Jáchym Topol - City, Sister, Silver

I sat on the bed and gripped the steering wheel, Černá rode the skis like a queen, vrrrr, vrrrr, I wheeled it around, she caught hold and lay down on top of me.

An there’ll be clean air. Beaches, sand. An after you bury me … ha-hah.

She squealed, I cackled … only then … Aw no, Černá, honey, what is it … she pressed her face to the sheet, didn’t want me to see her, I guess to see her eyes … wet.

Oh no, what’d I do now? What’s wrong? What got into her? I didn’t get it. The highway. We couldn’t sleep. I watched each piece of asphalt go by, remembering every one. S o … tomorrow I’ll find out where that bungalow a theirs is. An then I guess the spooks’ll turn up.

All right, Smoothy, I made up my mind to give it a shot, when we get to the next stop I’ll say … So you’re working for Vohřecký and them, all I want to know is where’s your hideout, and I can guarantee …

Herro, a voice from behind us said, and there stood Hunter.

Ça va? I said with a kind smile. How much Czech does he know by now, I wondered …

Ça va, monsieur Potok.

So as not to waste time, Smoothy traded off with me at the wheel, all of a sudden he’d turned a bit tame. Occasionally he exchanged a word or two with Hunter, but otherwise he was strikingly reserved … Hunter warmly greeted the tank driver … and it was nice … two guys, half a world away from their tribe … greeting each other here on a highway near a motel, right beneath an ad for some idiocy, and in the sky a moon as bright as all the flashbulbs ever fired since that memorable day in the depths of the eons, back at the commencement of all creation … a few words, an ear-to-ear smile, a pat or two on the back, it took a while, then I noticed … Hunter was their boss, their war chief, they obeyed him, but not his words, his every movement, the slightest hint of a gesture.

Next morning I go to get some milk, the gentlemen tucked away in the car, at the edge of the village I stop and stare … donno that. It’s in Ukrainian, I ask some fella, he scowls, walks right past me. In the shop they all gawk … damn, shoulda worn different clothes, thought we were goin to a factory and that’d be it, they ladled the milk into pails … one of the women looked like my grandma before she came down with that whatchamacallit … they’re talkin … Russian, I guess, Christ, where am I? But the goods were Bohemian, or Czechoslovak, drugstore items, food and stuff, snacks, tidbits … stamps, what stamps? I froze. Fumbled for the wallet Smoothy’d given me … any Moor’d know his way around here better than me, I’m just in it for the mental exercise, for love and death, what an idiot I am, I thought … that guy bumped into me on purpose, better give him some room … I’d like to see the tank driver in here, wonder how many seconds he’d need to take these guys out … couple locals sittin on sacks of potatoes, guzzlin vodka, one of em collars me, plunks me down next to him: I want milk! I say. Aj tuna, guy shoves a triple shot of vodka in my face, yore a man, down it, don’t down it, yore a cunt! It was obvious what the guy … might do if I proved to be the latter … I downed the glass, it was awful, but the shop came to life again, the grannies tottered over to get a peek, I sat on the sack, waggin my head, have you got a telephone? Hej! Prague, please … oho, Prague! That set off an uproar, I hid my face behind my hands, but no, it was friendly, one of the grannies tugged at my hair, like I was some kina horse … the fella stuck a wooden platter under my nose, bacon fat on it bristling with fur … Take a bite! They were stuffin their faces. I took a piece, spotted a tomato on the shelf, leaped up, took a bite, wrong, a young hot pepper, another round of great laughter ensued, what would I think of next … I dictated the number to the saleslady, the shop owner … others kept wanderin in, I promised myself to cut my hair behind the next beech tree I saw, there were whole forests of beech out here … a buggy rolled up in front of the shop, a herd of pigs went dashin by … the guy that poured me the vodka started in on an ice cream bar, offered me a bite, someone slapped me on the back: You must be Havel’s son, at least that I understood … that’s Francek, he’s Czech, someone shouted, and up walks this bum … some dog skin or somethin over his shoulders … He starts huggin and kissin me, slobberin all over. Aparatka! I grab the phone … Černá! What, six in the? Sorry, I’m, no, I donno where I am … Francek tears the phone outta my hand: Not to worry, lass, we’re all out here in Ubla! All us out here’re Ruthenes. Me and yore lad, we were, what … scratches his ear and with a guilty look hands back the receiver … a stream of cuss words pourin out of it, no one but me could understand, I cut right in: I love you madly, no, I’m not at the train station, I’ll be back … I noticed the shop had fallen quiet, everyone had their ears pricked up, some a the grannies snuck in closer … No, Černá, I think our side a the border, I think Slovakia, yeah, I’m a little loopy, you too? I slept alone too … with Smoothy, I mean, damn that vodka … What? Somebody was tellin me somethin … Yeah, Černá, listen, I’m somewhere near Uzhgorod or somethin … Ušanica, they’re tellin me’s the nearest … Ubla … no, there’s no way a place could be called that … maybe I’m in Poland … what? For trams? Traps? Yeah, honey, you look out for yourself too … they’re starin at me like I’m from Mars … in about two days, maybe there’s an airport around, I’ll call just as soon as I know where I am. An sorry bout the other night … but anyway, when I’m done here … we’ll go to the sea … Bye. Aright, later!

A wave passes through the shop again, someone bursts in: Gypsies! Gypsies! They’re not our kind, they’re un-Ruthene! The owner drops under the counter, the men duck behind the sacks, and in walk Smoothy and Hunter … jaws plummet, I’m havin a heart attack … Smoothy walks up to the counter and lets loose: Greetings, fine people. Excuse me, but could we have some rolls and milk and coffee? Weal … veal? Voice shakin a little, he muffed it … Someone from behind the bags, Francek, says, they’re Czeshes, new Czeshes! Finally we picked out some food, canned sardines or whatever. Hunter remained aloof, even they could sense … he was a somebody. A boss.

We had to stay a while and get acquainted, they weren’t gonna let the chance pass by, foreigners like these … but they didn’t crowd around Hunter, the conversation was up to me, I just grinned stupidly, couldn’t refuse the vodkas, they might’ve been insulted … Smoothy got in the groove, yammerin on … a cry came from outside, in raced two cops, totally panicked … I bounded out the door and saw the tank driver next to some soggy old wall, wavin a bar around, a little ways off a police car was flipped over, six stick-swingers lyin on the ground … Whose is that? one of the badged men moaned, probly thought the tank driver was some kina animal … Hunter hissed at him … they took us in to the Diet, the whole village was gathered there, everyone from the shop testified to our immaculate behavior … Smoothy and I found the chief of police before they could start the proceedings … We’re sorry about the squabble and our mechanic clobbering your young men like that, he’s a maniac … I rambled … then Smoothy showed the chief our purchasing power, it worked as usual, and a little while later we were back on the road, the tank driver looked more cheerful.

This time Hunter drove while I sat in back choking, one minute with laughter, the next I guess from the bacon, and then, exhausted, I fell asleep.

One night we were playing chess when out of nowhere she said … she was only slowly coming to see who I was and why I’d latched onto her, but that it had probably been an act of love. Those were her words. Sometimes our language was scrambled because our sped-up idiom didn’t always work for talking about what we had together. Much of it was beyond language. The way the body speaks. She told me about people who’d wanted to get inside her and who she’d had to shove out of her way. She’d never had a tribe, but it’s rare that women do.