The same shade, hinting at hyperemia, was noticeable on his nipples with their swollen areolae when he took off his shirt. Or when he withdrew the abundantly creased foreskin from the blunt-ended, strongly rimmed, shiny bulb of his penis. This bashfully rapid yet demonstratively exhibitionist movement was also part of their sign language. This was the most secret signal that made his fatherly authority incontestable: his prick. Showing it meant a prolonged warning. And its effect lay not necessarily in its size. Not showing it, avoiding the opportunities to show it, meant withdrawing himself, as though withholding love, the denial of the greatest trust, a deliberate punishment.
What once has been seared into one’s brain will be missed, or at least will need occasional reinforcement, because its mere sight is evanescent. It is in this sense that size and strength are meaningful — but in proportions, relative positions, shapes and characteristics, everything that speaks of activity, of glowing energy, everything that can be intuited but not shared, in a word, everything that had to do with aesthetics in the category of the taboo. And of course all this belonged to the language, placed under the obligation of silence, that every male understands well no matter how vague or distorted but does not speak because of the constant threat of death, and very often will refrain from even touching in his thoughts. Boys can learn to understand this language fully and speak it flawlessly, without distortions, only in the corridors, sleeping halls, and baths of boarding schools, where, left to their own devices, they must fight for their existence and position. Not by chance was the new cabin attendant so upset when he ran off. He understood, and had good reason not to acknowledge, what he saw and comprehended. Most men who grow up in the bosom of their families behave stupidly and obtusely. Before he reached the end of the corridor and must have disappeared into the dark passage leading to the women’s dressing rooms, the ticket-taker woman enthroned behind her table called after him.
Where in the hell are you running like that, my dear Jani. I envy you your legs.
The new attendant stopped. Confused and surprised, curious to know what the woman might want from him, he took a step back.
I just want to tell Uncle Józsi right away, he offered quickly, but did not explain what he wanted to tell his boss; instead, he approached the ticket-taker’s table with such cautious steps it was as if with his locomotion he was already revealing to her something very meaningful and particularly confidential.
He was afraid of this female. In the circumstances, of course, he pretended to seek her graces.
The luminous ticket taker, who each morning applied thick layers of baby cream to her face, did not even bother to look up from her crocheting. She could not be easily swept off her feet with this transparently mysterious behavior. The crochet pattern book lay on the table before her; she was counting the number of stitches on the appropriate diagram. Her fingers kept working fast, and the counting made her lips move too. Crocheting was not some thoughtless entertainment. She worked for marketers who took the merchandise to the countryside. When she reached a round number that was easy to remember, she quickly looked up.
Didn’t you see him go over to the steam, my dear Jani. He walked right in front of you. And you’re not allowed in there.
Is that right, the boy asked dumbly. I didn’t notice him going to the steam.
You probably fell asleep again, Jani. What are you doing again at night.
From the moment he laid eyes on her, the young man had hated this woman the way he hated his own mother. But now he couldn’t protest, he couldn’t say he hadn’t fallen asleep and did see the chief attendant go to the steam section. No matter how he hoped, how he tried to be smart, his lies never managed to cover over his other lies or never fitted together properly. A small error always managed to slip in, or something got stuck out of place and made him vulnerable. And this female seemed to get her kicks by constantly observing him. She was keeping an eye on everybody. To divert her irritating attention, he leaned across the table and lowered his voice to a whisper.
Will you look at what those three are doing there.
But the fat woman did not look where the new attendant wished her to look, and instead shot a sharp glance directly at him. As if to say slightingly, well, look at him, what drivel he’s unloading again.
And don’t bother me just now, Janika, she said aloud, you can see I’m counting.
She was indeed counting, her small narrow lips, painted bright red, were moving, though it would have taken no effort to leave off counting.
The truth was, she could see right through this young man and felt that if she did not set him straight, he might get her and the others into a lot of trouble. They had a hunch why he had been transferred here in such haste. Nobody had asked the management for a new attendant, and it didn’t help that the chief was dead set against hiring one. No parting excuse occurred now to the new attendant that would let him quietly retreat; he kept standing helplessly in front of the woman whose goal was exactly to have him stand like that. Let him stay here, with her. He shouldn’t be allowed to go to the cloakroom. Occasionally he still managed to go over there and help the two younger women; they too couldn’t stand the ticket taker, this Rózsika, for trying to lord it over them.
He did not understand this system at all. It seemed to him that in this establishment, this woman had more authority than the chief cabin attendant. And once he realized this, it was as though he were carried along by a warmer feeling for her, in addition to his hatred; maybe he should be closer to her. Sometimes one is ashamed of such strong feelings. Because he’d like to rub elbows with the powerful ones but without drawing attention to it, so people wouldn’t envy him for this little advantage. He wanted to make this woman understand his unusual position, which, come to think of it, meant an equality in their ranks. After all, he too had special assignments, giving him a more important role than his official position indicated.
If he were hindered, however, he wouldn’t be able to carry out his important task properly.
You people out there in Kispest, Janika, probably keep pigs too, said the woman unexpectedly when she stopped her counting. Make those tasty garlic sausages, don’t you.
Please, just take a look, Aunt Rózsika, over there, look what they’re doing, the young man insisted, and because of his impatience, he no longer whispered. Leaning all the way across the table, he spoke directly into the shiny face of the woman, who relentlessly went on crocheting.
And this was indeed one of those not too frequent moments when the three men unceremoniously abandoned themselves to the tenderness they felt for one another.
They knew exactly what they were doing. They were also aware of the limits in their mutual contact. For the outside observer, of course, all this had a disquieting effect.
André was still crouching in his barely gathered bathrobe, his hands holding Ágost’s knees, but he did not wish to inflict more pain. On the contrary, he was about to do something very pleasant. His eyes had welled up in his helpless anger, he wanted to stifle his sadistic emotions, beat back his fury. He had come up with the silly prank to get Ágost to be here with them instead of going to the Sports Baths with Gyöngyvér. Of course Viola hadn’t sent a message or arranged anything with them. She hadn’t because, though she came for a swim every morning with her husband, there was never more time than to say a quick good-morning and, on rare occasions, to exchange a few innocent, cheerful words. André was left with nothing but total humility. With the bowing of his head before the other man’s pain of unknown origin, which could be an illness, weakness of soul, blissful torment of a new love, or an unhappy old love, or something entirely different. And to bow his head even if he understood nothing and had to fathom, terrified, his own treacherous intentions.