Free Tranquility by Attila Bartis Page A

and about eight ounces of baloney. When I got back, the woman was lying on the bed watching the noisy birds in the closet, the way people watch TV or look out the window to see what’s happening on the street.
    â€œHungry?” I asked, and put the food on the small table.
    â€œGo ahead, help yourself, I’m not eating today,” she said. She sat up and lit a cigarette while continuing to watch the birds. Outside, the toilet door slammed, and then a man’s loud efforts got mixed in with the chirping of canaries and sparrows. “That’s Nyitrai,” she said. “Been constipated for two weeks, struggling with his shit every night,” she said and then in her raspy voice yelled out to Nyitrai that he should take some castor oil, and he yelled back, “Shut your face, you goddamn slut, or I’ll report you to the vice squad.”
    â€œHe’ll never report me,” she said, waving her hand as if to reassure me, and to make me stay and eat in peace; then she put out her cigarette, lit the gas, and put on some water. “Cold water makes them sick,” she said, and from a paper bag, she strewed some seeds into the cages, while repeating to herself the words: “Rebeka is eating.”
    â€œWhere did you get the birds?” I asked.
    â€œFrom here and there. The better ones I got from my clients, as gifts. But they all bring me only the ones with broken wings; they are cheaper or you can get them for nothing. It doesn’t matter, here they can’t fly anyway.”
    â€œAnd that crow?”
    â€œI just found it on the square. Some dog must have done it in.”
    She checked the water with her pinky, filled the small drinking vessels and lit another cigarette.
    â€œYou wanna fuck me?” she asked.
    â€œNo,” I said.
    â€œYou’re a gentleman. Probably hang out in the Anna-bar, don’t you?”
    â€œThat’s not the reason.”
    â€œOnly three hundred forints. I’ve been to the Anna myself.”
    â€œI haven’t.”
    â€œAre you married?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou can still want to, just because you’re married. Married ones want to more than anybody.”
    â€œCan I sleep here?” I asked.
    â€œThat costs you three hundred too. But only tonight, because I’ve got a customer for tomorrow. The mailman comes every Tuesday.”
    â€œAll right,” I said.
    â€œHe brought me the canary. But you pay now, in advance.”
    â€œOf course,” I said, and took out three one-hundred forint bills, which she put in the closet behind one of the cages.
    â€œThey won’t steal it from there. If somebody reaches in there, the noise would wake me up. They’re better than a dog.”
    â€œIs that you?” I asked, pointing to the photograph hanging over the bed.
    â€œMy mother.”
    â€œLooks like you. Your mother was very beautiful,” I said.
    â€œYou don’t have to suck up to me. For three hundred you can screw, too. And if you become a client, you’ll bring me a bird.”
    â€œI wasn’t sucking up to you; she is really beautiful.”
    â€œYes she is. So just let her hang there and watch everything . . . Are you getting undressed or what?”
    â€œAll I really want is to sleep.”
    â€œYour wife kicked you out or what?”
    â€œI’ve got no wife,” I said.
    â€œYou don’t have to talk about her if you don’t want to.”
    â€œWhy can’t you believe that I don’t have a wife?” I asked.
    â€œDoesn’t make any difference to me. I can believe it,” she said. “But it’s the married ones who play hard to get. But then they get used to coming here anyway, because wives spit out their jism. As if it made any difference what shit is made of.”
    She closed the closet door to silence the birds.
    â€œHere, drink this,” she said and handed me a half bottle of vodka she had fished out from