Milan Kundera - Farewell Waltz

The fortyish one was stunned: "What, you're going to have an abortion?"

Ruzena nodded.

"You've gone crazy!" the thin one exclaimed.

"He's twisted you around his little finger," said the fortyish one. "The minute you get rid of the child, he'll send you packing!"

"Why would he?"

"You want to bet?"

"Even if he loves me?"

"And how do you know he loves you?" said the fortyish one.

"He told me he does!"

"And why didn't you hear from him for two months?"

"He was afraid of love," said Ruzena.

"What?"

"How can I explain it to you? He was afraid of being in love with me."

"And that's why he gave no sign of life?"

"It was a test he set himself. He wanted to be sure he couldn't forget me. That's understandable, isn't it?"

"I see," said the fortyish one. "And when he found out he'd knocked you up, he suddenly realized he couldn't forget you."

"He said he's glad I'm pregnant. Not because of the child, but because I phoned him. It made him realize he loved me."

"My God, what an idiot you are!" the thin one exclaimed.

"I don't see why I'm an idiot."

"Because this child is the only thing you've got," said the fortyish one. "If you give up the child, you'll have nothing, and he'll spit on you."

"I want him to want me for my own sake and not for the child's sake!"

"Who do you think you are? Why would he want you for your own sake?"

They discussed the matter passionately for a long time. Her two colleagues went on repeating to Ruzena that the child was her only trump card and that she must not give it up.

"I'd never have an abortion, I can tell you that. Never, do you understand? Never," the thin one declared.

Ruzena suddenly felt like a little girl and said (they were the same words that, the day before, had restored Klima's desire to live): "So tell me what I should do!"

"Don't give in," said the fortyish one, and then she opened a drawer and took out a tube of tablets. "Here, take one! You're a nervous wreck. It'll calm you down."

Ruzena put the tablet in her mouth and swallowed it.

"Keep the tube. Three times a day, but take them only when you need to calm down. So you don't go

doing stupid things while you're agitated. Don't forget he's a slippery character. It's not his first time! But this time he won't get out of it so easily!"

Once more she didn't know what to do. A little while ago she had thought her mind was made up, but her colleagues' arguments seemed convincing, and once more she was upset. Torn by indecision, she went downstairs.

In the building's entrance hall, an excited, red-faced young man rushed toward her.

"I told you never to wait for me here," she said, looking at him rancorously. "And after what happened yesterday, I can't believe you've got the gall!"

"Please don't be angry!" the young man cried out in a tone of desperation.

"Shush!" she yelled. "And on top of it don't make a scene here too," and she turned to go.

"Don't go away like that if you don't want me to make a scene!"

There was nothing she could do. Patients were coming and going through the building lobby and staff people in white coats passing by. She didn't want to attract attention, and so she had to stay and try hard to look natural: "All right, what do you want?" she said in an undertone.

"Nothing. I only wanted you to forgive me. I'm really sorry about what I did. But please swear to me there's nothing between you and him."

"I already told you there's nothing between us."

"Then swear!"

"Don't be a child. I don't swear to stupid things like that."

"Because something's happened between you."

"I already said no. And if you don't believe me, we've got nothing more to talk about. He's just a friend. Don't I have the right to have friends? I respect him, I'm glad he's my friend."

"I understand. I don't blame you," said the young man.

"He's giving a concert here tomorrow. I hope you're not going to spy on me."

"I won't if you give me your word of honor there's nothing between you."

"I already told you I won't lower myself by giving my word of honor for things like that. But I give you my word of honor that if you spy on me once more, you'll never see me again as long as you live."

"Ruzena, it's because I love you," said the young man unhappily.

"Me too," Ruzena said curtly. "But I don't go making scenes on the highway for your sake."

"That's because you don't love me. You're ashamed of me."

"Don't talk nonsense!"

"You never want to go out with me, to be seen with me…

"Shush!" she repeated, since he had raised his voice. "My father would kill me. I already told you he keeps an eye on me. But now don't be angry, I really have to go."

The young man grabbed her arm: "Don't go yet."

Ruzena raised her eyes to the ceiling in desperation.

The young man said: "If we got married, everything would be different. Then he couldn't say anything. We'd have a child."

"I don't want to have a child," Ruzena said sharply. "I'd rather kill myself than have a child!"

"Why?"

"Because. I don't want a child."

"I love you, Ruzena," the young man said again.

And Ruzena responded: "And that's why you want to drive me to suicide, right?"

"Suicide?" he asked, surprised.

"Yes! Suicide!"

"Ruzena!" said the young man.

"You're going to drive me to it, all right! I guarantee you! You're definitely going to drive me to it!"

"Can I come see you this evening?" he asked humbly.

"No, not this evening," said Ruzena. Then, realizing she had to calm him, she added in a more conciliatory tone: "You can phone me here, Frantisek. But not before Monday." She turned to go.

"Wait," said the young man. "I brought you something. So that you'll forgive me," and he offered her a small package.

She took it and quickly went out into the street.

"Is Doctor Skreta really such an oddball or is he pretending?" Olga asked Jakub.

"I've been asking myself that ever since I've known him," answered Jakub.

"Oddballs have an easy life when they succeed in making people respect their oddballness," said Olga. "Doctor Skreta is incredibly absentminded. In the middle of a conversation he forgets what he was talking about. Sometimes he starts chatting in the street with somebody and gets to his office two hours late. But nobody dares hold it against him because the doctor is an officially recognized oddball and only a boor would contest his right to oddballness."

"Oddball or not, I believe he looks after you rather well."

"He probably does, but everyone here has the impression that for him the medical practice is something secondary that prevents him from devoting himself to lots of much more important projects. For example, tomorrow he's going to play the drums!"

"Wait a minute," interrupted Jakub. "Is that really so?"

"Of course! The whole spa is covered with posters announcing that the famous trumpeter Klima is giving a concert here tomorrow and that Doctor Skreta will be playing the drums."

"That's incredible," said Jakub. "It's not that I'm at

all surprised to hear that Skreta intends to play the drums. Skreta is the biggest dreamer I've ever known. But I haven't seen him yet realize a single one of his dreams. When we got to know each other, at the university, Skreta didn't have much money. He was always broke and always contriving moneymaking schemes. He had a plan at the time to get a female Welsh terrier, because someone told him puppies of this breed brought four thousand crowns apiece. He quickly figured it out. The bitch would have two litters a year, five puppies each. Two times five makes ten, ten times four thousand makes forty thousand crowns per year. He thought of everything. With a lot of difficulty he got the help of the university dining-hall manager, who promised to let the dog have the daily leftovers. He wrote term papers for two women students who promised to walk the dog every day. His student dormitory didn't allow dogs. So each week he brought the housemother a bouquet of roses until she promised to make an exception for him. He spent two months preparing the ground for his bitch, but we all knew he'd never get her. He needed four thousand crowns to buy her, and no one wanted to lend it to him. No one took him seriously. Everyone considered him a dreamer, surely an exceptionally canny and enterprising one, but only in the realm of the imaginary."