I was so tired I was half asleep. Still, I was listening to her, especially because she seemed to be waiting to hear what I’d say about her troubles. But what could I say, I was appalled by her lust for life. By all those husbands of hers, she had two of them under her belt and she was already imagining not just a fourth, if the third one turned out to be a drunk after they got married, but more and more all the way till she died, and maybe even after death. How could I have any idea what it was like to be a third husband, or what it could be like for a woman to be with a third one.
“I don’t know what to tell you, ma’am,” I said.
“What are you calling me ma’am for?” she said, bridling, and I felt another wave of heat. “You’re lying in bed with me and saying ma’am. Just call me ma’am when we’re around the other men. I wasn’t asking for your opinion. I have to figure it out on my own. What can you know.” She slipped her hand under my head and held me to her. “Is this the first time you’ve been with a woman? I thought so, you’re lying there all shy, all tensed up. But you should sleep. Today nothing’s going to happen anyway. You need at least a bit of sleep before you go to work. See, the dawn’s starting to come up. It’ll be morning before you know it. Get to sleep. Lord, going without sleep night after night like that. Were you always sensitive to snoring? Me too. Good lord. If you like I can put a straw mattress down for you in the kitchen, and you can leave their room for the night, tell them you can’t sleep because of their snoring. And sometimes you can come into my bed. I’ve never had anyone as young as you. You’re a sweet boy.” She shook me, as I was already falling asleep. She raised her head and leaned over me, suddenly bothered. “Are you telling the truth that it’s your first time?” Relieved, she fell back on the pillow. “What a bit of luck. God must be making up for those drunkards of mine.” She abruptly pressed my head to her breast. “I don’t even know what to do with someone when it’s their first time. When it was me it was quite an experience, I remember. I didn’t like it. You probably have no idea what to do. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you everything. Whatever you do though, for God’s sake don’t let them persuade you to drink. You can have one or two drinks. That won’t do you any harm. But not any more. It’s not good for the man to have too much. Or for the woman either. Though for the woman it’s not such a big thing. I’ve had drunken men, I know. I’m wondering where I could put that mattress down for you. I think I’ll move the table against the wall. You’ll finally be able to get some sleep. You don’t have to come to me every night. Only when you’re not too tired. I don’t have the urge every night either. But go to sleep now. Today it’s like you’re with family. Brother and sister. I could be your older sister. Why not? There are bigger age differences. Though you sometimes hear about brothers and sisters doing it together. Nothing’s sacred anymore.” She stroked me, kissed me on the forehead, pressed me to her so hard that my nose was squashed against her downy chest. “Oh, you sweet thing.”
Let me tell you, I started to be afraid of her. Maybe because what did I know back then about women. If I hadn’t been so sleepy I might have gotten out of bed, said I felt like smoking again, I was going to fetch my cigarettes. But I was too timid to even get up.
“Go to sleep.” She held me to her again. “This isn’t the only night we’ll have. There’ll be plenty more! I asked your boss, he said the job’s going to take a long while yet. We’ll have lots of time to tell each other secrets. I’ll leave the door from the kitchen to my room ajar so you don’t have to move the handle. And I’ll have the hinges oiled tomorrow. Go to sleep now. I won’t turn around, I’ll listen to you sleeping. When someone’s asleep you can often tell a lot about them. One person sleeps like a child, while with someone else, God help him. It comes out of them in their sleep. Whether they keep turning from one side to the other, or they sleep on the same side all night long, or sleep facing you all night, you can know a lot. Or if they’re curled up in a ball like they were clinging to their mommy. The worst ones are the ones that lie on their backs, like those drunkards of mine. The one and the other both slept on their backs. I always had to roll them over onto their sides to stop them from snoring so loud. Whenever I think of them I stop feeling sleepy, however tired I was before. When you want to go to sleep you ought to think of something nice. But how can you have enough nice things to last for every time you have to fall asleep. It’s mostly unpleasant things that crowd into your mind, there’s never any shortage of those. It looks like dawn’s beginning. The curtain’s getting lighter. And you can see the Lord Jesus better. He’s always the first thing you see when the sun comes up. But you can still sleep a little at least. I’ll wake you so you get up just before the other men. When you go in to get dressed it’ll be like you were just coming back from the bathroom. Go to sleep. It won’t be for long, but you won’t be as exhausted as if you’d not slept at all. Especially working with electricity. Lord in heaven, what if you were to get a shock. Lord in heaven. I got a shock from the iron one time. I was only touching it to see if it was hot. It made me tingle all the way up my arm. Gave me such a scare. I burned a pillowcase. People say you get all kinds of illnesses from the electricity. Is that true?”
I don’t know if I told her it wasn’t, or if I only dreamed that I told her so.
