Hungarian Rhapsody

by Wendy Teller

  Clara's eyes grew wide.

  Reviewing the Galley Proofs

  Clara wasn't the only surprise that day. Aunt Ilona had invited Ede for supper. Or, to be precise, Ede had telephoned to say he had some things he wanted Ella to work on and might he stop by in the early evening, so Aunt Ilona had suggested he join them for supper.

  Ella was nervous. Clara might question Ede about the broken engagement, so she tried to explain as they walked near Aunt Ilona's house.

  "But why not marry Ede?"

  "Perhaps I am someone who is not... just not meant to be married."

  "You mean you want to become a nun?"

  Ella snorted. "No." She was directing their steps to Castle Hill. "I don't think I would make a good nun."

  Clara looked up at her sister and nodded solemnly. "Probably not."

  It was so nice to have Clara here.

  "But why not marry?"

  Ella chuckled mirthlessly. She had told Clara about sex, but she could not tell her what Mother had said.

  "I just would like to be on my own. Make my own way in the world."

  "Oh." Clara walked in silence, perhaps digesting this idea. "Well, I want to marry."

  "Most ladies marry."

  Ella wasn't sure they ever considered anything but marriage.

  "If you don't marry Ede, I want to marry Ede."

  Ella inhaled. "You are a little young to be considering marriage, don't you think?"

  "Maybe." Clara's serious eyes held Ella's gaze. "But Ede is a member of our family and if you don't marry him, then I must."

  They had reached the gate to Corvin Hall at the Buda Castle. "Isn't this nice?" Ella pointed to the top of the gate, maybe five meters off the ground. A black iron raven stood there, a ring in his beak.

  "That looks like the raven on King Corvinus's coat of arms."

  Ella nodded. "I hadn't thought of that before, little sleuth, but I think you're right."

  When Ede entered the salon that evening, Clara ran to him, hugging him. He bent down, pulling her to him and she whispered in his ear. Ella wondered if she was proposing marriage, because his mellow laugh filled the room.

  "We'll see, Clara. We will see."

  Ede set his brief case down and kissed Ilona on both cheeks. He held Ella at arm’s length, his hazel eyes searching hers.

  "Ella, my dear."

  He kissed her on both cheeks too, a chaste familiar greeting.

  He nodded at Moni and inquired about the journey from Nagykanizsa.

  After the simple supper, Aunt Ilona took Clara by the hand.

  "I've got a book all about Budapest. We should look at it while Moni unpacks." She led the child and Moni out of the dining room.

  Ede stood. "I've some things I need to discuss with you, Ella. Let's go to Sandor's office."

  Ella wondered what they had to discuss, but she was happy just to be with him. "Of course."

  Ede called out to Flora. "Might you bring us a little wine, Flora? To the office?"

  This was curious, strange that he would make such a request, as if he were in his own house. But Ella did not object.

  Once he had poured Ella some wine and took some himself, Ede sat on the sofa and rummaged in his briefcase. He pulled out a thick stack of paper.

  "These, my dear Ella, are the galley proofs for my book."

  "Your book?"

  "Yes. My book 'Women of Tomorrow'."

  He smiled at her.

  "They are proofs that need to be read. All the errors need to be weeded out." He sipped his wine. "And I don't have time to do it."

  Ella folded her hands in her lap so they wouldn't reach for the pages. She yearned to read what he had written.

  "I thought that getting this done, right now, is more important than translating the other book." He studied her. "I hoped you might be willing to read these proofs for me."

  "Yes, of course." She was sure he could sense her excitement, how much she wanted to read the book. "What's it about?"

  "It is about my crusade." He flipped through the pages and then looked up. "I think you will like it."

  She was quite sure she would.

  "But it needs to be done in two weeks. Do you think you can finish in that time?"

  "I don't know. I've never done anything like this before...."

  "Yes, of course." He cupped his chin in his hand. "Why don't you look at it tomorrow and I will stop by in the evening. You can tell me whether you think you can do it then."

  "That's fine."

  "Who knows? Maybe I can even get another free supper from Aunt Ilona."

  She looked at him, at the sweet smile on his lips, at his soft eyes. His humor had returned. She felt the tension in her shoulders fade.

  He lifted his glass. "To our book."

  She wondered at this. It was his book.

  Reaching his glass toward her, he said, "Prost!"

  She leaned forward and they touched glasses. He took a hearty swallow. She watched him and then sipped her wine. She liked this renewed friendship. She settled in her chair comfortably.

  His eyes slowly swept over her face. "You look charming tonight."

  He cleared his throat.

  "I have something else I want to discuss. I want to talk about...." His eyes met hers and he held her gaze. "About difficult topics."

  She nodded.

  He looked past her, avoiding her eyes.

  "About what your mother told you."

  She set her glass on the table. She needed a clear mind.

  He swirled the wine in his glass and stared at the translucent rose liquid. He looked up at her.

  "I considered seducing you, but...."

