"I know," said Olga, and Jakub realized he had told her a story she had heard many times. He had long ago resolved never again to talk about these things, but without success. People who have been in an automobile accident cannot help remembering it.
"I know," Olga repeated, "but it doesn't surprise me. The prisoners were jailed without a trial, very often without any grounds. And all of a sudden they were face to face with one of the men they considered responsible!"
"From the moment your father put on the prison uniform, he was a prisoner among prisoners. There was no sense in harming him, especially under the guards' complacent eyes. It was nothing but cowardly revenge. The vilest desire to trample on a defenseless victim. And these letters you got are fruits of the same kind of revenge, which I now see is stronger than time itself."
"But Jakub! Nevertheless a hundred thousand people were put in prison! And thousands never came back! And not a single one of those responsible was ever punished! This desire for revenge is really just an unsatisfied desire for justice!"
"Taking revenge on the father through the daughter has nothing to do with justice. Remember that because of your father you lost your home, you were forced out of your home town, you were denied the right to attend the university. Because of a dead father you barely knew! And because of your father should you be persecuted now? I'm going to tell you the saddest discovery
of my life: the persecuted are no better than the persecutors. I can easily imagine the roles reversed. You might see in this logic the desire to shift your father's responsibility onto the Creator who made man as he is. And maybe it's good for you to see things this way. Because to come to the conclusion that there's no difference between the guilty and the victims is to abandon all hope. And that, my girl, is what is called hell."
5
Ruzena's two colleagues were burning with impatience. They wanted to know how the previous day's meeting with Klima had gone, but they were on duty at the other end of the thermal building, and it was not until about three o'clock that they could get to their friend and bombard her with questions.
Ruzena hesitated to answer and finally said uncertainly: "He said he loved me and he'd marry me."
"You see! I told you so!" said the thin one. "And is he going to get a divorce?"
"He said yes."
"He'll have to," the fortyish one said cheerfully. "A baby's a baby. And his wife's never had one."
Now Ruzena had to admit the truth: "He said he's going to take me to Prague. He's going to find me a
job there. He said we're going to Italy on vacation. But he doesn't want a child right away. And he's right. The first years are the most beautiful, and if we had a child we wouldn't be able to make the most of each other."
The fortyish one was stunned: "What, you're going to have an abortion?"
Ruzena nodded.
"You've gone crazy!" the thin one exclaimed.
"He's twisted you around his little finger," said the fortyish one. "The minute you get rid of the child, he'll send you packing!"
"Why would he?"
"You want to bet?"
"Even if he loves me?"
"And how do you know he loves you?" said the fortyish one.
"He told me he does!"
"And why didn't you hear from him for two months?"
"He was afraid of love," said Ruzena.
"What?"
"How can I explain it to you? He was afraid of being in love with me."
"And that's why he gave no sign of life?"
"It was a test he set himself. He wanted to be sure he couldn't forget me. That's understandable, isn't it?"
"I see," said the fortyish one. "And when he found out he'd knocked you up, he suddenly realized he couldn't forget you."
"He said he's glad I'm pregnant. Not because of the child, but because I phoned him. It made him realize he loved me."
"My God, what an idiot you are!" the thin one exclaimed.
"I don't see why I'm an idiot."
"Because this child is the only thing you've got," said the fortyish one. "If you give up the child, you'll have nothing, and he'll spit on you."
"I want him to want me for my own sake and not for the child's sake!"
"Who do you think you are? Why would he want you for your own sake?"
They discussed the matter passionately for a long time. Her two colleagues went on repeating to Ruzena that the child was her only trump card and that she must not give it up.
"I'd never have an abortion, I can tell you that. Never, do you understand? Never," the thin one declared.
Ruzena suddenly felt like a little girl and said (they were the same words that, the day before, had restored Klima's desire to live): "So tell me what I should do!"
"Don't give in," said the fortyish one, and then she opened a drawer and took out a tube of tablets. "Here, take one! You're a nervous wreck. It'll calm you down."
Ruzena put the tablet in her mouth and swallowed it.
"Keep the tube. Three times a day, but take them only when you need to calm down. So you don't go
doing stupid things while you're agitated. Don't forget he's a slippery character. It's not his first time! But this time he won't get out of it so easily!"
Once more she didn't know what to do. A little while ago she had thought her mind was made up, but her colleagues' arguments seemed convincing, and once more she was upset. Torn by indecision, she went downstairs.
In the building's entrance hall, an excited, red-faced young man rushed toward her.
"I told you never to wait for me here," she said, looking at him rancorously. "And after what happened yesterday, I can't believe you've got the gall!"
"Please don't be angry!" the young man cried out in a tone of desperation.
"Shush!" she yelled. "And on top of it don't make a scene here too," and she turned to go.
"Don't go away like that if you don't want me to make a scene!"
There was nothing she could do. Patients were coming and going through the building lobby and staff people in white coats passing by. She didn't want to attract attention, and so she had to stay and try hard to look natural: "All right, what do you want?" she said in an undertone.
