The Judgment of Richard Richter by Štiks Igor

Author:Štiks, Igor [Štiks, Igor]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781503946668
Publisher: Amazon Crossing
Published: 2017-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

On we went in silence. I didn’t have the courage to look at her. I told myself that an intelligent person should draw a conclusion from this. Hadn’t Alma allowed me to extricate myself in the most painless manner possible from the mess I’d made with my lack of forethought? An advantage of being this old, I realized with bitterness, lay precisely in this, in the respect that others show you, their desire to preserve your dignity when you slip. Still, her indifference stung me. We climbed uphill in silence. I didn’t ask where we were going. We walked side by side in silence.

“You aren’t asking where we’re going?” she said finally.

“You took me for a walk, Alma. I trust you completely.”

“As I asked you to come along with me today, I’m obliged to tell you where we’re going.”

“I wait to hear with bated breath.”

“I want to introduce you to my father. I told you so already. He and I are very close as you’ve seen. I visit him every day. I’ve already told him a lot about you. We have one of your books on the shelf that he remembers reading years ago. He is an avid reader and reads a great deal in German. I think he’s eager to meet you.”

“You mean right now? I don’t know, can I go like this?” I protested.

“Come on, Richard.”

“Fine, fine, whatever . . .” I agreed, though the truth was I’d have agreed to almost anything to stay with her for as long as I could. Even more than a single visit to an elderly gentleman, who promised to be only a mild bother. I asked where her father lived.

“Thank you,” she said. “On Bjelave. Not far from here.”

I didn’t know where Bjelave was so I continued, “Anyway, it’s always a pleasure to meet my readers. I never pass up the opportunity. Especially here in Sarajevo, where except for Ivor my only other reader may well be your father.”

“Don’t be so sure. Somewhere in that pile of books for sale for a deutsche mark, we might have found one of yours.”

“That would finish me off. Though perhaps the market down there is the most objective way of evaluating literature. Perhaps all my novels together would bring enough for a decent Sarajevo omelet!”

We climbed up to the top of the hill. I tried to read the street names. I hadn’t been good at remembering names for the neighborhoods, particularly those that were tricky to pronounce, let alone the street names. But there were a few that I’d memorized far too well. I felt sweat trickle down my back, and several droplets pooled in the lovely dip at the base of Alma’s throat. I looked over at her now and then, my pride still a little stung. I kept up with her pace, trying to give the impression that the twenty-year difference between us was not glaring in terms of my physical condition. We soon reached the building where her father lived. We

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