City, Sister, Silver, page 51
Pepek appeared behind Vandas holding a long pole, the kind used in proper households to prop up the clothesline, nails set in one end to hold the line in place.
I was waiting for a swarm of good spirits to appear, a gracious princess, say, for Rambo to suddenly step down off the T-shirts, for I myself to be gifted with the power of a bull that I might scoff at death, O Lord, if I were to save a single canine beast, though he may return the favor by chewing off my finger, surely my karma would bump up a notch at least. But I didn’t get up.
Pepek took the pole and began flailing furiously and methodically into the space where the sparse heat-scorched grass gave way to the dusty earth of the road, flailing, where did that alkie find the strength, flailing, and surely the prospect of bolstering his gainful friendship with the merchant boosted his strength, flailing, and the growling changed to wailing, dog moans, an unbroken litany, an animal prayer of agony, the crowd stood quietly around the bus, occasionally someone shook his head, spat with a hiss, shouted out a curse or word of advice, then Pepek scraped out a quivering dog, belly punched open, head bashed in, and finished him off with the pole. It was One Eye. The smaller one I guess got the dagger. Caving in to public opinion, the Gypsies backed the bus up and ran the mutt over, hard to say if he was gone by then or whether he still felt the wheels. The onlookers briefly commented on the two carcasses, next to them lay the gnawed carrot, as long as the little one’s trunk, mocking the life-or-death struggle of the animal kingdom. Vandas bent down to pick up the dagger, it vanished into his pocket with a click of relief. The wise guys all of a sudden remembered their stands full of junk, peppers and T-shirts and socks and bottles of vodka, and disappeared. The two carcasses were left on the road, I sat gaping at the blowflies’ first reconnaissance flights, the thin ribbon of shiny ant bodies intently setting out on their promising expedition for nourishment, for the morsel that had dropped onto their plate from on high, from the heavens. The first ones went for the eyes.
Behind me the market came back to life, I listened to the sounds of Babylon, and nothing was going on. Not now. Not anymore. Maybe I oughta brighten my life with one a those T-shirts, I thought, or maybe it’d be more sensible to purge my imagination with some liquor from Vandas’s tent. The spiffy waiters from the Spinach Bar disposed of the carcasses later, I heard, claimed they were bad for business.
I sat in the tent next to Černá and Vlasta, behind a mountain of potatoes. Vandas ladled out the goulash, full house today. In all about six alleged owners turned up wanting compensation for the dogs. In their greedy eulogies the dogs became the most noble of creatures, masters of the canine race, superdogs as amazing as people. Broccula’d go for at least twenny thou, he was an Irish setter! hollered a lush. What a man, what a gladiator, killed two pure-blood bidgets, they attacked him, I saw it, said someone who liked the goulash. Vandas ignored them. His hand was bandaged. Had a plastic bag slipped over it, I guess to keep from splattering the gauze. He didn’t trust anyone else with that goulash.
I saw Černá wrap it for him. He held still, a dense sweat standing out on his forehead. She washed out the wound.
Learned that at St. Francis, huh? I inquired.
I just know it. She tossed a potato in the pot and reached for another.
What’s that cha got, Vlasta leaned toward me. Is that silver?
Lay off, don’t touch.
Why so brusque, young sir?
Calm down, Černá told me.
Got another scraper?
No.
I’ll go grab a knife an help you guys.
How kind of you. But the knives’re here in the tent.
Aright, I’ll be back in a while.
But I wasn’t. I kicked around in the dust somewhere, drinking shots and amusing myself by taking off my cap and scratching around in my crewcut, or whatever it was.
Next morning I couldn’t get up. My mouth was parched, my tongue was heavy and ached. Every bone in my body was sore. There was a buzzing in my head, one minute I had the chills, the next hot flashes. I was in the bus alone. Then Pepek showed up, I could tell it was him, he kicked me in the ribs. Get the hell out, less you’re interested in Vlasta, heh-heh. I tried to say something but couldn’t move my tongue. Then a rush of black water came over me.
Little brother, get up, stand up …
I could hear her voice … talk to me, I said … the voice was like a waterfall, scattering into vapor before it could reach me, Černá’s voice, it sounded like. I was being carried, taken somewhere.
Then I opened my eyes, I was lying in Vandas’s tent behind some crates. They smelled of wood. I opened my eyes and there was a face, soft, the guy had glasses.
Well, it’s about time, this’ll put him back on his feet. That’s no typhus, miss. Tongue like that … who knows what it’s from. But he ought to get to a hospital.
