Ismail Kadare - The Concert

“‘I got married during the blockade,’“ she repeated, smiling. Would she herself get married during this second blockade? She turned towards a shop window so that no one would see her smiling to herself. She certainly liked doing as Silva did, even at the risk of seeming like a pale imitation of her friend. Anyhow, mightn’t anything happen during a blockade? Hadn’t Silva got married, while her late sister got divorced in order to marry Besnik Struga, and Struga himself, a person still shrouded in mystery for Linda, had broken off his engagement? She’d met Struga, Suva’s former brother-in-law, only once, by chance, in the corridor, when he’d come to the ministry to see Silva. But — perhaps because Linda had heard so much about him — he’d made a strong impression on her. Most of the people Silva knew were somehow out of the ordinary: her brother, the tank officer, who’d come to see her two days ago, looking distraught; Skënder Bermema, the writer, an old family friend who’d had a rather enigmatic relationship with Suva’s sister; and other cousins and acquaintances whom Linda had met or whose voices she’d heard when they’d called in at or rung up the office to speak to her friend. All were interesting; almost all had something in their lives — some phase, some act or some episode — that was connected with the Soviet blockade. Linda was growing more and more fascinated by that period, and by anyone who’d been directly involved in it.

And why shouldn’t I too get married during a blockade? she joked to herself as she made for the Makina Import building. Bet thee she’d have to find someone to marry. And furthermore, was this really a genuine blockade? By all accounts the other one had weighed down on everyone like lead: a period harsh in itself had been slashed through as by an icy abyss. But it was still hard to say how serious the present crisis might prove. You needed to be a code-cruncher to deduce anything from the articles in the press. But things might not turn out so badly as that: there mightn’t be a blockade at all. And detecting a tinge of regret in this thought, as if she could only get married if there was a blockade, she smiled at her own absurdity.

“If anyone suspected the idiotic notions that go through my mind!” she thought. It was a good thing Tirana was big enough for one to daydream as one walked along without bumping into people one knew. Then, paradoxically, she had a feeling someone was watching her. She turned, and thought she recognized a face. The man just nodded vaguely. Where have I seen that ravaged face before, she wondered. And then she remembered. It was in the cafeteria at the ministry.

Linda smiled at him. They both walked on a little way. Then he spoke.

“You’re Suva’s friend, aren’t you? We’ve met before, if you remember.”

“Yes, indeed!” Linda exclaimed. But he didn’t take the hand she’d half extended.

“How did that business about the X-ray turn out?” she asked, laughing.

But he remained serious.

“No developments,” he said. “Nothing.”

“Really?”

She gave him a sidelong look, and her own smile faded. If she’d met anyone else in the street like this, she would have walked on without more ado, but there was something about his downcast expression that made him seem different from other people.

“Perhaps things will sort themselves out faster than you think.”

Victor Hila shrugged, as if to say it was better not to talk about it. They’d been walking along together for some time now, and it seemed to make both of them uncomfortable. Linda had noticed before how disagreeable it is being overtaken in the street by someone you know, rather than just meeting them coming towards you and passing by. Although the man looked even gloomier than he had the other day at the ministry, she resolved to give him the slip at the next shop they came to. Then he, as if reading her thoughts, asked her point-blank:

“Are you in a hurry?”

“Yes,” said Linda, though she spoke rather uncertainly. “I'm on my way to see a friend.”

He looked at her closely for a moment.

“Would you mind if I asked you something?”

“Not at all,” answered Linda, staring straight ahead.

“Please don’t misunderstand me,” he said, “but I feel so depressed this afternoon that you really would be doing me a kindness if you’d have a drink with me.”

Linda stood still for a moment, hesitating. The man’s expectancy was almost tangible.

“All right,” she said, surprised at how faint her voice was.

“It’s very kind of you,’ he murmured. “Thanks.”

Linda didn’t know what to say. They went across a square to a little café. “But I was right to say I’d come,” she thought as they went in, “He really did look down in the dumps.”

There weren’t many other people in the café.

“What will you have?” he asked.

“A coffee, please,” said Linda.

They sat with their elbows on the table for a while without speaking.

“I’d been wandering around for an hour,” he said. “I'm really out of work now, you know. It wasn’t so bad the day I first met you — I’d been suspended, but I could still go to the factory, see my friends, turn my hand to something. But now, with the Chinese on the watch all the time, I can’t go anywhere near the factory. You can’t imagine what it’s like when those devils have got their eye on you.”

Linda felt she might risk a smile, Victor’s drawn face relaxed.

“I’m just a figure of fun,” he said. “Do you see what I mean? I’ve dropped out of time. In the past I might have been punished for what I did; in the future I might be praised. But in the present situation between our two countries, it’s neither one thing nor the other. That’s the worst of it, I’m suspended between two different periods of time. Which means! don’t belong to either. To any. Do you understand?”

“Perhaps that just makes you a man of today,” said Linda,

“Do you mean I’m typical of our own age?”

“Who can say?” replied Linda, smiling. “Perhaps. A hero of our time!”

Victor gazed at her for a while as if meditating a decision: should he or should he not forget his pain and smile with her? He had a vague feeling it was his sorrow that had made Linda interrupt what she was doing and come here with him, and that if he showed less of it she might feel no further moral obligation and go off with an easy conscience, her mission accomplished, leaving him alone again.

He hadn’t worked this out clearly: he just sensed that she’d come with him because she felt sorry for him, and would go away again as soon as she saw him feeling a bit better. But in fact, apart from the pleasure of sitting here in this charming girl’s company, he didn’t feel any relief whatsoever: on the contrary, Linda’s presence, by reminding him that life went on normally regardless of his distress, just made him feel further pangs. So it wasn’t a pose when he went on looking sad.

Linda’s smile faded first from her lips, thee from her cheeks, and then from her eyes, leaving her with a sense of guilt. She picked up her cup, only to realize at the last moment that it was empty.

“Some witticisms are very amusing to quote after the event,” said Victor, “bet sometimes they’re rather painful at the time.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,’’ replied Linda. “I sympathise with your trouble, and as a matter of fact…”

She’d been going to say, “that was why I agreed to come here.” But she didn’t finish, partly out of annoyance, partly perhaps because of some sort of inhibition.

“I wasn’t referring to you!” cried Victor. “The thought never entered my head! On the contrary, I’m very grateful to you for giving me your company on a day like this. It would be really boorish of me to bother about such trifles …”