All lights on stage and dancers were there. Or if it was music, perhaps, in the traditional style, I think so, musicians were there, also dancers. Dancers with musicians. Yes. People enjoyed it, I think that they did, authoritys, foreign guests. If it was boring. Older people may enjoy these evenings. My companion now with me, my lover, I can say it, and if one artiste was on stage, musician, poet, dancer, anyone, what I heard only her, saw only her, smelled only her, whispering into her ear, her skin, hair, her slender fingers, seeing how smaller was her hand from mine, yet this woman who was so much strong, stronger, yet if her body seemed to mine lacking in physical powers what strength, where did it come from, how women may have it, such marvels yet allowing her hand to rest within mine, trusting in that. We two then had been for weeks together, three, four. If we would remain together, who could be foolish, so thinking, for how long. Always. What always may be. Her own partner thought so, he now was dead. She did not know for certain, but supposed it. She took my hand again into her own, settling mine onto her lap and warmth there, we might sit, her hand now onto my lap, if we were bolder, it was darkness, and the change also came in her and her breathing, and that sound was beautiful to myself and then that I saw the one watching us. It was then. I saw him. Farther there to one side. Staring, yes, seeing my companion. My arm now I put round her shoulders. I thought if he was known to myself, was a familiarity there about him. I thought so there might be, I whispering to her, if she saw him, did she know him. I saw that she had seen this man. He was there to herself, she knew so. One moment then and she looked and he turned from us. I wondered was it absently done. If he was a security. She did not think so in this place where all were trustworthy, were so to be, but also I knew and so said it to her that there is no place where all are trustworthy, such a place, one other planet from here, where, no place. We sat then in silence, I did not look again to this man. It was in my belly then it was anger. If also it was fear, why not, if there was, I think so, what might it have been.
Now was an interval and we were walking at the entrance hallway and lobby where tea or coffee, drinks, food also, there was bread, cheese, cold meats, salad. We were hungry, all colleagues. If we might eat, if others had finished. We were standing back from the authoritys and guests. Her hand was into mine. Now colleagues could move to there and she whispered to me she did not want to, want not to eat. Why not, could I eat her portions! She would not eat with these people. She said it to me, had said it one earlier time also, authoritys and foreign guests, saying to me, Do not let them see us eat, they shall not see me eat.
What is wrong, we are hungry, we can eat?
No, I shall not show them.
I did as she, so, a hole into my belly. There were notices on the wall, events were forthcoming, news information, we read these. Now it happened that I saw that fellow again, yes, watching us. I could not believe this, he would be daring as this, challenging. He was on the other side where food was, having a cup in one hand, sipping tea or coffee. My companion did not see him. I took her arm, as natural. I whispered to her. I do not know, saying to her, but personal words, personal. There was a feeling in myself, strongly emotional. I wanted to hold her. Sensing something. I was. I do not know. But strongly in myself. Stronger. If a knowledge of loss. Loss to come. I do not know. We have losses always, always, but some can live, why not we two, that we might live, we two, why not, why others and not so for ourselves, if we loved one another. I whispered to her perhaps these words, other words. Personal words. I cannot remember. I cannot remember but I did so. But in my belly, something, twisting. She grasped my hand, tightening onto my wrist, now touched my face and left me. Left me, yes. I saw where, walking to the room for women, bathroom. And the one who was watching also had gone. What I am to say. He had. I looked but did not see him. If he had followed my companion, yes, I thought so. What else, what one may think. Other colleagues were there, one came to me, gave a cigarette and matches, saying two foreign guests were in his vehicle and would be to their house later, also other colleagues, there would be wine, brandy, perhaps, he hoped so, if we were to come to there afterwards, my companion and myself, they would welcome us. We spoke further, one minute. My companion returned. Our colleague was smiling to her, touching her arm. Elbow, yes, he touched her elbow. I thought why he had done so, if there had been a need. Why he had touched her. If such behaviour was normal. I looked to his face, only smiling to her. And the bell ringing, the interval ended. My companion wished to return to our seats. I did not, wishing only to return. To my section. I could have gone then from this cultural evening. Yes, what is to say. It was not anger, I was not angry. If so, yes, I would say it. But troubling to me, by these events, troubled, yes, I was so, nor comfortable, these people being there. I wanted to be away, we two. I said it to her, we might walk outside. No, she would not. But for one moment, I had a cigarette, we could smoke it there. No. She said there was one performance to come she must see, more dancers, musicians, but young people, many related to friends. So we returned to our seats.
