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Authors: Katri Lipson
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cellar.”
“I see.”
“And if things work out, there might be some pork on the table, but it’s got its price . . .”
“How much?”
“Well, that depends on whether there’s a pig somewhere, and if it gets the back of an ax in its head . . .”
“I ought to ask Tomáš.”
“Pah! Surely you don’t need to consult Tomáš on everything? And anyway, shouldn’t this be a surprise?”
The landlady charges off down the slope through the tall grass, her basket swinging in the crook of her arm. The man and woman remain silent until the landlady reaches the very bottom, leaps over the ditch, and carries on her way along the road, raising a cloud of dust.
“Where’s she going in such a rush?” Tomáš wonders uneasily.
“What day is it tomorrow?” Esther asks.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow, the tenth of July.”
Tomáš is silent for a moment.
“It’s my birthday.”
“Yours, or . . . ?”
“Tomáš’s.”
Esther does not reply. Tomáš says menacingly, “You didn’t remember.”
The next day, the landlady knocks on the door to their room and is unable to refrain from asking if Esther has anything to wear. They were on their way back from a funeral, and surely no one would want to wear mourning clothes to a birthday party.
“My dear girl, I hope you won’t mind if I lend you something?”
“Tomáš isn’t bothered about fancy clothes.”
“No, of course not, but he is bothered about you. And if we put you on display a bit more, he won’t even remember his own name.”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ve had a look at you, sized you up . . . you’re my height, and fifteen years ago I was around the same size as you. Well, I’m a bit fuller in the bust, but that’s not a problem.”
“Where is Tomáš?”
“We’ve got some time to ourselves. I sent him into the village on some errands.”
The landlady goes into her own room to bring out a blouse that might stimulate things a bit (it is a fiery red), and she watches as Esther turns her back and puts it on. The blouse is clingy but opens up in generous gathers around the bust, and once she’s wearing the blouse, Esther’s skirt looks even more pitiful than before. Everything has been laid out on the landlady’s bed. There’s an entire outfit that the landlady has chosen for her, but Esther doesn’t know anything about it yet. It needs to be put together with a sense of spontaneity.
“My dear, what do you say to this skirt, isn’t it simply lovely? Light as a butterfly.”It skims the hips but flares out toward the hem, and it is made from such thin, floaty fabric that it needs a petticoat, and the landlady has one of those as well that hasn’t fit her for years, real silk. “You’re a real beauty. Let’s have a little something to start things off.” The landlady pours them both a glass of genuinely strong liquor. “What about Tomáš, I bet Tomáš will catch us.”There is no mirror, but Esther finds a suitable angle in the window pane, and little by little, it all starts to go to her head: the landlady’s compliments, the gathers over her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the black velvet-covered high heels the landlady just happened to find at the back of the wardrobe and that fit her perfectly, though they do clomp a bit. She doesn’t even notice when the landlady heats up the curling tongs to crimp her hair or when the red lipstick appears on her lips.
“We’ll rub a bit on your cheeks as well, but your eyebrows and lashes don’t need a thing . . . and now, my dearest lovely, the finishing touch, there’s no going back now, I absolutely insist . . .”
Remaining on the landlady’s bed are a neatly rolled-up pair of silk stockings and a garter belt. If she had begun by dressing Esther in these, Esther would never have consented to so much as the blouse afterward.
“Have you seen anything like these recently?” The landlady unrolls the silk bundles and caresses them.
“I see.”
“And if things work out, there might be some pork on the table, but it’s got its price . . .”
“How much?”
“Well, that depends on whether there’s a pig somewhere, and if it gets the back of an ax in its head . . .”
“I ought to ask Tomáš.”
“Pah! Surely you don’t need to consult Tomáš on everything? And anyway, shouldn’t this be a surprise?”
The landlady charges off down the slope through the tall grass, her basket swinging in the crook of her arm. The man and woman remain silent until the landlady reaches the very bottom, leaps over the ditch, and carries on her way along the road, raising a cloud of dust.
“Where’s she going in such a rush?” Tomáš wonders uneasily.
“What day is it tomorrow?” Esther asks.
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, tomorrow, the tenth of July.”
Tomáš is silent for a moment.
“It’s my birthday.”
“Yours, or . . . ?”
“Tomáš’s.”
Esther does not reply. Tomáš says menacingly, “You didn’t remember.”
The next day, the landlady knocks on the door to their room and is unable to refrain from asking if Esther has anything to wear. They were on their way back from a funeral, and surely no one would want to wear mourning clothes to a birthday party.
“My dear girl, I hope you won’t mind if I lend you something?”
“Tomáš isn’t bothered about fancy clothes.”
“No, of course not, but he is bothered about you. And if we put you on display a bit more, he won’t even remember his own name.”
“I’m not sure.”
“I’ve had a look at you, sized you up . . . you’re my height, and fifteen years ago I was around the same size as you. Well, I’m a bit fuller in the bust, but that’s not a problem.”
“Where is Tomáš?”
“We’ve got some time to ourselves. I sent him into the village on some errands.”
The landlady goes into her own room to bring out a blouse that might stimulate things a bit (it is a fiery red), and she watches as Esther turns her back and puts it on. The blouse is clingy but opens up in generous gathers around the bust, and once she’s wearing the blouse, Esther’s skirt looks even more pitiful than before. Everything has been laid out on the landlady’s bed. There’s an entire outfit that the landlady has chosen for her, but Esther doesn’t know anything about it yet. It needs to be put together with a sense of spontaneity.
“My dear, what do you say to this skirt, isn’t it simply lovely? Light as a butterfly.”It skims the hips but flares out toward the hem, and it is made from such thin, floaty fabric that it needs a petticoat, and the landlady has one of those as well that hasn’t fit her for years, real silk. “You’re a real beauty. Let’s have a little something to start things off.” The landlady pours them both a glass of genuinely strong liquor. “What about Tomáš, I bet Tomáš will catch us.”There is no mirror, but Esther finds a suitable angle in the window pane, and little by little, it all starts to go to her head: the landlady’s compliments, the gathers over her breasts, the curve of her hips, and the black velvet-covered high heels the landlady just happened to find at the back of the wardrobe and that fit her perfectly, though they do clomp a bit. She doesn’t even notice when the landlady heats up the curling tongs to crimp her hair or when the red lipstick appears on her lips.
“We’ll rub a bit on your cheeks as well, but your eyebrows and lashes don’t need a thing . . . and now, my dearest lovely, the finishing touch, there’s no going back now, I absolutely insist . . .”
Remaining on the landlady’s bed are a neatly rolled-up pair of silk stockings and a garter belt. If she had begun by dressing Esther in these, Esther would never have consented to so much as the blouse afterward.
“Have you seen anything like these recently?” The landlady unrolls the silk bundles and caresses them.
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