Free The Attempt by Magdaléna Platzová

sensed that with him they could fly free, without any hindrance of pettiness, jealousy, lies. After a while, however, they began to miss the narrow limits they were so accustomed to, and the more uncertain they felt, the more they clung to him. Ultimately they always chose to go back to the cage, which he couldn’t even see. There was no way he could understand how tight a grip the claws had on the creature living beside him. How bound they were by the lack of ties.
    The other option? Fly free with him as I have. And then lose him.
    Only much later, in the final years of Andrei’s life, when I had a chance to observe his longest love affair from up close, did I realize that at heart Andrei was the same as any other man. He didn’t want a truly free woman by his side, nor did he desire to be truly free himself.
    But maybe it takes several generations for the relationship between man and woman, between parents and children, tochange, for human beings to begin to love instead of owning, for personal freedom to lead to something other than loneliness and emptiness. We were the first generation to try something like it in practice, and we obviously didn’t know how to live by our own ideals. Our instincts were too old-fashioned for our ideas. Our heads pulled us in one direction, our hearts in the other. In every serious relationship I have had, there has come a time when even the most enlightened man has given me the choice: Freedom or me, take your pick. And the men who didn’t give me a choice didn’t care about me. Maybe they saw me as a mother, a sister, a housemaid, but not a lover. How easily those men left me.
    Some wise women, when they get old, prefer women to men.
    But that’s not what I wanted to write about. You asked about my last conversation with Andrei B., the last time we met.
    It was at the morgue. I had requested a moment alone with my oldest friend.
    The Mediterranean light streamed in through the round window under the roof, falling across the whitewashed walls. The weight I had felt the past few years suddenly disappeared as the light penetrated everything, making it seem to float. Andrei lay in the open coffin, dressed in his beautiful summer suit.
    I stepped toward him. I didn’t know what to do at moments like these. How do you say good-bye to the person who matters more to you than anybody else? How do you let go of the love of your life, your most loyal friend and comrade? I put my hand on his forehead. He smiled.
    â€œWhat game are you trying to play, little girl?”
    I pulled back my hand.
    â€œThat’s better. You don’t have to touch me. I’m probably cold and clammy, and I can’t feel a thing anyway.”
    â€œI don’t want to touch you,” I said. “I’m mad at you.”
    â€œHow come?”
    â€œBecause you backed out like a coward and left me here alone.”
    â€œNow you sound like Mimi.”
    â€œSorry to say, but I’m not that much different from her.”
    â€œEmotions are hard. They disguise themselves in all sorts of ways.”
    â€œYou didn’t have to go.”
    â€œI don’t regret it. I don’t like clinging to things that no longer make sense. Like with the McKinley assassination.”
    â€œLeave that out of it,” I cried. “Why do you have to provoke me now?”
    â€œLouise,” he said after a pause. “We didn’t agree on most things, did we?”
    â€œThat was your obsession,” I said. “Actually, we always agreed on the fundamental issues.”
    â€œAnd that was your obsession.” He smiled. “In spite of our clashes, though, we stayed together until the end.”
    â€œI didn’t want to outlive you.”
    â€œI’m sorry about that. But what I want to say is that just because you disagree with someone, doesn’t mean you don’t like them. In fact, you can even love them.”
    â€œI know that,” I