English / Sample translations /

Beginnings

Translated from the Czech by Andrée Collier Záleská

          OK, so we'll write—let's promise to write.
          What time is it leaving?
          There's time. Hey seriously, OK? When one of us gets a letter she'll write back immediately, OK?
          The taller girl nodded and looked at the bench in the back, where a man and woman were sitting. The woman was leaning over a big belly and looking for something in a bag. She took out a sandwich, gave it to him, and watched as he opened it, looked at the salami, closed it, carefully arranged it in his fingers and took a bite.
          It seems wierd to me, said the smaller girl, really, at first I was really looking forward to it, but now I feel wierd, you know? we were always together and now I have to go alone, it's…well…wierd, she said and smiled a little.
          But you won't be alone there.
          Well no, but still. The smaller girl sighed, looking at her watch, at the couple behind them and then straight ahead. Jesus! she said and tapped her forehead, I wanted to call Petr—hey tell him, if you see him…or, never mind.
          What do you want me to tell him?
          Oh nothing—there's no point.
          What?
          Nothing, just… well… just…that I left, OK. Or no. No, really, nothing. The smaller girl ran her fingers through her hair, looked at the big station clock, at the couple with the roll, and then at the tracks. I had a dream last night that there was a mistake, that they mixed me up with someone else, and that I had to come back. With the suitcases! God that would be funny if they had confused me with someone else! She laughed briefly.
          The taller girl didn't say anything.
          The woman bent over her belly to the bag and took out a bottle, removed the cap and offered it to the man: he drank, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, gave the bottle back to her and bit into the sandwich.
          It should be here by now, said the smaller girl, or actually no, in eight minutes. I'm so nervous!
          Through the huge doors of the hall came a tall old woman. She looked around quickly, took a few steps and halted. She was pushing a baby carriage in front of her.
          Hey—Kvačka!
          Don't look at her, said the taller girl.
          It's pretty awful, isn't it? The smaller girl watched as the old woman walked to the end of the platform, turned sharply and quickly came back, mumbling something, her big men's shoes slapping. The taller girl looked at the ground. They say she put a spell on Yvetta Bechtoldová, who has a baby boy with a weird lip, said the smaller girl. I tell ya—I'm so glad that I'm getting out of here.
          The old woman was coming towards them: the woman with the belly covered her eyes, the man with the roll held her hand, and as the carriage passed them, he glanced at the two stuffed dolls with puckered brows inside it.
          That's really the limit.
          Well you're leaving in four minutes.
          What's that? Did I make you mad? The smaller girl raised her eyebrows. Jana, I'm really glad that you're here with me. I even told my parents not to come, that we would be here together, and I feel stupid going alone, really. But it's only a year after all and you'll apply again and they'll take you, Jana—the smaller girl spoke quickly and a little sharply. I'll send you everything, she said, everything, even books and lectures. I'll copy everything and then send it to you and you'll study and then you'll come visit all the time, on Sundays maybe, and we'll go somewhere and the year will fly by and you won't even know it and we'll be there together.
          The taller girl sighed and nodded her head: the tall old woman, walking past, slowed down and wanted to say something—no, it just seemed that way to the taller girl. The couple behind them got up from the bench and walked up to the gray border in front of the tracks, with their backs to the girls, with their backs to the old woman.
          But you can't be so passive! You have to—let me tell you—in your place I would get out of here and just take a job there in a pub or as a cleaning woman or at a gas station—whatever, you know? It's simply...I don't know, I don't know how to say it...you have to be able to make a decision and make use of all the opportunities and keep trying again and again and be able to give something up, because...the smaller girl looked around, what is there here? Pay the bills. And in five years maybe they'll give you a raise. And then you get married and have kids. And in my opinion it's a wasted life. What do you think?
          I guess so.
          I'd say definitely! Look at Pišt’a! She said that she would never get married, and she did. And she said she wouldn't.
          The taller girl was looking at the ground and rolling a pebble with the toe of her tennis shoe. The couple with the sandwich looked them over. Don't talk so loud, said the taller girl.
          But I'm serious. Personally, I'm not getting married. I don't know about you, but not me. That's why one goes off to study—the smaller girl spoke slowly and formally—so that she can do her work. And I think that anyone who wants to accomplish something—she waved her hand—I'm babbling away here and the train might not come and they might kick me out and take you. That'd be funny!—the smaller girl laughed—if they threw me out and took you, I'd die laughing.
          The taller girl looked at her.
          What? Anything is possible, said the smaller girl and shrugged her shoulders. On the other hand I know a whole lot of idiots who have a college education and are good for nothing. You have to carry it through to the end. To set a tempo and go. Or are you dying to get married and cook and iron and do laundry and I don't know what?
          No, no thanks, said the taller girl.
          So you see…Dammit where is that train!
          I don't feel drawn to the kitchen at all.
          I think I'll go ask what's going on with that train, OK? the smaller girl looked around nervously: besides them the only ones in the station were the couple and the old woman with the baby carriage.
          I ran into Hedvika, said the taller girl, she was carrying two bags and she spent ten minutes telling me where to buy meat. The smaller girl looked at the huge doors, a little man came out of them, looked at the clock and shook his head. The smaller girl went up to him. Excuse me, she said, are you waiting for the express to Prague at twelve-forty? I am, he said, it should be here in three and a half minutes—that clock is fast. Thank you, said the smaller girl, and looked around again. She tried the handle of the locked door with the sign that said Stationmaster, and went back to her suitcases.
