Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

If I turn around, Death’ll be there, I knew it. But it was starting not to matter anymore. I was sweating like in an oven.

Hey … nother Bomb? the bartender yelled.

Yeah, I mumbled, and took a step and then another … and turned around, but no one was there. No one was there anymore.

What’s up? said the bartender as I leaned on the bar, exhausted.

Aw shit, shit, c’mon, man, he added, spotting a manly tear or two running through my stubble. Hey, maybe it’s the new booze …

gimme an Incest …

… it’s funny, people see important stuff sometimes …

fork over the Incest an can it …

… this ain’t some counselin center here …

The Bomb!

Quit sobbin then. It’s only nine.

I left him and sat down in the first free chair. Teeth perched on the edge of my glass, I gave a little hiccup, because I found myself looking straight into the hungry eyes of Padre Booze.

Good evening, son.

Good evening, father, I said.

He looked pleased. He wasn’t used to that form of address. They usually called him Pachanga.

Your tall boots, my son, may conceal the knife of a warrior, or mere filth, your uncut and unwashed hair may be a lion’s mane, or a golden fleece awaiting the first strong hand, your silver ornaments, dear son, may signify the confidence of a man, or the vanity of a fop, your tattoos may contain the hidden truth, but they may also be a snakeskin hiding a wicked heart, your scar may be testimony to the fight for justice, or a blow bestowed upon you … he started choking.

But he had me read. That was quite a feat.

What are you drinking, father? You’ll have to go and get it though.

Thank you, he said proudly, scraped up the money, and made for the bar.

I stretched my legs, finally some space … alone by the wall. In one leap I was at his side; startled, he clutched the money in his fist. No, not that, I reassured him, I’m just afraid to be alone, if you don’t mind … He gave me a look of surprise, nodded. The bartender slid him the menu, I grabbed it away.

Brandy, said Padre Booze. Brandy please.

You know Padre Bohler? I resumed the conversation back at the table.

O, the apostate, living with a sect of Bog-lovers, communing with a heathen … you know him, son? he stopped short.

Yes, I said. From hearsay. People in our congregation say he’s a good man … it had been a long time since I’d spoken the old tongue, but when it came to a priest, even if he was a mop, I made the effort … an that group, that they support each other, that they’re all right, father.

They are unfortunates who distort the Church’s teachings, they are mutants, beware them, son. And which congregation do you attend?

Uh, here, boss father, Praga five.

Then surely you know the reverend Father Dobiáš. Sort of tall, red hair?

I knew those tricks. No, father, I don’t anyone by that name.

Good, said Padre Booze happily, he doesn’t exist. Sorry for that little trap, son. It’s just that you don’t look …

Do you know Padre Konrád, father, my good pastor … kina short and cross-eyed …

Certainly, my son, he is the Lord’s faithful servant. We know each other somewhat.

Father, may I ask something …

Whatever you want, son. Whatever you want.

Why is Starry Bog such a bloody pig? Why is He always devouring us? Sometimes I get scared that I’ll go insane.

He just tipped his head.

And sometimes I fear that I already have, he said. It does not surprise me that you are also one of them … there are no rules anymore, that is why we have fear. He finished his drink.

Your church knows all the rules, but it doesn’t know a single human heart, I read that somewhere.

Let each man search his own heart, that is his freedom. In any event he shall only come to know it by following the rules, said Padre Booze.

Bo … that is, a friend a mine says some’re damned even before they die … in eternity, I mean, like, for it.

If one single … Padre Booze scanned the club, then returned his gaze to my face … if one single sinner in this room is damned, then I want to be damned with him. I suppose that’s blasphemy.

So you really believe in God?

If not, I would shed these … this vesture and go unload freight cars, maybe work in some office, or beg, it would make no difference, but I am a limb of the Church, and the Church watches over the rules, it bears witness …

C’mon, they wrote you off! You’re a lush!

I may be a miserable priest, but that is beyond my control, I cannot revoke it. I might also … kill myself, or kill you, son, and it would make no difference, nothing would exist anymore.

I guess that’s what Starry Bog wants, I smirked.

Shut up! Padre Booze tore into me. Shut up! Shut up! Write it on your floor, tattoo it onto your filthy skin, look at it whenever you get up in that hole of yours you call home!

What’s up? The bartender stood over us. Should I toss him?

No, I said. Bring us a brandy. You’ll have another, father, won’t you?

He nodded almost imperceptibly.

I trust you, came out of me. Come with me, you can live with us. It struck me suddenly … I had a feeling I wouldn’t be so scared with Padre Booze around, I don’t know why, after all he was worse off than me.

No, I can’t.

Bohler is all right, he’s a … good person. I mean, c’mon, he’s just a helper, I sputtered.

It’s not him, you misunderstand me. How can I go with you … when there are still so many people who have never heard the Message, who know nothing. You at least live in a community.

Guess he means the News, I thought, maybe it’s the same thing. Where do you live?

I sleep here, or … around.

Do you live at the Dump?

There too, and the station.

You can’t keep that up long.

Sometimes I pray that it won’t last long. Which is of course a sin as well. You have a refuge, that’s a good thing, value it. Those tribes of yours, that’s been here before, and surely all shall begin anew. Therein lies hope.

There was something doglike about him. But I trusted him anyway … that he really meant it all.

I’m the only priest who takes confessions … from drunkards. He said it as if he were bragging.

An junkies?

Them too … sometimes.

That’s not allowed, is it?

No, but … he put that dog look on again … that rule I modified, otherwise these people would never … and perhaps, once I break one rule, the entire structure collapses? he added, eyes shining.

He’s drunk, I realized. I’m off, I said. I got up and went to the bar. Making sure I kept people around me all the way. The bartender eagerly rushed over when he saw me, I told him to bring the Padre a bottle.

Hadraba said you free, not the rest.

He’s not the rest, I’ll take a drink.

Then I thought of something and went back over to Booze.

Father, there’s these two churches I go by from time to time, an today they were closed an there was no one around I could ask. It’s some new thing.

So you don’t know, you poor devil.

What?

The Pope declared an interdiction. The bells haven’t rung for a week now.

Yeah, I don’t read the papers. But why would the Papa …?

It wasn’t in the papers. I do not dare to presume why … the Zones, the sects, us, what do I know. Of course in my position, he chuckled, in my position I am not reluctant to say it is cruel.

Yeah, it’s harsh.

Even the last sheep now have nowhere to go.

So let em change inta wolves, heh heh, the bartender unexpectedly inserted with a grin. One fine bottle a brandy for my dear pansies. Enjoy your meal, fellas, Spidey said.

Padre Booze quickly poured himself a glass, as if worried someone was going to take the bottle away.