Four Sonyas

by Paral, VladimIr

Two pairs of shorts, both red.

  Seven pairs of socks, which he washes in the sink (sometimes I do it for him but how am I to find them, Uncle Volrab, when he throws them, say, into a suitcase), and often he tosses them in the wastebasket.

  Not a single handkerchief! (They’re the first things I would buy for him.)

  A magnificent Italian sweater, but there’s a burn-mark at chest-level. And that’s the entire list of what Mr. Ruda Mach has in his wardrobe. But what might he have if he could only learn to save a bit (or if someone saved for him … possibly a woman…)! But each payday he treats the whole bar, hauls girls around in a cab which he has to summon from as far away as Jilemnice (he pays the return fare as well), and buys the kids he meets ice cream and lollypops—just as yesterday he calmly gave me a hundred-note for the broken crockery—and the girls and the kids adore him … But when he was lying here sick, not a foot stirred to come and help him.

  He is terribly alone. That business with Jaruna Slana, that wasn’t anything, Jaruna says she loves him, but she’s only come here on Sunday evenings, and only for a fling (but he too carried on without her, and how!). And she was getting ready to marry Dr. Sedivy! There’s no doubt Mr. Mach needs someone to take care of him.

  And when he’s alone he must feel sad. When Mr. Ruda feels sad, he sits at the window and plays his guitar. And he plays his guitar every evening. To himself…

  Sonya laid out the mattresses on the window sill, and the rug, from which she knocked the dirt off, and she dusted the box springs (Uncle Volrab’s verses don’t mention these things, so I’ve made up a verse of my own) and, after prolonged reflection, she made Ruda’s bed with delight, as one makes a rumcake, if only there weren’t so many of those girls, the ones he’d had in the past two months, how anxiously they’d climbed the stairs and waited in front of the locked room while Mr. Mach was still at the plant, and then their joy which sounded down the long corridor (very weakly, of course. But a few times Sonya heard it at full volume when, holding her breath, she put her ear to the door of No. 5), and their happiness when they kissed Mr. Ruda early in the morning… How their eyes would shine! And how much soda water they would drink before breakfast.

  Sonya took the cream-colored envelope from Ziki, with the remaining hundred-note, and placed them on the table along with Ziki’s card with its invitation to his villa in Usti, just so Mr. Ruda could read it all. Maybe he’ll get the drift of things…

  Sonya closed her eyes halfway and walked slowly over to the mirror, she stood silently in front of it for a long time and then she smiled prettily at herself:

  Sonya Machova—

  — — with him by taxi to Jilemnice and on beyond to Spindleruv Mlyn, dancing on the glass floor and then on the night train drink beer with the conductor from the same bottle

  — — sit with him the whole evening by the window and feed the fire with fragrant branches

  — — make tea for him (never grog!) and give him medicine with a spoon. Stop his nosebleeds and fevers with a cooling compress. And do flower arrangements for him

  — — sing when he plays the guitar and laugh all evening long

  — — sit in the corner, look at him, and embroider on silk with a tambourine for a frame

  — — with a large bag go shopping for two and bake light cheese pastry to eat with wine

  — — pick up his pay. And iron his shirts

  — — give him French kisses

  — — and teach our son to say “Daddy”

  Sonya smiled into the mirror, then rinsed out Ruda’s cup and shaving brush, ran its damp bristles along her chin and then, laughing, washed the washbasin and joyously leapt out of room No. 5.

  The final room on the floor, No. 1, was called the Bridal Suite (two windows and glass doors onto the balcony, stylish white furniture, a tall mirror in a white frame, and a white double bed beneath a white canopy). Sonya went into room No. 1 and quietly locked the door behind her.

  From the corridor Sonya’s sudden shriek, the smashing and clanging of metal, Jakub Jagr rushed to the door — in her green dress from yesterday’s “Floricultural Evening” Sonya was kneeling on the floor and collecting broken dishes on her tray while, in the door to his room, in a bathrobe, Ziki Holy towered over her — What was she doing in his room?

  “Come back to my room and you’ll get the money right away,” said Ziki — he wasn’t wearing a shirt under his bathrobe.

  “…I’ll give you a hundred-note, Sonya, with no bullshit and right away. Come in,” said Ruda Mach in the doorway of his room, No. 5, and without any hesitation Sonya went in — What will she do in his room?

