Ivan Klima - Lovers for a Day

Then it started to rain. He found shelter beneath a tall beech tree with dense foliage. The rain and the darkness became more intense and when they set off again an hour later they were stiff and soaked to the skin, and to make it worse he had no idea which direction they should take. He set off aimlessly along sodden paths that would peter out unexpectedly or become totally lost in the high untrodden grass.

Ashamed to admit he was lost he just plodded on this way and that. The rain hissed loudly in the treetops, but otherwise

there was only the sound of their own footsteps. Neither of them spoke. At last she said, 'Don't get upset and don't worry about me. I don't mind the rain.'

'That's good.'

Nevertheless he felt a growing sense of irritation. If he were on his own he would be able to cope. He'd run or keep going in the same direction regardless of the conditions underfoot. Instead he had to lead this sightless girl by the hand and whenever they came to a dead end he had to go back and find another path. As time went on he realized that they had not seen anyone along the way and if they ended up going deeper into the forest along the frontier they might not find a way out before evening. How much longer would that frail creature manage to stumble along paths that were full of snares for her? He couldn't abandon her. He couldn't say to her: wait there, I'll come back for you, because he couldn't be certain of finding her again. What he was certain of was that she wouldn't be able to find the way on her own.

They came to a kind of hollow from which water now overflowed. Water always flowed in one direction so if he managed to follow it they must eventually come out somewhere.

For a while he led Běta through boulders and slithered with her down a steep hillside before discovering that the water, as often happens in limestone country, suddenly disappeared underground. He halted. 'Shall we rest here a moment?'

'We don't have to on my account.' Then she asked, 'Are you lost?'

'It looks like it.'

'Are we deep in the forest?'

'How should I know? I haven't the foggiest idea where we are.'

She pressed herself to him. 'Don't be cross with me. Up there,' she said, pointing up the overgrown gorge, 'I can see a house. A white house.'

He looked in the direction she was pointing. All he could see were the rainswept tops of broad-leaved trees and a white boulder gleaming in their midst.

'That's a rock,' he snapped. 'There's no house there.'

'Yes, there's a rock and the house is behind it. Perhaps we could shelter in it.'

'We can't shelter in a house that doesn't exist. How can you tell me you can see something?'

'I'm sorry. I know I can't really see anything. It just seemed to me there was a house.'

It made little difference now which way they went. Although there was no path leading in that direction, he took her by the hand and, almost with a sense of relish, dragged her uphill through the bushes. She tripped on tree roots and got caught up in the long thorny creepers. He disentangled her crossly.

'Are you very cross with me?'

'No, but it's pouring with rain and we're both soaked to the skin.'

'And I'm holding you back.'

'Don't talk about that. .'

'When we get home. .'

'If we get home!'

'We'll reach it in a moment.'

'What, the white house? You can shut up about that at least.'

'Don't be cross with me. When we get back to the inn, you can put me on the train and I'll go back to Prague. I won't be in your way any more.'

He ought to say he wouldn't do anything of the sort, but he remained silent. He imagined what a relief it would be to put her on a train and be free of the burden.

They clambered on until at last they reached the ridge. The woods on the opposite slope were sparse and not far below them he could make out the low wall of a cemetery. Beyond it, away from the gravestones, the low, newly painted mortuary shone white. He stood, gaping at it in amazement.

'Is something the matter?' she asked.

'You must see it now, even I can.'

'Is it white?'

'White and cold.'

'Do you think we'll find shelter there?'

'I expect it's locked.'

'Doesn't anyone live there?'

'No, this isn't a place for the living.'

'Is it a cemetery?'

'Yes.'

'Then there must be a path leading to it.'

'All paths lead to it.'

'I didn't mean it that way. Are you angry?'

'Me, with you?'

'Everything's more difficult with me tagging along, you know that. You could have been home ages ago.'

They reached the cemetery wall. A pavement led to it from the other side. 'I wouldn't want to be home now.'

'Thank you,' she said.

'What for? You found the path.'

'You didn't leave me.'

He stopped and looked at her. Her weary face was soaking wet and a trickle of blood ran from a fresh scratch beneath her

unseeing left eye. Her hair had darkened and lost its fiery colour.

'Are you looking at me?'

'How can you tell? Can you see everything?'

'I can't see anything. I just sense things.'

'Did you sense the cemetery too?'

'I sensed that I loved you.'

'I want to say something to you. Something important.'

She seemed to him to cower, as if to ward off a blow, as if she knew what had been going through his mind not so long ago.

'Don't leave me!' he said.

(1994)