Ivan Klima - The Ultimate Intimacy

Fortunately no one was keeping a file on him any more, or so Daniel hoped.

However, if they weren't keeping a file on him, he was keeping one himself by storing Bara's letters. It would be more sensible to get rid of them, but they seemed to him so special, so full of love, that he could not bring himself to destroy a single one. But he ought to do something with them, all the same. Take them to his mother's flat and transcribe them in a secret code, or translate them into a little-known language like Hebrew and then discard the originals.

When, after supper, he shared Wagners news about his father with Hana, she said, 'There you are. And all the torment you had.'

'Only for a while. Then I said to myself that it was already outside the statute of limitations whether it happened or not. Still, I'm glad that Dad didn't lead some secret life,' he quickly added.

'There's something I was wanting to tell you too,' his wife said in such a serious tone that it made him jump.

However, what she was wanting to tell him had nothing to do with the concealed part of his life, but concerned her work. She had more and more worries in the hospital; sometimes she came home completely exhausted. And now that her salary was no longed needed, it had been occurring to her that she could find some other work for which she could be her own boss, to a small degree at least. What if she were to try and set up a diaconal centre here in the house? She would enjoy being involved in its work. But she immediately added, as if she was suddenly startled at daring to make such a radical proposal, that she didn't want to add to Daniel's worries, and she realized how much effort it would require.

But her idea appealed to Daniel. If he could get fully involved in that kind of work, he could excuse himself from his other duties, for a time at least. Caring for the handicapped was not the same as

preaching about the Son of God or officiating at the Lord's Supper while entertaining doubts about himself and the institution.

Furthermore, in establishing a diaconal centre he could find a use for the money that he still felt ashamed of possessing, or rather he was ashamed of the way he had used it so far.

He promised that he would speak with the moderator of presbytery and the director of Diakonia. Hana could definitely quit the hospital as soon as it was possible.

As he was passing the children's room, he overheard Magda screeching. He went in and discovered Marek fighting over some object with his sister.

'Tell him to leave me alone, Daddy,' Magda begged, 'he's taking my things!'

'Look, Dad,' Marek said accusingly, 'she buys these stupid sprays that are full of CFCs.' He manages to wrest two metal containers from Magda's hands and displays them to Daniel triumphantly.

'Why are you taking them from her?'

'But that's what I'm telling you: they're full of CFCs.'

'What do you need them for, Magda?'

'Nothing. But they're mine. I bought them.'

'What does she need them for? To spray stupid signs on walls.'

'Is that true, Magda?'

'It's none of his business.' Magda had tears in her eyes. 'He's got no right to boss me about.'

'And what do you write?'

'Nothing.'

'Magda!'

'Love, for instance,' Magda said.

And what else?'

'Nothing else. Just that. And once I sprayed a bird. A flamingo.'

'I think Marek's right. There's nothing nice about spraying things on walls.'

'Love is nice, and so are flamingos.'

'That's precisely why you shouldn't spray them on walls.'

'The others do it.'

'That doesn't make it any cleverer.'

'So make him give me back the sprays.'

'Give them back to her, Marek. And don't you spray anywhere with them.'

Marek stood the tins up on the top of her wardrobe, out of Magda's reach, and left without a word.

'First you tip things on passers-by from the window and throw spiders at them, and now you're writing nonsense on walls.'

'What am I supposed to do then, Daddy?'

'What do you mean?'

'To have a bit of fun.'

He was about to tell her that having fun wasn't the only purpose of living, but at that moment the phone rang in the next room.

'Daniel, I'm sorry to be calling like this but something terrible has happened. Sam has gone and swallowed a whole lot of his pills.'

Something like this had to happen, naturally. What they had done could not go unpunished. He feared the answer when he asked, 'Is he alive?'

'Yes.' Bára hurriedly explained how she had woken up in the night and heard strange noises. She had found Samuel in his room. The noise had been his choking. On the bedside table, he had left two empty tubes of his anti-depressant tablets. And a farewell note. The first thing she did was call an ambulance. She had been in the hospital until Sam revived a short while ago.

'What did the note say?'

'What notes like that usually say. That he's old and has nothing to look forward to, that he's just a burden on everyone and on me in particular. That he feels I yearn for freedom and so he is giving it to me.'

'I'll come and see you.'

'No, not now. I have to go back to the hospital, he needs me there. I just had to tell you, that's all.'

'I'd like to help you somehow.'

'I don't know what you could do to help. There is one thing, though. Tell me you're not cross with me for always adding to your worries, and tell me you won't forsake me!'

6

Bára

Bára now divides her time between visits to the psychiatric hospital where they continue to hold her husband and work in the office where

she is obliged to stand in for Samuel. She feels sorry for Samuels suffering. At the same time, however, she feels a long-forgotten sense of freedom, with no one to watch over her, no one to tell her off for coming in late, no one demanding that she create the semblance of a home by her constant presence, care and tenderness. Daniel calls her each morning and sometimes in the evening and they usually talk about Samuel and how his action will affect her life. Daniel is a good listener who isn't trying to catch her out all the time and tell her off in order to demonstrate his male superiority. Bára has the feeling that Daniel shares all her worries, anxieties and doubts, so it is easy to talk to him.

She can't make the trip to lay a wreath on the grave of her grandparents since she has to visit Samuel every day in hospital, but she is loath to lose the opportunity of spending at least one night with Daniel. She suggests that they could spend it in her flat. There's no chance of Samuel being discharged at night and she won't be visiting him then either. She'll send Aleš to his grandmother's for the night and Saša can sleep at a friend's place.

Daniel says nothing for a moment as is his wont, but she already knows that his silence does not simply mean silence. Daniel says nothing because he is in a quandary or is suffering a feeling of anxiety that he is departing more and more from his idea of how he ought to live. He is scared of the sin he is committing.

'Will you come?'

Daniel promises he will.

All Souls' Day is the following Wednesday. Immediately after lunch, Bára dashes to the hospital, stopping to buy Samuel not only fruit, but also a big bunch of asters. She brings with her a candlestick and a candle for her husband to light in memory of his dead, seeing that he is unable to visit their grave.

Outside, the day is misty and damp, and the heavy sky oppresses even those who are in good health.

Samuel is alone in a three-bed ward and doesn't feel at all ill. He considers psychotherapy to be nonsense, and can see no good reason why he should talk about his relationship with his mother or about his first and second wives when his greatest pain — the wound from which his life has been draining away for years — is Bára. And he can't understand why she has to visit him every day, when she only goes away again, leaving him at the mercy of loneliness and his doubts. Why isn't