Then I was looking at feet, from under the canvas I saw feet wearing clodhoppers, black shoes, age-old Masaryk half-boots, shoes flapping open like shark jaws, slipshod things with studs poking out, threads trailing off, newspaper flopping out, scuffed and muddy, sand stuck to the mud like talc on a wound, I saw snazzy moccasins and slippers with the head of Pifík the dog, flip-flops, sneakers, lots of sandals, some with rope for straps, and I saw white shoes too, and with all the dust it looked like bare ankles shuffling past on dirty white clumps, I saw bare feet too, those were children, and even waders, despite the heat, and combat boots and shabby yellow slip-ons, and all those feet were going somewhere, crossing paths and kicking up dust, I coughed and coughed, I couldn’t move … and I couldn’t get through them … and then I heard next to me … hold still, you slut, and pay, say it … say it now or I’ll give you an exam that’ll make you shit your panties … hold still, you little slut … and move it, my time doesn’t come for free, say it … say you’re a slut … it was strange, even with my eyes glued shut I still had those feet under my eyelids, the shoes in the dust and those sounds of sex … maybe I’m on the bus … when I opened my eyes again, it was dark, I could smell the wax in the tent canvas … and next to me lay Černá, asleep … from the other side of the crates I heard conversation, people playing cards, they had an oil lamp, I felt better … tried to stand, stumbled, grabbed hold of the crates, but it worked … I walked outside, slowly … relieved myself. Guess I had a fever still. I felt light. It was nice.
Černá … breathing deeply, fists clenched, usually, being a light sleeper like me, she woke as soon as I touched her. I stroked her hair, letting it slip through my fingers, there’re the gray ones, no, they’re silver. I noticed my nails were long. Černá, I breathed, moving down to her feet, my strength was coming back, I had an urge to stroke her … but no, that wouldn’t be right, not when she’s sleepin so soundly … she had different shoes on, must’ve hocked her rockers … some dull little things with fringe … wouldn’t occur to her in a million years to wear somethin like that in Prague … I took them off, she didn’t stir, her fingers were covered with band-aids and … she, who was always washing herself … but she didn’t know I was the guy in her dream! her feet were dirty … I kissed her thumb slowly, then the nail, cracked traces of polish, she twitched her leg and sighed … like some kina little kid.
Vandas let me stay in the tent behind the crates and Černá brought me water and pills. I didn’t eat much. A couple times I had half a mind … but the thought of booze now gave me bad forebodings.
I was stunned when she told me I’d been unconscious three days. Then some doctor, she said, gave me a shot, some guy Vandas knew.
Let’s not talk about it, said Černá, but if it’d gone on any longer you woulda had to go to the hospital. You’re still weak now, but you know we can’t stay here.
Černá, there’s still a possibility. I know people. You can head back to Prague on your own an find my buddy Micka. He’ll give you cash. An there’s other people too, maybe a phone call’d do the trick.
Listen, friend … what you don’t get is if I leave, whether they let me go or I just split, Vandas wouldn’t let you stay an hour. An he might … get mad. You know what I mean.
Aha. Yeah.
We’ll wait till you’re better. It’s all we can do.
Hm.
The doctor came one more time. The guy with the soft face and glasses. He refused to make any calls or take a letter to the post office, said he didn’t have time. Gave me a shot of penicillin or whatever. Didn’t even want any money. He was pretty nice.
And on my first day as a convalescent I stomped through the sand, delighting in my slow motion … strolling around … then I stood in front of the bus with the plywood sign and Černá went up the Massage Parlor steps with the weary stride of a different woman. She turned around when I said her name, and her face … I’d never seen her like that. It took a while, but then she laughed, the delicate grace returned to her face … and she said: You’re on your feet. What’s up?
Whatcha doin in there. Cleanin?
But I already knew, she never wore makeup like that. Some of the girls in Berlun looked like that, all done up so you couldn’t see much. Some clients liked it, they said. You donno who’s who. You just get off.
Černá, uh-uh, get down here.
What … you’re tellin me? Whadda you know, don’t order me around! An besides, there’s people here.
A couple of characters stood there. All guys, ugly fuckers.
Černá! C’mon, you might, I mean you might have a kid an I’ll leave!
You! Ramblin on again … an what’re you babblin about kids … you? She stomped up a step but then turned back to me.
Get down here! Now!
Don’t yell at me!
One of the bystanders said something. Somebody spit and laughed. Someone said: Get in line. I stood in front of him. Waving my hands around, saying something. He stepped around me. The door clapped shut, she was inside. And the guy moved, walked up the stairs, went in.
I heard an odd noise, I was scared it was just in my brain.
But no, Pepek sat at the wheel, leering at me and honking: toot toot. Doing it with his mouth too. He waved to me and then joined his hands in a gesture. Somebody grabbed my shoulder and the faces went blurry. Up above was the sun. It all fused.
I walked through clumps of dirt. A field. Barbwire, with sheep on the other side. I started toward them, but the voices made me stop.
Do we kill him?
You want to? He’s unconscious though.
Let’s wait till he gets closer then.
