Tomáš Zmeškal - A Love Letter in Cuneiform

“A very interesting pianist, who will be all too soon forgotten in this progressive era of ours.”

“I see,” Alice said. She dashed back to the living room. “Want to have breakfast with my dad?”

“It’s up to you, Ali,” said Maximilian. “Totally up to you.”

“Well, all right then,” Alice decided. Meanwhile, her father continued his train of thought to himself: Although Haydn is witty. God, is he ever. Even more so than Mozart. But is Haydn — German, or Austrian? That’s the question. I wonder if it is nationality? I suppose not, that’s probably nonsense. I don’t even laugh at my own jokes anymore, he concluded. He slid the record carefully back into its sleeve and went to put the water on for coffee.

As Maximilian and Alice sat down at the kitchen table, Maximilian hoped his father-in-law-to-be wouldn’t knock over the coffee and spill it across the table. He was always surprised that Alice’s father had a clean dish towel prepared in advance to wipe everything up. He was getting used to the fact that his future father-in-law spilled almost everything. Alice’s father — like the stubborn remains of her parents’ marriage — had long since ceased to be of any significant interest to him.

“Where did you get all those roses? Where are they from?” Alice asked.

“It’s a secret,” Maximilian said.

“Come on, tell me, where are they from?” she insisted.

“It’s top secret,” he said.

“The smell woke me up,” Alice said.

“That’s what I was hoping,” Maximilian said. He laughed and gave her a light kiss on the neck.

“Alice said you were in Germany for a few days. What were you doing there?” Alice’s father asked.

“I went to see my uncle,” Maximilian said.

“Well, how was it? Anything good to report from the other side of the border?”

“Nothing special, really,” Maximilian said. “My uncle wanted to show me the renovations he’d done on his house, but about two days before I came, he broke his leg, so I just went and saw him in the hospital. But I still felt like the poor relative.”

“Mm-hm,” Alice’s father nodded.

“But,” Alice chimed in, “Max said the train was delayed.”

“That’s right,” Maximilian said. “In fact two trains were delayed.”

“So the trains in Germany are delayed,” Alice’s father nodded, adding after a pause: “That would correspond to my observation.”

“Which one is that?” Maximilian asked.

“Oh no, once Dad starts in like that, you know it’s going to be pessimistic,” said Alice.

“Well, after careful observation, I reached the conclusion that not only is the acting chaplain at our church not exceptionally intelligent, but in fact he’s downright average.”

“Not everyone can be Einstein, Dad,” Alice objected.

“Of course not, for God’s sake. I’m a fairly ordinary average man myself, and not ashamed to say so, but he’s a member of the Society of Jesus, which is to say a Jesuit, and now don’t get mad, Ali, but show me a Jesuit of average intelligence and I’ll show you a dumb Jesuit. It’s embarrassing and unacceptable. Think about it,” Alice’s father said, turning to Maximilian and counting off on his fingers.

“One, a dumb Jesuit. Two, the trains in Germany don’t run on time. The next thing you know, the English will overthrow the Queen and declare a republic. There’s something amiss in Europe, I’m telling you. Something amiss.”

There was the sound of a key in the lock from the entryway, then the door opening.

“It’s Mom,” said Alice to Maximilian, running her fingers through his hair. “No, wait, there’s somebody with her.” She stood and walked to the entryway. There was a sound of shuffling feet and two voices, a woman’s and a man’s.

“Ahhhh, that would be the doctor,” Alice’s father said in Maximilian’s direction. Maximilian just smiled politely. He had no idea what Alice’s father was talking about. “And Květa,” Alice’s father added, standing from his chair.

Alice entered the kitchen with a man slightly younger than her father. He had his left arm around Alice’s waist and was whispering something in her ear.

“Howdy, Doc. I knew it would be you,” Alice’s father said, shaking hands with the man. “This is Maximilian,” he said. Maximilian stood and offered the man his hand.

“Antonín Lukavský,” the man introduced himself.

“Also known as,” Alice chimed in, “Uncle Tonda, alias Dottore. He’s not actually my uncle. But he’s a good friend of my father’s.”

“It’s true. I am all those things,” said the man.

“Max,” said Maximilian.

Alice’s mother entered the kitchen.

“Hi, Květa,” Alice’s father said.

“Hi, Josef,” Alice’s mother replied.

Antonín and Alice stood together side by side, watching Alice’s parents.

“What were you doing?” Alice’s mother asked.

“Waiting for you, what else would I be doing?”

“What was that you were listening to?” Alice’s mother asked, looking around the room.

“Beethoven, I think,” Maximilian said. “Wasn’t it?”

“No, definitely not. I just didn’t get there in time to take it off. I was listening to Haydn, Josef Haydn!”

“I just hope you didn’t scratch it, playing it in the morning like that. You know how your hands always shake in the morning,” Alice’s mother said.

“By the way, you aren’t related to the Esterházys, are you, Maximilian?”

“No,” said Maximilian. “They go much farther back than we do, all the way to 1238. By the time they were princes, we were still grooms, at best.”

“You see that?” Alice’s mother said. “You see?”

“See what?” Alice said.

“The dish towels. He spilled again. You’re going to scratch those records, Josef!”

“So what? They’re his records,” Alice said.

“You don’t have to wash them, so don’t worry about it,” Alice’s father said to her mother. “You know Haydn is buried there, don’t you, Maximilian?”

“Where?”

“On the grounds of their estate. Wait now, what was it called …”

“He’s going to scratch the records and act annoyed, and the main thing is he’ll regret it,” said Květa, appealing to Alice and Antonín. Antonín was doing his best to look anywhere but at her.

“I’m telling you, don’t worry what I do with my records, and there’s no need to concern yourself with whether I’m annoyed or not, since I don’t live with you anymore and I don’t intend to ever again! Now if you don’t mind, Květa, stop worrying. Yes? Please? I’m asking you politely!”

“Oh,” said Květa, “I didn’t realize. I thought you were moving back in in the fall, after you finished repairing the cottage?”

“No, I’m not,” Alice’s father said, giving a shrug.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I’m sure you are.”

“So where did they bury him?” Antonín asked.

“Who?”

“Haydn.”

As Antonín tried to steer the conversation elsewhere, Alice took her mother’s hand and tugged her to the bedroom door.

“My God, that’s gorgeous, Ali. It’s gorgeous. All those flowers. And the smell! It’s gorgeous. It smells wonderful.” Her mother sat down on the bed. “Those are lilies, right? What are those, over there? And where did you get hold of flowers like that in March anyway?”

“Beats me,” said Alice. “I have no idea. He won’t tell me, says it’s a secret. And once he says that, I’m not getting anything out of him. I’ll keep working on him, though, and in a week or two he might let it slip.”

“Now that’s what I call love. But what are those flowers there called?”