Chapter 15: What ifs

Morning. Valletta.

Petr walked a step behind Žaneta and looked at her back.

She walked the way she always did. Straight. Without hesitation. Without unnecessary stops. When something interested her, she stopped. When not, she walked on.

He knew this about her.

He knew that at home she kept old postcards found in antique shops. That she woke up earlier than she had to. That she liked the smell of rain and the silence before the awakening of the city.

He knew a lot of things like that.

Nevertheless, over the last few days, he had the feeling as if he were looking at a person he didn't know as well as he thought.

They turned into a narrow street.

The pavement was old and made of stone. Laundry was drying overhead between the houses, and a radio was playing from an open window somewhere above.

“We haven't been here yet,” Žaneta said.

„No.“

„It's nice.“

Petr nodded.

She stopped by a shop window with antique items.

Inside stood an old camera, a glass bowl, and several books tied together with string.

„Look at that camera.“

“Yeah.”

„Chtěla bych ho.“

She smiled and walked on.

On a small square with a fountain in the middle, they sat down on the stone edge.

The water was crystal clear. Coins lay at the bottom.

They were silent for a moment.

„I'm glad we came,“ she said finally.

„To Malta?“

She nodded.

„Me too.“

„Really?“

Petr smiled slightly.

„Yeah. I just pictured it differently.“

„How?“

He gazed into the water.

„I don't know exactly. Just different.“

Žaneta nodded.

„And what is it like?“

Petr thought for a moment.

„Jiné.“

He paused.

„But maybe better than I thought.“

Žaneta looked at the roofs of the houses around the square.

„Radúz called.“

Petr nodded.

„In the morning.“

„You looked different.“

„He went to see his mother. To Gozo.“

"Mhm."

Just that.

No further question.

Petr realized that a week ago he would have expected her to ask for more.

Not now.

They sat side by side, looking at the fountain.

„You didn't know she was there,“ she said after a moment.

„No.“

„You didn't ask.“

Petr smiled slightly.

„No.“

Žaneta ran her palm over the stone beside her.

„That happens.“

„What?“

„That you live alongside someone and think you know them.“

Petr looked at the water.

„And then you find out you don't.“

“Yeah.”

A group of tourists arrived at the square.

The guide was explaining something, people were photographing the fountain, and then they moved on.

When they left, the square grew quiet again.

"Markéta likes you," said Žaneta.

Petr turned around.

"Why are you saying that?"

She shrugged.

"Because I say it so little."

Petr looked down at the coins at the bottom.

"I like her too."

„I know.“

She smiled.

"Just leave her be."

He nodded.

The sentence was simple.

Yet it carried more within it than it sounded.

Žaneta stood up.

She straightened her dress.

„Shall we go?“

“Yeah.”

They set off back into the street.

This time they walked side by side.

＊ ＊ ＊

Žaneta turned into a ceramics shop.

„I'm going to take a look. Are you coming?“

„I'll wait outside.“

The promenade was crowded at that time. Families with strollers. Older couples. A group of young people with beer in hand. Petr sat on the stone railing facing the sea.

The water was darker in the afternoon.

The waves came in slowly, crashing against the rocks and receding again.

He took out his phone.

The message from Radúz was still sitting on the screen.

Sorry. I had to go to my mom's. She wasn't feeling well.

He read it again.

Then he locked his phone and shoved it into his pocket.

Twenty-five years.

So many years he had devoted to making sure things stayed in their proper places. The telephone. Sentences. The expression on his face. What was said aloud and what was kept aside.

All his life he had worked as a spokesperson.

He explained things to other people.

Yet at home he was always translating something into a form that could be borne.

Below him, a larger wave crashed against the rock. The water splashed and vanished back among the stones.

He remembered the evening when he sat with Radúz in a bar near the port and didn't have to explain anything. He just sat. Drank wine. Looked at the lights beyond the window.

He caught himself at once.

That wasn't fair.

Žaneta wasn't someone you couldn't sit in silence with. Quite the opposite. She was better at it than he was. He was the one who couldn't stand silence. Who always had to somehow name the situation, conclude it, explain it.

Two women with shopping bags walked past the railing. One of them was laughing loudly.

Petr looked at the sea.

For years he had poured energy into keeping things separate. Into not calling at the wrong moment. Into not remembering out loud. Into ensuring Žaneta didn't see more than he wanted to show.

And yet, perhaps she had.

Perhaps all along.

He didn't know.

An older man with a dog walked down the promenade. The dog stopped at every lamppost and examined it with the utmost gravity.

A moment later, Žaneta came out of the shop with a small paper bag in her hand.

“I bought you something.”

Petr turned around.

„What?“

She handed him a small ceramic mug, dark blue with a yellow pattern along the rim.

“I don't know why. It reminded me of you.”

Petr held the mug with both hands.

It was a little heavier than he expected.

“Thanks.”

Žaneta sat down on the railing beside him.

They were silent for a while.

Petr looked at the mug in his hands and didn't know what to do with the gesture.

It was a small one.

And that was precisely why there was no way around it.

＊ ＊ ＊

Markéta arrived shortly after seven.

Petr was sitting on the balcony with a mug that Žaneta had bought him in the afternoon. The coffee in it had been cold for half an hour, but he didn't get up to get more.

He heard the door of the next room click shut, then footsteps in the hallway.

Then a knock.

„Yeah,“ Žaneta called out from the bed.

Markéta entered.

She was wearing a light dress, her hair tousled by the wind. She stood in the balcony doorway for a moment and then sat down on the threshold.

„Still awake?“

„As you can see.“

Petr looked out at the sea.

It was dark, almost invisible. Just the lights of ships on the horizon.

„Was it nice?“ he asked.

“Yeah.”

„With Yassin?“

Markéta nodded.

They were silent for a moment.

Markéta pulled her knees to her chest.

„Dad.“

"Mhm."

„Stop asking in that tone.“

Petr looked at her.

“What kind?”

“Like when you're asking about something else.”

He nodded.

“All right.”

That apparently surprised her.

She stared ahead for a moment.

“Did he tell you what happened?” she asked.

„No.“

“I won't say either.”

„I know.“

Markéta rested her head against the door frame.

“Is it alright?”

„I think so.“

She nodded.

Petr looked at her.

Her nose from Žaneta.

The way she narrowed her eyes into the dark, from him again.

„Do you love him?“ he asked.

Markéta remained silent for a moment.

"I don't know."

„That's enough.“

She looked at him.

„Really?“

“Yeah.”

She smiled.

Behind them in the room, Žaneta turned onto her side and the blanket rustled.

Markéta stood up.

„Good night.“

„Good night.“

She left.

The door closed quietly.

Petr remained sitting on the balcony.

He held a dark blue mug in his hands and watched the lights of the ships, which barely moved on the horizon.

For the first time during his entire stay, he felt no need to go after her.