I could not enjoy anything, not of this performance, barely could I watch it. Yes it is good to see children, we see their faces and there is brightness and future hopes but these older ones and adults also, no, I could not enjoy them, how it may be possible so to do, if it is amateurish, amateurish, and boring, more dull. It was. I thought it. What is to say further, trivial banality, if it is traditional, and only, why, what century is this, do we look forward, backward, to our grandparents, grandparents of grandparents, do we have monkey dances. Foreign guests also have music, dance, laughter, as we do, yes, they also as we have ours, but there are many towns, many communities, traditional yes, also modern, younger people with music, excitement of this, loud poetry also, shouting and with all passion, yes for our people, we too, having many many things as these foreign people in our many towns these are there and here were in one town only town, say township, where local colleagues may not know other things, do not see other things, so cannot be judges. A band now entered and a troupe to follow, dancing on stage, grandfathers. I could not sit there. This was not entertainment, I whispered to her, thinking if we should go soon we might wait outside, smoke one cigarette, if not I should scream out, I am in agony, whispering this to her.
She did not answer me. I saw her eyes, beautiful, how the beauty of women’s eyes, beautiful and not as men, women’s eyes are not, men’s eyes differing. Now what she said to me that he was there, this man was there again watching her, always, she saw his face. Yet when I looked I did not see him, neither elsewhere. I said, He is not there.
Yes.
Where? I cannot see him.
He is watching.
I cannot see him.
He is there.
Do you know him?
He is watching.
Who is he, this man, who is he?
Her teeth biting onto her lip. Her head, straightened, shoulders, body stiffly held, her attention as to the performance of the children. This was to myself, rigidly holding herself, as against me, it was, and I put my hand to her arm but could not touch her, would say something to her but did not, waiting only until the performance might end, the applause of people, but she soon turned to me, whispering, What is wrong with you? If you are jealous, stupidity. It is do you know him, you are my protector, you are, why you are with myself. It is to myself this man looks, it is my safety. Do you know him, have you seen him, where he is from, what he is, colleague, I do not think so, what suspect, what is he, security, he is military, where he is from, does he know my husband, what is he wanting from me, what is it, why you do not protect me, instead so foolishly asking questions of myself, do not ask them but him, go to him, where is he, find him. We are protectors, watching one to another. Now I may protect myself. If I can, and I can, if it is only myself. Who is he. I cannot speak to you, you are an attacker, not protector.
My companion was onto her feet and walking to the exit. I did not follow then. Children were on the stage, now from it
, making their exit, the band behind them, and the applause from people.
I walked to the front hallway and lobby, could not see her, so to the tables, bench seats, rooms for men, for women, no, I could not see her. I waited, she did not come, so continued to wait.