  Quietly Jakub shut the door to his room, No. 4, and with his temples glistening with the cold sweat of dismay he stared at himself in the mirror: derailed, capsized, and crushed … never would I have believed I could ever end up in such a state. It’s the end of Kamila, that peaceful relative of mine, the end of the fairy tale about the wedding of two neighboring villas in the green vale of childhood… What can we put in place of that? Yesterday, Sunday night, Sonya refused me, and now on Monday afternoon, in two minutes’ time, Sonya goes from one man’s room to another’s … and the most terrible thing is that I love her just the same and even more, I don’t understand myself anymore, but I do grasp one thing: at the age of twenty-five I’ve suddenly learned that love of a man for a woman exists and how crazy it can be.

  Engineer Jakub Jagr suffered in front of the mirror, quite involuntarily he glanced at the steel stopwatch on his wrist and quickly he took hold of himself (he was a technician), in a flash he estimated Sonya’s arrival at Mach’s room, No. 5, at 5:26 P.M., he opened the door to the hallway just a bit and simultaneously watched the door to room No. 5 and the second hand. At 5:32 Sonya left room No. 5, a bit anxious as if disturbed, and a bit disheveled (of course, this could have occurred earlier, in the time before 5:26, in room No. 2) and she rushed downstairs as if something had upset her.

  Jakub quickly went up to the door to room No. 2, in the keyhole unfortunately a key, so that the view was practically nil.

  “What is it?!—” Ziki said icily in the suddenly opened door — he was now wearing a shirt under his bathrobe. Jakub stayed bent over and said in a controlled voice, “Pardon me. My battery rolled over this way—” and he knelt in order to look for it more easily. In the triangle formed by Ziki’s legs he could see a strip of the violet fur (!) carpet and on the visible slice of the table an open bottle of Cinzano Bitter, is that what he drinks at teatime (as served by Sonya before 5:26)?—

  “It hardly could have rolled into my room,” Ziki snarled, and he banged the door shut.

  The lock on Mach’s door, No. 5, was without a key, it’s true, but through the hole he could see nothing but a swinging leg (evidently Mach was sitting at the window). He could hear a powerful strumming on a string instrument right up to the end of his eavesdropping, 5:53.

  5:57 P.M. to 12:10 A.M. Sonya works in the bar. The usual customers, everything’s normal. Ziki dines on chicken with mushrooms (not on the menu) and a wedge of cheese, he drinks heavily (a large bottle of wine plus a small one, plus two double cognacs), indifference toward Sonya, coolness from Sonya, he leaves at 8:37. Mach dines on warm sausage (not on the menu) and two beers (he doesn’t finish the second one), special attention toward and from Sonya, he leaves at 9:04. Volrab behaves as usual.

  12:12-12:21 Sonya shuts down and cleans up the bar.

  12:22 Sonya cleans up and airs out the kitchen.

  12:41 Sonya goes to bed.

  12:42 Volrab fortifies the inside of the kitchen window with a crossbolt and a padlock.

  12:46 the Volrabs turn out the lights in their bedroom.

  12:49 a feeble light turns on in the kitchen (evidently Sonya’s reading flashlight).

  1:33 darkness in the kitchen.

  1:34 heavy snoring in Mach’s room, No. 5.

  1:34 a dim light goes on in Ziki’s room, No. 2.

  5:54 Mach leaves for Cottex.

&nbs
p; 6:02 Sonya cleans up the kitchen, with the window still locked and barred.

  6:29 Ziki leaves in his blue-black Triumph, license no. UL-81-51.

  6:52 at the front gate of Cottex, Mach punches in (No. 171): arrival 6:00 sharp.

  On the instructions of the Usti directorate, Jakub Jagr was making a complex technological inspection of the Hrusov branch factory No. 08. In less than four weeks he had uncovered some 72 irregularities (broken rules, inadequate use of labor during working hours, inadequate and even nonexistent gate controls, dripping from the roofs onto dyed material, a high rate of wear of manganese from the friction rollers through which the material passed, smoking in the towcloth storeroom), while the branch director, Kaska, made excuses with increasingly embittered humility.

  “Could you find a job in your plant for a nineteen-year-old girl comrade?” Jakub asked him.

