4

This time Kosef J was really angry. For the second time that day the guards had passed by his cell without handing him the regulation tray of food. The customary mealtime racket was echoing all over the prison floor. He could make out sudden bursts of laughter and the odd belch, though the cutlery itself didn’t add much to the noise as it was made of plastic. The already muttered sounds ended up entirely stifled, as if coming from a beehive shrouded in steam.

Kosef J hated being hungry. In fact, he was willing to endure anything except hunger. He was prepared to understand a great deal, but he couldn’t possibly comprehend why he wasn’t given anything to eat any longer. He had a feeling though that the imprecision of his release was connected to the special Sunday atmosphere, after all this was a day when routine was somewhat neglected. Contemplating what happened in the garden, Kosef J was telling himself that Fabius’s words ‘what a shame today’s Sunday’ couldn’t have had any other significance but this. Had it been any other day of the week, things would have probably turned out differently and he, Kosef J, would have found himself already on the other side of the lantern-flanked gates. Yes, one could contemplate such a situation, one could understand and accept any number of other things. But not the business with breakfast and especially lunch, not these.

Kosef J set out to look for Franz Hoss without calling his name from the door of this cell and asking for his permission to make a move, like he’d done only a short while ago. It wasn’t without a sense of pride that he passed by the heavily locked doors of the other cells, though hunger was driving him crazy and made him rather resentful.

Franz Hoss and Fabius were having lunch at the end of the corridor, just by the lift. The two guards were so immersed in what they were doing that they didn’t hear Kosef J get closer. Franz Hoss had already finished his soup and moved on to a piece of meat. Fabius, who was eating more slowly, savouring every second of that moment, had still another five or six spoonfuls left. It seemed to Kosef J, for reasons unknown to him, that the guards’ meal was somewhat richer than it should have ordinarily been. A bowl, the purpose of which was hard to figure out, seemed to be concealed under Fabius’s chair. This helmet-shaped bowl was swaying gently, as if it had just been tucked in there and as a result, it didn’t yet manage to find a state of total stillness.

Kosef J slowed down, but held on to his determination and the stubborn look on his face.

‘Oh, Mr Kosef,’ mumbled Franz Hoss with his mouth full.

‘Mr Hoss, please, I have no idea what’s happening,’ Kosef J babbled.

‘What?’ the guard stopped chewing, deeply alarmed and with a fixed gaze.

‘Food, sir,’ Kosef J whispered, grunting and on the verge of bursting into tears. His Adam’s apple, set in motion by an overstrung nerve, was jumping up and down and made him dry swallow every now and then.

‘Food?’ the guard echoed him.

‘Yes, food, food indeed,’ Kosef J spelt out.

The two guards looked at one another. Franz Hoss winked, presumably scanning his brain for secret connections between the word ‘food’ and Kosef J’s presence.

‘Well, Mr Kosef,’ Franz Hoss mumbled, ‘I thought you were told.’

‘Told what?’ Kosef J asked.

Franz Hoss looked reproachfully at Fabius.

‘Was he or wasn’t he told?’

‘He was, he was indeed,’ Fabius insisted.

‘There you are,’ Franz Hoss shrugged.

‘What? What do you mean?’ Kosef J struggled to voice a response.

The situation was as awkward as possible, or at least it so appeared to Kosef J. Looking at Fabius’s plate he realized that the last spoonfuls of soup have gone cold by now, and this would have normally chafed the old guard no end.

‘You’re free, Mr Kosef, you’re free,’ Franz Hoss howled, though his aim was to make Kosef J understand the idea rather than convey hate or impatience.

‘They are at it again,’ Kosef J said to himself.

‘Do understand,’ Franz Hoss continued. ‘This is it. You are off the list.’

Fabius burst out laughing, which somewhat encouraged Kosef J, despite feeling a gradual urge to run back to his cell and bury his head under the pillow.

‘You’re no longer entitled to meals,’ Fabius explained very calmly. ‘Your portion was taken off the list. Do you get it? You are off the budget. At this point, since you are free, you know, the prison isn’t obliged to provide you with anything. Do you understand?’

Kosef J did understand. The other two carried on with their meals.

