Read Online The Drowning Of A Goldfish by Lidmila; Sováková - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Lidmila; Sováková
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house with grain, and to harvest it later.
Did Velenský need to fertilize his ground? Nothing simpler than that. During the night, sacks would appear on his porch; he only had to spread it.
Did he need wood for winter? The cooperativeâs chain saw would be at his disposal.
In order to fill his cellar with potatoes, he would only have to nod.
In short, his in-laws were useful people with whom it was advisable to stay on good terms. Hence, their invitation to lunch had to be accepted.
Their farm is at the other end of the village. Leaving the cemetery, we turn down a narrow lane, bordered by tall, barren poplar trees. We pass the school, a low-slung, gray, prison-like building. In front of it some dirty ducks float in the black spittle of a village pond.
The deserted stables are all that is left of the old farm. The animals were transferred to the cooperative.
The farmhouse is in a sad state. The plaster is crumbling, exposing bare bricks. The coating and painting must wait for better times.
We enter the farmhouse. The corridor is dark and I hit against a washing machine, suppressing a cry of pain.
The passage is obstructed by a variety of disparate objects. They store them there until they learn how to use them. You have to spend your money somehow and this seems to be their sole purpose for the time being.
The in-laws notice us and hurry to meet us. I am being inspected, weighed, found to be frail.
At the table, I am being stuffed. They are kind, and feeling pity for me, they encourage me to eat.
If I stay with them, I shall âfatten up like a sparrow after the harvest,â they promise me.
âCity people donât know how to eat properly ⦠But then, they donât have the means,â they add, tapping me generously on my back to show that, in spite of my thinness, I am all right.
They chat. Life is flashing by. One works, one eats, one gets married. Babies are born, the old die. Eternity is being sliced for human use.
âIf Mary were here, she would be so pleased to see her son a doctor ⦠and married, they add after a momentâs hesitation, so as not to make me sad.
I respond to their kindness with bravery: I chew and swallow while my stomach protests, threatening to reject the pasty, thick, excessive meal.
Their generosity crushes me. It is without limits, like the food which swells in my throat and chokes me.
An iron stove, placed in a corner, blasts a suffocating heat. My cheeks are on fire and my skin tightens and twitches with dryness.
We leave as the daylight fades. The dullness of the sky is melting into colorless land; the ground is wavering and trembling beneath my feet. I reach back to grab the railing. A wave of sour acid spurts out of my mouth as I contract and shake. My body refuses all this food. They will never fatten me. I would like to throw up my heart along with their meal.
Rudolf is looking around disgustedly. Let nobody see me. Let him be the only witness to my disgrace and to his shame!
I lift my head and try to smile. The corners of my mouth are vibrating in spasms.
Rudolf stares at me. I smile.
I am at his mercy.
Upon our arrival back in Prague, I learn that my application to enter the university has been refused. This fact, periodically repeated, has started to lose its shrillness. We also learn that Rudolf has just been assigned to Ãstà nad Labem, a town some hundred and twenty kilometres away, where he shall patiently wait until a position opens in Prague.
Rudolf seems to be pleased. All his fellow students have been scattered across the country to remote provincial holes, practicing general medicine in mines, in factories, and in the cooperatives of Moravia and Slovakia. He himself will stay within an armâs reach of the capital and will, for a whole year, attend advanced training in a renowned hospital in order to become a specialist.
Ãstà nad Labem is a town with a violent past. At this moment, it is being rebuilt for
Did Velenský need to fertilize his ground? Nothing simpler than that. During the night, sacks would appear on his porch; he only had to spread it.
Did he need wood for winter? The cooperativeâs chain saw would be at his disposal.
In order to fill his cellar with potatoes, he would only have to nod.
In short, his in-laws were useful people with whom it was advisable to stay on good terms. Hence, their invitation to lunch had to be accepted.
Their farm is at the other end of the village. Leaving the cemetery, we turn down a narrow lane, bordered by tall, barren poplar trees. We pass the school, a low-slung, gray, prison-like building. In front of it some dirty ducks float in the black spittle of a village pond.
The deserted stables are all that is left of the old farm. The animals were transferred to the cooperative.
The farmhouse is in a sad state. The plaster is crumbling, exposing bare bricks. The coating and painting must wait for better times.
We enter the farmhouse. The corridor is dark and I hit against a washing machine, suppressing a cry of pain.
The passage is obstructed by a variety of disparate objects. They store them there until they learn how to use them. You have to spend your money somehow and this seems to be their sole purpose for the time being.
The in-laws notice us and hurry to meet us. I am being inspected, weighed, found to be frail.
At the table, I am being stuffed. They are kind, and feeling pity for me, they encourage me to eat.
If I stay with them, I shall âfatten up like a sparrow after the harvest,â they promise me.
âCity people donât know how to eat properly ⦠But then, they donât have the means,â they add, tapping me generously on my back to show that, in spite of my thinness, I am all right.
They chat. Life is flashing by. One works, one eats, one gets married. Babies are born, the old die. Eternity is being sliced for human use.
âIf Mary were here, she would be so pleased to see her son a doctor ⦠and married, they add after a momentâs hesitation, so as not to make me sad.
I respond to their kindness with bravery: I chew and swallow while my stomach protests, threatening to reject the pasty, thick, excessive meal.
Their generosity crushes me. It is without limits, like the food which swells in my throat and chokes me.
An iron stove, placed in a corner, blasts a suffocating heat. My cheeks are on fire and my skin tightens and twitches with dryness.
We leave as the daylight fades. The dullness of the sky is melting into colorless land; the ground is wavering and trembling beneath my feet. I reach back to grab the railing. A wave of sour acid spurts out of my mouth as I contract and shake. My body refuses all this food. They will never fatten me. I would like to throw up my heart along with their meal.
Rudolf is looking around disgustedly. Let nobody see me. Let him be the only witness to my disgrace and to his shame!
I lift my head and try to smile. The corners of my mouth are vibrating in spasms.
Rudolf stares at me. I smile.
I am at his mercy.
Upon our arrival back in Prague, I learn that my application to enter the university has been refused. This fact, periodically repeated, has started to lose its shrillness. We also learn that Rudolf has just been assigned to Ãstà nad Labem, a town some hundred and twenty kilometres away, where he shall patiently wait until a position opens in Prague.
Rudolf seems to be pleased. All his fellow students have been scattered across the country to remote provincial holes, practicing general medicine in mines, in factories, and in the cooperatives of Moravia and Slovakia. He himself will stay within an armâs reach of the capital and will, for a whole year, attend advanced training in a renowned hospital in order to become a specialist.
Ãstà nad Labem is a town with a violent past. At this moment, it is being rebuilt for
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