Dreveny nuz (The Wooden Knife)

“Mikey, tell us, what was it like to be with her? Tell it like it is…“ fat Marquiz grinned as he wiped his hands on an oily piece of scrap.
“Leave him alone, he´s had enough,“ the fair-haired guy named Jaromir said pointing to Michael sitting on the floor of the garage. Jaromir passed the Nr. 10 wrench to Bonner to release the nut of a screw. The old Czech brand “CZ“ motorcykle stood in the middle of the garage almost bare; only the bleeder remained.
“Mikey, did you give her a farewell flower?“ as Marquiz continued to grin at him. “He stole them from the rectory garden, I saw him, Romeo, at least three times…“ Marquiz told to other staff in garage.
“So tell him,“ Jaromir, who was unshaved way down below his nose, suggesting to Marquiz, “be sure, everybody already knows that.“
“Mikey, blow her off! Get real, you fool,“ Marquiz said and then he stopped talking in the middle of the sentence, as the final straw.
“You should tell him about that,“ he said as he poked Bonner with his toe. He wore only an undershirt and brown army dungarees.
There was a deep shade inside of the garage and Michael sat there leaning up against the wall. His face flushed red, then went pale and then turned red again, as he stared in front of himself, he layed his long nut-brown arms on his knees.
“The waiter, who brings round the beer in Radimilice, screwed your girl, Mikey, last Saturday at the country fair…“ Bonner said as his oil-stained hands left black smudges on his sunburned face. He continued to utter slowly with a hoarse voice. “He told us about that detail the next day in the pub.“
Michael sat there on the floor without moving.
“We´ll have a ride on our honey in the evening in the straw- stock room.,It´s still empty,“ Bonner went on talking in the same way, as if he would have talked about the same thing, but to Marquiz. The bleeder was almost dismounted. Only the seat, handle-bars whole and the engine remained, as well as the wheels on the naked frame and the tank.
Michael´s brother Peter had been sitting beside the motorcycle in silence until now and pouring together the remainder of the oil from several cans into one plastic bottle. He looked up for a moment at his brother and then he thundered at Marquiz: “Don´t smoke here, you imbecile! There´s oil and gasoline all over here. Put it out!“
“Yeah,“ fat Marquiz said in a bored way and he went outside to smoke his cigarette in front of the garage. He disappeared in the dazzling light as the July sun beat upon the concrete door-step with all of its strength and into the opened wings of the ironplate gate.
“The other Friday you had another date with her, didn´t you?“ Jaromir asked sharply. “I saw you trying to sneak behind the village.“
“… and the next day she made you look like a fool when she went off with that other guy“ Bonner added as he laid the dismounted bleeder down on the floor and wiped his hands against the pants.
“What did she say to you, when you last saw her, Mikey? That you had lovely slim fingers, just like last time? How you have such wonderfully nut-brown skin and that you had beautiful long curly eyelashes?“
“Stop it,“ Michael said shrilly as he engraved the concrete floor full of oil spots with the toe of his shoe.
“Mike, tell her to go to hell,“ Jaromir repeated.
“Explain it to your little brother what women are good for,“ Bonner said and laughed roughly and took the reserve tank with gasoline from Michael´s brother. “They´re good only when they´re stripped down, like this bike…“
“Fill up only half of the main tank so the motorcycle won´t be so heavy,“ Michael´s brother said as he unscrewed the lid of the tank. Gasoline softly splashed as it leaked from the reserve. Its smell wafted through the garage as the gasoline-fumes trembled above the orifice of the tank. Then Jaromir and Bonner sat down on the floor, Marquiz came back already without his cigarette and he stood in front of the “CZ“ – bike. All four of them stared at it. There was nothing left to take apart. They looked at the components and pieces of metal plates around there with satisfaction.
“It looks like scrambled-motorcycle. We should try it on the field road outside of the village,“ Jaromir said.
“First thing in the evening,“ Marquiz said with a nod. “Now it´s awfully hot outside…“
“Especially we have to tune the engine,“ Bonner said, “I asked Harry already. I saw him on Saturday at the gas station. He´ll do it for us for a case of beer.“
“Great,“ Marquiz said, “Harry is the only one who could do that.“
“I´ve heard that the gas station is going to be bought by the Austrians,“ Michael´s brother said. “They say it should be three times larger and Harry will be the boss there, because he is the only one who understands this business and because he wasn´t a Communist before the Velvet Revolution…“
“Shut up!“ Bonner said as he laughed. “You´re crazy…“
Michael sat apart from them, with his eyes looking straight ahead and he was silent like a dead man. Fat Marquiz shuffled slowly towards him, stood there above him and smoothly kicked to Michael´s shoe soles.
“Do you love her, Mikey?“
Michael didn´t answer.
“So what! Do you love her? It´s not a big deal, so confess. You love her, don´t you?“
Michael nodded tacitly his approval.
