Peter Pišt'anek - Rivers of Babylon

The drink has gone to Rácz’s head. He can’t make sense of Uncle Endre’s speech. Something about money, and an inheritance. A few pennies! He’s not interested in that. The point is not to save as much as one can, but to make as much as one can. So Rácz forgives Uncle Endre and his other relatives.

Now Kišš gets up. He’d like to say something else, as this company is all gathered here. In the future someone might spread gossip and slander him, try to damage him. No, Kišš does not want to say that this is inevitable, but it’s quite possible that Rácz might find out from someone that his daughter was for some time, after Rácz left for the city, engaged to Feri Bartaloš. “Well,” Kišš pauses, while Rácz is stunned. “Actually,” Kišš continues, “it’s true and it isn’t.” Kišš did consider it prudent to betroth Eržika, to protect her from the young men of the village. “After all,” Kišš turns to his guests, “a girl is safer when everybody knows that she has a fiancé.” They all murmur in agreement. “But on the other hand,” continues Kišš, “he has to ask: ‘What sort of a fiancé is Feri Bartaloš?’” Yes, Kišš will swear to Rácz that this was only a protective manœuvre. It was the obvious thing to do to get peace for Eržika, so she could wait for Rácz. Rácz needn’t worry. Nothing happened, Kišš made sure of that. And that is why Kišš asks his future son-in-law Rácz: will Rácz pardon him for being so concerned for the safety of his daughter and her future happiness with Rácz? After all, she’s always loved Rácz. Kišš hadn’t meant to tell Rácz, but now he realises that it’s better if he told him, and not some evil-tongued gossiping old woman. Kišš’s conscience is clear.

Kišš stops talking. With a question in his eyes, he watches Rácz. Rácz’s eyes focus on Eržika’s blushing face. “If that’s how it is, I forgive you, Mr. Kišš,” says Rácz after a few moments.

Everyone starts clapping. The toasts are over and the wild party resumes.

“Well, how about it?” Rácz persists.

“About what?” Eržika fails to understand.

“Will you go to the barn with me?”

Eržika shrugs. “I don’t know.”

Rácz sees his opening in her answer. He grabs her thigh. Under the table. Nobody sees a thing. Eržika is afraid to shriek, she doesn’t want to attract attention.

“Let’s go then,” he insists in a muffled monotone.

Eržika gets up with a sigh. Rácz follows her.

Nobody has noticed a thing.

It’s dark outside. The windows illuminate the yard. The curious onlookers have drunk the barrel of pear brandy Kišš brought out for them and are lying motionless, scattered in various positions in the snow. The farm buildings at the back loom up in the dark. The twinkling stars freeze high in the blackness. Rácz grabs Eržika’s hand and drags her to the barn. The champagne sparkles in his head. He feels all tense and stiff.

“I see,” Eržika says, “there are rings round the moon.”

But Rácz couldn’t care less about rings round the moon. He burps and opens the barn door. A shaft of light from the yard falls on a pile of hay. Rats are chasing each other up in the rafters. Their eyes are phosphorescent red.

Fearfully, Eržika clings to Rácz’s excitement. “Brrr, it’s cold,” she says, her speech blurred. “It’s cold in here!”

But Rácz isn’t listening to her now. He pushes her down into the hay and hungrily hurls himself on her.

“No! No!” Eržika tries to fight him off and keeps her knees together with all her strength.

Rácz puts his hand under her dress. In one powerful move he rips off her antediluvian drawers and throws them behind him. Then he forces her legs apart. He puts his weight on one of her knees and tries to pry away the other one with his hand. His muscles creak with the effort. He shoves his own thigh into the gap. Then he unzips his damp fly and takes out his member. When he lays it on Eržika’s bare thigh, the girl shrieks with fear.

“Shut your mouth, stupid!” Rácz hisses. He pushes his whole body up higher. Eržika shrieks once more. Outside, the dogs start to bark. Rácz slaps her face.

“Rácz isn’t used to anyone resisting him,” he says hoarsely.

He forces himself into Eržika’s limp body and sighs with relief. Eržika’s teeth chatter with cold. “Does it hurt?” Rácz barks impatiently. Eržika nods. She lies motionless, biting her tongue. Rácz begins to move. He speeds up. Eržika lies like a corpse. When Rácz is about to come, he frees himself from between his fiancée’s thighs. He uses his hand to ejaculate powerfully at precise intervals. “Ah, ah, ah,” he comes violently and regularly. Then he falls into the hay.

Eržika sits up heavily and takes a handful of hay to wipe the still hot sperm from her breasts, face, and hair. Rácz wipes himself on her dress. His mind is now working normally. His last powerful shot of semen seems to have cleansed his blood of all desire and excitement. It’s all clear to him now. His relatives stole his inheritance and, worse, then claimed they were doing him a favour; Kišš offered his daughter to proud Feri Bartaloš the moment Rácz was out of the village and then claimed he was doing him a favour. Eržika is a stupid village goose. And she’s fat. Rácz has very different women in the city. They may be old hags, in their forties, even fifties, but when they put on make-up and dress up, any man gets a hard-on like a candle. And Eržika? Not even twenty. When she’s thirty, she’ll be twice as fat as now. She’ll bear him three children and then lose her looks. Until the day she dies, she’ll wear two sets of clothes: white butcher’s shop-assistant overalls and a flowery dress at home. And she’ll never stop chewing sunflower seeds, like her mother, until Rácz itches to slap her. No, Rácz has a brighter future ahead of him! No, he doesn’t have scrubbers like Silvia in mind. One day he’ll kick her out on her arse, too. When he’s fed up with her. No, he doesn’t mean her. Rácz will find himself a city girl, a young girl who likes him. Is it really so hard to like a man like Rácz?

Eržika wants to be kissed. She offers him her half-open mouth and closes her eyes. Rácz pushes her away.

Eržika opens her eyes. “So that’s what you are!”

“What am I?” Rácz clenches his fists threateningly.

“Was that what you wanted?” Eržika bursts out crying. “You swine!” Her round face distorts itself into a grimace like a Chinese idol’s. Rácz has never seen a Chinese idol, but he still feels an elemental revulsion for Eržika. He moves further away from his fiancée to avoid being polluted by her tears and snivelling.

“You weren’t even a virgin!” Rácz says in disgust. “No hymen. No blood. Whore! Who knows who you’ve slept with while Rácz slaved for you in the city. The whole village? Half the village? Or Feri Bartaloš? Yes, of course, him!” Rácz jumps up and theatrically beats his brow. How could he not have seen it! Feri Bartaloš was her supposed fiancé, after all. Well then, Rácz can see what “supposed” means! Rácz’s future wife has to be a virgin! He really wants to give her a slap. But he has to watch out. When he hits someone, it shows. He doesn’t want to end up in gaol. As it is, he is a laughing stock. “Shit!” Rácz wildly kicks the barn door open and quickly strides towards the house.

“Took a fancy to my money, did you, Mr. Kišš?” Rácz shouts into Kišš’s ear. Kišš is vomiting by the gate. The butcher’s watery eyes turn to him and he says a few blurred words. He’s drunk; he can’t take anything in. Kišš’s house is brightly lit. Rácz bursts in. “Ďula,” he shouts in a wild, alien voice. “ĎULA!” Rácz repeats when he gets no reply.