“Nothing. Just a lively debate.”
“A lively debate? You realize your daughter is here to get married, don’t you?”
“Yeah, so what do you want me to do?”
“Put a stop to it somehow, so they don’t get in a fight.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“I don’t know!”
“What should I tell them?”
“Anything, it doesn’t matter … Oh, Josef!” Květa turned around and stomped her heels against the floor, interrupting Maximilian and the officiant.
“Gentlemen, can we get started? A wedding is a big event, and the bride and all the rest of us are very nervous. Aren’t you nervous, sir? What about you, Maximilian? I think the bride is about to faint at any moment. By the way, sir, I’m—”
“The mother of the bride.”
“You have an excellent memory, sir. How do you remember it all, with so many new people coming in every day? I can’t even remember the day-to-day things anymore, but of course I’m getting old.”
“I don’t believe it, madam,” the marriage officiant objected. Květa grasped him gently by the elbow and led him away from the table with the refreshments.
Gradually the rest of the wedding party and the guests fell into line and entered the ceremonial hall to the sound of music from a cassette tape player. The officiant took his position behind the ceremonial table, his official medallion with the botched state emblem hanging from a gold-plated chain around his neck. There was still some nervousness in the air, and the officiant seemed to put more emphasis on the words having to do with socialism in his speech to the newlyweds. Maximilian and Alice exchanged rings a second time, kissed each other a second time, and signed the marriage agreement a second time. After them the witnesses did the same, and with that the ceremony was completed.
As they said their good-byes, the marriage officiant stepped up to Maximilian. “That was good with that state emblem stuff. Really great.”
“Why?” Maximilian asked. “What do you mean?”
“Well, as it happens I was born in Banská Bystrica and I’m a Slovak.”
Everybody went back home, the bride and groom changed their clothes, the men loosened their ties, and Květa sat down next to her husband on the couch in the living room. Once most of the guests were gathered together, Maximilian clinked a glass with a spoon and thanked everyone on behalf of himself and his wife for keeping the news of the wedding to themselves, ensuring that it would be an intimate affair. Then Alice stood up and invited them all to dinner in a nearby restaurant. Next, her aunt Anna got up and with tears in her eyes began to reminisce about Alice’s childhood and adolescence. She had just launched into a story when Antonín suddenly interrupted to request that everyone raise their glass in honor of Maximilian’s parents, who hadn’t lived long enough to see him wed. Alice’s aunt tried to regain control after the toast, but in the meantime the guests had lost interest in her story and, ignoring her, broke up into small clusters of conversation.
“Why didn’t you do something, Josef?” Květa asked her husband. “Back at the ceremony, why didn’t you do something when you knew he was a communist?”
“What does it matter now? Nothing happened.”
“But it could have. You just stood there like a road sign.”
“I couldn’t even make out half of what they were saying.”
“Then I guess you’d better turn up the volume on your hearing aid.”
“I did have it turned up.”
“You also have to make sure the batteries are fresh.”
“Alice gets them for me. I even have a backup supply.”
“So you really couldn’t hear?”
“Yes, I heard some of it.”
“All right then. Did you talk about it with Tonda?”
“Tonda’s a psychiatrist, not a neurologist or an ear doctor.”
“I know, but I’m sure he could find someone. He must have connections.”
“It’s just old age, Květa. Connections are no help with that.”
“Oh, please. So you don’t want to move back in then … Josef?”
Josef turned and looked into her deep green eyes. “I can’t, Květa. Not yet.”
“But why didn’t you say something? I was already getting everything ready so you could have a room for yourself.”
Josef laid a hand on Květa’s shoulder, got up from the couch, and walked out of the room. Slowly the guests began to make their way to the restaurant, and at eight o’clock on the dot, after a few more toasts, dinner was served. There weren’t more than twelve or fifteen people. The room emptied out by about ten o’clock. It was a Tuesday and people had to go to work the next day. That was the reason most of the guests gave when they left, even though they said they wished they could stay with the newlyweds longer. The last person still there with them was Alice’s father. He settled the bill and the three of them headed back to the apartment. When they came to the entrance of their building, Maximilian and Alice said good-night to her father and announced that they were going to take a walk before they called it a night.
