Sándor Tar
Happy Christmas
Short story
Surányi, the supervisor, came in at nine o'clock, a big, meaty-faced man with pendulous lips whom the girls called, simply, the Gorilla, or the Screw, and began shouting already in the corridor: Éva Ember! Éva Ember! What the fuck is it now, Éva yelled out through the open door, what are you raising the roof for? You're being let out today, girl, said Surányi, didn't you know? There were squeals, loud cheers in the corridor at the news, how could I have known, asked Éva, when no one ever tells us anything in here? And what do you mean let out? Am I in prison or what? No, no, of course not, said the supervisor, this is a social welfare institution after all, isn't it, a reform school for ... whores, alright, is that what you wanted to hear? You've come of age, get your gear together and let's get going! Couldn't you have told me yesterday, so I'd have the time, the girl began, but didn't go on because by then she was crying, out of joy of course on hearing the good news, and besides, girls at the youth custody centre cried easily, howling noisily, which of course always set all the others off, at such times they were like a bunch of savages singing in a choir, just a lot more painful. D'you want to stay and watch while I'm packing, asked Éva in a while, Surányi nodded, that's my job, let's go. Bugger off, said Eszti, Éva's roommate, she has to change, don't you get it? Course I get it, pussycat, said Surányi, and stayed. I have to make sure she doesn't stick something up her twat. What would she stick up there, you creep, the table or the washbasin?
And why d'you call me pussycat? Surányi grinned, pussycats are animals too, you know.
Posters on the walls, pictures of boys, pop groups. Éva was sorry to leave it all behind, but Eszti was staying on and anyway, she'd be seeing real live boys soon, not just those cut out of magazines. What am I supposed to pack into, she cried out in a little while in despair. When she was brought in aged four a carrier-bag held all her possessions, since then she'd accumulated a few things of her own, clothes, books, bits and pieces, her small brown Monkey for example, her toothmug, toiletries, her Walkman, odds and ends, where was she supposed to put them all? Bundle them up in your sheet, pussycat, suggested Surányi, just chuck everything in it, they'll deduct the cost from your money when you leave, everybody does it that way. And walk down the street like that, lugging a bundle on my back? You can shove it along ahead of you if you like, pussycat. Don't call me pussycat, the girl yelled, don't say anything at all, just shut the hell up, alright?
And turn your back! I have to get dressed! I'm not turning my back, said Surányi confidently, I have to watch everything, don't I? Then watch, said Éva, I hope your eyes pop out!
The corridor filled with girls, she could scarcely push her way through, they thronged around, hugging her, crying, saying goodbye, Lord, she could go where she pleased now, live her own life, have fun, they all shouted together, even the little ones were capering around her, Surányi kept brushing off their hands as if they were branches that got in his way, buzz off, go to your rooms! Her time's up, your turn'll come. By the time they reached the warden's waiting-room there were only the two of them left, the bundle lay on the floor, got to wait now, said Surányi, they're getting your papers ready, then grabbed the girl's bottom. What are you doing, asked Éva, astonished, listen, said the man, turning to face her, you're of age now, it's allowed. You're going to end up on the streets anyway, not in parliament, you'd better believe me. Don't you want me to show you what a good lover is like? Get a bit of experience.
Left alone with the man, Éva lost much of her cockiness, he might even send me back on some pretext, as a punishment, she thought as she pushed his hand off her bottom, I don't want you groping my bum, she said softly, what d'you want me to grope then, asked the man, give me a bag for all this shit for a start. That I can do, said Surányi, I can give you a suitcase. You can have it if you come back and knock on the window of the supervising room, you know which window it is. She knew. Of course she knew, countless stories, rumours had been going around in the school about that window, legends, it was said that people sometimes knocked on that window with fists, with bricks, breaking the panes, and always when Surányi was on duty. Éva was unsure of herself now, couldn't I come before I leave, she asked. No, said the man, I have to pass you out regular, but after that you can do as you choose, what you do is nobody's business. Éva sighed, then said I don't want your suitcase, or you either. As you like, said Surányi. Then, because there was still time, he told her he'd been divorced twice; in her excitement the girl could pay only scant attention to the story of a lonely man who had come to loathe so-called well-situated women, and would much rather make a fresh start in life with someone like Éva, who was in need of help, support and affection anyway.
You can move in with me for as long as you like. I love you, he said later, I've loved you for a long time, but I couldn't tell you before, you were under age.
Well, you certainly did a good job of concealing it, said the girl, she couldn't think of anything else to say, no one had ever declared love to her before, excepting Eszti, but that was different, girls in reform school alternate between love and hate all the time, that's what life is like here. What do you want from me, she asked the man nervously, you, he said, and he seemed to be speaking sincerely this time. You could be my father, said the girl, I'll be your father too if you'll let me. The secretary popped her head out of the door in the nick of time, Éva Ember, she called, which one is you?
Well, said Éva, getting up from the chair, of the two of us, I'd think it's gotta be me, don't you? The supervisor accompanied her to the gate, opened it for her, and before the girl stepped out, he gripped her hand. Then he kissed her. Her hand. Happy Christmas, he panted in her face, but the girl pulled away from his kiss.
Outside it was like as if she was caught up in a whirlwind, freedom was something quite different from what the girls in the institution dream of, buses, trams, huge crowds of people all on their way to or from somewhere, a restless, hectic throng, she couldn't face getting on the first bus, nor on the second. With this pack? A bundled-up sheet? Everyone was staring at her as it was. She thought she'd wait a while, just until she managed to collect herself, get used to being outside; she sat down on the bench at the bus stop and stared. Buses came and went, some stopped just for her, but she waved them on, and that made the drivers mouth things at her. So what. In the afternoon she ate the provisions she'd been given for the journey, two rolls with a slice of cold luncheon meat as filling, towards evening she drank the bottle of mineral water too, and just sat and waited. She didn't know herself what she was waiting for, but later she had to pee, terribly. It had got dark by then, she could squat under the bushes nearby, and sometimes when you get to pee after having to go so bad, tears gather in your eyes, but she was crying now, sobbing hard, and from somewhere close by came the sound of male laughter, so they had seen her after all, bare-assed, with her bundle lying beside her, it seems she'll never be able to hide from prying eyes ever again.
It was around midnight that she knocked on the supervisor's window, and in a little while the lamp went on and Surányi looked out of the window, then he threw open the two seasoned casements, come to the door, pussycat, he said, I'll have it open for you in a jiffy.
Translated by Eszter Molnár
Sándor Tar
trained as a technician and was employed in industry. He won first prize in a competition for descriptive prose in 1975 and has published several volumes of fiction since then.