“I won’t deny it, a thing like an iron is really handy. All that work you used to have to do heating the charcoal, blowing on it. One time I burned my eyebrows, I’ve had to dye them since then. The flat-irons with the heated slug inside weren’t any better. They were so heavy, and the slug would keep losing its heat. You’d have to be always putting it in the fire and taking it out. You’d use the kitchen stove. One time, a heated slug fell on my foot. Lucky I was wearing shoes. Now all you have to do is plug it in. It’s convenient. Though if people start getting sick … Lord forbid. But there’s no point worrying about illnesses ahead of time. If they come we’ll deal with them, better or worse, either that or we’ll die right away. Dying right away would be good. Even without electricity there comes a time of sickness. That’s how life is. For now I’d rather just think about what it’s going to be like with you. Your first time. Mother of God. I’m actually scared. My bed for sure never saw this coming. Though I have to change the sheets. I’ll put the embroidered ones on. Quilt and pillowcases. I embroidered them myself. I’d be waiting in the evenings for those drunken husbands of mine, what was I supposed to do? I did embroidery. Though not for them. No sir. No way would I have let them sleep in embroidered sheets. And I’ll buy us a new bottom sheet. Just make sure you wash. Your boss told me you have a shower over on the site. It’s not you, I just know how guys wash themselves. Someone has to make sure you do it right. I’ll have a good wash too. I’ll soak myself in the bathtub. I’ll fill it with foam, maybe even put in some fragrance. Will you make an outlet for me by my bed? I’d like to get a bedside lamp. We could turn it on sometimes. Instead of always only doing it in the dark. For once I’d like it to be light. I read somewhere it’s a lot nicer that way. And I like to read from time to time. After you’re gone, I’ll be able to read in bed. Or think awhile with the light on. You probably have more pleasant thoughts that way. But you, don’t think, go to sleep. I know what you’re thinking about, but there’s not much time. There wouldn’t be enough. Best not to start. When you got up you’d be in worse shape than if you’d just not slept. Often your legs will barely carry you, and your head is whirling. The daylight’s here, but it’s like the night refuses to go out of you. You cook, you do the laundry, but it’s still nighttime. As if you were doing everything in the dark. And you’d be mad at me. I don’t want you to be mad. When a man’s mad, someone has to be to blame. And the way it is, it’s always the woman. Or you’d be late for work, and that’d be my fault too. But don’t worry, I’ll teach you, you’ll see. There’s always a first time. When you don’t know what you’re doing it can be all over before you know it, and I don’t want that. I’ve had enough of that. I was raped by soldiers, I know all about th
at kind. There were five of them, with all these medals swinging to and fro over my head. I didn’t even feel like crying. Though why am I even telling you these things. You don’t need to know what the world was like only yesterday. Maybe you’ve come into a better world. You should want it to be better. If men want to fight, let them, but women and children shouldn’t have to pay for their wars. Though those drunkards of mine weren’t soldiers, and they weren’t any better. They’d come home drunk, and it’d be the same thing, over before you knew it, without any feeling, then they’d be asleep a moment later. And when they did it that way it was like they were paying you back for something. Whether it was a soldier or a husband. For what? That the world’s arranged in such a way that it takes two people? Surely the world is made for loving. Without loving there’d be no reason to live. Nothing but sleeping and eating, what for? Working, what for? Who’d feel like working in a world like that? I read a book once where some guy died while he was making love to a woman. His heart gave out. His heart, can you believe it. Everything collects in the heart. When too much gathers there it can’t take it. Are you still awake?”
I’d been sleeping already, she’d woken me up. Evidently I’d not been deep asleep – sleeping with one eye open, as the expression goes. Because I’d not been at all sure she’d wake me. When it came time for me to go to work she might have fallen asleep. So I was kind of asleep, but alert.
