Balla, Vladimír: Before They Split-up (Pred rozchodom in English)
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Pred rozchodom (Slovak)Miša v byte čosi objavila. Bolo to za televízorom v kúte obývačky. A hoci večer telefonovala Janovi, ktorý pár dní predtým odcestoval služobne do zahraničia, o svojom objave sa mu nezmienila. Načo ho znepokojovať? V ázijskom veľkomeste má iné starosti. Alebo nie? Hlodala v nej pochybnosť: noc predtým sa jej snívalo o manželovych dobrodružstvách v karaoke-baroch s kurvičkami, ktoré tam síce volajú nejako inak, vznešenejšie - Miša si na to označenie nevedela spomenúť - no podľa nej sú to aj tak iba kurvičky a venujú sa kurvičkovským praktikám. Po rutinnom telefonáte sedela dlho do noci v kuchyni, svetlo malej lampy nad mrazničkou jej dopadalo na dlane a prsty, dlhé úzke tiene sa plazili po dlážke a náprotivnej stene a Miša premýšľala, prečo sa táto vec musela prihodiť práve jej. Vlastne nielen jej - aj Janovi, lenže Jano nič netuší. Alebo tuší? Leží kdesi v hotelovej izbe na posteli a tuší? Rokuje na dvadsiatom či tridsiatom poschodí mrakodrapu v priestoroch patriacich dravej firme a tuší? Miša pochádzala z rodiny, v ktorej sa za televízorom nikdy neobjavilo nič. O podobnej udalosti sa jej rodičia dokonca ani nezmienili, hoci pred dcérou sa zvyčajne zhovárali napríklad aj o drobných škandálikoch, čo sa odohrali u susedov alebo na pracovisku. Ale možno to mali v spálni. Tam dcéru nepúšťali. Mali to v spálni? Brávali to so sebou na dovolenky? Na tie výlety, ktoré podnikali, zatiaľ čo ich dcéru opatrovala babka na vidieku? Prešla do predsiene a z pevnej linky zavolala priateľke, lebo si s niekým o nečakanom probléme potrebovala pohovoriť. Už po niekoľkých vetách však prekvapene reagovala: - K psychiatrovi? - Samozrejme. Musíš. Čo ak sa ti to všetko iba zdá? - Akože... halucinujem? Podľa teba halucinujem? - A keď to tam vôbec nie je? Veď podľa toho, čo hovoríš, je to veľké pomaly ako skriňa... Mohlo by sa to zmestiť za televízor? - Soni, hovorím ti, je to tam! - Pochybujem. Pozri, poznáš doktora Montyho... - Toho bradatého? - No. Čo chodieva do Írskeho. - Kde sedáva? - Celkom vzadu, pod reproduktormi. - Toho vôbec nepoznám. - Tak potom poznáš toho druhého, toho, no, pomôž mi... - Myslíš na doktora Ráthého? - Presne. - To nie je psychiater, ale psychológ. - Dobre, dobre, veď možno pre začiatok by stačil aj psychológ... - Aký začiatok? Je to veľké ako skriňa a podľa teba ide ešte len o začiatok? - Už som ti povedala, že to n-e-m-ô-ž-e byť veľké ako skriňa. Tak sa upokoj. Je to iste oveľa, oveľa menšie. - Tak aké to teda je? - Môžeme sa dohodnúť maximálne na veľkosti zápalkovej škatuľky. Je to zanedbateľne maličké. - Počúvaj... A čo keby si sa prišla pozrieť? - Vylúčené. Nemôžem. - Prečo? Prídi! Prosím! Pomôž mi. - Ale ako?! S tebou sa fakt čosi deje! Čo tu záleží na mne? Ostatne, som v zložitej situácii. - Nerozumiem. - ... - Čo je? Nemôžeš hovoriť? - Uhm. - Zrazu. Nemôžeš hovoriť, lebo od teba potrebujem láskavosť. Ani šepkať nemôžeš? - To môžem. Ale čo ti mám šepkať? Choď sa radšej ešte raz presvedčiť... - Veď sa na to po celý čas pozerám! Vlastne... vlastne nie po celý čas, teraz som sa dívala z okna... a... pri dverách kaderníctva... vieš kde... - Jasné, že viem. Pri tých dverách. Čo je tam? - Tam... - No čo? - Nič! Vôbec nič! Chápeš? Tam to nie je. Je to len tu, za televízorom. Prečo sa mi nezdá, že je to aj tam, keď sa mi to len zdá? Ja ti poviem prečo: lebo tu to jednoducho je a tam to zasa jednoducho nie je. A ty mi klameš. - V čom klamem? - Že môžeš iba šepkať. Teraz, keď si bola zvedavá, čo je pri dverách kaderníctva, kričala si na mňa. Z tej zvedavosti. Len preto ťa to tak ohromne zaujalo, lebo do toho kaderníctva chodievaš aj ty. Iba vtedy si ochotná ma počúvať a neobviňovať ma hneď z bláznovstva, keď ide aj o teba? Telefonát sa skončil dosť rozpačito. Miša sa posadila za kuchynský stôl, vzala do rúk zrkadlo a skúmala v ňom bledú pokožku svojej bledej tváre. Tvár svietila do kuchynskej noci. Oči, nos, ústa, kútiky úst. Miša