by Ivan Klíma
‘Not quite so long. And ships are always at sea.’
‘But I wouldn’t see you for six months at a time.’
‘If I stay here I’ll have to fly back and forth or you wouldn’t see me either.’
‘I know’
‘But I thought you told me you wanted to be with me always.’
‘I did, I do. You’re so far away, though. And your wife and your little daughters are there. And I’m married.’
‘That’s why I want to move over there. After all, there must be some way of working it out so that the two of us can be together.’
‘But your career is with the navy.’
‘I wouldn’t have to find a job at sea. I could earn my living some other way. I could drive a taxi perhaps. Besides, you’ve got river navigation.’
‘You want to re-train to take care of a raft?’
‘As a matter of fact they’ve got some rather nice little steamers. And they’d have a job for me starting in September.’
‘The fact that you’re a sea captain was one of the things that appealed to me most about you.’
‘That’s another thing I need to talk to you about. We’ve got manoeuvres in September.’
‘And you’ll be in command.’
‘Something like that.’
‘That must be fascinating.’
‘That’s not the point right now. But I can hardly give them just one week’s notice that I’m going.’
‘Where to?’
‘I told you. I’ll have a job with that navigation company of yours from September onwards.’
‘But it’s only June now’
‘Exactly. It’s June already. Which means I’d have to give my notice in straight away’
‘But you couldn’t, could you, not with those manoeuvres?’
‘I could, but I’d have to let them know before the end of the week.’
‘And you want to hear from me by the end of the week whether you should come over?’
‘I need to know, in order to make my decision.’
‘But you promised me you’d give me time to make up my own mind.’
‘Naturally. I can’t force you, can I?’ ‘But you’re forcing me now!’
‘What am I forcing you to do?’
‘Hello, Bill, can you hear me? There’s someone talking in Maori again. Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, I can hear you, and that blithering idiot too. That’s not Maori, that’s Japanese.’
‘What’s he saying?’
‘Who?’
‘The man talking Japanese.’
‘It’s not important. To hell with him. He says it looks like margarine prices are going to fall. He’s talking about the Dow-Jones index.’
‘I can hear you fine now. The margarine man has disappeared. What were we saying?’
‘That you have to be free to make up your own mind. I’d never put you under any pressure. You’re a free woman, Tereza. With me you’d be free at last. I just need to know whether I’m to withdraw from those manoeuvres.’
‘Exchange here. Is that seven one zero, eight one three?’
‘Hang on! What did you say? Lord, I can’t even remember my own number now’
‘It’s all right, I recognize your voice. You’ve got Wellington on the line again.’
‘Tereza?’
‘Yes, Bill.’
‘Are you alone?’
‘Yes. There’s only my little boy with me.’
‘Tereza, it’ll soon be Friday here.’
‘Not here though. It’s only Thursday morning.’
‘I realize that. But I’ll have to give my reply today’
‘About those manoeuvres?’
‘About whether I’m going to leave the navy.’
‘But you always told me that it was your business what you did.’
‘Naturally. I just wanted to know if you agreed with me that I should leave.’
‘The navy, or New Zealand?’
‘The one depends on the other.’
‘But Bill, I was trying to tell you last time. You have your family there. What will become of them?’
‘My family would stay where they are now’
‘You’d leave your little girls there?’
‘Tereza, I love you. I can’t live without you. What am I to do? I have to give up something, or someone. I’ve already told them.’
‘You’ve told them you’re leaving and coming here?’
‘I told my wife.’
‘And how about her?’
‘I’ve already told you. First she said she wouldn’t get over it. Then she said I was off my head.’
‘Stop that, for heaven’s sake!’
‘What did you say?’
‘It’s awful. My little monster has tipped salt into the sugar bowl.’
‘That’s not important, is it?’
‘I didn’t say it was important. Listen, do you really want to live here?’
‘I’ve already found a job there.’
‘Have you accepted it yet?’
‘No, I’ve just discussed it with them. And I’ve already started learning Czech.’
‘You really are crazy.’
‘Yes, about you, sweetheart.’
‘But, Bill, you promised me, you said you’d let me have time …’
‘You can have all you want, but I have to give them a reply.’
‘Because of those rafts?’
‘They’re quite nice little steamers.’
‘When do you have to give your answer?’
‘Soon. And the people here today. Or by next week at the latest.’
‘But we can’t come to any agreement over the phone, can we?’
‘And that’s precisely the reason I told you last time I wanted to come over. Don’t you agree?’
‘I’m not sure. Anyway I told you I’m here with my husband and the children.’
‘I’m aware of that, aren’t I? I’d get on fine with your kids.’
‘Stay out of here, for God’s sake!’
‘What did you say?’
‘It’s my little one. He’s trying to climb into the oven when it’s switched on. And what about my husband?’
‘You told me, if I’m not mistaken, that you have a dog’s life with him.’
