City, Sister, Silver, page 63
An Morales was right … that’s how it goes, that’s the way it is, it’s cruel, I know … came to me out of Vohřecký … an I got it, an that’s how I was from then on, even after they killed him … I don’t regret a thing that happened. Just those people over there … some of em suffered a lot, we had to do it … an as long as I’m here, God … here … then it’s true … even this is true …
Hi, Potok. Said the figure in black, couldn’t see the face, but the voice I recognized an felt joy.
I knew I’d run into you, we never did get a chance to talk …
Not about that, said Bohler.
I was ashamed the whole time.
An I hated you, he said.
I really like her, the little one too.
You of all people. Maybe it’s good. But you better not hurt her.
We’ve got a contract.
Baloney, with a girl, what contract? Either you’re with her or you’re not.
I kept my mouth shut. Just like that time. When they pulled that trick with the soap on him. Some dumb young con in the showers, soap in his eyes, bends over to wash himself, two guys grab him, an the third rams it in. An when they broke somebody that way, they’d usually toss him around a pretty long time. As long as they felt like it.
Didn’t happen to me. I had practice in speech from all sortsa environments … an soon me an the German shepherds were conversin, me an the dylinas, somehow it worked, soon I had it all scoped out, even the corners, an then the mop an bucket was child’s play, I knew my way around, all those boiler rooms an warehouses an factories from before, in my youth, that did the trick, it’s always the same … but Bohler, straight outta seminary, with his vocabulary an those ministrant moves of his … they ate that shit up … an what was I sposta do? Get myself beat up, killed? Those guys were psychopaths … we were just psychopaths of freedom … foolish kids among cannibals … I stood by the wall, shower running, and they brutalized him. Maybe I should’ve scalded them with the water or whatever … but then it woulda been my turn … wet wedding, they called it, initiation, cable installation, kaolin mine, the old prisoners had lotsa names for it … it wasn’t a question of just one fight, the thing was you hadda hang on there … I didn’t know … maybe years, an I wanted to survive. One joker called it the shower of happiness … monsters. For them it was normal.
Bohler lost his mind. Didn’t speak for weeks. It was too much. We were in a cell together, us an some greengrocers, an one night I say to him … who gives a shit, right … he wasn’t asleep, and declared in his new tongue … I do, he laughed, sperm up the ass, stuff 11 shit right out … but what gets me is the others, the rest of em … what, those guys that did it to you? Nah, the other ones. And he changed.
You pissed me off pretty bad, Potok, later on too, in the buildings.
I didn’t know. Where are we?
Guess. An watch.
Outside the windows, the field, soggy and swampy on the other side of the wires, drew closer all of a sudden … there were women, a procession, they were marching … walking through the muck, moving their feet, but in place … I saw them, in rags, scarves, it was raining on them … on their naked arms I saw goose bumps … I looked into their faces, horrified that maybe … they were barefoot, I saw their battered, bloodied feet … some didn’t have nails anymore … I had no body in that place, but I shuddered, my mind a blank as my eyes drifted over the women’s faces, terrified I’d see her … I had a clue now where we were … those’re Chatterers, with too-sharp teeth, a voice said … an Sadies that tortured, that’s how they made their lives … an Shells that suffocated inside, an whores … an poisoners, an Lacties that killed their own kids … an they all hafta do it over an over, do it till they get it, an this is just a stroll in the park, a rest stop … Bohler, my guide to purgatory, told me, the men’re here in the barracks, they can’t move an they can’t get at each other, not here … here they’re separate … and then one of em, her scarf slipped off her raven-black hair … why’re you here, dear, feet still hurt? if it’s you, then I’ll lie down in the muck an you can walk over me, go ahead …
Yep, said Bohler. Exactly. I heard you. Be glad. You’re lucky. Some it takes a while. An I’ve got nothin against you anymore.
I never had anything against you. I was just ashamed. Bohler?
What?
An if you’re here … I mean you fought!
Yeah.
An if you’re here, you saw his face … tell me.
What?
Why?
Why what?
Why everything. Why is it?
It’s by design, Potok. Well … at least I think.
An … that’s sposta reassure me?
You gotta trust a little.
But I wanna go back, I want her.
Potok … how do you know … you won’t do to her, you know what you did.
I can’t, Bohler … not anymore. It won’t happen. I trust … myself.
There, you see. It’s the same.
And Bohler got up, tore off his burlap. We were still inside the barracks, but I couldn’t see the others that he’d shown me anymore. His face was all puffy, my drowned buddy. And I saw his wild animal too, the one he’d had tattooed on. They hadn’t taken that away. A clear-sighted eagle, spreading its wings. But that’s not what he wanted to show me. He watched me through unmoving eyes. Like they were made of glass. All at once I had a body, and leaned toward him.
His eyes didn’t move.
Bohler!
Yep. I’m blind. Blinded. An you’ll meet her, don’t worry.
I was woken by someone kicking on the door, it was Kasim. He helped me get up. We’d run out of steam. Didn’t talk much.