  “Of course we could, Engineer Jagr, you just have to say the word,” Kaska said eagerly.

  “One where she would be dry and warm and have lots of light.”

  “Of course, I’d be delighted.”

  “But you haven’t asked me what her qualifications are.”

  “I was just about to ask, what qual…”

  “None at all. She didn’t even finish the gymnasium. But she knows how to tackle a job.”

  “Right away, as soon as you send her to me—”

  “And you’ll have to find her a place to live. From the day she starts.”

  “I can manage that somehow, I’ll do my best.”

  A telephone inquiry made to the secretary of the MNV ascertained that Sonya Cechova was in fact registered as a permanent resident at the Hotel Hubertus, but her employment was not on file. In view of her age (19) it would be possible to declare her current social status, from the legal point of view, as a “person evading work responsibilities,” possibly even as a “parasitic element.”

  11:31 Mach in the bleaching room, 1:02 in the lab, 1:18 he headed off to an unknown spot in the vicinity of the factory.

  The security guard sent out to look for him found him lying in the grass by the confluence of the factory millrace and the Jizera River.

  According to relevant documents, via the directorate of the Usti factory, Cottex branch 08 paid to Engineer Zikmund Holy, the principal specialist in industrial water management at USVLH in Prague, address Usti nad Labem, Vilova 26, for the first year of use of his patent No. 338269, “Purification of industrial discharge water through its biological modification” up to 12/31 of the past year a payment totaling 108,653.92 crowns (with prior approval from the ministry and USVLH). According to a memo from the accountant J. Metelka, Ziki would have royalties from Cottex plants Nos. 06 and 09 as well, from Metex 111, 112, 113, and 114, Lina’s chief plant, and Chemolin B, which would be even larger, and the total would evidently exceed a million crowns for the current year. Further, J. Metelka’s memo informed them that Engineer Z. Holy is disliked for his arrogant behavior and universally feared for his connections.

  2:00 Mach walks past the gatekeeper of Cottex 08 on his way (he says) to the town swimming pool. On his way home from Cottex, Jakub bought candy (4 crowns) and pink letter paper with envelopes (4 crowns), because today is Tuesday and in four days, on Saturday afternoon, I will take Sonya home.

  That afternoon in the bar (when Volrab went to the cellar to tap the beer): “Sonya, I love you…”

  Sonya rubbed her ankles together and smiled prettily at Jakub.

  “Sonya, you must leave here at once. Tomorrow morning—”

  “Uncle won’t let me.”

  “I’ve found you a nice job at Cottex, where it’s dry and warm and there’s lots of light. And you can have a room the very day you start! I’ll lend you money for the first few days. And on Saturday I’ll take you and show you our home—”

  “Uncle and Auntie would never let me,” said Sonya, but she smiled prettily at Jakub.

  (Shortly after, in the corridor, while Volrab was coming back from the cellar:)

  “You are surely aware, Comrade Volrab, that as manager of this enterprise you are violating both the letter and the spirit of the applicable group of proclamations, decrees and procedural regulations concerning the management and mobilization of the work force in a border area and the preferential treatment due them in border-area factories—”

  “What— what— what’s that you say?” Volrab was frightened by the long sentence, so much so his forehead was bathed in sweat. “I haven’t done anything, Mr. Jagr!”

  “Your very distant relative Sonya Cechova is, in the eyes of the law, a parasitic element. Immorally exploited, I should add.”

  “But Sonya lives with us just like our own daughter!”

  “How much do you pay her every month? And where do you deposit the tax money?”

  “But Mr. Jagr, how can you say that when we’re one big happy family?”

  “I’d say it wasn’t like that at all, the way you live together here. And you should be aware that procuring, too, falls under the criminal law.”

  “You’ve given me quite a start, Mr. Jagr! And what law does it fall under when you climb into windows to get at innocent girls in their beds? Like last Sunday, huh?”

  “You can still escape scot-free if you let Sonya go as soon as possible to take a job at the local Cottex plant. From the point of view of state interest and the preferential treatment of border-area factories—”

  “Sonya has a job with us and with it free lodging, food and clothing — on Sunday she got a new silk dress and now we’re making her another one — shoes, food, drink, heat, good manners, and security. Security, Mr. Jagr, so wild hooligans don’t climb through her window at night and crawl into her bed!”