si potom zamyslene obzrela aj ramená, hruď, nohy. Celok by bolo takmer nemožné odlíšiť od iných celkov tohto druhu. Alebo iba niekedy, podľa šiat a potom podľa situácií, v ktorých sa šaty odkladajú, podľa spôsobu nahoty. Podľa spôsobu nahoty? Áno, ukáž si, ako si. Predstúp pred zrkadlo, spoznaj sa zvonka, ale intímne. A vnútrajšok nech nasleduje. Nasleduj vnútrajšok! Miša sa postavila, o chvíľu si znovu sadla. Znovu sedela na zadku v kuchyni. Jano sa o niekoľko dní vrátil domov, zvítal sa s manželkou a zložil batožinu v predsieni, vyzul si topánky, vošiel do kúpeľne, osprchoval sa, poriadne sa utrel hrubou veľkou osuškou a zamieril do obývačky. Čakala ho pri dverách. Myslela na kurvičky a karaoke. A na seba, svoju rolu. Má lietať v oblakoch, zasnená a šťastná? Má všetko zveriť na starosť barbiturátom, chémii, psychiatrovi? Poodstúpila, aby Jano mohol prejsť popri nej. Sadol si do kresla a diaľkovým ovládačom zapol televízor. Bledomodré mihotavé svetlo vykrojilo predmety z tmy. Vtedy to Jano uvidel. Hýbalo sa to pomaly a v tom pohybe bola podľa Miše aj zlovestná hrozba, aj akási definitívnosť. Jano mlčal. Jeho hlava vyzerala ako maska natiahnutá na škripec z kostí. Zareagoval až na manželkin hysterický šepot, poznamenal, že podľa neho je obývačka takto ešte útulnejšia ako predtým, a prikryl sa svojím výrokom ako vzácnou tibetskou dekou. Miša vybehla na dvor pred panelák a zavolala mobilom Soňu. Dychčala: - Viem všetko! - Čo vieš? - Aj u vás sa to objavilo! Preto nemôžeš hovoriť. Sleduje ťa to! Počúva ťa to! Rastie to! - ... - Nič mi k tomu nepovieš??? - Veď nemôžem hovoriť. - Tak šepkaj. - Objavilo. Ale bolo to už dávno. Tu to už nerastie, hoci sa to ani nezmenšuje, to je pravda. Zvykli sme si na to. Na také, aké to je. Pozri, viem, ako sa cítiš. Spočiatku nie je ľahké vyrovnať sa s novou situáciou... Ale je naozaj nová? Dobre, viem, že si s tým nerátala. Netušila si, že sa to až takto... zvizualizuje. Ktorá z nás by s tým rátala? Dúfala som, že tebe - že vám s Janom - sa to nestane. A keď si minule volala, myslela som si, že azda predsa len trochu zveličuješ. U nás to predsa nerástlo tak rýchlo! Boli sme s Peťom už šesť rokov, keď sme si to všimli! Ale doba je iná, život je rýchlejší... viem, že sa asi zle vyjadrujem, ale fakt, svet sa zrýchlil, takže vy s Janom... Aj keď ste spolu ešte len dva roky, dva roky ste, nie? Alebo tri? Akosi rýchlejšie to prišlo. Ach, som naivná. - Mám ťa rada, Soni, si moja jediná kamarátka. Ale prečo si mi zatajila práve toto? - Veď ti vravím: robila som si nádeje, že aspoň ty sa tomu vyhneš! - A čo vaši? Doma, keď si bola malá... Mali nejaký problém? Veď vieš. - Pravdaže. U nás na sídlisku to mali skoro všetci. Pamätám si, Kropáčovci sa kvôli tomu museli odsťahovať: jednoducho ich to vytislo z bytu. Raz ráno to trčalo až na chodbu. Vieš si predstaviť takú delikátnu situáciu? Reálny socializmus, a tebe niečo vylieza z dverí? A ty spávaš aj s deťmi na schodisku? No, naši prichýlili na pár dní ich decká, krpci trávili čas u mňa v izbe, ale nemala som ich rada, lebo stále plakali. Inak, Kropáčovci mali napokon šťastie v nešťastí: našlo si ich to všade, v záverečnej fáze bývali v nejakej robotníckej ubytovni v Prahe na Smíchove, ale keď to raz v noci napuchlo, škandalózne rozdrapilo celý barák a zobudilo polovicu stovežatej, riešili vec radikálne: emigrovali. Dnes sa majú na Západe perfektne, ona v Taliansku s deťmi, on kdesi vo Švajčiarsku. Hneď za hranicami sa totiž rozišli. Chápeš? Tam už šlo o život. Ale o život ide vlastne vždy, v takomto prípade. - Ale prečo mi aspoň mama nikdy nič nenaznačila? - My ženy sme také: hoci vidíme - vlastne vždy od samého začiatku - ako sa veci dejú a ako sa nevyhnutne skončia, stále dúfame a... a stále opakujeme tie isté chyby. Nič nás nepoučí. Väčšinou. Ani to, ako dopadli naši rodičia, nám nezabráni pripraviť ten istý osud sebe a zároveň aj svojim deťom. Tie odmalička vedieme k tomu, aby to isté neskôr vykonali vlastnému potomstvu. Niečo nás k tomu ženie, cítiš? - Soni! Myslela som si, že mi