After that I walked around, daydreaming and pondering. Quite likely the Vatican’s seasoned lawyers would’ve mocked me, or even worse. After all … I’d confessed to a murderer, an a dead one to boot. Yep, I can only nod my head an say: That’s the way it is. I don’t say it in my defense. I don’t want to defend myself anymore.
I didn’t tell Lao about the encounter. With all my activities, there wasn’t much time for it either. I was busy playing Popeye the Sailor in an ad.
I was all spiffed up for it too, I left the costume on, thinking, this’ll flood the rear admirals … but then … in front of the studios. In a gray Daimler. Just ran my eye over it, took a couple steps and went back, following my heart … she was starting the engine … hat on her head, veil across her face, tulle … gripping the wheel with both hands, in muslin up to her shoulders … you’re leaving, I said to myself, more like the words fell into me from nowhere … I guess you know why you’re leaving me, the woman drove the car away … on the seat next to her … maybe it was a pistol. Maybe she wanted me to see. I don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t her but just some wacked-out actress, there were throngs of em paradin around, I reassured myself. Pointlessly.
At Skyscraper 33, finally a metamorphosis took place … Popeye … swaggered in there in my frayed striped T-shirt, flashin my earring an puffin my pipe, the submachine gunners reined in the dogs an the doormen opened the doors, bidding me on with a bow … into the chambers and rooms, at the elevator a young lady took charge of me … Mister Octopedes the shipbuilder, traveled mouth to mouth down the hall, I nodded, belching smoke so they couldn’t see my grin … we rode all the way up. Another young lady opened a set of armored doors … in an expansive study behind a desk under a fan sat Micka.
Bowing, he came forward, then sped up and slowed down and stood still, opened his mouth and shut it again … me swayin an puffin … he turned to the window and said: Took you long enough.
I just said, sheesh, or somethin like that … then we sat there in leather club chairs, legs crossed nonchalantly, sipping drinks and getting into the groove, we yammered … our throats, I admit, at first somewhat constricted, opened wide to spew again … and after a good while talking and relating our travels, Micka laughed and said: You musta been snow-blind back in those woods, cause Vohřecký … that’s unreal, but I had it taped an I got the cassette! … he’s head of the Unshod now, gives sermons in a tent up on Letná Plain … I tipped over, along with the chair, but we let it go and went on talking, primarily about Bohler, I asked about Sharky … an from the way Micka tugged at his brilliant trousers, wriggled inside his impeccable jacket, an examined his tiger-stripe tie with the masterful knot, it hit me … yeah, said Micka, he’s on the missing list, Palestinians got him, they say, a rock, some scamps. But I got contacts, I hope that’s obvious … an it’s not all that clear! Hey … think about it … he was on guard with another guy, an you know what Sharky’s like, maybe the army pissed him off … keep a pretty short leash on those Israeli troops, I hear, what with the Arabs pitchin bricks an molotovs all the time, on account a world public opinion … or the other way round … rubber bullets only, yep, anyway, they were on patrol, Gaza Strip, two rookies, an you remember Sharky … you bet it pissed him off, lettin himself get suckered in! … havin to salute … or maybe the other guy nudged him wrong, provoked him somehow, had better smokes … an Sharky, you knew him, the way he is … stabbed him, switched uniforms, traded IDs, maybe mashed up the other guy’s face a little with a rock or his rifle butt … an hopped the wires … an split … yep, joined up with the Arabs an …
Whoa, Micka, hold your horses.
My pseudodroog winked at me … that’s how I woulda done it, I mean … before … you know that one, over the fence an gone! But you know what I’m sayin … there’s various possibilities, various paths, I just don’t believe he’s done for! More likely he’s off somewhere organizin some gorilla resistance, or …
Well, hey, more likely he’s done for.
Probly, yeah, but there’s …
I know.
I know you know. I’m not settin a trap for you here, not pullin any riddles, old brother, but Sharky …
The two of us remained in silent meditation.
The same followed after my report on David.
Only then Micka tossed some … photos on the desk. A guy in a white frock down to his knees, with a long shepherd’s pipe and a hat on, his face, from the sun I guess, blurred … but in the background, that rock … it stuck in my head.
Well, fill er up, fill er up, Micka said.
When’s this from, I asked.
Hm … Micka scratched his forehead … I donno actually.
Uh-huh.
Forget it, let’s get to the crux of the matter, said Micka, puffing the diamonds on his fingers. What’re you doin?
I didn’t mention Sister. Just the studios.
Puhleeze … what for?
That I didn’t tell him.
By the way, Potok, that was a good gag with that Octopedes thing … if you’re interested …
Heh?
Well, said the byznysman, you went to school with a certain Spelner, if I recall the old list.
Yeah, kinuva pussyfoot.
Well that quiet little boy is now chair of the National Assembly. An Fiala, back in our times he was head of the Chamber of Commerce, but nowadays he covers the full spectrum of petroleum products, hey … an he’s the son-in-law of that MP Vašegis, a player, so if …
Micka.
Hm?
I’d rather not.
I thought so. Follow me.