"Nothing. I only wanted you to forgive me. I'm really sorry about what I did. But please swear to me there's nothing between you and him."
"I already told you there's nothing between us."
"Then swear!"
"Don't be a child. I don't swear to stupid things like that."
"Because something's happened between you."
"I already said no. And if you don't believe me, we've got nothing more to talk about. He's just a friend. Don't I have the right to have friends? I respect him, I'm glad he's my friend."
"I understand. I don't blame you," said the young man.
"He's giving a concert here tomorrow. I hope you're not going to spy on me."
"I won't if you give me your word of honor there's nothing between you."
"I already told you I won't lower myself by giving my word of honor for things like that. But I give you my word of honor that if you spy on me once more, you'll never see me again as long as you live."
"Ruzena, it's because I love you," said the young man unhappily.
"Me too," Ruzena said curtly. "But I don't go making scenes on the highway for your sake."
"That's because you don't love me. You're ashamed of me."
"Don't talk nonsense!"
"You never want to go out with me, to be seen with me…
"Shush!" she repeated, since he had raised his voice. "My father would kill me. I already told you he keeps an eye on me. But now don't be angry, I really have to go."
The young man grabbed her arm: "Don't go yet."
Ruzena raised her eyes to the ceiling in desperation.
The young man said: "If we got married, everything would be different. Then he couldn't say anything. We'd have a child."
"I don't want to have a child," Ruzena said
sharply. "I'd rather kill myself than have a child!"
"Why?"
"Because. I don't want a child."
"I love you, Ruzena," the young man said again.
And Ruzena responded: "And that's why you want to drive me to suicide, right?"
"Suicide?" he asked, surprised.
"Yes! Suicide!"
"Ruzena!" said the young man.
"You're going to drive me to it, all right! I guarantee you! You're definitely going to drive me to it!"
"Can I come see you this evening?" he asked humbly.
"No, not this evening," said Ruzena. Then, realizing she had to calm him, she added in a more conciliatory tone: "You can phone me here, Frantisek. But not before Monday." She turned to go.
"Wait," said the young man. "I brought you something. So that you'll forgive me," and he offered her a small package.
She took it and quickly went out into the street.
6
"Is Doctor Skreta really such an oddball or is he pretending?" Olga asked Jakub.
"I've been asking myself that ever since I've known him," answered Jakub.
"Oddballs have an easy life when they succeed in making people respect their oddballness," said Olga. "Doctor Skreta is incredibly absentminded. In the middle of a conversation he forgets what he was talking about. Sometimes he starts chatting in the street with somebody and gets to his office two hours late. But nobody dares hold it against him because the doctor is an officially recognized oddball and only a boor would contest his right to oddballness."
"Oddball or not, I believe he looks after you rather well."
"He probably does, but everyone here has the impression that for him the medical practice is something secondary that prevents him from devoting himself to lots of much more important projects. For example, tomorrow he's going to play the drums!"
"Wait a minute," interrupted Jakub. "Is that really so?"
"Of course! The whole spa is covered with posters announcing that the famous trumpeter Klima is giving a concert here tomorrow and that Doctor Skreta will be playing the drums."
"That's incredible," said Jakub. "It's not that I'm at
all surprised to hear that Skreta intends to play the drums. Skreta is the biggest dreamer I've ever known. But I haven't seen him yet realize a single one of his dreams. When we got to know each other, at the university, Skreta didn't have much money. He was always broke and always contriving moneymaking schemes. He had a plan at the time to get a female Welsh terrier, because someone told him puppies of this breed brought four thousand crowns apiece. He quickly figured it out. The bitch would have two litters a year, five puppies each. Two times five makes ten, ten times four thousand makes forty thousand crowns per year. He thought of everything. With a lot of difficulty he got the help of the university dining-hall manager, who promised to let the dog have the daily leftovers. He wrote term papers for two women students who promised to walk the dog every day. His student dormitory didn't allow dogs. So each week he brought the housemother a bouquet of roses until she promised to make an exception for him. He spent two months preparing the ground for his bitch, but we all knew he'd never get her. He needed four thousand crowns to buy her, and no one wanted to lend it to him. No one took him seriously. Everyone considered him a dreamer, surely an exceptionally canny and enterprising one, but only in the realm of the imaginary."
"That's quite charming, but I still don't understand your strange affection for him. He's not reliable. He's incapable of being on time, and he forgets the day after what he promised the day before."
"That's not quite right. He helped me a great deal once. In fact, no one's ever helped me as much."
Jakub thrust his hand into the breast pocket of his jacket and took out a folded piece of tissue paper. He unfolded it to reveal a pale-blue tablet.
"What is it?" asked Olga.
"Poison."
Jakub savored the young woman's inquiring silence for a moment and then went on: "I've had this tablet for more than fifteen years. After my year in prison, there was one thing I understood. You need to have at least one certainty: to remain in control of your own death and of the ability to choose its time and manner. With that certainty, you can put up with a lot of things. You know you can get away from people whenever you want."