šibe! - Správne. Šibe ti, ale nikto si nevšimne, že ti šibe. Ide o kolektívnu šibnutosť. Nijako sa nelíšiš od ostatných. Ako diagnostikovať šialenstvo, keď všetci sú šialení? Miša nevedela. Chodila celé týždne po byte ako bez duše. Videla, že ju to spoza televízora pozorne vníma: presnejšie povedané, nie spoza neho, skôr spod neho, lebo televízor sa na tom už vznášal, pohojdávajúc sa zboka nabok ako rekreant na nafukovačke. Miša stála na balkóne. Miša sa opierala o kuchynskú linku. Miša dokonca snívala o prechádzke v nefalšovanej prírode. Všade uvažovala o tom, čo oni s Janom jeden od druhého vlastne chcú. Všade uvažovala aj o tom, ako sa dostane ku skrini, v ktorej má odložený svoj veľký cestovný kufor ešte z dievčenských čias, lebo to už zapratalo celú izbu, takže cesta ku skrini bola zahataná. A v najextrémnejšom okamihu, medzi trinástou a štrnástou cigaretou, medzi túžobným pohľadom z balkóna dolu na ulicu a pohľadom na vežiak oproti - do okien rovnakých väzení, ako je toto jej - medzi rezignovanou vyrovnanosťou a tichým zhrozením Miša okrem iných, dôležitejších, osudovejších vecí uvažovala aj o tom, že partnera či partnerku potrebuje človek na to, aby mu mal kto zapnúť retiazku na krku, a retiazku potrebuje, aby nejakého partnera či partnerku získal.
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Before They Split-up (English)Misha had found something in their flat.
It was behind the television in the corner of the living room. And though she called Jano the night before, who had been on a business trip abroad for a few days, she didn’t make a mention of her discovery. Why should she worry him. He had other worries in the Asian metropolis. Or didn’t he? A doubt prayed on her mind: she had a dream the night before, about her husband’s adventures in karaoke-bars with little tarts, which were called somehow else, more noble there – Misha couldn’t recall the term – but they were just little tarts to her anyway and they pursued tarty practices. After a routine phone call she would sit in the kitchen far into the night, the light of a small lamp alighted her palms and fingers, lanky shades crawled on the floor and the opposite wall and Misha was pondering why this thing had to happen to her of all people. Actually, not just to her – also to Jan, but Jan did not suspect anything. Or did he? Was he lying some place in a bed of a hotelroom and suspecting? Was he negotiating on the twentieth or thirtieth floor of a skyscraper in the premises of a go-getting company and suspecting? Misha came from a family, where nothing had ever appeared behind the television. Her parents had not even mentioned an event like that, although they commonly talked about the little affairs that took place in their neighbourhood or workplace in front of their daughter. But maybe they had got it in the bedroom. They kept their daughter out of there. Had they got it in the bedroom? Did they use to take it on vacations with them? To the trips they took, while their daughter was in care of her grandmother in the countryside? She moved to the foyer and called her friend on the wired phone, because she needed somebody to have a word with about the unexpected problem. However as early as after a few sentences she responded in surprise: - To a psychiatrist? - Sure. You have to. What if you just imagine it all? - You mean... halucinating? Do you think I’m halucinating? - And if it’s not there at all? According to what you say, it‘s almost as big as a wardrobe... Could it fit in behind the television? - Sonya, I’m telling you, it’s there! - I doubt. Look, do you know doctor Monty... - The bearded one? - Yep. The one that goes to the Irish regularly. - Where does he usually sit? - All the way in the back, below the loudspeakers. - I don’t know that one at all. - Then you must know the other one, that, come on, help me... - Do you mean doctor Rathe? - Exactly. - He’s not a psychiatrist, he’s a psychologist. - Ok, ok, maybe a psychologist would be enough for the beginning... - What beginning? It’s as big as a