Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

I chuckled into my stubble, expecting her to scream and start looking for me. But then … I didn’t like it by myself, not one bit. I dashed back out onto the road, not a sign of her … Černá! Come out!

Okay, you got me, you’re right, that’s the way it was, just like you told it … I dashed outta the woods, lowland, grass, hills … not a sign, she’d vanished … maybe … soared off into the air … I fell on the ground, no, just like She-Dog, no … I can’t be like this … I love her, maybe that’s why … no, I’m me and I know what I’m doin … maybe that’s why … I looked at my hands, killing hands … ran in a circle, calling her name, maybe she’d gone back into the woods and was wandering around there looking for me … I thought of the village behind us, the skeletons, not a good place … and then on the hill I saw a silhouette … she really must’ve flown, but maybe she’s talking to herself … thinking I’m somewhere behind her, or I ran off just for a sec … it has to be her, I scrabbled up the hill … she stood there immobile, guess she was pissed … I ran up to her and froze, it was a scarecrow made of straw, instead of a face it had a gourd with a carved mouth, hole for a nose, holes for eyes … a dummy on a pole cross, straw pokin out of an old jacket fulla holes … my legs buckled … Hey, what’re you doin up there? Cripes, wait for me! Černá shouted from the bottom of the hill. I was at her side before she could say goddamn.

Hey, she squinted, a scarecrow! Great, that means there’s people around, right? People … train station’s what I mean. Is that a field there? Hey, city boy, can you even tell rye from wheat?

She was a little puzzled why I was so ardendy and affectionately hugging and kissing her, but then again not that much … occasionally we expressed tenderness and fondness for each other, and if I forgot to mention that most of the way we held hands, I don’t know why.

It was corn. We stuffed ourselves.

Look, Černá, they’re like scalps! Tearing off the husks, I gathered them into a barbarous clump …

Ever had pickled corn, roasted or stewed or shucked? I’d make some if I had a pot. Back home sometimes the scarecrows had pots on their heads, not this one … my grandma’d say we’re in poor country …

Hm.

We skirted the field, the road led upward, back uphill, and there, at the very top, stood a tall, solitary tree … we made a beeline for it, raindrops came down … warm and balmy, and then the first lightning bolt shot through the sky … Wow, look, Černá, it’s gorgeous, that scar is smiling! … hurry, run, it’s unsafe to be out in the open … yeah, let’s take cover … flashes of light painted the sky, thunderclaps shook it … Sister laughed … I tore off my clothes and ran out in the rain … she sat under the tree, in spasms of laughter … I howled too, somehow I guess we were cleansing ourselves … I rolled in the grass, yelling and shrieking … Sister stripped too, pounced on me, we skidded down the slick hillside, squawking … light exploding overhead, thunder pounding mightily. She tried something out with her voice, and her purring and meowling grew into a cloud above our heads … soon her voice was whipping through the air like energy, maybe a little like radiation … I bellowed: Hah, you Bog you, take us both, you Murderer of Young, you Old Fuck … and I shouted: Why’re we here, Up yours, Maniac, and then it occurred to me that maybe maniac came from Manitou, and I kind of liked that idea … I tore up blades of grass, quietly, Sister crawling under my knees, it rained, drops lashing down like endless ropes, I chopped them in flight with the edge of my hand, dancing and skipping, and Sister tried to do a headstand, found an indentation, head in the ground, long white legs swaying, I caught on and held her … and then … a fireball hissed past my elbow, Sister fell, I had to let go, the pulsing orb shot through her legs as they swished to the ground, I was worried the tail had singed her ankles … the lightning ball shot all around us, I stood still, Sister lay there, watching … and then the thing began hopping around the plain, high in the air and back down to the ground, and vanished … Think it’ll come back, I asked, actually I shouted, over the rain … No, said Sister, now on her feet … we both had goose bumps, and just to be safe we hugged.

Under the tree, it was still friendly … not so much rain came through its dense leafage, we put on our clothes … the rain began to die off … the cornfield was somewhere below us, damn, should’ve ripped some up for reserves … but what about the other side, surely there must be a village … I think, though, my dearest, that tonight we’ll be outside again. It’s not that cold … maybe we can find a haystack or somethin … I don’t care, said Sister, I’m startin to like it, an besides … maybe, you know, after what happened … it’s not a bad thing if we’re not home right away. Think they’re after us? It’s always better to act like they’re after you, I recited to her the words of the teaching. You held my legs up real nice. So you weren’t cold last night? C’mon, I told ja … I slept with that girl … how could I be cold. An tonight I’m sleepin with you. Yeah you are. An I’m thinkin even, you always wanna go to the sea, hey … maybe it really would be better to take off. You think … cause of. It’s easily possible, though, that if the Viets found him they cleaned him up an everything is cool … or else … Drop it, please. You’re right, Černá, it’s like a dark cloud. It’s a lot better now though, huh. Yeah, oh yeah, I said. Got a smoke? How’re you for cash? I combed through my boots and all my pockets … I’d say two tickets to the Pearl an a couple drinks an meals, could be. You’re makin me hungry! All I have’s a couple thou too, got that smoke? Aright aright, here … she lit up. I watched the glowing ash. Shifted my vision slightly, and there they were … those unforgettable lashes, each and every one a living continuation of her soft eyelids’ tenderness, she moved them, gazing out into the landscape, emitting rapid searching looks … targeted flashes … I stretched out to hide any targets on me. I stretched out to touch. We were close. The storm was over.

It was totally dark when we came to the hut. The roof was made of sticks with waterproof fabric stretched over them. Inside, a hole lined with blankets. And there was a firepit.

Potatoes! Cried Sister. An a … whatchamacallit … a rutabaga!

I found a bottle. That was all there was. Remember, Sister … those deserters … but I was already building a fire. We’d better get lost, said Sister, but she was already opening the bottle … aright, we’ll stay an see where it lands us … making love in that hole, we had the feeling, which we shared with each other, that it must’ve been something like this back in the cave days … in all likelihood, I told Sister the anthropology, based on the drawings of the time … kneeling and from behind, cause with your back on the rocks, ick, my sis filled in with a grimace, the potatoes meanwhile burned. We put in a new batch.

We drank ourselves silly. My dear … stop me mercilessly if I start goin off again … but my heart … a couple times I sat down on a stump when you were walking ahead of me an we weren’t holding hands … an I took it out an I wanna tell you, my heart in spots is black an stabbed an burdened, maybe that’s why I’m always ravin on about the sea an the islands … I donno what that girl who held you last night told you … but my heart is heavy … an I oughta tell you that on my way … see, in the former time my heart …

You, said Černá, moving closer … always rattlin on about your heart … what about my feet … they hurt!