Ivan Klima - The Ultimate Intimacy

I write about my heart — what sort of an animal is it?

My love, I want to deserve you and I don't know how. I have the feeling I do nothing for you. I just am, and in addition, I complain all the time. I serve a husband who destroys me and whom I fear, and do nothing for you whom I love and who are kind to me. I'm afraid of losing you if I do nothing for you. I just keep asking you all the time: Keep me for a little while longer, for as long as destiny or your God allows, for as long as we're happy that we have each other, for as long as the miracle lasts. We won't be hurting anyone that way, will we? We'll just have a little extra…

(A day later. I had to stop writing yesterday. Sam wanted me to discuss his state of health with him.)

I have something to boast to you about. Now that I myself decide what I do, I took the opportunity to design an interior for a rich Czech American who has come back here to do business. Complete décor for seven rooms. I asked him today whether he liked real wood and he said: Sure! I sometimes work with a little firm in a village that is not very far from Prague, and they are capable of making furniture according to my design from any wood that is available. A miracle! So I thought about you, and the fact you like wood too and that your grandfather worked with it. You carve it and I venerate it at least. I love wood, in fact: its smell, its colour, its grain. I just don't understand how anyone can put a piece of plastic, tubing or chipwood in their home. For that American's living room I designed some bird-armchairs, a bit like herons standing on one leg with their long necks. I like storks, herons and flamingos (I'll show you the designs when I see you). I was so het up about doing

something decent that I enjoy doing, that I couldn't get to sleep. Now it's two in the morning and I'm thinking about you. You're the most loving person on earth, someone from another — a better — world. (Maybe it's because in your world Jesus reigns instead of male selfishness.) You even managed to write an understanding letter about my husband. It is against your nature, as it is against mine, to harm somebody, to do anything artful or malevolent.

But I still think I deserve you and at this moment it is the peak of my self-confidence, because to deserve it is necessary to be pure, kind and good-hearted.

When we were sitting in Veltrusy Park recently I was calmly and serenely happy in a trusting and devoted way. The heavens opened up for me. There was only now. There was only you. The poisons that contaminate my soul had drifted away. And the poisons that you smelt in the air are nothing compared to the poisons that infest the soul.

What I feel for you is a trust that is so complete that it might be something like faith. It seems to me that someone who believes in God feels something akin to what I feel for you. So through you I have come to understand what is felt by someone who believes intrinsically, i.e. something I have never really experienced. Don't protest! I'm not comparing you to God Almighty, it's just that human beings, including Jesus Christ, were always closer to me than some abstract God. I believe you. You are my security. With you I don't even fear death. You've turned me into a queen, i.e. a relatively self-aware person, who would otherwise have a tendency to fall into the depths of doubt about herself. Forgive me all my weaknesses and inadequacies, all my omissions, and ascribe them not to the selfishness of my soul but to the extreme weight of the burden I have rashly accepted as my fate. I don't want one day to regret not having done everything I could for you. Oh, God! What am I to do? I love you. I love you.

Bára

Dear Dan, my unholy brother,

Well, your recent letter about you falling in love knocked me sideways, I must say. As your sister I ought to have understanding for you, but as a married woman I ought, on the contrary, to be cross. Since I am both, I understand you, but I don't share your enthusiasm for your new feelings.

Not at all because it is inappropriate for a man of your calling — to hell with the calling and the good Lord has better things to do than worry about your philandering. But to two-time your wife, who trusts you and stood by you even in the bad times, giving you two children and also caring for Eva, is simply disgusting. I'm surprised at you and I don't know this person you describe.

No doubt like all unfaithful husbands you have plenty of good excuses for your behaviour: the other woman is more interesting, younger, she understands you better and is on the same wavelength, she attracts you and adores you (that's something you men are suckers for). You experience something unique and incomparable with her and moreover she needs you because, like you, she fails to find understanding at home. But surely you're not too infatuated to see that it's a bit hackneyed.

You say you don't expect any advice, so I'll refrain from telling you off like an older sister — it would make no sense anyway. Perhaps you're not entirely to blame. You've inherited Dad's inconstancy and even though you tried to escape it through your vocation, it caught up with you anyway.

Of course I wish for you to enjoy the few years remaining to you on this earthly roundabout as much as you can. It's up to you to decide what is best for your happiness or for you to feel good, and I just hope that your God preserves your mental balance.

With kisses and a tweak of the ear,

Love, Rút

Dear Bára,

You write that you're afraid of losing me because you do nothing for me. But I expect no service from you. After all, the only way you can bind another person to you is by love. All other bonds can be broken, and most of all they feel like chains. In most cases, people want everything from their partners, but as the proverb wisely puts it: He who wants everything usually has nothing. People have only the right to want things from themselves. Except that people expect things anyway. They expect caresses, kind words, understanding and companionship. They even hope that they won't be forsaken.

People read about the history of the universe over billions of years and most of the time they can't even cope with their own allotted span. I look forward to time with you: it is a time of fullness. I love you and trust you.

Love, Dan

l

The candles are burning on the Christmas Tree. Under the pine-tree, as each year, there stands a crib that Daniel started to carve when Eva was still small and he only completed a few years ago. When dinner is over Daniel fetches his guitar, Marek brings his violin, Magda plays the flute and they sing a carol:

The Son of God to us is born

To sinners all upon this morn

Welcome, Lord, Welcome!

By now Magda can't wait for the presents, of which there are more than usual beneath the tree, and she starts to raise the tempo so much that Daniel suggests she put down her flute.

Being country born and bred, Hana adores Christmas customs: so they pour molten lead and float little boats made out of walnut shells with candles inside. In the past the table would be laden down with cookies and fruit, but there would be few presents: there was little money left over to buy them. But even if they could have afforded more, Daniel took pains to ensure that the joy of the gifts did not overshadow the joy of the message: that by divine dispensation, the curse of sin had been abolished, along with punishment for it. But now he needed to do something to make up for distancing himself from his family, besides which they suddenly had money to spare.

'Daddy, I'd like to unwrap the presents now!'

'Hang on for a little while longer, Magda!'

Hana was in the middle of making cookies when, a few days earlier, he went to ask her what she would like for Christmas, and she replied that