wardrobe and you think it’s just the beginning? - I’ve already told you, it c-a-n-n-o-t be as big as a wardrobe. So calm down. It’s certainly much, much smaller. - So what is it like then? - We can agree at most on a size of a match box. It’s negligibly small. - Listen... What if you came to have a look? - No way. I can‘t. - Why? Come! Please! Help me. - But how?! There’s really something wrong with you! Why do I matter here? By the way, I’m in a complex situation. - I don’t understand. - ... - What’s the matter? Can’t you speak? - Uhm. - Suddenly. You can’t speak, because I need a favour from you. Can you at least whisper? - That I can. But what should I whisper? You’d better check it again... - But I’m looking at it all the time! Actually... actually not all the time, I was just looking from the window... and... by the hairdresser‘s door... you know where... - Sure I know. By that door. What’s there? - There... - So what? - Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Do you understand? It’s not there. It’s just here, behind the television. Why don’t I imagine it‘s also there, if it’s just my imagination? I‘ll tell you why: because it’s simply here and it simply isn’t there. And you’re lying to me. - Lying about what? - That you can only whisper. Now, as you were curious what was by the hairdresser’s door, you yelled at me. For that curiosity. It caught your attention so immensely, just because you go to that hairdresser’s salon, too. Are you willing to listen to me and not accuse me of being mad just if also you are involved? The call has ended quite awkwardly. Misha sat down to the kitchen table, took a mirror in her hands and scrutinized the pale skin of her pale face in it. The face twinkled into the kitchen night. Eyes, nose, mouth, mouth angles. Misha then also contemplated her arms, breast, legs. The whole would be almost impossible to distinguish from other wholes of this kind. Or just sometimes, by clothes, and then by situations, in which the clothes are being taken off, by the manner of nakedness. By manner of nakedness? Yes, show yourself to you, as you are. Step in front of the mirror, come to know yourself from outside, but intimately. And let the inside come next. Follow the inside! Misha stood up, then after a while she sat down again. She was sitting on her backside in the kitchen again. Jano came back home after a few days, said hello to his wife and put his luggage down in the foyer, took his shoes off, entered the bathroom, took a shower, dried himself thouroughly on a heavy big bath towel and headed for the living room. She was waiting for him at the door. She was thinking about tarts and karaoke. And about herself, her role. Should she be floating on air, dreamy and cheerful? Should she entrust everything to barbiturates, chemistry, psychiatrist? She stood back to let Jano pass by her. He sat down in the armchair and turned the television on with the remote control. The light-blue flickering light cut the objects out of the dark. Then Jano noticed it. It moved slowly and according to Misha there was both an ominous threat and a kind of finality in that motion. Jano was silent. His head looked like a mask stretched on a rack made of bones. He answered only to his wife’s hysterical whisper, he remarked that in his opinion the living room was now even cosier than before and covered himself with his statement as if it was a precious Tibetan blanket. Misha ran out into the court in front of the prefab and called Sonya from her cell phone. She panted: - I know everything! - Know what? - It has appeared at your place, too! That’s why you can’t speak. It watches you! It listens to you! It grows! - ... - Don’t you have anything to say??? - I’ve told you I can’t speak. - Then whisper. - It appeared. But it was long ago. It doesn’t grow here anymore, although it doesn’t shrink either, that’s true. We got used to it. To such, as it is. Look, I know how you feel. It’s not easy to cope with the new situation at the beginning... But is it really new? All