          The couple—the woman with the belly and the man without the sandwich—went to sit down again; the tall old woman stood further away, rocking her carriage and nodding her head in time to the sound of something clicking; the little man was standing erect by the tracks with his hands in his pockets and spitting onto the black grass between the rails in big arcs.
          What manners, said the smaller girl.
          You know what? said the taller girl, it just occurred to me that I could go with you. I'd go to school with you, you know? What you were saying, about those lectures—I could just go and takes notes myself, you know?
          No one knows anything here, said the smaller girl, no one is around, no one is interested in the fact that the train isn't coming, God knows if this is really even a train station.
          I mean—hey—said the taller girl, taking the smaller girl by the sleeve, I could go with you, maybe sleep at your place a few times until something turned up, and then just…don't you think?
          You could be my better half at exam time, said the smaller girl, laughing loudly, but it's not going to happen if the train never comes.
          But wait, seriously, I'll just get on the train now and then send a telegram and you won't have to send me anything, because I'll go to the lectures with you. Then they'll have to take me!
          The smaller girl stopped laughing. Pl-ease!, she said slowly and shook her head, I'm going to find out what is going on with that train, she said and walked quickly to the door of the hall. The old woman with the carriage started up again, moving quickly, with her big men's shoes slapping. The taller girl watched her as she went past the little man who was spitting on the tracks, and past the big door from which the smaller girl was returning. Anything is possible here, she said when she got back, people believe in bewitched pregnant women and trains don't run on time and no one knows anything—I wish I were gone, she sighed and picked up her two suitcases, moved them up a little and sighed again. Hey, but you can't go with me now, she said then, really, seriously, it's impossible.
          It was a joke, said the taller girl, I'm surprised you went for it.
          That was a good one! I was already getting scared, said the smaller girl, laughing loudly.
          You were pretty smart there, the way you said that about having to give something up, said the taller girl. You know that I'm not going to Prague, don't worry, not now, not ever, what would I do there, me in Prague, she giggled, me in Prague at university, that would be a joke!
          What's with you? You're not acting normal You're going there next year, so what?
          No way, that was just a joke, said the taller girl and the loudspeaker whined that the express to Prague was arriving on track number three. The small man spat, the man without the sandwich kissed his wife on the forehead and the girls bent over the suitcases: the taller girl took the larger suitcase, the smaller girl took the smaller suitcase and the train came noisily to a halt. Allow me, said the man without the sandwich and he held the door open for the smaller girl, the taller girl handed her the suitcases. Then the door slammed shut, the stationmaster whistled and the train started up. The old woman with the carriage and the woman with the belly and the taller girl waved. The smaller girl laughed behind the window and gestured to indicate that the window wouldn't open, that it was hot inside and that she didn't know if she would make it at all in the heat, and the taller girl should be happy that she didn't have such a terrible journey ahead of her, and that she should write as soon as possible and keep her fingers crossed for the smaller girl, because they really were going to throw her out within a year and it would be awful—at least that's what the taller girl was supposed to understand—and then the train was gone, with the squashed nose and condensed breath of the smaller girl on the window.
          The taller girl walked slowly to the exit with her hands in her pockets and her head hanging, she didn't even notice that a shabby baby carriage with two dolls was coming towards her, and she cried out a little when it bumped into her leg. She heard the mumbling of the tall old woman with a face like an old glove and saw her runny colorless eyes, and she pressed her lips together and ran outside.
          He was standing leaning against a column stamping out a cigarette. Well? he said, is she gone already? The taller girl nodded. Well? How did it go? The taller girl didn't say anything.
          Jana, what's the matter? Are you sick? Do you want to sit down for a minute? Come on, let's sit down.
          I don't want to. Maybe they'll throw her out and take me, that'd be funny. She sobbed and laughed angrily.
          What? he said, examining her for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and said enthusiastically—too much so, it seemed to her—hey, what about Robert, Robby, that's not bad, is it? it sounds good, Robert Verner, don't you think?
          It sounds like hell, she said and her chin trembled. He led her to a bench and gently sat her down, so, he said, you rest here and tell me what's the matter, and you're not going to carry anyone's bags anymore and you're not going to cry. So what it is? Did she say something?
          I saw Kvačka, she ran into me with her carriage, she said and sniffed and then burst into tears and sobbed with her whole body.
          Oh boy, so she believes in ghosts, he said and smiled and stroked her hair and whispered to her, you little nut, my sweetheart, my fussy little monkey...

          Just a second—I'll get that, said the man without the sandwich, and he took my big suitcase down from the rack. I removed a yellow envelope from it and took a xeroxed piece of paper out of it: "In Roman times…" it began and then there was something about disciplines to choose from. That's strange, I said aloud, that there is still physical education at university.
          A sound mind in a sound body! said the man without the sandwich. Here, let me put it back up for you—chivalry is not yet dead in Europe! he said and smiled at me broadly. So you're going to school? to study? to Prague? well you've got a wonderful five years ahead of you.