Gyorgy Dragoman - The White King

Mother also insisted that on these occasions I had to dress up, that no matter how hot it was, I couldn't go in plain shorts and a T-shirt, I had to get on those scratchy wool trousers she made from one of father's suits, plus a white shirt and a knit sweater and my Young Pioneers cravat, luckily I'd just grown out of those disgusting high-legged patent-leather shoes, so it was only my boots I had to shine, and I was done too when of course Mother then told me to comb my hair, but at least she didn't mat my hair down with a wet hand like the other times, and then she looked me over one more time, adjusted my cravat so it would be right in the middle, pecked me on the cheeks, and I was free to go.

Sure enough, there was that black car out front as soon as I stepped outside our apartment block, my grandfather was never late, he was always telling me that punctuality was extremely important, and as soon as he saw me he smiled, but he didn't get out of the car this time, no, he just reached back and lifted up the latch on the rear door, so I even had to open the door, but this time when I sat down inside he said, "Hey there," which really surprised me because he never said that sort of thing, he was much more formal, but as usual I said right away, "I kiss your hand, Comrade Secretary," and my grandfather nodded and started the car, and we hadn't even turned out of Long Street when he spoke again, he told me how big I'd grown since the last time he saw me, pretty soon I'd be a regular grownup, not that I knew what to say to that, only when we reached the church everyone just called Small Church did it occur to me that I should have said, "And you don't look a day older, Comrade Secretary," but by then it was too late, so instead I kept quiet, I could just barely see my grandfather's mouth in the rearview mirror, there was a little wound above his lips on one side, he must have cut himself while shaving, and it must have hurt because he licked it more than once, and through the whole ride I kept looking at his mouth because I wanted to know beforehand when he was about to say something, but my grandfather kept quiet for a long time, but when I saw him break into a grin I noticed that his mouth was exactly like Father's, and I almost told him so too, but luckily I remembered in time that I wasn't allowed to mention Father at all, and so I cupped my hand quickly over my mouth as if I'd only yawned, and then my grandfather spoke again, he said he could tell I was uneasy about talking to him the way I used to, it seemed I'd grown up, addressing him in formal terms didn't come naturally to me anymore, but I shouldn't let it get to me because before long we'd have ourselves a toast to celebrate finally being on friendly, grown-up terms. Well, that surprised me even more, and when he asked me if that would be all right, I said, "Quite all right, Comrade Secretary," but my grandfather didn't say a thing, he just frowned and shook his head. Meanwhile we drove through the main square and turned onto Heroes' Avenue, which was lined with great big trees, and finally we reached the side street where my grandparents lived.

After stopping in front of my grandparents' house we got out, and after locking the car my grandfather shook my hand, but this time he didn't say how glad he was I'd come, he only leaned down and gave me a peck on each cheek, so I got that face cream of his all over myself again, and when he stepped to the door to open it I wiped my face with my shirtsleeve as best I could, but that disgusting lavender smell was still really strong.

There was always a big mess in the yard, before the Party gave the house to my grandparents some sculptor lived there who used the garage as a studio, and a couple of half-finished statues were still there in the yard along with these big white dismantled sculpture molds, you always had to step around the stuff, some of it was completely overgrown with ivy, and as we went toward the door, something moved back in the yard, I saw it only out of the corner of my eye, but I turned my head right away in that direction, all I saw was a flickering shadow, my grandfather also looked over there and he saw it too, that's for sure, because I heard him say under his breath, "Those fucking cats, they shit all over the grass."

We then went into the kitchen, where my grandfather pulled out a chair and told me to sit down, he said he'd go get some pastry and that it would be best to also do that toast right away, and he went into the pantry and brought out two glasses, a decanter, and a plate full of walnut crescents, and he put the plate and one of the glasses in front of me and said, "Don't be shy, go ahead, take some," and he took a walnut crescent and began chewing, and meanwhile he uncorked the decanter and poured himself a glass of red wine, and I also took a walnut crescent, but it wasn't at all as usual, it was a lot harder, I could hardly chew it all the way, sure, it was sweet, but it had a sort of stale taste as if it had been sitting around in the pantry a long time, and I was still eating it when my grandfather filled my glass too, all the way up, I wanted to tell him I'd never had wine before and that I didn't even think I was allowed to have any, but my grandfather had already picked up his glass and was holding it in a way that told me he was just waiting for me, and so I picked up my own glass, and then my grandfather said, "Hey there," and he clinked his glass against mine, but I didn't say a thing because I didn't know what you're supposed to say, and then my grandfather told me that this wouldn't do, and he told me to say "Hey there" too, and again he clinked his glass against mine, and he repeated it, but this time I said it back, and then my grandfather said, "Bottom's up," and he drank his whole glass of wine in one gulp, so I too lifted my glass to my mouth and began to drink, I thought the wine would be bitter and would burn my throat, but it didn't, it was just really sour and it tasted a little like beef, but it wasn't bitter, and so I was able to drink it after all, and when I put down my glass it didn't have a drop of wine in it either, and my grandfather smiled at me and said, "All right, from now on we're chums, happy name day," and then he asked me if I knew what my gift would be, and I too wished him a happy name day and said, "No, I don't know," and meanwhile I took another walnut crescent and bit into it carefully, figuring it might not be as stale, but sure enough it was, and so I ate it really slowly, and then my grandfather said he knew that my mother didn't like him and my grandmother, and he also knew how bad it was for me not being able to take home my gifts, so this year I'd be getting something I wouldn't even have to take with me, and did I want to guess what it was, but I said, "I don't like guessing games, I prefer real surprises."

My grandfather then said, "All right, if you don't want to, you don't have to guess," and he nodded toward the inside room and told me to go in and say hi to my grandmother, and in the meantime he'd get my gift ready, but I should be careful not to tire out my grandmother because she wasn't feeling well, and I wanted to ask him what was wrong with her, but my grandfather just waved his hand toward the door of the inside room and said, "Go ahead now, we'll talk more after."

The inside room was pretty light even though the see-through drapes were drawn shut, and the table was covered with flowers, white hyacinths and lilacs in crystal vases, the flower smell was really thick, and there was my grandmother, lying in bed, her long blond hair hanging off the pillow, one of her legs stretched out from under the blanket, and I saw her toenails were painted red.

When I shut the door from behind me, my grandmother woke up and looked straight at me, and I greeted her as usual, "I kiss your hand, Grandmother," and she just asked, "You don't say, is it you?" as if she didn't even recognize me, but then she said right away, "Come over here, my little grandson," and then she really did reach her hand out toward me, she held her arm so straight that only the back of her hand was hanging down, like in the movies when ladies hold out their hand for a kiss, and I didn't know what to do, so I went over and with my right hand I took her hand, like I'd seen in the movies, and when I leaned down toward her I thought, now she'll yank away her hand for sure, but then she didn't yank it away, so I didn't have a choice, I really had to give it a kiss, and then my grandmother gave me another smile and waved a hand toward the armchair by the bed. "Sit down," she said, and she told me she could see I'd become a real grown-up gentleman, so I sat down, I stared at the embroidered wall hanging above my grandmother's bed and the jeweled rings on her hand, and she said that unfortunately she wasn't feeling well nowadays, that this agonizing headache had kept her in bed for a while already, and then she asked me how school was going, and I said fine, and meanwhile I noticed that down by the roots her hair wasn't blond after all, but a grayish brown, and then Grandmother said she was glad I was a good student because at least I, for one, wouldn't bring shame on my grandfather, and then with her ring finger she pointed toward the glass pitcher on the table by the vases, and she asked me to pour her a glass of water, and I said, "Yes, ma'am," and I stood up and brought over the water.