"Did you have this tablet with you in prison?"
"Unfortunately not! But I got it as soon as I was released."
"When you didn't need it anymore?"
"In this country you never know when you're going to need a thing like that. And then, for me it was a matter of principle. Every person should be given a poison tablet on the day he reaches maturity. A solemn ceremony should take place on that occasion. Not to prompt him to suicide, but, on the contrary, to allow him to live more securely and serenely. To live knowing he's in control of his own life and his own death."
"And how did you get this poison?"
"Skreta started out as a biochemist in a lab. At first I
asked someone else, but she considered it her moral duty to deny me the poison. Skreta himself compounded the tablet without a moment's hesitation."
"Maybe because he's an oddball."
"Maybe. But mostly because he understood me. He knew that I wasn't a hysteric who liked to play suicide games. He understood what was at stake for me. I'm going to give him back the tablet today. I don't need it anymore."
"So all the dangers are gone?"
"Tomorrow morning I'm leaving the country for good. I've been invited to teach at a university, and I've got permission from the authorities to leave."
He had finally said it. Jakub looked at Olga and saw that she was smiling. She took his hand: "Really? That's very good news! I'm very pleased for you!"
She was showing the same disinterested pleasure he himself would feel if he were to learn that Olga was leaving for a foreign country where she would have a more pleasant life. This was surprising, because he had always feared she had an emotional attachment to him. He was happy that it wasn't so, but he also surprised himself by being a bit upset.
Olga was so interested in Jakub's disclosure that she forgot to go on questioning him about the pale-blue tablet lying between them on the piece of tissue paper, and Jakub had to tell her in detail all the circumstances of his future career.
"I'm extremely pleased you managed it. Here you'd always be suspect. They haven't even let you practice
your profession. And what's more, they spend their time preaching love of country. How can you love a country where you're forbidden to work? I can tell you I don't feel any love for my homeland. Is that bad of me?"
"I don't know," said Jakub. "I really don't. As far as I'm concerned, I've been rather attached to this coun-try.
"Maybe it's bad of me," Olga went on, "but I don't feel tied to anything. What could I be attached to here?"
"Even painful memories are ties that bind."
"Bind us to what? To staying in the country where we were born? I don't understand how people can talk about freedom and not get that millstone off their necks. As if a tree were at home where it can't grow. A tree is at home wherever water percolates through the soil."
"And you, do you find enough water here?"
"All in all, yes. Now that they're finally letting me study, I've got what I want. I'm going to do my biology, and I don't want to hear about anything else. I wasn't the one who set up this regime, and I'm not responsible for any of it. But when exactly are you leaving?"
"Tomorrow."
"So soon?" She took his hand. "Since you were nice enough to come and say goodbye to me, please don't be in such a hurry to go."
It continued to be different from what he had expected. She was behaving neither like a young
woman secretly in love with him nor like an adopted daughter feeling unfleshly filial love for him. She held his hand with eloquent tenderness, looked him in the eye, and repeated: "Don't be in such a hurry! It makes no sense to me that you're not staying here awhile to sa
y goodbye to me."
Jakub was somewhat perplexed by this: "We'll see," he said. "Skreta's also trying to convince me to stay a little longer."
"You should certainly stay longer," said Olga. "In any case, we have so little time for each other. Now I have to go back to the baths…" After a moment's thought she announced that she would not go anywhere while Jakub was here.
"No, no, you should go. You shouldn't miss your treatment. I'll go with you."
"Really?" asked Olga happily. She opened the wardrobe and started to look for something.
The pale-blue tablet was still lying on the unfolded piece of paper on the table, and Olga, the only person in the world to whom Jakub had revealed its existence, was leaning into the wardrobe with her back to the poison. Jakub thought that this pale-blue tablet was the drama of his life, a neglected, nearly forgotten, and probably uninteresting drama. And he told himself that it was high time to rid himself of this uninteresting drama, to say goodbye to it quickly and leave it behind him. He wrapped the tablet in the piece of paper and stuck it into the breast pocket of his jacket.
Olga took a bag out of the wardrobe, put a towel
into it, closed the wardrobe door, and said to Jakub: "I'm ready."
7
Ruzena had been sitting on a park bench for God knows how long, probably unable to budge because her thoughts too were motionless, fixed on a single point.
Yesterday she had still believed what the trumpeter told her. Not only because it was pleasant but also because it was more simple: it provided her a way to give up, with a clear conscience, a fight for which she lacked the strength. But after her colleagues laughed at her, she again mistrusted him and thought of him with hatred, fearing deep down that she was neither cunning nor stubborn enough to win him.
Apathetically she tore open the package Frantisek had given her. Inside was something made of pale-blue fabric, and Ruzena realized he had made her a present of a nightgown; a nightgown he wished to see her in every day; every day, a great many days, for the rest of his life. She gazed at the pale-blue fabric and thought she saw that patch of blue run and expand, turn into a pond, a pond of goodness and devotion, a pond of abject love which would end up engulfing her.
Farewell Waltz Page 7