People were there, and to the exit. Perhaps if she had gone outside of the theatre, would she do this alone, if she so was so foolish, she would do it, I knew her, if only weeks yet I knew her, anything she might do, she was capable, taking all risks if so necessary, she would do it, in all situations, I knew her, difficult situations, more dangerous. I went outside, walking to there, here, that way, now if already she had gone, so by the side of the building, very dark shadows, as is known, also one street from here where were all military personnel, not in view for us but were there, quietly, waiting, waiting, when was curfew, if colleagues forgot this, and if so important, these guests to our country, were they, if they may stray also down dark alleyways, if they too may disappear, what then would happen, if colleagues did not protect these VIP guests to our country, what of foreign sources. I walked by the alleyway, along there, taking the cigarette from my pocket. I had my matches, to strike one onto the wall, draw the tobacco smoke into my lungs, I had not smoked since afternoon, and closer by one rear entranceway, lighted by one lamp, little, and again the smell of food, but then also came the hand onto my arm. It was her. I breathed, only. Passed the cigarette to her, I think so, that I did. What of her, lifting my arm, she did so, lifted my arm, placing it round her shoulder, settling her head there, her hair against my face, smell of her skin beautiful skin I closed my eyes, drawing all into myself, breathing her into myself, filling my lungs with it of her the smell of her hair and the smell of her flesh. Moments in life in history. What seconds may be. If in history, one of us dead. This is not dishonesty. These are the thoughts and were the thoughts, which one, the one of us to live, for one would live yes beyond the other, are we not children, let us admit and not deny, one lives beyond the other. Thus what of we two, if one what one, if it would be one. I tightened my grip on her, my fingers touching her upper arm, bare, to my fingertips, flesh of her upper arm, muscle of her upper arm.
I thought always that I knew her, in these few weeks, yes, always.
What I am to say. Is integrity, what integrity may be. We two. I cannot say more. It is known.
Now I could not stop it, how my mind thinking, my physical always, I could not stop it, never thinking and held her now more tightly, more. What I can say more, I cannot be ashamed. I would do it, always in lust, I could not stop it to her. But she stopping me, touching my wrist. This would not happen it was dangerous for us, military all were closeby, yes, also but my lusting for her, always to touch her, feel for her body, pressing her to myself, farther, within shadows now moving to rest against the wall of building and she allowed it, her arms around my neck, lifting her her body was upwards sighing to me feeling for my penis and I could move quickly to inside her, being inside her, entering, so beautiful but stopping she stopped now, and her tension, Oh, he is there, he is there. And when I looked she was from me, moving apart from me, now walking. She pointed. It was into the shadows, farther, in that direction from myself, past myself, away from herself, and I stepped then, slower, along that alleyway. Nothing. Nothing was there, he was not there, none. No person. I looked there for one minute two minutes, longer. Nothing, nothing. I returned to the street but she was not there. Inside the theatre. Neither there, not by the doors. Colleagues were by the hallway entrance, securing entries-exit, none had seen her. Perhaps she could be safe and somewhere. They said so. What of the parking area, she might have gone to there. No. Perhaps I should wait for her, she would come soon. In ten minutes vehicles would be returned from the parking area, she knew it, and later curfew would come, she knew it, schedule for the convoy, of course.
If I am to deny everything, we are human beings and have thoughts. She was not there, where was she.
What I may say, work is to be done I so do it. These are duties, we have acceded to them. The convoy was there, authoritys returning to their houses, foreign guests. Vehicles always must be in line. One key is for each escort, if trouble arises. Vehicles always must be in line, ordered, these are basic matters. I now was driver of the vehicle. One colleague came for my companion, escort-protector. Our passengers were to the houses, four miles from the theatre, we drove slowly, properly, arriving. An invitation was to all colleagues for one house for relaxation, food, refreshment drinks. Colleagues were my friends and we spoke together. To return in search of my companion was not possible so to do, but next morning only, this was the first time. I knew it. Only return to my section. She would return to hers, if so if not so, but what I might do, nothing. No, nothing, it could not be done, nothing. This then was possible. Nothing. Nothing. I could walk. Where to walk. I may say. When tomorrow I might drive, driving southeast, I would so to streets of her childhood, narrow streets that were her familiar streets, and in that zone I would stop the vehicle, leaving it. Morning. It was not cold, smelling also the sea, and walking far down hill, steeply and not some open areas but if where women may hang clothes, and far down to where she had brought me days earlier, showing to me walks from childhood. I said to her, If the sea was there, might we walk to there, the sea is freedom, all gateways, yes, she brought me, saying Of course we may go, securitys will not be there, if the sea is there, where can they go, they are not sailors, if they might flee the country. The estuary was there, closer, and one river also, that bridge also, smaller bridge for walkers, that we might cross this bridge from centuries past, we were keeping to the side and within shadows. I would search to there, all places and thoroughfares, I would search them, those to lead us to us, the morning is tomorrow.