“Your wedding day only comes once, and in any case you have the keys. The church ceremony was very nice. That was a good idea, great idea. So is everything else all right?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Černý,” Maximilian said.
“Absolutely? That’s good to hear. How about you, Ali?”
“I’m glad you liked it, Dad.”
“It was very nice.”
“Yeah. It was worth it, Dad.”
“So why wouldn’t he let in that poor tourist?” Alice’s father asked. Maximilian shrugged.
“And how did you all come to know that priest, anyway? I wanted to ask him, you know, but I felt embarrassed for some reason.”
“It didn’t take much convincing. He was the one who buried my father. He was happy to do it. Actually, it was kind of his idea. I was going to invite him to the wedding and he offered to do it himself.”
“I see,” said Alice’s father. “Well, I think I’ll go lie down now, and don’t forget: There’s plenty of food in there. They put the best stuff in the little fridge and forgot all about it, so don’t forget to eat it. Even tonight if you want. I’ll have my little machine turned off, so even the devil couldn’t wake me. Just unlock it and take whatever you like.”
“Don’t worry. You go lie down, Dad,” Alice said, giving her father a kiss on the cheek. He shook Maximilian’s hand, turned, went inside, and the newlyweds went for a stroll. They walked down a couple of streets and through the park, but soon they got cold and decided to go back. Alice’s father was already asleep.
Alice tried to stay awake while Maximilian was brushing his teeth in the bathroom, just long enough to say good-night and … I never would have guessed … being happy could … make … me … so … be-ing … hap-py … could … be … so … ti-red …
2. THE PASTRY CHEF
The police car driver waved lazily to the guard, who grazed his ash-colored hair with his index finger in an abbreviated hint of the usual symbolic greeting, and since the sun was out, instead of pushing the button that would connect the cables, sending an electrical current to the motor that raised the gate, he, the gatehouse guard, lifted himself from his chair. It was nice out, after all, the sun was shining, and he could use a stretch. He stepped out onto the concrete sidewalk lined with flower beds, twisted to reach back into the gatehouse from outside, and pressed the button. It was Friday and the clock above his head showed the time as exactly five forty-three A.M. The policeman’s lazy wave and the guard’s lazy salute would have made even the swans from the lake of the same name proud. The lazy gesture of the policeman behind the wheel represented a highly stylized expression of weariness from the night shift, a slight inconsiderateness, and at the same time an authoritative democratic-mindedness, which was nevertheless distinct from egalitarianism. For his part, the guard’s precisely timed gesture in response demonstrated a moderate respect for the authority of the police car driver, who was bringing them—yes, them, since as everyone knows, the gatehouse guard is also part of the therapeutic process — not a patient, as in the past, but a client, as they were now called. A substantial part of the guard’s choreography was his casual rocking at the knees — by the way, the guard had turned seventy just last year and had been doing this job for a good few years now and seen a thing or two in his life — and a substantial part of the guard’s casual rocking at the knees was his nearly undetectable, incalculable, millisecond-long dwelling on his heels, which made it clear who was in charge here. And of course at the end came the trump card: he didn’t remain in his cozy booth, looking out at the world from inside; he came out of it, though without so much as a glance at the policeman, an officer of the SNB, or National Security Corps, sitting behind the wheel; he just lazily twisted sideways and pressed the button from outside the booth, causing the foreign-made electric motor to raise the gate. Naturally the guard didn’t give it a second thought, just as Paganini didn’t think twice about how to perform vibrato in concert, it was automatic, the product of a lifetime of virtuoso experience. That’s just the way it’s done, boy, I don’t care if you’re bringing in a major from the parachute team. This hopping in and out of the guard booth in the morning mist is a double-guaranteed trump card, or a joker, if you like. It shows who’s running the show here at the main gate at five forty-four on a Friday morning, friend!