  5:57-12:08 Sonya works in the bar. The usual customers, everything’s normal. Ziki is still away. Mach dines on two sausages with horseradish (not on the menu) and two beers (he doesn’t finish the second one), still special attention toward and from Sonya, he leaves at 9:11. Contact established with the local informant (their everyday customer Josef Hnyk) at a cost of two large beers and two small rums. Volrab watches like a hawk.

  12:09-12:19 Sonya shuts down and cleans up the bar.

  12:20 Sonya cleans up and airs out the kitchen.

  Out of the darkness of the hotel courtyard two bright cones of light, Volrab with a flashlight in one hand and pitchforks in the other, Volrabka with a flashlight and a hoe, and their uproar:

  “What sort of bum is hanging around out here!”

  “Help! Thieves!”

  “You hooligan, thought you could get our Sonya by hook or by crook! For the second time, even!”

  “My husband will tell the police and will write to your management about it!”

  “I’ll teach you a thing or two about those laws of yours!”

  12:30 they were still making a to-do.

  In his room, No. 4, Jakub was writing on the first of the four pink sheets he’d bought that day:

  “Sonya, I love you. Be ready to go. On Saturday I will take you and show you our home. J.J.” He placed the note in full view on the table and weighted it down with the first of the four candy boxes (cognac-flavored creams).

  On a postcard of Hrusov the usual news to his father (like every Tuesday, so that it reaches Usti on Thursday. And on Saturday I’ll bring Sonya home). “Everything fine. On Saturday I’ll arrive with Sonya at 4:40 or, if nec., later. Yours, J.”

  After taking care of his correspondence, the young engineer spent more than forty minutes gazing out the window at the stars.

  Starting on Wednesday, things took an unexpected turn.

  5:12 a blue-black Triumph with the license number UL-81-51 drove into the hotel courtyard, carrying Ziki and an unknown woman.

  Ziki argued with Volrab for a while. Then the unknown woman stepped out of the car with a black suitcase of strange, oblong form and disappeared into the kitchen.

  She remains there hour after hour.

  The local informant, Josef Hnyk, identifies t
he unknown woman as Berta Zahnova. From the abundance of Hnyk’s talk (four large beers and four large rums) and by means of digressive, non-leading, and repeated corroborating questions, it turns out that Berta Zahnova, several times incarcerated, is a servant at Ziki’s villa in Usti, where she lives with her husband, Wolf Zahn, arrested for murder, a crime which Ziki’s lawyers succeeded in getting reduced to manslaughter. In consequence, the Zahns are rightfully grateful to Ziki and evidently bound to him through subsequent, shadowy events, so that they act as his gorillas.

  Berta Zahnova remains in the kitchen hour after hour, until nightfall.

  SONYA MUST LEAVE HERE AT ONCE — under these circumstances, even at the risk of a kidnapping charge.

  On Wednesday, shortly after eleven, Ziki and the chief attorney left the conference of factory directors being held in the mirrored salon of Usti’s Palace Hotel, by a palm tree in the foyer both men, laconically and to the point, said what they had to say and shook hands with a smile, the chief attorney sat comfortably in his official limousine and Ziki did the same in his (the two large black cars parked at the hotel entrance differed only in their license numbers).

  “To the town square,” Ziki gave the order to his chauffeur, and during the two-minute ride there he considered that he actually had nothing to do here till the end of August, in the calendar window of his platinum British datamatic stop-watch he read “3/3/July,” and in his thoughts he put aside his business affairs.

  At the square he had his chauffeur open the door, and while stepping out he pointed down with his thumb and then crooked his index finger (i.e., “Wait here, I’ll be back in half an hour”).

  He entered the local branch of the State Savings Bank, asked for ten thousand crowns at window No. 4, the teller filled out a pink withdrawal slip and Ziki signed it in the lower right-hand corner, looked at the cards of his four checking accounts (a total of over 800,000 crowns. And roughly the same amount would come in before the end of the year), sat for a while in an armchair holding the stiff cardboard call number in his hand (in his thoughts he put aside his financial affairs), when they called his number he crossed to window No. 1, picked up a packet of hundred-notes, without counting it he stuck it into his breast pocket and went out into the heat of the square.