his fault that he was somehow different from the others… He remembered how, at the age of six, when his parents sent him to a summer camp for the first time, the other kids kept hurling insults at him and he even started wetting his bed there… Fortunately he fell ill and was moved to a separate room and no longer had to go out for walks with the others. It had been just like that even before he turned six. He had never been accepted by the others and had always stood outside the circle. And that is why he ended up feeling insecure in the presence of others. He was unable to behave naturally. But alcohol allowed him to shed something, something that was weighing him down and that was what had driven him to drink. And that was why sometimes he really needed a drink.
He thought of all the things that would never have happened had it not been for alcohol. Like that time in the little park on the embankment many years ago, when from one moment to the next, he had turned into a man of action, stopped talking all of a sudden and turned to kiss the woman by his side, a woman he in fact respected enormously. He had had a drop too much before, and many times after that, but on that occasion something momentous had happened and he still remembered vividly everything about that day.
On that day he had left home at around ten in the morning, as he and Chorváth had been invited to talk about literature with some older students at a gymnázium. In those days such events were organised by the Writers’ Union, whose members would take it in turns to take part. When they got to the school they discovered that the teacher who had requested the discussion had been off sick for about a week, and the school had forgotten all about the talk and assigned someone to substitute for the class who’d set the students a written exam for the day, which could no longer be cancelled. Suddenly some spare time opened up before them and they had to improvise a way of filling it, so they dived into the nearest pub, which happened to be round the corner. It was one of
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those ordinary pubs, with tarred wooden floorboards, the stale stench of beer in the air, and it was quite empty, so they sat down and ordered something to drink. Chorváth, an older critic, had recently published a very scathing review of a novel by Karvaš, which had upset the author quite a lot. They started to discuss this, which took up quite a bit of time. Then there was another recently-published novel on which their opinions differed. They discussed that as well. Some other book had been banned by the censors, and they exchanged views on the manuscript and on censorship in general. They ended up talking about people they knew, writers and critics they’d had dealings with. This was a subject that could be discussed endlessly. And they did discuss it for quite a while. As time went by, the pub began to fill up. Some of the customers ordered lunch, followed by a beer with rum, lorry drivers took a break over a few beers; by then the municipal services workers called it a day, having clocked up sufficient hours for their daily shift. The pub was noisy and getting crowded, so it was no longer possible to have a decent conversation and they moved on, towards the city centre. On their way they took in another three or four pubs, gradually talking less and less, as if they had exhausted every topic. Nevertheless, wherever they dived in, they would have at least one more shot. Chorváth wanted to drag him into yet another pub around the corner from where he lived but there was no point: he wasn’t up to talking anymore. Chorváth was fifteen years older, had been drinking for fifteen years longer, and couldn’t hold his drink as well as he could, so he came up with an excuse, telling him to go on his own if he wanted to but he’d had quite enough. Having left Chorváth, he turned towards the city centre but didn’t bump into anyone. It was now dark. He had stopped in a couple of cafés and in the conservatory of one of them he saw Trachta, his former editor-in-chief, sitting all on his own. He joined him eagerly, having not spoken to anyone for at least two whole hours and
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went on and on about the kind of day he’d just had. He was in high spirits: the conservatory had been opened up on one side, so people were sitting outside as well, the balmy breeze of a summer evening wafted in, lights twinkled everywhere and he talked and talked… and at one point, as he raised his head from the table and looked round, there she was, by the door, her eyes scouring the interior of the café for someone, so he lifted his hand high in the air and waved until she spotted him, he got up without paying his bill and went over to her beside himself with joy. She had been looking for him, she had come to rescue him from his drinking, he felt that he could lean on her if he weren’t steady on his feet, now as well as in future, he felt her protective hand hovering above him and was brimming over with gratitude within. She walked with him to the embankment to get some fresh air. She had spent the whole day at some meeting and then dropped in on him to suggest they go for a little walk, but his mother told her, oh he’s been out all day, you might find him at the Carlton or the Savoy, so that’s where she went and indeed found him and he explained how he’d ended up going for a drink, it was all the fault of the school but at least he and Chorváth had sorted a few things out. They were now strolling along the embankment illuminated by ancient street lamps. There were no more people milling about, only the odd young couple might pass them, and they could hear their own steps and the gentle swirling of the Danube below. All of a sudden he fell silent in mid-sentence, stopped, turned towards her and kissed her. Quite simply, as if it were the most natural thing to do. He realised his kissing technique left something to be desired but continued kissing her and she didn’t object, as if it was something that had to happen one day and now it finally did. They had addressed each other formally until then, since they’d known each other for a relatively short time, yet now they were standing here pressed against each other as if the two of them were a young couple, and with the lights on the