Romek: You should find someone else if you haven’t already.

Hansa: No, I haven’t … some things are better left unsaid.

These two lines, and the space between them, define episode 9. There’s a fascinating dynamic that has been established, where the marriage has basically been opened up, but Hansa refuses to acknowledge it that way.

This creates an odd dissonance throughout the rest of the episode … can anything that Hansa does be considered a transgression if Romek has already declared her free to do so?

But there’s a more interesting dynamic underway here. Hansa refuses to have “the talk” about opening up the marriage. My theory: she can only find erotic charge in her encounters if she believes they are not out of bounds. She needs to feel like she is harming Romek to soothe her conscience.

Or perhaps she needs to feel Romek’s jealousy to believe that he really loves her, that’s why she keeps pushing the boundaries. But I’m getting ahead of the story, back to the bed where those two lines were just spoken.

Romek doesn’t accept that dynamic of things left unsaid. So Hansa elaborates a bit, saying the things that need to be said: that he’s been honest with her about his medical condition, and she’s said that she wants to be with him anyway, that she loves him. She then asks him to hold her, then adds “hold me tight.” It seems like she is taking some sensual pleasure from this, but Romek seems dissociated, staring into space.

We next see Romek awake in the bed, apparently after whatever just happened, and he asks if she is asleep. This was probably my least favorite question asked during my marriage — there’s only one way to respond, no, but most of the time I wanted to say “I wish I were.”

So they tack on to their conversation but it doesn’t amount to much. Romek notes that they never wanted to have children, but maybe it would be easier now if they had them. Hansa agrees.

Romek now is leaving for work, walking to the car, Hansa looking at him through the window. He looks back and waves. Hansa waves back, then closes the window. Romek then notices a young blonde man in a blue jacket walking in his direction. He seems suspicious of him and lowers his blinder so his face isn’t showing as he spies at him. The man sees this and starts walking on a different path to avoid his gaze.

Romek arrives at work. He sees an older man who is struggling with a car issue, he helps him pour gasoline into the car. Then, we see him with a patient. It is the young woman who inspired Weronika. She asks him for a cigarette — he says that’s not a great idea (she has a heart isssue) but she says it won’t kill her.

Her dilemma is this: she has a serious heart condition, not detailed, but is also a singer and the fear is that her singing could put her heart at risk. Her mother wants her to get a last-resort type of surgery so that she can sing. The young woman expresses that she loves to sing — Bach, Mahler, someone names Van den Budenmeyer — but she wants to live more than she wants to sing.

She says that she is uneasy about the surgery and her mother wants Romek to reassure her. He’s not completely willing to do so. She replies that her mother wants her to have everything in life, but she only needs a tiny bit to be happy. She then walks off and Romek watches her.

Back at home, Romek is now listening to a record — it is by Van den Budenmeyer, that unusual composer (fictional) that she mentioned. Then the phone rings. Romek picks up — it is a younger sounding man who asks if Hansa is there. Romek says no and asks if he can take a message, the young man says he’ll call back. Towards the end of the phone call, we see Hansa (through blinds) outside walking back to the apartment.

Romek goes back to his chair to listen to the aria from Van Den Budenmeyer. It is the same piece of music that will send Weronika to her death. Romek has his hands on his face, and Hansa comes through the apartment door.

Romek has no evidence that Hansa is actually seeing a younger man — but he clearly has some kind of feelings for this young woman who might be making a sing-or-die decision. The glow of lost youth and the approaching shadow to death and loss are in conflict.