‘But if you wanted to buy something . . . ’ Kosef J heard as if in a dream, without being able to tell which of the two guards was talking.

‘Something good,’ the first voice resumed.

‘Sausages OK with you?’

‘What shall I do, what shall I do, what shall I do?’ Kosef J mulled over this dilemma in his head. Freedom hit upon him in the shape of something very distant and surreal. And he, former detainee in cell number 50, just released, had no point of reference whatsoever, none of his actions were consistent and no thought was powerful enough to trigger deeds. Fabius quaffed his last spoonfuls of cold soup with the same pleasure he experienced when slurping the hot ones. Franz Hoss finished his meat and was now gathering the leftover breadcrumbs and swallowing them with the pleasure he had swallowed the meat with. Fabius was eating his portion of meat with the same pleasure with which Franz Hoss had eaten his. ‘For them,’ Kosef J mused, ‘everything is really simple—they know what they are supposed to do in each and every moment—for them everything makes sense . . . ’

‘This man is hungry,’ Fabius stated.

Kosef J tried to look Fabius straight in the eye to thus show his gratitude.

‘Shall I take him to the kitchen?’ Fabius asked, without addressing the question to anyone in particular.

‘Yes, take him,’ Franz Hoss echoed, and Kosef J quickly directed his gaze to the old guard, spurred by the same childish desire to show his gratitude.

‘Come,’ Fabius sighed heavily, like a man who knows full well that his afternoon break has gone to the dogs.

‘They are wonderful people after all,’ Kosef J concluded, and followed Fabius into the lift.

Despite being famished and rather dizzy after such an exceptional day, Kosef J was pleased that he could finally tread the alleys leading to the kitchen. This was a different zone of the prison altogether, and he had never set foot here before, although he had always spied at it from a distance with a sort of perverse longing. He was eager to see new things and, behold, new images were rolling out in front of his eyes. He could make out the gravel under his feet, as if it were something he had already seen in his mind’s eye, something capable of reinvigorating him. As he was nearing the kitchen he rejoiced at the sight of the large chimneys above the large roofs, and the giant windows of the staff dining room.

The sky was overcast with tattered clouds. A rather cold wind made the poplar leaves shake. The black smoke coming from the kitchen chimneys left an unpleasant imprint in the sky.

‘We are going to have a long winter,’ Fabius remarked disheartened.

Kosef J would have liked to answer as warmly and amiably as possible, but could only muster the following words: ‘Perhaps.’

‘There will be seven long winters in a row, you’ll see,’ Fabius continued. ‘There have already been seven short winters and now it’s time for seven long winters.’

Kosef J tried to recall whether the last seven winters were indeed short ones. But all winters seemed rather exasperating to him, or, to be precise, identical and equal, strikingly equal in their exasperation.

‘There will be, of course there will be,’ he responded, scolding himself for resorting to such idiotic statements.

They entered the building that housed the kitchen. The hallway was already much warmer than any other room Kosef J had ever set foot in. It also smelt extremely good.

‘Rozette!’ Fabius shouted. Then, turning towards Kosef J, he added: ‘she must be having lunch.’

Kosef J didn’t find it unusual that a person named Rozette, being in a kitchen, should not eat.

‘Rozette!’ Fabius shouted once more, so loudly that he nearly choked and started coughing.

Kosef J felt obliged to say something, especially since all this journey was undertaken for his sake. So he also decided to have a go at shouting, as politely as he could possibly manage: ‘Rozette!’

‘Bloody hell!’ Fabius suppressed a scowl of irritation. ‘When she’s eating she doesn’t hear a thing.’

They entered a fairly large hall with several electric ovens. Kosef J slowed down, intimidated yet eager to see these fantastic appliances from as close up as possible. But Fabius pulled him by the sleeve; they walked past two or three dishwashers and were heading towards one of the most concealed nooks of the hall, beyond the cutlery cupboards. At a table a woman was feeding a child.

‘She’s Rozette,’ Fabius said and, exhausted, flung himself onto a chair.

The child looked amusedly at Fabius as Fabius smirked.

‘This is Kosef J. I spoke to you about him,’ Fabius continued. ‘He’ll eat here.’

Kosef J drew his breath to say something but absolutely nothing came to his mind. The child was sizing him up, so he decided to smile at him.

