I used the headboard and her wrists and a knot I’d learned in the army. It was secure, but would not bind. I paused to consider her beneath me, arms above her head, her long hair scattered over the sheets. Her rib cage tightened behind thin flesh as it rose and fell. She was so small and breakable.
I used her facing up, then facing down. She squirmed and made noises I’d never heard from any woman before. Once she trilled a consonant, then grunted. I could just make out the words that followed: “Hit me.”
I struck her rear end with my open hand and heard the pleasure come out of her mouth.
“Harder.”
I did, smacking until she was bright red, then I kissed her. I kissed anything I could reach. I licked and gnawed her until she made that sound again. Then I did, too.
40
I have to step back and apologize for the details. They are uncommon for a confession, and I only use them after the greatest deliberation. But to understand all that follows, the whole web of circumstances must be explained, because otherwise nothing can really be understood.
We smoked in bed. At first we were too exhausted to speak, and the only sounds were our breaths. She crept away while I stared at the ceiling, where little spots were moving rapidly, joining, separating. I was not thinking of what we’d done; I wasn’t thinking of Magda. I was too exhausted. Vera returned with the wine bottle and our glasses.
“Well,” she said, standing naked and smiling.
I accepted a glass. “Well.”
She sat beside me, back against the headboard, and took a sip. “What did you think, Ferenc?”
“I’m speechless.”
“That pleases me.” She rubbed her wrists and lit another cigarette. “You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting. Much longer than since last Christmas. Karel-well, that’ s what happens in a marriage, isn’t it?”
“What?”
“Repetition. The same two positions. Then one. You start to do it just because the other one happens to be in your bed. Boredom. There’s no other reason.” She took a drag and exhaled it into the air. “What about you and Magda?”
“We haven’t had sex in over a year.”
“What?”
The ceiling was moving again. I’d said too much. But no-after what we’d just done, how could that be too much? I felt something huge shift inside me. The world was an entirely different place.
“Oh,” she said as she stroked my cheek. “You’re crying.”
She held me until it passed. I never suspected such patience was in her. Her bony chest was against my nose. She still smelled of lavender, but now it was mixed with the smell of me.
I’d seen a man buried that day, a man who’d witnessed a hundred years of what humanity can do to itself. Now I was in a married woman’s bed, weeping. This is what humanity can do to itself.
41
I did not forget where I was, but that morning it was still a surprise to see Vera’s sleeping face behind the nest of her black hair. I started to dress.
“You’re going?”
“To work.”
She got up on an elbow to watch me tie my shoes. “Should I ask?”
I looked at her.
“If you’ll be coming back. Karel’s out until Friday.”
I didn’t know if I would come back, if it was a good idea or a horrible one, or if by tonight I’d even want to. “You’ll be here?”
When she shrugged, the sheet came off her shoulder. “I’ve nowhere else to go.”
I kissed her forehead, then, almost as an afterthought, her lips.
Georgi was waiting for me on the front steps to the station, hat in his hands. He looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep, and I assumed I’d missed a party. We shook hands.
“I’ve got worries, Ferenc.”
He took a folded envelope from his pocket and handed it to me.
It was a summons to appear, the next day, at the state security headquarters on Yalta Boulevard. The reason: DOCUMENT CHECK.
I took him to a cafe and fed him brandy. “It could be nothing, Georgi. You know this. It could just be a document check, like it says.”
“Don’t tell me that. Rubin Blazkova-you know him? A forger, but that’s beside the point. He received a summons two weeks ago. No one knows where he is anymore. You’ve got to help me.” He could hardly hold his glass.
It surprised me how calmly I was taking it. I suppose I was trying to counterbalance his fear with cool, rational words. When I sat in certain positions I could smell Vera on me, and I wondered if he could smell her, too. “I’ll come by tonight, okay? This isn’t until tomorrow morning, so I’ll work on it today.” I patted his cheek. “Don’t worry so much.”
“I’m a poet, remember? I can’t take torture.”
“Nobody can take torture, Georgi.”
“That doesn’t make me feel any better.” He finished his drink and shook his head. “I don’t want to end up like Nestor Velcea.”
I looked at him. “What?”
“I don’t want-”
“Nestor Velcea-you know Nestor Velcea?”
He shrugged. “Of course I do. Didn’t you meet him?”
“What?”
“He was at that party, a couple months ago. When Louis was in town-that’s why he was there, to see Louis. The two of them go back a long way.” He paused, looking at me.” I’d never met Nestor before, just heard of him. Friend of a friend, you know. He was in the camps- that’s where I don’t want to end up.” I must have done something shocking with my face, because he leaned forward, for the moment forgetting his own terror. “What is it?”
All I could manage was: “Friend of what friend?”
“Well, the poet Kaspar Tepylo, of course.”
42
Brano Sev was at his desk. I pulled up a chair.
“Ferenc,” he said.
His flat, round face was eternally young. He was somewhere in his forties now-none of us knew his exact age-and in those years all his deeds had done nothing to his face. It must have been useful for him, having an innocent face to hide his corrupted hands. “Listen. I have a friend who’s been called in for a document check. I want to know what this is about.”
He considered the directness of my request, turning it over in his head, looking for motives. All state security
