Out of Oneself: 2 Novellas by Palyi Andras

Author:Palyi, Andras [Palyi, Andras]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Twisted Spoon Press
Published: 2010-11-19T23:00:00+00:00

At the End of the World

Ildi Schön in the dilapidated staircase of the tenement in Visegrád Street. Filthy walls that may have been off-white in the past. Some of the doors still have prewar copper knobs, but most of the doors have no knobs at all. Have they been stolen, or changed? Two or three houses over, there is a plaque announcing that this is where the Communist Party of Hungary came into existence. But the camera glides quickly over the plaque. In the meantime we hear the sound of Ildi Schön’s quick steps as she hurries along the sidewalk and then steps into the dingy doorway. This is not a political movie, those days are over. But it’s a real proletarian film, about the workers’ life. Ildi Schön in the kitchen. She is mixing some cheap drink for her lover. Thanks, you’re ok, always fixing me this shit, says Gergő the Knife. He does have a regular name, but everybody calls him the Knife ever since his altercation with Rudi Heinz at the Actors’ Academy on Vas Street when he pulled a knife on him. He didn’t use it, only pulled it to show he had it. Then, too, the stake was Ildi Schön. As it turned out, Ildi Schön had slept with both of them, but neither of them knew of the other. Goddamn it, said Rudi Heinz and leaned over Gergő, right into his face. That’s when the jackknife’s spring clicked, automatically. Gergő barely pulled his hand out of his pocket. But that happened a long time ago. Ildi Schön in bed with her lover who is a car mechanic on Visegrád Street. Not the boss, just an assistant. A snotty little bugger. Played by Gergő the Knife. They strip to their underwear and crawl under the cover, their upper bodies naked. The cover slips down a little. I can see your undies, screams Halmágyi, the director, take them off. No, she won’t. But it’s ridiculous if we can see them. Gergő the Knife takes off his and lobs them over to the prop man. The crew cracks up. Under the cover he presses his thigh against Ildi Schön’s undies-covered ass. He can already feel himself stiffening; you’re fantastic, he whispers to her. Ildi Schön’s head tips forward, the blood seems to drain out of it. If she were not lying down, she’d probably faint. The unavoidable childhood dread, at once defenselessness and suppressed desire, is rising like the stench of undigested cauliflower. Why don’t you grab your father’s cock, she hisses. The dark, saccharine, slimy swearing comes from her depths, the sound thick and throaty, as if she were not herself. Gergő the Knife! When they were making love in the college dorm he had never pushed his naked member against her buttocks. Whether they had been in love or just playing games, it doesn’t matter now. But he had never done that before. You’re disgusting, she says, now in her own voice, and she pouts. All she feels now is hatred and contempt.

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