‘Fine,’ one could hear Rozette’s voice.

The woman had such a pleasing voice that Kosef J pulled back and waited for her to say something else. But Rozette had nothing to add. She put some lumpy yet warm and steaming substance onto a plate and placed it in front of Kosef J.

‘Eat as much bread as you like,’ Fabius added.

Kosef J began to eat, feeling incredibly content. The child carried on staring at him so he wondered whether he had actually satiated his hunger. But no, the child had eaten all up, and now was simply curious. ‘I’m a stranger to him, am I not?’ Kosef J said to himself. Chewing carefully, he looked at the child again. The child smiled at him. Kosef J registered this smile with boundless delight. ‘He’s a good kid,’ he said to himself. ‘And the food is good, too,’ he added. Everything was extremely warm and welcoming in this part of the prison.

‘Is the food OK?’ Fabius asked, laughing.

Kosef J nodded and laughed with his mouth full. The woman joined in the laughter, too. All three were watching him with an expression of profound sympathy on their faces. Kosef J felt happy for the first time in his life.

‘You can have some more if you like,’ Rozette said in that pleasing voice of hers.

‘Thanks, I’d rather not,’ Kosef J responded.

‘Don’t be shy,’ the woman encouraged him.

‘Do talk to me, please talk to me as much as you can,’ Kosef J thought. He would have listened to Rozette forever, even if she were to talk about operating dishwashers. ‘I’ll give her a hand once I’m done,’ he decided. Yes, it was high time he did something in return for these people. ‘I’ll also give Fabius a hand,’ he continued, although he didn’t yet know in what way he could possibly give a hand to Fabius.

Without asking, the woman handed him a second helping. All three smiled again and he resumed eating. ‘They are kind, they are good, they are genuine people,’ Kosef J kept saying to himself. This was life, this was freedom; lo and behold, it was freedom itself that had eventually appeared in front of him.

‘I’m off,’ Fabius announced.

‘Thank you, thank you very much indeed,’ Kosef J called out after the guard.

‘Would you like some water?’ the woman asked.

‘Yes please,’ an eager Kosef J responded, hoping to engage in a dialogue, however brief, with her.

‘Bring Mr Kosef a glass of water,’ Rozette said to the child.

The child jumped off his chair and fetched him a glass of water. ‘What a good boy,’ Kosef thought to himself.

‘What a good boy,’ he went on to observe, this time in a loud voice, because he wanted to say something and couldn’t find anything other than repeat his earlier thought.

‘Yes, he’s very obedient,’ the woman concurred.

‘He’s very well brought up,’ Kosef J added, proud that he could come up with this sentence, yet astonished that such a thought could linger in his mind for so long without him being aware of it.

‘I brought him up,’ the woman said. Then she gave the child a kiss, as if prompting him: ‘Didn’t I?’

‘Can I give you a hand with anything?’ Kosef J asked when he finally got up from the table.

‘No,’ Rozette answered.

Kosef J insisted: ‘I’ll do any job.’

The woman shook her head firmly and Kosef J experienced an alarming wave of regret. He headed towards the exit. The child followed him.

Once they made it to the alley, Kosef J came to a halt. So the child stopped a few steps behind him, too. The weather carried on being unpredictable, though every now and then sunrays would strike the walls and the bluish gravel. Again, Kosef J felt extremely confused. On the one hand, he was very pleased that he managed to satiate his hunger, but on the other, he didn’t know what he was supposed to do with himself from then on. He turned around and looked at the child. Taking this as an encouragement, the child twitched and came up to Kosef J.

‘I have some pebbles,’ the child said.

‘Say it again!’ Kosef J replied.

The child giggled. Holding Kosef J by the hand, he dragged him past a few buildings Kosef J hadn’t been aware of until now, and came to a halt in a kind of blind alley, near a damp and blackened wall.

‘Here,’ the child said.

At the base of the wall, someone had dug a small pit and filled it with gravel.

‘These are mine,’ the child added.

Kosef J couldn’t make sense of any of this. Instinctively, he adopted an astonished look.

‘All of these,’ the child continued. ‘You can come here whenever you like.’

‘I shall come,’ Kosef J said, ‘I’ll come for sure.’