Ivan Klima - Lovers for a Day

'But you know perfectly well why,' he replied.

It sometimes occurred to her that he made rather too much of the tranquillity and contentment he had achieved. She had the feeling that the equanimity on which he laid such stress merely concealed a deep longing as well as the wounds he had suffered in the distant past. At other times, she found his statements completely baffling. She could not understand his enthusiasm for the religion of the ancient Aryans and the mores of their Slav forebears, nor why he suspected the Jews of conspiring against all other nations. She didn't know any Jews anyway, let alone any Indians, and the concerns or practices of the ancient Slavs were alien to her. None the less she listened attentively to the old man as if wanting to make up for all the years when no one had listened to him.

At the end of spring, her husband was due to leave Prague for a week on business: whenever she thought of his departure she felt a thrill, though she wasn't quite sure why. The evening after Jakub s departure, she waited until her son was asleep and then changed into her best clothes. She sat down in front of the mirror and gazed at her face for a long time. She tried to apply some eyeshadow but her hands trembled too much. Instead she went into the bedroom where her son was sleeping, kissed him on the forehead and then tiptoed out onto the landing. The noise of television sets was audible as she passed the other flats, but when she lightly pressed his doorbell it seemed as if the sound could be heard through all thirteen floors.

He came to the door. 'Is something wrong?'

She shook her head. She sat down on the chair, where she usually sat — on the occasions when she did sit. The bookbinder brought a bottle of wine and two glasses. 'Have you the time today?'

She noticed that there was a new picture of her on the wall but she was unable to concentrate on it.

'Has your husband gone?'

She nodded.

'A pity I'm so old,' he lamented, 'and a cripple into the bargain.'

'That's not important, is it? The main thing is I really enjoy being with you.' She was at a loss what to do. She stood up and turned towards the door, but stopped disconcerted in the middle of the room. 'Do you think I should go?'

'No, definitely not!'

She didn't look at him. Several dark cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the sound of music came through the wall.

The old man came over to her and kissed her on the neck. 'It's a long time since I have been with a woman. Many years.'

She put her arms around him. Suddenly all the embarrassment and uncertainty left her. She went over to the ottoman, took off her clothes and waited for him to join her.

He came and sat by her, gently calling her by the names of different Slav goddesses while stroking her forehead, her cheeks, her neck and her breasts. His words and his touch aroused a deep longing in her. She whispered words that came unexpectedly into her mind, as if she were weaving charms for herself and the old man. When at last he lay down beside her it was as if she had waited her whole life for this moment and she became aware of an unfamiliar delight that went on growing until she could bear it no longer and she let out a cry loud enough to penetrate all thirteen floors and rouse everyone, whether awake or asleep.

The bookbinder caressed her body with his coarse hands and waves of bliss washed over her again and again. 'I love you,' she whispered, 'I love you.' At that moment she overheard a strange barking sound coming from beyond the wall. Her son was suffocating.

She rushed out onto the landing half naked. When she opened the door she was greeted with total silence. She went numb at the thought of her son lying there lifeless, having choked to death while she wickedly indulged her passion.

But Matous was asleep and breathing peacefully. One of his pillows had simply fallen off his bed onto the floor. 'Oh, my poor little lamb!' She knelt down and touched his forehead and the wisps of his hair that had grown damp as he slept. 'Mummy will never leave you on your own again!' She stretched out on the rug, put the child's pillow under her head and closed her

eyes. Red spots danced before her eyes, swelling up and then dwindling again. Gradually butterflies' wings emerged and flittered above her, combining to form romantic landscapes. Then everything faded and went dark and out of the darkness emerged the figure of the old bookbinder. His face was bathed with light and, with a sudden sense of happiness, she realized that the light was coming from her.

The next evening, as soon as her son fell asleep she went to find the old man and spent most of the night with him. It was nearly morning when she returned. She lay down beside her son's bed and fell asleep straight away.

When Jakub returned a week later he found her haggard, as if exhausted from a fever. She avoided his kiss and was scarcely aware of what he was saying. Then she announced that she couldn't live with him any more and tried to explain to him what had happened. He listened to her aghast. When he had grasped the sordid nature of her infidelity, he yelled at her that she disgusted him. He was about to hit her but it seemed too theatrical and undignified, so he just spat on the floor and dashed out of the room. She could hear him shouting from the next room, most likely for her benefit but perhaps he wanted the person downstairs to hear. With a cripple like that — she goes and does it with a senile cripple!'

Marie put her son to bed. For a moment she hesitated over whether she should go to her husband and try and make him understand that she had no wish to hurt him. Then she realized that the old bookbinder was sure to be waiting for her and she crept out onto the landing.

When news of her behaviour spread, people were scandalized. Such a misalliance left all other adultery in the shade. A social worker voiced doubts about whether she was a suitable

person to bring up her son and submitted a lengthy report to her superiors showing that the mother had left her child alone in the flat night after night. The director of the crèche asked her to find a job somewhere people didn't know her.

On the day of the divorce hearing, the old bookbinder accompanied her to court. He carefully stood his crutches against the wall and took a seat in the back row.

The judge was a stout, kindly looking man. In his time he had dissolved hundreds of marriages but he would always try to reconcile the couples, usually without success. He tried to reconcile Marie Anna with her husband too. Lots of unexpected things could happen in the course of a marriage, he told them. People found themselves in situations they would have never have dreamed of and so found it impossible to deal with them: at such moments they could take rash decisions that they would regret. It was up to their partners, if they loved them, to show forbearance and offer them a helping hand.

He turned to Marie and urged her to consider her actions and think not only about her partner who had so far behaved like a model husband, but also to take her son's interests into account. Nothing would ever make up for the comfort of a happy home. A child should be brought up by the joint efforts of both parents. Didn't she realize that she could lose her son not only by a court decision, but also by a judgement of the heart, were her son not to accept her actions when he was old enough to fully understand? And last but not least she should think about herself. After all, she too wanted to live with someone who was her equal, spend not just a few short months with him but live to see the fruits of their joint efforts, live with her partner to a ripe old age, when one needed the support of one's companion more than in one's youth. The judge looked

towards the seats where her lover sat, whose early demise he seemed to prophesy, and then turned to her husband and asked him if he was still willing to take Marie back as his wife. Jakub seemed overcome with emotion and was about to say something when he simply nodded. The judge adjourned the hearing to give them time to think things over.