“Mikey, but she is a bitch! Do you understand that? Why do you put up with it?“
“Leave me alone,“ Michael suddenly said vehemently. Marquiz stopped kicking him into his shoe as he wrinkled his smooth forhead.
“Are you completely stupid? She is a bitch, this airhead of yours. She kicked you away, because she had found a better one, an older one and a richer one. So say it already!“
Bonner stood up and he passed over the garage. They both, Marquiz and Bonner, stood above Michael who was sitting.
“Mikey, say, that she is a bitch,“ Bonner pronounced suggestively.
Michael continued to sit without any movement.
“Did you hear us?!“ Marquiz barked. “Say outloud that she is a bitch, do it!“
“She is a bitch. Say! She is a bitch,“ Bonner repeated with the dark voice as he screwed up his eyes. Jaromir joined them so that they three guys stood around Michael in a half circle.
“She is a bitch,“ Bonner rattled.
“Say it, damn it! She is a bitch,“ Marquiz squeaked histerically.
“She – is – a- bitch,“ Bonner repeated. “Say it, it´s true!“
“She is a bitch,“ repeated Marquiz.
“She is a bitch,“ Bonner droned as he shattered Michael with his glance.
Michael looked back and forth from one guy to another as they looked as he was sweating and smoldering in his own stew.
“She is a bitch, say it Mikey, say, bitch, bitch…“ Jaromir was kicking into the soles of Michael´s shoes as Marquiz had done a moment before.
“Was she unfaithful to you? Did she lie to you? So she is a bitch, isn´t she? So say it…“ Marquiz yelled.
It´s hard to say if Michael nodded yes or no. Maybe it was both at the same time, and after several seconds of silence, Bonner said pressingly, “Come on, she is a bitch…!“
Michael´s chin was twitching as Bonner repeated this horrible sentence once more. And Michael forced himself to say what they wanted to hear and then he covered his eyes with his arm, jumped up as he pushed fat Marquiz aside. He passed close to sinewy Bonner and he disappeared in the sun. The glowing ironplate gate rumbled as he slaped into it to avoid it.
The guys looked at each other, Bonner rose his eyelashes with an unpronounced question as he made wry face. Michael´s brother appeared from the shady corner of the garage.
“You went to far when you did that, didn´t you? You know what he´s like…“ he said as he went out of garage. The sun parched into the concrete sheet which was overgrown by the grass. Colors, gold, green, and the heat in the little stones and sand burned under his feet.
“Mikey, wait! Don´t be silly…“ he shouted out suddenly blinded by the sun. But there was no sign of Michael and he didn´t reply. Michael´s brother partially covered his brow with his hand. The only thing he could see was a stately high silver colored silo one hundred yards in the distance in front of him. There was a gigantic red-typed inscription on its large glittering surface: WITH THE SOVIET UNION FOREVER. An old slogan of the Czech Communists which was spared here in this small village from the recent period of the Communist rule before the 1989 Velvet Revolution.
“You´re really stupid, he went home! He can tattletale on me that I smoke…“ Michael´s brother shouted back to the garage.
The guys surrounded the undressed motorcycle instead of Michael.
“Harry is great, anyway, that he will help us,“ Marquiz said appreciatively. „My father would kick me out with job like that.“
“Working pensioner, you know, he has a plenty of time…“ Michael´s brother uttered like an adult.
“Anyway,“ Bonner spat on the floor among the oil stains, “My father told me what a tough guy he was as a young guy…“
“Really? Why he is more baldheaded than my grandpa…“
“Baldheaded?“ Bonner laughed, “You should have seen him when he was young! A mop-head, you fool… really! Father has old pictures at home. Harry´s hair was half way down his back. He had tiny American flags and Union Jacks sewn on his jeans.“
“And was it a big deal?“ Michael´s brother said contemptly.
“They shut people in jail for that, you fool! In the fifties, the Communists could have hanged you for that. Ask your grandpa about that.“
“It´s true,“ Marquiz agreed. “My father said that Harry had been the only disident in the Nový Městec area.“
“Disident!“ Michael´s brother said scornfully. “Why he had a Volha, you fool, a Russian car, even I can remmember that…“
“You fool! There was a Mercedes engine in the Volha, you idiot, and Mercedes was West German car. A diesel engine, you fool! No body knew that, it was the joke…“
“Yes, a diesel engine so Harry could have stolen diesel oil from the tracks which he repaired. That´s what my father says…“
“Stop it, you fools. You´re acting like little boys!“ Bonner called them to order.

Michael sat on his bed, the yellow sun fell inside through the window projecting the patterns of the curtain on the wall. The hot air was rolling slowly around the four walls of the room. He burned like a dry tuft of grass and it didn´t get better when he lay down. The bed cover didn´t chill. And it wasn´t getting better even if he closed his eyes. It was glowing, fire-red and sun-yellow under his closed eyelids, orange – colored circles burst of heat, hot hands were glued on the material of the cover. The clock´s ticking made his shiver calmer in this white silence. It made his breath calmer, only someimes a kind of spasm wrenched inside of his body.
