’ Devery remonstrated. 
Alice and Andy shared a glance along the lines: ‘We better stay out of this.’ 
Meanwhile, Devery added: ‘And I was on a mission when someone showed me pictures of your wedding. And your wedding reminder only reached me afterwards. So how was the girls party?’ Devery added pointedly, avoiding eye contact with Alice and Andy.
‘Not bad,’ Javiera replied, accepting the change of subject. ‘Nice bar. Most people were a bit unchilled and then someone said: “If you girls are this unhappy with the evening why don’t you go and join the boys.”’
‘Who said that?’ Andy asked.
‘I did,’ Javiera answered and everyone chuckled, though Devery still seemed a little tense.
‘And everyone agreed?’ Alice asked.
‘No. But some did. The fun thing was that we met some of the boys group halfway, found a new bar and had a few laughs. Although no one could agree which group left their bar first.’
‘If it was fun, why did you leave?’ Andy asked.
‘I don’t like big parties. And I heard that you joined these two. So I thought I might as well. But by the looks of it, this party will be big soon enough. Here comes Hachiro. He looks a little blue.’
‘Hachiro, what’s up?’ Devery asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘You don’t look like nothing,’ Andy said.
‘Maybe it would be nothing if you hadn’t just left me!’
‘What happened?’ Andy asked.
‘When you left, and Craig confirmed that Devery and Alice have their own party, I took your side and got a beating for it.’
‘What?’ everyone exclaimed.
‘I don’t want to repeat all of it, but they made fun of me, saying I was half a man and half a woman, and that I should split myself and be at both parties. And they said I must be gay. But I’m not. I just love fashion.’
‘Bastards,’ Andy cursed. ‘You are—’
‘pretty small—’ Devery cut in with a smile.
‘and beautiful—’ Javiera added.
‘and very talented—’ Alice said.
‘and no one has the right to make fun of you,’ Andy added. ‘And it’s not going to happen again. Devery and I will make sure of that.’
Hachiro smiled a little, and they all bumped their fists together.
From here on, the evening took a turn into pleasantly shallow waters with laughs, some trash talk, more drinks and the odd anecdote, mostly about THE missions, and a few tales from Andy’s time in Tom’s employ.
For a while, Alice just listened and watched Hachiro a little. He sometimes reminded her of an actor, she once interviewed. They didn’t look anything alike. The actor had European roots to start with, but they both had a somewhat evasive gender. 
Evasive gender. 
Alice chuckled to herself and took another sip of her latest Caipirinha. The one, Andy had placed it in front of her, looking a little doubtful. Well, yes, she was drunk, and yes, she wanted more of that. 
Evasive gender.
She interviewed the actor after his performance at a small theatre. In the play, he was a man who transitioned into a woman. So after the play, Alice should have been certain that this was a man who had eventually performed as a woman. 
But she wasn’t.
It was so bizarre. 
Because, while listening to his answers, she caught herself not knowing whether he was a woman or a man. Like her subconscious was ringing the bells saying, ‘Hang on, hang on, information missing, information required.’
Which in itself was strange. Why did her brain need to know whether the person in front of her was female or male?
It was as if something in his answer or posture had triggered the grey cells to call for an adjustment. Like whatever her mind had seen or heard didn’t fit in with any known definition of the one or the other gender. And her mind tried to find something in the actor’s voice or appearance — anything to give a direction. 
And then her eyes would notice the more pronounced hands. And her inner self would utter a relieved sigh and would settle. After all, she knew that he was a man. She just needed a reminder. But after a while, her cognition would slip again, swimming somewhere in between the genders. 
At first this confused her. But when she became more aware of her reaction, she was fascinated. Never before had she met a person where gender was so evasive that she would stop mid-thought because the certainty of the gender had slipped away again.
It wasn’t as if he suddenly looked like a woman. It was more like: suddenly he had no gender — or all of them.
By the end of the interview, she told the actor: ‘I’ve never met a person where there are moments of utterly undefined gender,’ and he replied something like: ‘I’ve given up on trying to be the one or the other’ or ‘to fight who I’m not supposed to be’ or something like that.  
And while female and male elements could co-exist in a person, Alice thought, in this actor, male and female seemed to have merged into something new — or at least into something she hadn’t been aware of before.
Watching Hachiro, she sometimes experienced those moments of evasive gender too.