Ivan Klíma - Judge On Trial

But theirs had never been a passionate love. She moved along between the crash-barriers and had never dared to climb over them or duck them. She was certainly more high-minded than him. But high-mindedness without freedom became barren.

And what about him? He not only lacked high-mindedness, he had never learnt to act freely either. He could hardly demand from another what he lacked himself.

‘Do you often bring her to places like this?’

‘Why do you have to talk about it today of all days?’

‘I’ve been wanting to talk about her for a long time. You’re the one who hasn’t wanted to. You haven’t even told me her name.’

‘It’s hardly relevant, is it?’

‘What’s relevant is that you conceal it from me. That I’m not even worthy to be told her name.’

‘It’s not the person that’s important, but the fact that it happened at all.’

‘So why did it happen? Why did you have to find someone else?’

‘How did it come about that you loved someone else and so did I?’

‘I’ve broken off with him.’

‘I’m talking about the past.’

‘What past?’

‘You were going out with that student, weren’t you?’

‘But I’ve already explained that I regret it terribly. I didn’t mean to hurt you.’

‘You can’t just dismiss it like that. There must have been some reason for everything that happened.’

‘You always have to look for reasons. Who’s guilty. Who’s the culprit.’

‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I said there was no sense in talking about it. You wanted to.’

‘There’s no sense in talking about what happened. I want to talk to you about now and the future.’

‘But they can’t be separated.’

‘I don’t want to separate anything… I want to talk to you about the future. Oh, for heaven’s sake, it’s so difficult to talk to you. You’re always so evasive.’

‘All right then, we won’t talk about the past. What do you want to talk about then?’

‘About the two of us and the children. After all, the two of us have children, Adam, and their future…’

‘I’m not renouncing the children.’

‘But you’ve renounced me. You’ve been walking around me as if I were a stranger.’

‘Maybe you’ve seemed a stranger to me.’

‘After all we’ve been through together?’

‘I’ve come to realise that you’re not the person I thought you were.’

‘But that’s hardly my fault.’

‘And I’m not accusing you of anything.’

‘So why did you find yourself that… woman?’

‘I thought we weren’t going to talk about the past.’

‘I don’t see why I shouldn’t ask you that.’

‘I expect we didn’t love each other enough, you and I.’

‘I didn’t love you enough, Adam? Haven’t I given you everything I could?’ Her voice shook and she was unable to suppress her tears.

Yet more tears. All those years ago, when they lay together in that dirty dormitory with six bunks, and the stench of musty straw, water and fallen leaves wafted in from below, along with the singing of drunks and the quick breath of the night: did we love each other then?

He was overcome with nostalgia for the time when nothing had yet marred his image of her and life with her, when he lived in the happy illusion that he knew her mind and satisfied her unspoken wishes, the time when he did not hear her cry. He touched her hand to comfort her.

‘Adam, when I first met you… I’d never loved anyone before you. No one the way I loved you. But you were always like a stranger. You never wanted to confide in me. You wanted to keep yourself to yourself and keep your distance.’

‘I wanted nothing of the kind. But we never managed to become close to each other. We were probably mismatched.’

‘How can you say something so awful? You’ll never come close to anyone. You’ll never commit yourself to another. You’re too frightened.’

‘What am I supposed to be frightened of?’

‘Of disappointment.’

‘I had every reason to be, as you see.’

‘I wouldn’t have done it if you’d been devoted to me.’

‘You’re just saying that. You’re just finding excuses for yourself.’

‘It’s impossible to live with someone who’s such a stranger.’

‘Did you feel I didn’t take enough care of you?’

‘No, but you never stopped being a stranger.’

‘What was I supposed to do? What did you expect me to do?’

‘To commit yourself to me sometimes. To be with me totally and let me know you were happy with me. But you would have sooner reduced everything to a written statement or figures. You take after your father. You have to draw a line under everything and add it all up. What can’t be added up doesn’t interest you.’

‘I wish you’d tell me what I could have added up in your case. I’d dearly like to know what form your love took.’

‘Exactly what I told you. I wanted to give myself to you. I wanted you to give yourself to me. To feel me close to you. To open up to me.’

‘And what did you do to help me open up to you?’

‘I was constantly waiting for it. The whole time. I know you’ve been kind sometimes. But you never did anything because you just couldn’t help it. From an inner compulsion.’

‘And did you ever do anything of the sort?’

‘How could I when you were such a stranger?’

‘You see, I told you it was pointless. All we do is argue. We’ll sort nothing out by talking.’

‘So how did you think it would be? That you would go on seeing her and I would say nothing?’

‘But I’m not seeing her any more.’

‘But you were.’

‘Why do you criticise me? You were going out with that student too.’

‘Stop calling him a student all the time.’

‘It’s irrelevant what I call him. But I don’t criticise you over him.’

‘There you are. That’s you all over. You’re acting like a stranger. You started to laugh when you first heard about it.’

‘I was laughing at myself.’

‘But you did laugh! How could you laugh at such a moment?’

‘What makes you speak about that moment as if it was so important?’

‘Adam, I’ve been pondering on you for all of the past ten years. Sometimes when I felt I couldn’t stand it any longer — your remoteness from me and from us — I’ve told myself that you probably can’t help it. That they damaged you during the war and stole something from you that you can never get back.’

‘What do you think they stole from me?’

‘Everything, apart from your reason. You’re sometimes tender — because you know you ought to be — but not because there is any tenderness in you.’

‘I expect I’m not what you need. I told you we were badly matched.’

‘How can you say something so awful?’

‘It would be more awful if we failed to discover it.’

‘No, the only awful things are those you can’t do anything about.’

‘At least we can accept them.’

‘But we have to do something. Something so we change.’

‘What do you want to change?’

‘What you said. That we don’t suit each other. But we do belong together, though. We have children together.’

‘Do you think there’s anything we can do?’

‘Yes. Love each other again, Adam. I love you. I feel that you’re mine. That you’re the only person I have in the world. And if I’ve hurt you, I’m sorry.’

‘I’m also sorry if I’ve hurt you. But one can’t force oneself to love someone.’

‘Are you saying you don’t love me at all any more?’

No, he wouldn’t say that, but something had happened and they could not just decide that it hadn’t. Perhaps he had not used the right expression when he said they were ill-matched. They had just failed to connect, to listen to each other, have understanding for each other.