Lovers for a Day

decision. His place was here. His place was wherever he knew she was close by.

The window opened onto the square. In the centre was a church and a small park. Opposite was the bus station, without a single bus parked there. Instead two foreign military vehicles stood waiting. He wasn't used to them yet. He wiped the sweat from his forehead. 'It's hot here,' he said. 'Don't you think it's hot in here?'

She didn't reply; maybe she hadn't heard him. There were a few pensioners sitting in the little park as well as some man who happened to be staring into the hotel windows at that moment.

On his way back the frontier crossing had been conspicuously deserted, although it was only seven in the evening. 'Doctor Sláma,' a man in uniform read in his passport. 'Sláma.' The fellow checked through some list for a moment, while he himself looked to see where a Soviet soldier might be hiding or an enemy machine gun poking out. But neither of them found anything suspicious. Amazingly enough he wasn't on the list. Or more likely they hadn't received the proper list yet. The frontier guard returned his passport. 'Drive on.' It was quite easy to get in. But that was true about all traps. He had no doubt he was entering a trap, he even realized that he had set the bait himself. But he belonged here. He belonged where she was.

He wiped his forehead again.

'That guy at reception,' she said, behind him. 'I didn't like the way he looked at us.' She had already taken off her clothes and was wearing only a short nightdress and a lot of make-up. If her face had been as perfect as her figure she wouldn't have to use make-up at all. He gazed at her. He gazed at the woman for whom he had walked into the trap.

'He wasn't sitting there so you could like the way he looked at you.'

'I didn't like the way he looked at you.'

'Maybe he just envied me.'

'Maybe,' she conceded, 'but you know the way things are these days. I wouldn't 'want anybody particularly noticing that I've been here. That I've been here with you. Did you shout something at me when I was in the bathroom?'

'No. I just said how hot it is in here.'

'I'm glad. I like the heat. If I'd had my way I would have been born somewhere in Africa.'

'You were born in just the right place. Just where I had a chance of meeting you.' He hugged her and this time she let him lead her to the couch.

'Or in Brazil,' she added. 'It's hot in Brazil too. And they dance there as well. That's where they have that famous carnival, isn't it? Or isn't it?'

He undressed quickly.

'I know you're not interested in carnivals. It's not the sort of sophisticated entertainment you go in for. What if I were to find us some music?' she suggested and reached out for the radio.

There was a man's voice speaking in ingratiating tones, They have remained quite openly where basically they always were: on the side of counter-revolution.

'I don't want that!' she said interrupting the voice. 'They go on like that all the time now. Do you know that you've already been mentioned? I heard it one day by chance. I put on music when I'm drawing, and they mix that sort of rubbish in with the music. Just in little drops. And before you can reach the knob to switch it off they're playing music again.'

He would have liked to ask her what they had said about

him, but he realized there would be no point asking. She had registered his name, but the rest of the message had escaped her. Her concerns were her drawing, love and perhaps travel still. At most she was willing to listen to interesting stories. As long as they had nothing to do with politics, illness or anything serious.

He lay down by her.

'I'm at your side again, darling. Every night of those six months I imagined this moment.'

'You imagined me? It lasted you a good while, just imagining me.'

'But now I'm here.'

'Yes. Now you're here. And you're shivering all over. You're shivering despite the heat in here.'

'It's you making me shiver.'

'I've given you a fever! Shiver more! More! Even more!' She breathed quickly. She closed her eyes, while he continued to look at her. He knew every feature of her face. The artificial shadows under her eyes. The bluish green make-up on her eyelids. Then he too closed his eyes. Now all he could hear was her moaning. 'You're my love.'

'Ah. How much do you love me?'

'More than my life. More than anything. More than everything. That's why I came. Really.'

'Why do you love me so much?'

'I don't know. I really don't know.'

'Really really,' she repeated. 'Did we really make love just now?'

'Yes. For the first time in ages I knew I really existed. Over there it was just a bad dream. I used to walk along the street and see you everywhere in those foreign towns where you couldn't be. I saw you in every woman with long hair.'

'In every woman with long hair? Did it matter whether she was dark or blonde?'

'She had to have hair like yours.'

'She had to have black hair, short legs and a threadbare skirt. And did you make love to them when you saw me in them?'

'You know I didn't. Every day without you was pointless. I couldn't bear it any longer.'

'You bore it for quite a while,' she said, 'and I'm glad you bore it.'

'What do you mean?'

'I can't stand the feeling that someone can't bear to be without me, that I have to be with him just because he can't stand to be without me.'

'You're with me because you like being with me.'

'Yes, that's the only reason I was with you. What's the time?'

'I don't know. My watch stopped at the border. It couldn't handle the stress.'

'The watch didn't want to go with you. It had more sense than you had.'

'It had no one to come back to,' he said. 'Should I phone for the time?'

'No. It makes no difference what time it is, anyway.'

'We've only been here a little while,' he said. 'I'm hardly twelve hours back. In this country. Back home.'

'You don't feel at home yet?'

'I used to dream about it almost every night. I used to dream about you. I would be calling you from a phone booth but I'd never manage to dial the right number. Or I'd be waiting for you somewhere round the corner from your street, but you never came.'

'I expect I was somewhere with Jan. I have to be with him sometimes, since he's my husband,' she said. 'You realize I'm married, don't you?'

'But now you're with me,' he said as he embraced her.

'Do you want to do that again already?'

'We've so much lost time to make up for.'

She laughed. 'And then what will we do?'

He remembered he hadn't eaten a thing since morning. 'Then we'll go downstairs,' he suggested. 'There's a restaurant. A little one. It used to be good. Ten years ago.'

'Did you come here then?'

'Yes.'

'With some girl?'

'Yes, at that time you were. . you were barely fifteen.'

'And you were twenty-six. Did you make love that time?'

'It's not important. I didn't know you in those days.'

'True,' she admitted. 'But you shouldn't repeat things.'

'Do you mean making love?'

'I mean everything.'

'We won't order the same dish.'

'No, we'll have tomato soup. You didn't have tomato soup that time?'

'I don't think so.' He tried to recall the name of that girl. He wanted to say that he couldn't remember the name of the girl he was with, let alone what they had had to eat, but he was afraid she would feel humiliated, seeing it as a premonition of how he would forget her one day, and at that moment he suddenly remembered they had eaten toast with a very hot sauce and the girl's name was Dora. They had also drunk red wine and eaten liver with pineapple and he had spent almost all his month's money, but that was how he lived in those days. They