A stream of fresh air lifted his eyelids. Michael woke up from his poor sleep and he sat down on the bed. His brother broke into the room and he banged a door shut.
“What are you doing?“ he asked roughly.
“Nothing…“ Michael said as his voice skipped a little.
“Are you crying? I´m fed up with you. Why do you always come there, to the garage, if you´re not able to talk with us normally…“
“Peter…“
“Shut up! Nobody is curious about you now, right? You don´t belong to our gang .“
“Why not?“ Michael asked as he was looking terrified at brother´s face.
“You´re fourteen and you behave like a little boy. Bonner has already had his driving licence for a half year. I will have mine for the motorcycle. Jaromir and Marquiz are preparing to pass a driving licence for a small motorbike, while you can´t even ride a bike…“
“Yes, I can…“
“Shut up! You´re a little past while you´re showing off with dating a girl. Then you start crying like a silly little boy…“
“I didn´t cry…“
“Shut up! I´m speaking now, O.K.? You won´t come with me, you´ll stay at home…“
„But why?“
“Because you´re an outsider. You have always been like that. When you were a child, you mewed like a cat and you crept on all fours. You were afraid to go out of our backyard, even at your fourteen, and you…“
“It´s not true…“
“… and you demanded our mom to cover you before falling asleep and when she covered you, as she kissed you on your forehead, you lay without moving so you wouldn´t undo the covers mom had tucked in for you…“
“Peter, stop it!“
“I´m fed up with you, understand? Go back to kindergarten. You won´t ever have a driving license for that small motorbike, ´cause you´ll never amount to anything!“
“But I´d like to…“
“Be quiet! I haven´t finished yet. You´re an outsider, really. You´re the worst of all the guys around there. I can´t take you with me anywhere because you´re not good enough for that. I always have to make excuses if you´re with me. You have pictures of dear, zebras, lions and other stupid pictures like that above your bed. You´re like a litlle child. Just look at around! On the shelf above your bed, there´s a piggy-bank you´ve had since you were five and look at this silly wooden knife! Clever exhibition, really, for years the same stupid things…“
“The knife was still cut out by Dad…“
“Yeah, Dad cut it out ten years ago, okay. And you walked around carrying this wooden knife about the village. All right, so go to bed with this knife until your twenty five!“
Michael´s brother walked around the room flinging his arms around and nodding his head in disapproval.
“The wooden knife is for nothing. It´s a silly piece of junk, do you understand that? The wooden knife is a piece of garbage. It´s nonsense, fiddlesticks, it´s folly, it´s stupid. So throw it away. Put this silly toy in the stove or hack it to pieces…!“
“Peter…“
“You have always been the darling in our family. You have always been favoured by our parents and I was the one who got whipped instead of you. That´s why nothing good will ever come from you. You need to be schooled by our gang´s way of thinking, understand? Bonner and Marquiz are the tough guys.“
“Peter, I want to go with you guys…“
“No. Because you´re chicken. Don´t be a nuisance to me, O.K.? Why do you think they call you Mikey? Only a type like you can have such a nickname. You send your endless childish stupidities to hell or clear out!“
“I still belong to you…“
“Think it over very carefully and act right. You will say YEAH, that you want to be like us guys are or you will say NO and then you can do what you like. You have time to think about it till this evening. Then you´ll come here and say YEAH or NO. Okay? And now get out!“
Michael sat on his bed as he looked at the floor. His brother watched him
menacingly.
“Mick! Come on here! What did I said now? Did you understand that?!“
Michael stood up and came to his brother.
“Did you hear what I said?“
“Yeah.“
“So get out!“
Michael didn´t move.
“Clear out, I said!“ as he threw Michael out of the door.
Michael stood on the tiles in the corridor as if didn´t know what to do. He looked
under his feet at the changing colors of tiles, brown, white, brown… This chessboard gave
order to his steps, but he turned in front of the door to the porch and walked back. He opened
the door. His brother was sitting at the table.
“Clear out!“ he gave a hiss as Michael´s face appeared between the door frame and the
door.
“Peter, I already know it…“
“What do you already know?“
“That I want to say YEAH. I want to be with you guys…“
“I said you that you should come when you´ve thought it over.“
“I´ve already thought it over.“
“Get out! How many times should I repeat that…?!“
Michael shut the door and he went outside through the same corridor with brown and
white tiles. The wind made him feel cold under his T-shirt and on his forehead. Everything he looked at made him want to cry. Every so familiar thing: The metal watering can and the flowerbed full of pansies. An old bicycle leaning against the fence. He went to the garden looking for their dog but he didn´t find him. Darkness fell quickly upon him. The humidity and scent of the grass permeated the air as it ascended above the boughs of the apple tree. As the tears welled up, his eyes began to itch… or was it the fact that he was only fourteen that irritated him? The world was in a bit of a haze, and yet, it was so beautiful.

(Translated by Vivian Lee White Baravalle)

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