He led me down a hallway … to the men’s room. Went to the sink, nodded, we bent our heads down, he turned on the water an the fan an the drier … I can’t hear a word! I hollered. He ran from stall to stall, flushin every one, hollerin at me … Helenka! … an whisperin frantically into my ear … that thing a yours with David, even if it wasn’t a dream, it doesn’t matter … Helenka! He hollered again, and … child … where? I hollered back … in a safe place, I understood … it’s taken care of, an the kid, the racket subsided … the kid, man, could be … there’s definite signs … for real? I forced out, and had to lean on the tiles … then that’d mean that everything, that all this, maybe after all it wasn’t … in vain … YES! said Micka, turning off the water and the machines, we strolled down the hallway … that’s fantastic, I shouted, hallelujah, so there’s hope that the child, that it might be the M. himself? An you’re keepin an eye on him? Rest assured, said Micka, matter of fact this building, this whole firm, an all the deals we got goin’re cause a him, but shhh! he pointed around the room in an obvious gesture.
But, Micka, I asked again, what does the possible and anticipated coming of the M. hafta do … with byznys?
What do you know what it might do … to oil prices for instance? An so on?
Aha.
And outside … the gray car again. Driving away. I shuddered, some kid asked me for an autograph, then burst out sobbing … not Potok, Mr. Popeye … I’d like to be sitting with her in that old coffeehouse with the mirrors, taking joy in our moment together … but the car had driven off.
And sometimes, sometimes you would come between us. I’d be kneeling in front of my girlfriend, clasped between her thighs, the two of us moving together, me stroking her breasts, circling my spread palms over her nipples, just the way she likes it, and we’d be rocking back and forth, and you would come between us. Suddenly you would be facing me, and not just your eyes, all of you, jealously lifting my hands off Lao and pressing them to your chest, you would be on top of her, her holding your waist, clinging to you with her lips and stroking you with her tongue, and we moved like a three-headed body, relaying tenderness to one another … me inside Lao, as far as I could be, and holding onto your hips, you would smile, Černá, as I kissed you, I could tell from your lips, feel you holding back a smile as we rocked back and forth, and we could hear each other, and it was beyond words, it was finally beyond words … and you know I don’t like to blaspheme unnecessarily … but there was grace in it. And it would always end with your eyes half shut, and you gasping out … only then, underneath you, Lao … would start to suffocate, gagging … with laughter … and you weren’t there. And something else happened.
That time … the rain drummed down on the roof of the shed, we stood there in that stuffy attic, Lao leaning her belly on me, sticking out already, me peering round at the shadows … her son playing around with ancient reject gadgets, twisting wire off or whatever, I was about to give him a moderate scolding, when Lao said: Bell … I thought maybe she’d bought a new phone, but then I heard it too … the wind was carrying the sound out of town in irregular gusts, it even caught Vojtěch’s attention, he came over to us, asked: What’s that … hey! he screamed at me as I stood, lapping up the sound. The bells! I told him … they’re ringin again … had to make him a drawing … and find it in a book … sometimes, when we’ve both got time and are in the mood, I teach him some of the old words, the ones I haven’t forgotten yet.
Now I knew you would come. In the attic, on your desk, I found a flower. It was a rose, the kind you like so much. Lying by the notes I’d left. I had one old box of soap, left over from my travels, ready on the edge of the tub, filled it up right away … it had been a while since I worked at the stand, but … and I heard quick steps and you opened the door and walked into the room. Černá. We were next to each other. All at once. You had your head next to mine and I hugged you.
Let’s not leave each other anymore.
Not anymore, you said.
And just then the doorbell rang. You jerked, I didn’t even ask … I could see in your eyes you didn’t know. The ringing wouldn’t let up. Whoever it was was holding his finger on the button. A little … just a little, I pushed you away an lifted my hands … but you took them, lightly, took my palms in yours, and laid them on your shoulders.
Let’s not open it, you said. Not anymore.
No. Not now.
Notes to City
19. German for “Hands up, Faster, swine, Look out, mines, Work will set you free [the slogan posted over the entrance to Auschwitz], Come fuck, my love.”
21. The Church of Our Lady Victorious, the first Baroque building in Prague; it houses the pražké Jezulatko, or Bambino di Praga, a wax effigy revered throughout the Catholic world and especially in South America.
22. Státni bezpečnost (State Security), Communist Czechoslovakia’s secret police.
23. German for “The Unknown,” as in “the unknown soldier.”
24. 1938 book by Bonn, who died in Terezín (see note for p. 63)
27. German for “I am a foreigner.”
34. With the disintegration of the Roman Empire, in the fifth century A.D. eastern tribes launched a series of raids into Central Europe. First came the Huns, followed by the Avars, who were then pushed out by Slavic tribes from east of the Carpathians.
36. A combination of Josef Stalin’s full name with the name of the main character of Jaroslav Hašek’s extremely popular humorous novel The Good Soldier Švejk (1923).
46. A play on My Sweet Little Village (1985), a film comedy about a village idiot, directed by Jiří Menzel and nominated for an Oscar. Libuše Šafránková was the female lead.
48. A statement released in January 1977 calling on the Communist government of Czechoslovakia to abide by the human rights provisions of the Helsinki Accords.