It was the Shadows. But this time I saw them. Only very vaguely, one second they were ravens, the next they were bodies in outline, moving through space, two of them … I pretended not to notice … yanking wire off the fence and coiling it as if I’d been hired to … they came from the left, silently … I knew who the Shadows were … and I knew I couldn’t look, holding the wire in my hand, I tread cautiously, and a new song played inside my head … one no one had ever heard yet … about old things that I knew.
All right. Here we are. Are you going to say anything?
There’s no point. Ready to pounce?
Yes.
At that I made my move, horror gave me strength, and I grabbed them without looking, eyes shut tight, they thrashed around but their hearts were small, each of them fit in the palm of my hand. They died, hissing like snakes, now at a loss for words. I strung the beaks and claws on the wire. I wanted to give thanks for the victory, but was afraid what it would bring. I took the wire with the remains and wrapped it around my neck, it hurt, so I tore some bark off a tree. I wore a scarf of bark, rough and fragrant. I went through a forest of crooked trees, I was going home. I don’t know how long. I steered clear of a village and slept in a haystack. I wanted to walk at night too, but the moon didn’t shine. I fell and stumbled. Then I stayed on the ground, and in my mind I saw pictures of me with Sister. The two of us, tangled and naked, and not moving. Not a breath, not a hair moved, nothing. Sometimes my eyes got tired and the picture would crack. But then I figured out that if I moved my eyelids a few times fast, the color was restored and our skin was whole again. When the moon appeared, I walked all night and again I heard that song … the one I had inside me when I tore the stuff off the Shadows and put it on the wire:
I heard a voice
I saw machines
there were ravens there.
Two black birds with whore-licked feathers
hissing whore spit
dripping on the hard earth I tore off the wire
and killed them claws and beaks and wire
became a necklace.
The sun shone
but it was a winter of war. I had my own religion.
People were fodder for death, I held it in my hands
and stroked it. And I was afraid.
Monsters were born in blood.
Blotches grew in the soil.
Water washed over the dirt and the bones.
I came to a city and found the place
my love was there
with a white dress on
laughing
and she was dead.
I sang it and I said it. It was a lot of words. Sometimes I changed them. At daybreak I was stopped by a dog. A little white puppy sat on the slope as if trying to block the way down. My head stopped buzzing with words and I tried to speak to him kindly. He backed away. Then I saw a fire, someone was sitting there. As I made my way downhill, the puppy romped around me but didn’t bark even once. The person at the bottom stood. Behind me I heard a rumbling, the earth began to shake. It was like she was drawing near.
Silver
Back at the outset of it all, he bent down over me as I slept and, parting my ribs, took one, then removed my heart from the cage of my body and gave it to her; at least part of it. She left me in the room with the mirror, every path was in there too. And when I looked, bending over the shiny surface, I saw her face. Now I’m counting the shards.
20
COWS. THAT TIME IN BERLUN.
I got used to it there. And soon I knew when to run up to keep the herd from droppin off. I was alone. There on the hillside my lonely path began. It was beautiful on the hillside. Suka and Shorty herded the cows.
When you came walkin up an collapsed, I didn’t know, said The One Who Herds. From the pistol I figured you for a deserter, or some gangster. Where’d you get that Chezetta? Me, I always liked the Parabella an the Beretta, specially the names. Magnum, now that’s intense! That sucker can blow!
Tomas is the first thing I remember about my new home. The look of him. Had me stumped, the herdsman. Lying there in his shack, I’d see him through the cracks in the wall, walking back and forth, poking around the fire. He looked familiar. And also: The first day I felt better, he brought milk; crouched down at the doormat, I did too; set the mug on the ground, I mimicked him, empty-handed; sat down, me too.
What’re you doing? he said, confused. I repeated his words back at him. Then I told him I must have a fever still, I’d thought he was me. Or maybe it was just that aping him helped me clamber back into life.
You look familiar, he said.
So do you.
You’re lucky you came this way, next valley over’s old Varhola, good luck tryin to understand him. Yeh, feels good to talk normal again. Now where do I know you from, way you talk I’d say the Pearl … Galactic maybe, I useta sweep up there … or Černá’s, useta play there sometimes.
Oh, now I know, I said. You had that crazy act with the wires, you’re that singer … the Blue Negroes.
Yeh. Yes sir. That’s ages ago. Then there was that what’s-her-name.
Yeah.
I had to get away. Least for a while. All I got here’s the radio. An that day you came … I had kind of a hunch. Russkies pulled a raid over the hills there in Kysucní. Lookin for deserters. Shot some girl but that was it. Tea?
No thanks.
I still had an image of her inside me, but something had happened. Sometimes I told myself I’d just … get healthy … and then head back to the market and find her. But. I couldn’t bring myself to picture it, I didn’t want to. The massage parlor. What she was doing. How long she’d been doing it. It was too much. It was shattered. Sometimes I had a terrible longing for Černá, sometimes my thoughts of her were like glass. But if what Tomáš had heard on the radio … then it didn’t matter anyway. And maybe, it occurred to me … maybe I’d wanted it to happen to her.
