Ferenc Karinthy - Metropole

She had practically filled the room with smoke by now but was clearly feeling a little calmer for having unburdened herself. But when she reached for another cigarette on the bedside table she upset the glass of water he had left there. She made a grab for it but the sudden movement resulted in her rolling off the bed and when Budai had to try to pull her back up they both ended up off the bed. The water was dripping on their necks. Bebe burst into a fit of giggles so infectious that he started laughing, the unstoppable laughter bursting from them. Soon they were both on top of each other, utterly breathless. Neither of them could stop for if one quietened down the other would start laughing again, setting them both off once more. They were tittering and rolling around so much, that having got into bed the girl almost fell out again, and what with one thing and another, desire overcame them.

There used to be an amusing booth at the funfair in Budai’s local park with a title something like Get Her Out of Bed! A fat, bosomy lady in a lacy nightgown lay between huge duvets and pillows. The player was given a rag ball and if he succeeded in hitting a certain target the bed tipped loudly over and the fat lady rolled off and turned a somersault to the great delight of the audience. Having once thought of this, he couldn’t forget it now. It was such a funny memory it made him feel much better about things. So of course he wanted to share it with Vedede too and almost despite himself began to tell her all about it. She cuddled up to him and listened, nodding and chuckling, making little noises of encouragement, and ended up laughing with him as loudly and as wholeheartedly as if she had understood every word.

Naturally encouraged, he started to explain how he had got here, how and why he had boarded the flight, how he had lost his luggage, how they took away his passport and all the rest. He added other things too, as and when they came to him, in no particular order: how he had had himself taken down to the police station, what he saw from the top of the big church, how he had narrowly missed a fellow Hungarian on the escalator. Then about things at home, about his dog, how clever the old dachshund was, how it would look for old paths in the snow so you could only see his nose and the tip of his tail in all that white like two dark moving dots. How he used to ski in the mountains of the Mátra or the Tátra, and how he preferred the less-explored routes, the gentle winding slopes of the mild, serpentine woodland paths where the silence was so dense, how it was all green and white and soft with fresh deer tracks in the snow. And how, when he reached the edge of the precipice, the depths would draw and suck him in with the ecstasy of leaping, the temptation of allowing himself to fall, skis and all, the intoxication of weightlessness, the loss of self-awareness in the drop…

She heard him through in sympathetic silence, drawing closer to him on the bed. Suddenly Budai stopped and raised his head.

‘You understand?’ he asked.

‘You understand,’ she answered.

‘You understand?’

‘You understand.’

‘No you don’t, you don’t understand!’

‘You understand,’ she repeated.

‘You’re lying, you don’t understand!’ he snapped back in growing irritation.

‘You understand.’

‘How could you understand? Why do you pretend you understand, when you don’t?’

‘Understand,’ Debebe obstinately insisted.

Budai seized her shoulders with a sudden fury and shook her, accusing her:

‘You haven’t understood a single word!’

‘Understand.’

‘Liar!’

‘Understand.’

‘Do you hear me?’

Shocked by his own violence, he felt his mind clouding over: he slapped Pepep on the jaw. But still she carried on muttering the same words.

‘Understand. Understand.’

He no longer knew what he was doing. He lost control. He tugged at her, pushed her, hit her, wherever he could, on her face, her neck, the back of her head, her breast. She did not defend herself, only raised her arms to shield her eyes and wept quietly in the darkness, barely audible. Her passivity only made him more furious. He thrashed about wildly, grabbed her hair, beat her with his fists again and again like a madman in utter confusion, forgetting everything and thinking only: she must pay for this, she must pay…

Then he suddenly collapsed, exhausted, panting, his heart loudly beating, utterly lost. He embraced her, pressed her, kissed her hands and pleaded shamefully, entreating her:

‘Forgive me! I am a fool! Don’t be angry, forgive me, I am not myself. I am a fool, a fool…’

Tchetchetche’s eyes were still full of tears, her face burning from the blows. Budai would have given anything to comfort her: he covered her with his body, stroked her, kissed her time and time again, kissed every part of her body, knelt down beside the bed laying his head in her lap, whispering in a choked voice, mumbling endearments. The woman’s skin was on fire, her hands dry and hot, as she reached down to him, stroked his hair, ran her fingers through it and drew him up towards her.

Ebebe gave herself to him completely this time: she was tender and attentive and did things for him she clearly never did for her husband. Now she could rise with him to a full climax. It was not so much the moment of pleasure that was important but that they were at one with each other, that there was nothing that was not them, time and space having melted away, leaving them the last people on earth. There were moments at the height of passion when Budai was tempted to ask whether everything that had happened to him so far was the price that had to be paid for this, and even if it was the price, whether it was not worth it?

And then, as if by way of epilogue, the lights came on, both the wall-fitting and the bedside table lamp. After such long darkness the light cut into their eyes: the woman blinked, turned away and leapt from the bed. Well, of course, if the electricity was back on the lift would be working again and she had to attend to it. She quickly dressed, lighting another cigarette as she did so. Budai continued to lie there, his hungry eyes following her every movement, watching as she drew on her underclothes and fixed the suspenders to her stocking-tops. By now he was so much in love with her that he could only stare transfixed, fearful yet happy in the recognition that he could not possibly live if he lost her.

He would have liked to give her something, at least to offer some token but there was nothing in the room except a little low-quality cold meat and the heel of a dry loaf on the windowsill. Pepet refused them, quickly adjusted her hair, applied some hasty lipstick, smoothed her blue uniform and was off. Using a mixture of words and signs, they arranged that she would come again tomorrow night at the same time. Then she was gone, having left her cigarette still glowing on the ashtray, the room thick with smoke, though Budai did not open the window, not then, nor later.

When he woke in the morning his first thought was to calculate the hours to their evening rendezvous. Wanting to make decent preparations this time, he ran down to the shops. He had some money since he had worked quite long hours at the market so he spent the entire morning queuing up in groceries. He bought cheese, cold meats and fish, boiled eggs, salad, fresh bread, butter and some sweet pastries, adding to this, since he had neither tea nor coffee to offer, two bottles of that ubiquitous sweetish alcoholic drink.

By the time he returned his room had been cleaned, tidied and aired. Even the bedding was changed. In other words it was Friday again. Another week had passed, the third since his arrival, though to him, naturally, it seemed much longer. Would there be another bill in his box at reception, a reminder that he hadn’t paid the last one? He still had a lot of time on his hands. It had been late, almost midnight, when Bebe had knocked at his door, though that was merely a guess since he had no clock. He was so impatient he found no rest anywhere, certainly not in his room, so he set out again with the excuse of looking for some kind of present to give her.