Ivan Klima - Lovers for a Day

'Nothing.' Although he sensed that he was to see him again, he couldn't yet work out how and where it might happen.

'Is that your hunchback?' she said, looking over his shoulder.

He shrugged and stretched out on the bed. The paper game lay on the table. Where's your soul to go?

'He's fallen over,' she called from the window. 'He slipped as he tried to kick the ball. It's only a young lad. That fellow wasn't a young lad, 'was he?'

'Do you love me?' he asked.

'I don't know. At this moment I'm hungry. How am I supposed to think about whether I love you when I'm thinking about ham and eggs?'

'Come over here. I want you.'

'Let's go and eat instead.'

'Afterwards. They're not open yet anyway.'

'We can buy a roll at a shop.'

'Afterwards.'

'You're crazy. You always want to make love and never want to eat!' She knelt at the side of the bed and placed her lips on his. She let herself be kissed. 'That's why I love you: because you're crazy. And now come on!'

He could feel the apprehension sneaking up on him. Where will I run to? But so long as he was here, so long as he was with her, so long as he could hear her breath and cling to her body, he remained, he was still alive and had one certainty: her. He could touch her, feel her closeness, and that awoke in him a sense of blissfulness and peace. He put his arms around her and drew her to him, kissing her, his lips weary and dry. I love you. Don't leave me! Stay with me!

She made love with him in silence and that made him even more uneasy. 'Just a little while longer,' he whispered, 'and then we'll go.'

When he next awoke the room was bathed in light,

although he was sure he'd slept only a few minutes. She was in the bathroom again. In the corridor footsteps went back and forth. Men's, women's, maybe even children's footsteps. A medley of footsteps. He sat down and looked out of the sealed window.

'Is he there?' she asked from behind him.

'No, he isn't, sweetheart.' He looked at her. She was already half dressed. No, she'll leave. He had no one to hold on to any more.

'Are we going to eat?' she asked. 'They must be open by now. It can't be far off midday. I'll have soup. I'll eat two servings of soup and three rolls. Will they have fresh rolls?'

'Don't get dressed yet, darling!'

'We have to go now. I've got to be home this afternoon. You don't have to drive me if you don't feel like it. I'll thumb a lift.'

'I'll drop you home. I want to. I want to be with you.'

'You're tired and I'm hungry.' She sat down next to him. She kissed him. 'Come on, my pet. We'll leave the things here and come back here for a little afterwards!'

He didn't move. Nor did the time. He stood motionless in the blue hotel room. The blue cell. The sun bobbed out of the mist and its rays heated the hot air even more.

'Have you got something to read here?'

'No, only magazines.'

'Read to me. Read me something.'

' They're specialized journals.'

'That's fine. They'll take your mind off things, at least.'

'They're English.'

'That doesn't matter. You can translate them for me, can't you?'

He got up and opened his case. The suitcase and the things

in it were from over there — where she was absent, but so was fear. Then he leaned over her. Her lips were tightly pursed and her eyes half closed. He looked for a moment at that unfamiliar face. '"From ancient times",' he translated, '"doctors were interested in the construction of the human skeleton. They noticed that bone had different characteristics from all other tissue. .

'What sort of bones do cripples have?' she asked.

'That all depends. Do you really want me to explain it?'

'Yes, really,' she grinned at him. 'Really and at length. .' — He remained silent. Love was the only thing they ever talked about together. There was no point in reading aloud to her. He closed the journal and tossed it on to the floor.

'Come on. We will be coming back, after all.'

He put his arms around her.

'Leave me alone!' she said crossly.

'Don't you love me any more?'

'You're crazy and I'm hungry.'

Dust swirled in the beam of sunlight. He felt the urge to go and look out the window at the patch of grass. But he resisted it.

'You don't love me either,' she said. 'You're just scared. You've been scared ever since you entered this room. You're scared of every footstep outside the door, you're scared of being left here on your own. You're longing for some certainty. Jesus,' she burst out, 'what are you doing here with me? Why didn't you stay over there and find yourself some nice, faithful woman?' She stood up.

He reached out and tried to draw her to him.

'Don't touch me!' she shouted, scratching at his chest. Her nails gouged out long bloody furrows.

'Darling, don't leave me now!' He watched her dress. The scratches stung. He felt his own blood running down his chest.

He switched on the radio — at last there was some music. He wasn't aware of it, only of his tiredness and the hunger that filled his body with inertia. He was aware of his inertia and uncertainty. What will happen next? I'll close my eyes and stay lying here. I'll have a sleep. Towards evening I'll get up and have something to drink. One has to drink, at least. He was aware of his thirst. He got up and went to the bathroom and drank two glasses of hot water, one after the other.

She sat in front of the mirror combing her hair. 'What sort of hair did she have, the one who was here?'

'Does it make a difference?'

'Did you torture her with hunger, too?'

'No, things were different in those days.'

'Things are always different. Why are you lying down again? You don't mean to stay here, do you?'

He broke into a sweat. He shouldn't have drunk so much water. But it didn't matter. He tried to listen carefully to the sounds from the corridor and from outside, but the music drowned out everything else.

'What are you scared of, in fact?' she asked. 'Did you kill someone over there?'

'Maybe people who kill are better off than people who don't.'

'Do you think so?' She was beautiful once more.

Blood trickled from the scratches on his chest. He thought he heard some footsteps, close by. Then someone seized the door handle. He started to panic. 'Could you switch that radio off for a moment?'

His eyes were glued to the door handle. It didn't move.

Maybe they won't come, while she's here. 'Do you love me a bit?'

'At this moment I'm hungry,' she said.

'Will you leave without me?'

She took him by the hand. 'Come on,' she said. 'Come on.'

As if there was any point eating. He listened for footsteps in the corridor. One step, another and then a strange knocking sound. One step, another and then the knock. 'Can you hear?' he asked and held his breath.

'I don't want to stay here any more!' She let go of his hand.

Someone had stopped in front of the door and was quietly sliding a key into the lock.

She turned towards him and a look a horror came on her face.

'Don't be afraid,' he said. 'I'll protect you.'

'You're bleeding,' she noticed. 'How come you're bleeding?'

She leaned towards him and kissed his chest.

He felt her lips suck at his chest, he felt her cool fingertips and he felt his bleeding slow. 'My darling,' he whispered. He knew they were touching each other for the last time. This was the last time he would say those words to her. She was leaving. She didn't need his protection or his love. She didn't need his return or his sacrifice. She was leaving like the rest, like everything. It was impossible to hold on to things, it was impossible to return. Nothing could be returned, that was the only certainty, the chilling, depressing certainty that everything would pass, including this moment and this anxiety. He could calmly close his eyes. And peace really began to envelop him and he was deaf even to the thumping of strangers' fists on the door. He sank into the bed.