‘Bill, that’s something we can’t solve over the phone. And it costs a fortune.’
‘I don’t care about the money. I care about you.’
‘I care about you too.’
I love you. And I can already say it to you in Czech. Milovávám tă na celou duši. Did I get it right?’
‘Not quite, Bill. But I understand you. And I love you too. Z celé duše.’
‘There you go.’
‘And that’s precisely the reason I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later. Something that will drive us both to despair.’
‘I’ll never regret it so long as I’m with you. I’d only despair if I had to live without you.’
‘And without your little girls?’
‘They’ll grow up all the same. And they’ll be married in a few years’ time.’
‘How can you talk about your own children that way? They’re still only little. You have to live for the present, for heaven’s sake. You can’t act according to what might or might not happen.’
‘Tereza, don’t you love me any more?’
‘Wellington here. Are you still talking, Prague?’
‘Yes we are, but we’re nearly finished.’
‘We’re nearly finished, Tereza?’
‘But it’s costing you a fortune.’
‘No, I thought you meant finished with me. You haven’t told me if you still love me.’
‘I love you as much as ever.’
‘Do you remember the first time we met?’
‘Yes, but we can scarcely talk about it at such a distance, can we?’
‘You told me I was the sort of man you could spend your life with,’
‘Yes, because you�
��re calm and kind, and you love me. You were nice to my parents when I introduced you to them last time you were here. My husband quarrels with them. He quarrels with everyone, in fact, because he only sees people’s bad sides. And I was very attracted to you. My sea captain. You’ll take command at the manoeuvres.’
‘I won’t. I’ll live over there in your country. That’s what I need us to agree on.’
‘But Bill, everything’s different here. And there’s no sea.’
‘I’ve had enough of the sea. You’re what’s special for me.’
‘Because you have the sea all around you, but you don’t have me. If you come here, you’ll have me right enough, but you’ll start to miss the sea.’
‘How can you compare yourself to the sea? The sea is water and you’re fire.’
‘Darling, you say such beautiful things to me, but we must finish. We’ll never sort it out over the phone, anyway.’
‘You haven’t told me yet whether you want me to come over.’
‘What I want isn’t the point. It wouldn’t be sensible.’
‘Why wouldn’t it be sensible? We miss each other so much and we have to take decisions about our future.’
‘Because we have our families. After all, you said I have to be absolutely free to decide.’
‘Of course. I can’t make you do anything, can I?’
‘How can I be free to decide if you come over here and tell me you’ll leave your family and your country because of me, and then you’ll ruin these manoeuvres. Are they important?’
‘Who?’
‘The manoeuvres.’
‘The biggest for ten years.’
‘There you are. And you’d go and miss them.’
‘That’s my affair.’
‘No, it isn’t just your affair. If you give up your job and abandon everything on account of me how am I supposed to be free to decide? Don’t you realize what a responsibility this places on me? After all, I can’t even be sure that you’d be happy with me.’
‘With you I’ll be happy. And you yourself said how nice it would be if we could be together all the time.’
‘I said it because I love you.’
‘There you are, then.’
‘But at the same time I knew you were a long way away and that it could never come true. If you were nearer everything would be easier, and we could get to know each other better as well. We’ve hardly known each other for more than a couple of weeks.’
‘Times two.’
‘Yes. But that first time, when we met at the seaside, we had no idea that we’d fall in love.’
‘I knew it the first time I saw you.’
‘We didn’t know it for certain. We were both on holiday And when you’re on holiday everything seems different and special.’
‘It was special. But I knew I could never meet another woman like you.’
‘What sort of woman am I?’
‘Remarkable. Beautiful. Delicate. Tender. Wise.’
‘Bill, you wrote and told me all that before. Don’t waste time now. We’ve been talking for so long already. This phone call will cost you more than the plane ticket.’
‘Don’t think about the cost of the call and tell me whether I ought to fly over.’
‘This is the Wellington operator. Are you still speaking, Prague?’
‘This is Bill Morgan here, also in Wellington. What the hell do you keep butting in like that for?’
‘Excuse me, sir, but I had the feeling your call was a trifle long.’
‘There’s no need for you to worry yourself about the length of our call. You’re not paying!’
‘Bill, I don’t think you should come. I’m not sure I’ll have the time or the chance to meet you. My husband always wants to know what I do during the day …’
‘Tell him you’re going to your parents’. We could meet there.’
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake, pack that in! Turn that tap off right away!’
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothing. I wasn’t talking to you.’
‘Is someone there with you?’
‘I told you already. My little boy. Now he’s gone and tipped flour in the sink and is running the water. What were we saying?’
‘That we could meet at your parents’.’
‘I’m not sure I want to drag them into it. Oh Jesus, the flour’s blocked the waste pipe. Bill, I’m sorry, I can’t concentrate, the sink’s overflowing. And anyway you promised me time to think it over!’