What might be expected. Neither from myself. We are human beings.
We became intimate from the first evening when we met. I knew her from previously. I had known him also.
Her partner. I said it, she had her partner, he was her husband, a man held in regard yet with his own habits, known for humour if telling colleagues of matters, we would smile, jokes, stories. She also smiled in speaking of him. Yes, colleague, good fellow. But two years now had passed. If he was dead. All thought that he was. I did not say this to her.
I thought nothing, what so, what I am to think. I would not look to her if he was there, he was not there, having been gone now two years, some thought dead, I thought dead. He was dead, I knew it. I would not say this to her.
I remember that she dropped my hand, having held my hand then dropping it. I reached to her arm but if she tensed, her body rigid if against me and I brought my hand away now seeing her face, yes, such anger there. I knew it in her.
But let me say firstly when we met together, weeks only had passed, I speak of one meeting for colleagues, she came to that, she and one other, also female. This was late night, discussion matters, issues then raised for future practices, some critical, some defensive. Older colleagues respond to criticism, it is normal. I had had instruction. Others had made that decision. What people may think. They can think it. Thoughts are in freedom. Younger colleagues have opinions. I thought of the future, what of our “campaigning formation”. I would raise matters for discussion. There was a past also some colleagues did not consider, I considered it. But firstly tomorrow I would return in search of her, next morning.
14
“a pumpkin story”
The ticket was in my pocket, the goods also with me, these in the bag strapped on my shoulder. Not strapped down meaning by this I could lift the bag from myself easily. Soon I would be gone from this place, good feeling. I saw from the office of the bus-terminal. Near to here were lines of vendors, some having barrows, boxes, selling vegetables and fruits, other produce, meats, other articles, other people, yes, seeking, desiring, what, requesting, and of these, customers, travellers are customers. Military and security were among them, also inside the terminal building. I came outside, looking for somewhere I mi
ght sit to wait, two hours more. I walked to the other side where were military installations, all personnel. And from there and round farther was the bus and two mechanics working, the hood lifted to the engine. Inside a woman was cleaning on the low level and I might go upstairs. I looked for a destination but none yet was posted. I asked this woman and she told me yes it was this one for myself. I stepped on board. She looked but said nothing. Thus I was the first, first traveller to board, this was why, the two men at the engine having shown no interest, if not noticing myself, perhaps. I went onto the upper level, sitting halfway along with the window, all windows were open, it was not hot. I took the bag from my shoulder, put it to my feet, knotted the lace of my shoe to the handle. The long wait to come but with my book this was a pleasure, long waiting was time to myself, I might read, sleep a little, if it was possible, yes, I closed my eyes. If it might be peaceful, that was my wish, but what a wish, smaller town, border town.
Soon others were thinking such thoughts as myself, the bus becoming busier, new people searching for places. One hour more to leave. I saw now a second bus was behind this one. No sight of the drivers. Beside me was sitting one man and his suitcase on his lap, resting his head there. His eyes were closed, not sleeping sleeping, I think not, resting his mind. Men worked far from home, travelling to or from one place and another. In front of myself to the window was a woman, thirty-five years, I would say it, so supposing, she wore darker clothes, if religious clothes. I did not see her features other than one moment as she seated herself. It was next to her the one had come, the younger fellow that I am to speak, placing down his belongings to safe security on that seat. He spoke quietly to her and her answer only was by head movement, assent. He would say how none should sit down on that seat. And if his belongings should be stolen, she should see this did not happen, none should steal his belongings. He thanked her then returned below, not looking to other travellers, if this was carelessly done. He appeared from the bus exit, stepping outside.
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