“Here, let me see how your heart is.” She put her hand on my heart. Who wouldn’t have woken up then. “It’s a bit impatient, like it’s in a hurry. Now you put your hand on mine.” She took my hand and placed it on her breast. A rock would have woken up at that. “Can you feel how much is gathered there? But do you know if a woman can die that way too? Though how could you know. The world isn’t fair to women. Take your hand away.” She removed my hand herself. “Like I said, not today. It’s too late and you need to get some sleep. It’s best to begin when the night begins, and not even think about the fact that you have to get up the next day. As if the night was going to go on and on, and day would never come. Also, bodies have to lie beside each other for a longer time before … They have to get used to each other, get comfortable with each other. Because they’re full of fear. You don’t think mine is? Let me tell you, it’s got more fear in it than yours. After those soldiers, after those drunken husbands I’m afraid every time. I thought I’d never be a woman again. I didn’t even want to be. I thought I’d just embroider, read, sing, cry a little from time to time. I want to buy a wireless, did I tell you? I put my name down for one at the store. They’re going to let me know when they get some in. I’ll be able to sit and listen. But you’re only human. I was still in the mourning period for my second. I was still in black, and here I started to feel things gathering in my heart again. I went to church, I could see the men looking at me, not just the older ones, men that are younger than me as well. There I was praying, and I could feel them undressing me with their eyes. I was all embarrassed, it was a church after all, God was watching. But still it felt good. There was this baker, I get my bread from him every day, somehow I’d never noticed him in the bakery before, but here I see he’s singing and he keeps sending me these looks that give me goose bumps. I feel my heart pounding. Forgive me, Lord, but you’re the one who gave me my body. Actually, I looked good in black. Everyone said I should always only wear mourning clothes. I even had a mass said for that drunkard of mine. Let him have it. He left me this house, among other things. He didn’t drink all of it away. Perhaps I shouldn’t read books, what do you think? I sometimes read and read, and I start thinking to myself, if only my life … Because even when somebody else’s life is sadder than yours, you sometimes would like to swap with them. Goodness, it’s beating so hard. It’s like it was about to give out too. Are you still awake? You could check to see if I’m only imagining it. It’s like it wanted to jump directly to the next night, or come to you right now. But not today, no. The night’s almost over. You need to get a little sleep. If we did it in a hurry, you might even be put off me. I often thought you must be awake with all that snoring. But I somehow never dared ask if you might want to sleep in the kitchen. I was suffering along with you, because they woke me up too. For some reason you can’t hear them now – listen. The moment you moved in here I knew you’d never been with a woman. You kissed my hand, remember? It touched my heart to think that someone so innocent still existed in the world. So the first time mustn’t be rushed. When it’s the first time, everything afterwards is like that first time. Except for death. After death there are no memories. But while life goes on, you might remember me badly. Then you’d remember all the other women badly too. Because it would be bad with all the other ones. You might start to drink, and things would go on being bad for you. They’d be bad within yourself. Your whole life things would be bad for you. You’d lose your desire, and it would be bad for you. And it would be my fault. So for the sake of your whole life it’s worth holding out for one night. You won’t regret it. I’ll make it up to you. Look, it’s getting brighter. Go to sleep.”
I think in the end I must have really fallen asleep, because I suddenly felt her shaking me:
“You need to get up. You’ll be late for work. Get up. What a sleepyhead.”
I was most surprised of all when she said:
“You snore just the same. But it’s nice to listen to you. Things have gathered in you as well, I can see. When can that have happened? Mother of God, when can that have happened?”
Anyway, I never finished the story about the train. So the train was on its way, I was on it, and the hat was on the opposite shelf so I could keep an eye on it. It wasn’t there anymore? Oh that’s right, he’d moved it to the shelf on my side. At some station the train stopped again, no one got on, someone peeked into the compartment, saw it was filled to bursting, and slammed the door so hard the snorer opened his eyes. He lifted his head from the headrest, looked around at everyone to see whether it was the same people, checked that his bags were there, then nodded toward the window and said:
“Oh, we’re at this station already.”
So it looked like he might not be sleepy anymore. But the moment the train set off again his eyes began to droop, though he seemed in two minds about whether or not to go back to sleep. It was only when the train sped up and began rocking that his head fell back against the headrest as if of its own accord, his mouth opened, and the noise that came out was exactly like the sound of a distant wagon with ironclad wheels rumbling over frozen ground.
At a certain moment his head slipped down from the headrest to the shoulder of his left-hand neighbor. The neighbor allowed the head to remain on his shoulder without protest, but still, as the train crossed a switch and the whole compartment shook, he moved from that neighbor’s shoulder to the shoulder of the woman sitting to his right, without interrupting his sleep. The woman accepted his head on her shoulder just the same. Yet the train, which was rocking like a cradle, must have sent him into such a deep sleep that his head slid from her shoulder to her chest. Her breasts were each almost the size of his head. It wasn’t only that they were large, they seemed to be separate, independent of the rest of her body. There are women that seem to have been created exclusively for the purpose of carrying their own breasts. You might even have had the impression it was her breasts that were rocking the train, especially when it crossed a switch. What harm could it have done, then, for him to sleep his fill there? The woman, though, took as big of a breath as she could, breathed out, took another deep breath, breathed out. She was probably thinking that from the rising and falling of her chest his head would wake up. But he was evidently sound asleep, and so she suddenly exclaimed as if she’d been startled:
“Excuse me, what do you think you’re doing?”
He must have heard. He didn’t actually open his eyes and his mouth remained open, but with the force of his sleep alone he moved his head from her breasts to the headrest. And that was when it started. Not right away. To begin
with it was like he was short of breath. His eyes were still closed, but his mouth opened even wider, though not the slightest sound came from it. You’d genuinely have thought he was dead. People in the compartment started looking at him and at each other, but no one dared say anything. In the end somebody finally got up the courage to half-whisper, as if they were trying to ward off their own unease:
“Someone sleeps like that, they must be making up for many a sleepless night.”
Then someone else dared to say:
“He was in the resistance, you heard. You don’t join the resistance to get a decent sleep.”
A third person was even more emboldened by the previous speaker’s words:
“His hat got shot up by machine gun fire. He must have been a brave one.”
To her own misfortune the woman whose chest he’d tried to sleep on also spoke up:
“My man, when he gets drunk he sleeps like that.”
Someone retorted indignantly:
A Treatise on Shelling Beans Page 36