Marek Hlasko - Killing the Second Dog

“Do you feel anything?”

“Not yet. But I will soon. Go away.”

He stood hesitating.

“Go away,” I said again.

“Okay. So long, son. In two days’ time it’ll be all over. Don’t worry.”

He left. I knew I would feel a rocking for a while, and I did. I was being carried by some dark and gentle wave, but I didn’t fall asleep yet. I knew the next moment would be the worst; I always dreaded it.

I was no longer in a cheap and ugly hotel room. I was no longer carried by a gentle wave. I was walking along a country road and I could see in the distance, in the middle of an empty field, a girl with her back to me; I could see her long hair, her beautiful slender legs and her tanned shoulders. She was bending over something hidden from my sight, which I knew I would never see. Then I suddenly found myself back in my bed in the tastelessly decorated hotel room, but in the next moment I was looking at the girl’s graceful figure again. I knew I would see her face now.

“Don’t be shy,” I said aloud. “I’m coming to you.”

She turned to me, and I saw her face, old and ugly, then she smiled, exposing her rotten teeth. I could even smell her awful, stinking breath. I knew I was already on the other side of the hill.

ON THE THIRD DAY IT WAS ALL OVER. I WAS LYING ON THE terrace of a small, elegant hotel, pretending to be asleep. It was very quiet because everybody was resting after dinner, so I had no trouble hearing what Robert was telling her. I knew his text almost by rote, but I enjoyed listening to him all the same.

“At least he’ll have enough sleep,” Robert said. “He often suffers from insomnia.”

“What do you think? Should I leave now?” she asked. “I’m afraid he may feel embarrassed when he wakes up.”

“He should,” Robert said, and I knew there was a stern look on his face, just as if he were playing the part of an Indian chief sending somebody to his death. “It’s no joke. Whatever one does, one has to try to do it right.”

“Don’t be so cruel.”

“Poor, stupid loser. He even failed to take his own life.”

“He would have died if you hadn’t gone back to the room,” she said.

“Yes, that was sheer luck. I’d forgotten to take my passport and I needed it the next day. I didn’t want to wake the two of you in the morning.”

They both fell silent for a moment.

“That poor dog was all he had,” Robert said. “I don’t know why he shot it. Maybe he had to get his anger out after your husband hit him. So he shot the dog.”

“He shouldn’t have done it.”

“Thank God he did!”

“Why?”

“Because he fired all the bullets he had, so he couldn’t shoot himself. All that remained were those stupid sleeping pills.”

“To kill himself because of that worthless drunk!”

“No. It was because your son was present. The kid saved his father. Jacob didn’t want to hit him because of the kid.”

“I know. Someday Johnny’ll understand.”

“Write to him,” Robert said. “He’ll be happy to hear from you.”

“Write?”

“Yes. Send the letter to me and I’ll forward it to him.”

“But he’s coming with me!”

“I’m afraid you don’t know him,” Robert said.

“Listen, there’s something wrong here. Something I don’t understand. Why does he have to go to Australia to work? Why can’t he come to America with me and try to find a job there? I don’t get it, Bobby.”

“It’s simple. He’s scared.”

“Of what?”

“I don’t know if I can tell you.”

“Bobby, you’re the only friend he has. If you won’t help me, who will? Bobby, please!”

“His isn’t a romantic story, it’s a sad one,” Robert said. “Have you seen the picture of an old lady in his room?”

“You mean his mother?”

“Yes,” Robert said, and I remembered the snapshot of the bouncer’s mom. “She was very ill and he had to go into debt to send her money for the hospital and the operation. Unfortunately, it didn’t do much good. She died.”

“Oh, the poor man,” she whispered, and the image of my real mother, who is in perfect health and swills vodka like a hussar flashed through my mind.

“He can’t leave Israel without his passport, and it’s held by the lawyer representing the people he borrowed money from. When he told the lawyer he found employment in Australia and showed him his contract, the lawyer agreed to return the passport. But the arrangement is that Jacob’s Australian employer will regularly deduct part of his pay and send it directly to the creditors. Do you see it all now?”

“Why can’t he send them money from the States?”

“Because he’s a Pole, dear,” Robert said, “and he’d have to wait six to eight years for an immigration visa. He can go to the States as a tourist only. And to go as a tourist you need money.”

“How much does he owe those people?”

“Two thousand three hundred eighty dollars.”

“Do you mean to tell me he wanted to kill himself for two thousand dollars?”

“I didn’t say that was the reason. I can only guess what went on in his mind. He finally managed to find a job and then he met you. He didn’t want to go to Australia anymore, only to the States with you. But that goddamn lawyer wouldn’t let him have his passport. Next your husband showed up and hit him in the face, and he couldn’t hit him back because of your kid. So he shot the dog and his mind went crazy. I don’t know what really happened. You’re the one who should know.” His voice was stern and hard.

After a moment, she asked softly, “Why, Bobby? Why do you think I should know?”

“Because he loves you,” Robert replied in the same stern voice. “And you love him.”

“Will you hate me if I take him away?”

“No. It’s me who’s a loser. I don’t hate anybody.” He paused and said again, “Yes, I’m a loser.”

“Do you know how to straighten things out with that lawyer?”

“He has to go to him and pay off his debts.”

“Oh, God, he won’t do it. He won’t take money from me.”

Robert was silent for a long while, then he laughed.

“What are you laughing at, Bobby?”

“At myself. We’ve been friends for so long and gone through so much together. And yet the only thing I can do for him is to help him leave, even though it means I’ll never see him again. Isn’t that something? But I’ll do it.”

Neither of them said a word for a while. I couldn’t see the sea from the terrace, but I could hear the waves. They had kicked us out of the hotel, and we were all staying in a small inn owned by a German Jew, a calm, elderly gentleman with well-groomed hands. Robert had brought me there from the hospital earlier in the day. He had to sign a statement that the patient was being released at his own request and against medical advice. And so here I was, and next to my bed was a vase full of flowers. I amused myself by imagining Robert’s expression when he bought them for me.

“Will you make us some coffee, Bobby?” she said.

“Okay, but if you want, we can go downstairs for coffee.”

“Bobby, I still don’t understand why he shot his dog.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I think he intended to destroy everything he possessed. Or maybe he wanted to make the parting with you easier for himself? I don’t know. The dog was his. It was all he had.”

“I’m wondering how to explain it to Johnny. You know, Bobby, that all Americans love dogs?”

“Tell him Spot was ill and had to be shot. In Westerns cowboys often shoot their horses and everybody thinks that’s all right. When he grows up, you can tell him Jacob shot the dog because he was in love with you and thought he’d have to leave you. So he shot the dog to appear cruel and stupid. So you wouldn’t have to suffer, you know.”