‘Seven one zero eight one three? I have that gentleman from Wellington for you again.’
‘Tereza, it’s Friday here now. Are you there on your own?’
‘Yes. My little boy has just gone to sleep.’
‘That’s good. At least we’ll have a bit of peace and time for ourselves.’
‘But Bill, what do you mean by time? You only called three hours ago.’
‘Precisely. You’ve had a chance to think it over.’
‘What can I have thought over?’
‘Whether I’m to fly there. That’s not a very tough decision, is it?’
‘But Bill, I can’t even be sure we’ll be able to meet. I told you I didn’t want to drag my parents into it.’
‘How about some girlfriend?’
‘I don’t know, Bill. Girlfriends are out too.’
‘Think up something else, then. Otherwise just tell him I’ve arrived and we need to talk to each other.’
‘Do you think I ought to tell him everything about you?’
‘It would be the honourable thing.’
‘But he might kill you. Or me. Or himself. You don’t know him.’
‘You see the kind of life you have with him!’
‘Would you put up with it if I was your wife and told you someone else – my lover – was flying in to see me?’
‘I wouldn’t kill anyone. At the most I’d chuck him in the sea and let him sink or swim.’
‘But there’s no sea here, Bill!’
‘So I’d chuck him in any old water.’
‘You’re different, I know. That’s why I fell in love with you.’
‘And do you love him too, seeing that you’re always so concerned about him?’
‘I’m not talking about love. But he is still my husband after all.’
‘I thought you didn’t love him any more. That you didn’t want to live with him. So why are you so concerned about him?’
‘That’s true. But he’s terribly attached to the children.’
‘But you wouldn’t be taking them from him.’
‘And the children are attached to him. He’s their father.’
‘You said you’re always having terrible rows at home. That he yells at them needlessly. That he makes them neurotic.’
‘We do have rows sometimes. Awful ones. We hurl the crockery at each other in the kitchen. Sometimes he yells at the boys. And twice he wanted to kill himself. Now I can hear some music on the line. What absurd kind of music is that anyway? Some Chinese thing or other. Can you hear me at all? It’s enough to drive you mad.’
‘There you are. It’s enough to drive you mad.’
‘What is?’
‘Life with your husband.’
‘That as well. But at this moment it’s the telephone. I can hear you again. What was I talking about?’
‘Your husband. How he wanted to kill you on two occasions.’
‘Not me. He wanted to kill himself.’
‘Sorry, I misheard you. There was some Maori band on the line. He wanted to kill himself on account of you?’
‘He wanted to kill himself in a rage. Or from despair. Or maybe it was just a threat. He wants to bind me to him, to make me obedient and faithful.’
‘Do you think that’s good for the children?’
‘It certainly isn’t.’
‘There you are.’
‘But we don’t quarrel all the time. Sometimes our home is quite peaceful. And he plays with them and reads them Bible stories and
tries to bring them up as decent people.’
‘I’d read them Bible stories too. We always read the Bible at home on Sundays.’
‘In your home?’
‘Yes, in my home.’
‘And tell me, could you really leave it behind? Don’t you love your home?’
‘I love you. My home will be wherever you are.’
‘How can you tell?’
‘I just feel it.’
‘This is a foreign country.’
‘My ancestors also came to a foreign country. Everyone here bar the Maoris came to a totally foreign country. The journey by ship could take three months in those days. And even the Maoris haven’t always been here.’
‘But you were born there. You have your parents, your brother, your friends, your wife, your children and the sea.’
‘But I haven’t got you.’
‘Do you mean to say that I count for more than everything else?’
‘Yes, that’s just what I mean to say.’
‘But you hardly know me. After a couple of months here you might start to regret it.’
‘I never regret anything I do.’
‘You married once and now you want to go away and leave them. And you don’t regret it?’
‘No. We loved each other once and then it ended. I don’t regret it.’
‘You’ll love me and then it’ll end. Won’t you regret it?’
‘It won’t end!’
‘If it ended, would you regret it?’
‘It won’t end.’
‘But if it ended you would regret it.’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’
‘What would you find to do here in a foreign country? A sailor with no sea. A man with no home, no family, no friends?’
‘Didn’t you tell me just a while ago that one has to live for the present and not act in terms of what will or won’t happen?’
‘But we’d break up our families. Both you and I.’
‘They’re broken already. After what has happened.’
‘But things like that happen in life and the family doesn’t have to break up on account of them.’
‘When love ends it never returns.’
‘Are you so sure?’
‘I’m speaking about myself.’
‘Bill, these phone calls must have cost the price of an air ticket already. You might as well have come straight here.’
‘You didn’t tell me whether I should come.’
‘I’m really not sure, Bill. It’d be awfully complicated.’
‘Life is complicated. Until the day you die.’