JERZY PILCH 77
They walked quickly, almost running. Kohoutek's current woman was
finding the going more and more difficult, and she was panting ever
more hoarsely. Kohoutek did not take the backpack from her back, nor
did he help her with the suitcase; in the desperation that had taken hold
of him, he dragged her along behind him, tugging at her hand and over
and over again squeezing her fingers painfully. All this he did partly
unconsciously, and yet partly on purpose, to punish her for the prob–
lems she had caused him by her outrageous arrival.
We old libertines, laughing as we observe this scene, yet filled with
dread from a peculiar kind of sympathy, might add that Kohoutek's
anger and desperation were undergirded by a rational cunning.
Kohoutek was well aware that by hurrying to the aid of his current
woman, he was, when it came down to it, increasing the risk and ren–
dering the situation even more dramatic. Because now someone might
not only see his current woman on the lawn; they might equally well
spot Kohoutek himself at her side. What was more, someone might also
notice Kohoutek's absence from the house. At any moment a cry might
go up: Kohoutek, where arc you? Kohoutek's mother, for instance, see–
ing Kohoutek's cap in the hallway, might assume that recklessly as
usual, as usual goodness knows why, Kohoutek had rushed out without
his cap, and so she might, taking the cap with her, set off after
Kohoutek; a thousand courses of events of this kind might take place.
But there was one chance in a thousand that nothing would happen.
And besides, let's be honest, despite the unpropitious circumstances,
Kohoutek was glad to see his current woman. He touched her and the
same thing happened to him that always happened when he touched
her. At such times Kohoutek was reduced to his own hands. Whenever
he touched her, his whole existence was concentrated into his hands.
Now especially, it can be said that as Kohoutek feverishly squeezed his
current woman's hand, he was literally bearing his whole fate in the con–
vulsive grip of his fingers.
He pulled her toward the old slaughterhouse. Kohoutek's current
woman saw before her a thicket so dense that it looked to her like a
dark mound, a tangle of fir, hazel, burdock, and sugar cane, an impass–
able barrier. But Kohoutek led her along a sort of path, and after a
moment crumbling white walls began to appear through the vegetation.
The door opened noiselessly and the lovers stepped into safe territory.
Here, amid slaughterhouse machinery that was rusting like a seasonal
monument, no pursuers should catch them. Nevertheless, Kohoutek
was still uneasy.
