“So what’s so special about those pebbles?” Alice asked.
“It’s a long story,” said Květa.
“So you aren’t going to tell me? Is that it? I have a right, don’t I, Dad?”
“Well,” Josef said, “it was a long time ago.”
“Some other time, Alice, some other time. It’s a long story,” Květa said. As Alice cleared away the soup bowls and set the plates of roast pork down on the table, she couldn’t help but notice her father looking out the window with a vaguely optimistic expression and her mother smiling slightly.
“So, Mom, did you hear that Kryštof and Libuše are going to get married?” Alice asked in an attempt to end the silence, interrupted only by the clatter of cutlery, the pouring of beer into glasses, and her parents’ dopey smiles. The question served to stimulate the conversation for a while, but once everyone had finished eating, Květa got up and began to put on her coat.
“Where are you going, Mom?” Alice asked, picking up on her father’s brooding look. “Why don’t you stay a while?”
“Oh, I’m just going out for the pastries,” Květa said. “I stopped in before I came here, but they weren’t fresh. I can tell! The lady told me to come back after noon, when they bring in the fresh ones.”
Květa left and Josef went out to the balcony for a smoke. When Alice went to tell him his coffee was ready, she could see he was restless, tapping his ashes into a pot of blooming red geraniums, so she went and stood beside him, gave him an encouraging look, and when he finished his second cigarette, they went inside together.
“It’s a good thing you finally got around to it, Dad,” she said. Josef looked at her, then at the display case, then back to her.
“Well … What was it supposed to do? Lie there forever? Here at least it will go to use.”
“You mean you might come visit Mom?” Josef gave no reply. “I think she’d be pretty happy to see you every once in a while.”
Josef cleared his throat. “You didn’t by any chance ask if she prefers it polished, or whether she’d rather have it painted with lacquer?”
“I didn’t ask yet,” Alice said. “I haven’t had a chance.”
“It’s not actually that important, it’s just …”
“I’ll ask. I’ll figure out some discreet way, all right?” Alice said.
“You think she liked it?” her father asked.
“What can I say? You saw her, right?”
“Well … I guess so.”
“Sure, she did.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“What about you, Alice,” Josef said, wrinkling his brow. “Do you think it’s silly?” Alice shook her head. “So what are you going to do now, if Kryštof goes and marries that blonde?”
“It doesn’t change a thing, really,” Alice said. “They’re living with you anyway, and they’ll probably stay there, no?”
“Well, I hope so.”
“I don’t think I’m going to get him to Prague. I’ve already tried that before.”
“He’s too well brought up,” Josef laughed. “That’s why he’ll stay with me,” he added with mischievous glee.
“So actually nothing’s going to change,” Alice said.
“No? I guess you’re right. So what are you going to do?”
“You know, Dad, I had sort of a feeling that you knew … about the wedding … and actually now that Kryštof’s with Libuše, I don’t know why, but sometimes I remember back to what it was like when I was little.”
“Don’t worry about them. They can handle it,” Josef said.
“Oh, I’m not,” Alice said.
“So what do you remember?” Josef said.
“Well, all sorts of things. Usually at night, when I can’t fall asleep … the other day I was remembering Grandma.”
“But you couldn’t have any memory of her, Ali. She died when you were four or five.”
“So?”
“It just seems unlikely.”
“Well, I remember her … and the way Mom always used to wear long skirts. Long skirts and blouses with long dark sleeves.”
“I tell you, the things women remember. I can’t even remember what sweater I got for Christmas last year. It’s awful,” Josef said.
“That never was your strong point, Dad. But I remember everything. I remember how when Grandma died, Mom wore a long dark dress for weeks afterward. I even remember she had a rash or something.”
“A rash?” Josef said.
“Or something like that. I saw her in the bath a few times and her skin was all red.”
“From what?”
“The rash.”
“What did it look like?”
“Oh, I don’t know, these sort of little red scars. Or was it eczema? I don’t really know.”
Just then they heard the keys in the door and Květa stepped into the entryway holding two cardboard trays wrapped in paper. She walked straight into the room where Alice and Josef were talking.
“Well, they came,” Květa said. “I had to wait a while, but they’re definitely fresh. Here you go. And don’t get up, since you’re having such a nice talk,” she said. She laid the trays on the table and went into the kitchen for plates. Josef stared shyly down at the table. Květa came back with plates and spoons, unwrapped the two bundles of pastries, and served them onto the plates.
“We were just reminiscing, Mom,” Alice said.
“Oh, what about?” Květa said.
“Well, Dad here doesn’t believe that I remember Grandma,” Alice said.
“Oh, you must have been awfully little,” Květa said, putting a plate in front of each of them. She sat upright and put her hands on her hips. “You couldn’t have been older than five when she died — and you remember?”
“I remember how sometimes she used to give me a bath, and I remember that long black or dark blue dress you used to wear all the time after her funeral.”
“Dark blue dress,” Květa repeated. “I honestly don’t remember.”
“Yeah, you had a rash or hives, remember?”
“No, I don’t,” said Květa.
“Yeah and when Dad came back, it went away. Remember now?”
“I don’t remember anything like that!”
“Well, I think it was some kind of nervous reaction, because it went away as soon as Dad came home,” Alice said. She took a bite of her pastry. Her father sat holding the plate of cake, staring at it dumbfounded. Suddenly he heaved a sigh. It sounded like he couldn’t breathe. Only after the second time and the third did Alice and her mother turn to look and see him staring at the plate, tears streaming from his eyes. It was amazing, just two or three breaths in and out and his face had turned soaking wet. He sobbed, unable to catch his breath no matter how much air he took into his lungs. Tears streamed down his cheeks and chin, shaven specially for the occasion, and dripped onto the floor and the carpet and his mirror-polished shoes.
“What’s going on?” Alice said. “Did I say something wrong? I’ve always loved Grandma.”
“Alice, please, just be quiet already!” her mother said, raising her voice. Her father began to rise from his chair, wheezing and gasping for air. He reached into his pants pocket, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped half of his face dry. His right leg, independently of the rest of his body, tried several times to take a step. Květa dropped her plate, leaned across the table, and grabbed his hand. As Josef slowly sank back into his chair, Alice saw that he was in danger of toppling backward over the headrest and hitting his head on the ground, so she caught hold of him and together with her mother slowly lowered him into the chair. With one hand her mother unbuttoned his shirt, while with the other she attempted to keep his slumping body upright.
“Josífek, my God. Josífek, forgive me, forgive me,” Květa said under her breath, breaking into tears.
“What did I say, Mom?” Alice asked, massaging her father’s temples.