Rambling on (Ukázka, strana 99)

found that a legless man can live in this world, enjoying perhaps a greater sensation of living than all those other folk who can run around. And the two friends each had their own truth, their moral fibre was so awesome that all who knew Lothar and Pavel, however slightly, if ever they were a bit despondent, if ever they began to wonder if life was worth living under such-and-such conditions, they’d all…, me too, when, at moments of such blasphemous thoughts, I think of Pavel and Lothar, I feel ashamed of myself compared to the moral compass that backs Pavel and Lothar’s view of the world. And Olina, Pavel’s fiancée, she’s an angel you could follow about with dustpan and brush, sweeping up the feathers that fall from her wings, she came to know Pavel as a rehabilitation nurse and she fell in love with him, and he with her, and if you were to look for a pair of true lovers, forget Romeo and Juliet, forget Troilus and Cressida, forget even Radúz and Mahulena, just watch as Olina pushes Pavel along, as Olina hauls him up the steps, the six steps to steer him through the open door of the Keeper’s Lodge restaurant, all you need do is watch these two lovers, these betrothed, who have already inherited the earth and are, by the power of their love and moral fibre, a living example to all who grow despondent or demand more of this world and life than is theirs to demand and so get the sulks and fret away in a corner somewhere.

One day, in the middle of April it was, Lothar came to Kersko, unannounced, but jubilant, and at once he told Pavel and Olina that he’d made a killing on the stock exchange and was going to buy a Mercedes, a diesel Mercedes, a white one, and Pavel said that if Lothar bought himself a white Mercedes, Olina would buy herself a white wedding dress, and the day that Lothar came home with a white Merc, he’d come home with a white bride. And with white April snow coming down, the two friends were so happy and in such a jolly mood that they drank all the beer in the ( 98 )

Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241689

house, and with their thirst rising to ever greater heights with all that joy, they decided to ride over to the Keeper’s Lodge for some more beer and then bring more bottles home for the night, in case they got thirsty in the night, or, failing that, in the morning. So they rode out into the darkness, a darkness adorned with white flakes of snow the size of postage stamps, Pavel being pushed along by Olina and Lothar propelling his wheelchair into the blizzard with great blows from his gloved hands, each with a lighted torch between their teeth, and so over the bumps and through the spring mud they rode out of their side avenue onto the concrete road, and then they rode on with their heads down, forging through the blizzard in their fur hats, until they glimpsed a pink light issuing from the pub windows down the tunnel along which the spring snow was coming down, thick and wet. And as they grew near, the friends yelled with delight and thirst and the vision of the cosy pub, where the stove would radiate a great heat, and they revelled in the prospect and drove all the faster as if on the final straight at the Heidelberg Olympics. Then, in the pink light, they shook off the thick blanket of snow that covered them, wiped their faces and dashed away the topping of snow that had built up on their fur hats... and Olina pulled first Lothar, the heavy ninety-kilogram Lothar, up the six, snow-edged steps onto the patio, then Pavel, few others were any good at it – going up to the first step, turning 180°, then in reverse and with a mighty jerk at each step, dragging the man in his nickel-plated wheelchair up onto the patio, from where it was on the level through the doorway. I was sitting in the pub, the landlord, Mr Novák was in a lousy mood, again, treating us three drinkers as if he’d never seen us before, I sat there tight-lipped and sipped my beer, to which the ignominy had given an added bitterness, Franta Vorel was sitting by the stove and dreaming of the beautiful Hungarian girl who, years back, had combed ( 99 )

Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241689

his hair for him in the Start inn in Starý Vestec, a Hungarian who’d never seen Franta before, nor he her, but out of the blue she’d started combing his hair and then told him she would kidnap him and take him back with her to Budapest in her car, since when he’d lived that dream, and now he was sitting there and dreaming about his glorious kidnapping to Budapest, Mr Procházka, sprawled out, was sleeping as soundly as in the dead of night, like on any other occasion, around nine he’d been overcome by the sweet sleep that granted him his health, which shone from his red face in the droplets under his nose. And suddenly the door flew open and the white snow flew in, that wet April snow, Mr Novák was holding on to the beer tap and was as astonished as I was, watching as Pavel came riding through the door, with Olina pushing along behind, steered towards a table and repeatedly wiped his wet, cold brow, then Olina went out and came back with Lothar, who was aglow with elation and hope, and the friends rubbed their hands and ordered some beers. But Mr Novák said in a strange voice: “I’ve just run out.” And the friends stared ahead and their smiles froze, stuck to their ever-hopeful faces, and so Pavel said: “All right, we’ll have some bottled, to take away…,” but Mr Novák glanced towards a corner that the patrons couldn’t see and said in a strange voice: “I’m out of bottled as well, delivery never made it…,” so Pavel said, “We’ll take a bottle of wine…,” but Mr Novák, heading for the doorway, said: “We’re closing,” and he took hold of the keys, a bunch of keys, and rattled them, jangling them like the last bell before closing time, closing, closing… and he opened the door, and Olina, red and rubicund, pushed first Lothar, then Pavel back out onto the patio, the white snow was falling even harder now than before, flakes the size of postage stamps came hurtling into the hallway, and a draught, a furious draught banged the pub door to, and Franta Vorel went on sighing sweetly beside the stove, ( 100 )

Ukázka elektronické knihy, UID: KOS241689