right, I know you haven’t suspected that. You didn’t apprehend it would get so... visible. Which of us would suspect that? I was hoping that it wouldn’t happen to you – to you and Jano. And when you called last time, I thought that haply you were just a bit exaggerating anyway. It certainly didn’t grow so fast in our flat! We had already been together for six years, when we noticed! But times have changed, life’s faster... I know, it may be a wrong expression, but really, the world is getting faster, so you and Jano... Even though you’ve been together just for two years, it has been two years, hasn’t it? Or three? It came somehow faster. Oh, I’m naive. - I like you Sonya, you’re my only friend. But why did you have to conceal this of all things? - I told you: I was hoping that at least you would avoid it! - And what about your parents? At home, when you were a child... Did they have any problems? You know. - Sure. Almost everyone in our neighbourhood had it. I remember, that it made the Kropachs move out: it simply crowded them out of their flat. One morning it protruded to the lobby. Can you imagine such a delicate situation? Real socialism, and something‘s creeping out your door? And you with your children sleep on the stairs? Well, my parents bestowed their kids for a few days, the peewees spent their time in my room, but I didn’t like them, because they always bawled. Otherwise, the Kropachs had a blessing in disguise: it found them everywhere, in the final stage they lived in a labourers’ home in Smichov, Prague, but when it swelled one night, scandalously ripped the whole barrack open and woke up half of the hundred-spired, they solved the proposition radically: they emigrated. They sit pretty in the West today, she‘s in Italy with the children, he lives somewhere in Switzerland. The thing is that they split-up right after crossing the border. Do you understand? In their case it was a matter of life and death. But it’s always a matter of life and death in a case like this. - But why didn’t at least my mum ever give me a hint? - Such are we, women: even if we see – actually always from the very beginning – how things go and how they will inevitably end, we still hope and... and always do the same mistakes again. Nothing ever makes us learn. In most cases. Not even the fact how our parents have turned out will prevent us from preparing the same fate to ourselves and our children as well. We lead them ever since childhood to doing the same thing to their own offspring. Something drives us into it, do you feel it? - Sonya! I thought I was crazy! - Right. You are crazy, but nobody’s gonna notice you’re crazy. It’s a case of collective craziness. You are not different from others in any manner. How to diagnose craziness, if everybody is crazy? Misha didn’t know. She was pottering about in her flat lifeless for weeks. She saw it perceiving her closely from behind the television: to be more precise, not from behind it, rather from underneath it, because the television had now floated on it, dangling from side to side like a holidaymaker on a lilo. Misha was standing on the balcony. Misha was leaning on the kitchen dresser. Misha was even dreaming about a walk in authentic nature. She was contemplating everywhere on what she and Jano actually wanted from each other. She also contemplated everywhere on how to get into the wardrobe, where she kept her large suitcase from her girlhood yet, because it had already filled the whole room to the brim, so the way to the wardrobe was blocked. And in the most extreme moment, between the thirteenth and fourteenth cigarette, between a wistful gaze from the balcony down at the street and a look at the tower block across the street – to the windows of like prisons, such as hers – between resigned calmness and silent appalment Misha, apart from other, more important, more inevitable things, was thinking about the fact, that people need a partner to fasten the necklace on their neck, and they need the necklace to gain a partner. |