  She sat up straight, her heart pounding.

  Ede's smile was soft. "Not rape, my Kis Maria. Seduce."

  She nodded and bit her lower lip.

  "I even came prepared."

  He pulled a small packet from his pocket.

  "So we would not conceive a baby."

  She stared at the packet, wanting to hold it, to understand how it was used, but what Ede had to say was more important.

  "I decided against seduction."

  He drained his glass and poured himself more wine.

  "Seduce, from Latin, se, away and ducere, to lead. To lead away. To lead away from your duty. Something like that. Not a good way to begin a love life."

  Begin a love life? Was this the real reason for his coming tonight, not the book, but this?

  She lifted her glass taking a good swallow.

  "I don't see why we should not believe what your mother told you."

  Ella had tried to make sense of it. "Do you think she is crazy? I don't think she would lie, but maybe she imagined the things she told me...."

  He frowned. "No. I think Auntie is sane. I believe what she told you. But even if it were not true, we need to talk about it, since it has you so upset." He sighed. "It's hard. Uncle does not seem...." He shrugged. "Cruel or...."

  "No."

  "But there is something about lust...."

  She stared at him. Was he confirming what mother had said, that all men were like that?

  "Ella...." He held her gaze. "We are animals...."

  His mouth spread in a wry smile. "I don't mean to denigrate animals."

  He shook his head. "No, what I mean is that we have instincts and desires."

  Ella swallowed. "So every man would be like that?"

  "No." He shook his head vigorously. "That is not what I mean at all."

  At least this was a denial.

  "It's just that if you first admit that we have these desires, this lust for sex, then you can manage it, make it...." Again his hazel eyes held hers. "Make it an honest thing, a sacred thing."

  She drew in a breath. "Sacred?"

  A smile flickered across his lips. "I know. I don't use that word often. But I do mean a sacred thing."

  He drank again.

  "And maybe...."

  He swirled the wine.

  "Well, you
can never tell what another person is thinking, but maybe...." He looked up at her. "Maybe, if you don't admit that you are not in control, then maybe it's easier to pretend you are in control, by controlling your wife."

  None of this made sense to Ella. "I don't understand."

  "No." He nodded, a curious half smile on his lips. "I guess I should not even talk about that. I only know about me. I have desires. I have lust. I would very much like to make love to you."

  He looked up at her, his lips pursed together. He quickly looked at his wine again.

  "This lust makes me vulnerable." Pink glowed on his cheeks. "I want to allow myself the full pleasure of my lust before you. I want to lay myself naked before you. Naked without clothes? Maybe. But certainly allowing you to see my naked desire. Allowing you to see me at that moment...."

  Again he looked up, his face red. Again his focus returned to his glass.

  "That will be – if we ever make love – something sacred and true. To allow you to see me at that moment of pure pleasure."

  She didn't understand. "I see."

  Again he drank.

  "But it will not be complete. It will not be true unless you too are vulnerable, so that you have your pleasure and you allow me to see your pleasure. So that we share our vulnerability. So together we surrender...." He looked at her again, his eyes shone. "To our animal lust."

  He set his glass on the table.

  "That moment of sharing will be sacred."

  She could not imagine it.

  "But that will happen only when you are ready."

  He ran his finger along the lip of the glass.

  "Or maybe never."

  He slid his hand along his thigh. "I just had to try to explain. I don't know that...." He smiled at her, then sighed and shrugged, apparently shaking off this delicate topic, trying to find something easier.

  "So now, if you like, I brought you a book of German poems."

  "Love poems?"

  "Hmm...." he pulled a slender volume from his pocket and flipped through the pages. "I think there may be one...." Running his finger down a page so the book was fully opened, he read:

  A gloomy donkey, tir'd of life

  One day addressed his wedded wife:

  I am so dumb, you are so dumb,

  Let's go and die together, come!

  But as befalls, time and again,

  They lived on happily, the twain.

  She laughed. "That's a love poem?"

  "Yes." His smile was brighter now. "I am sure it is."

  "Not exactly 'Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine.'"

  "The Song of Songs is not a love poem. It's a lust poem." His chin was tucked, his lips held down in a frown, which Ella knew was fake. "Not, as I said a while ago, that I have anything against lust."

  She would have liked to touch him.

  "Do you really think that love and lust are separate?"

  "Of course. It's only our society that wants us to believe they are the same thing, so we can somehow pretend that our animal instincts, our lusts, do not exist."

  "And you think we are just animals?"

  "Oh, just." He snorted. "Just is a big word!" His smile was gone. "I don't think we appreciate animals enough. I think we would do well to study them."

  "But animals can't talk."

  "Are you sure?" His eyes lit up. "Maybe they talk and we just aren't smart enough to understand."

  "Perhaps. Let's suppose they can talk. But they haven't invented the steam engine."

  Ella felt sure she was right.

  "They haven't learned to fly like the Wright brothers."

  "Some animals already know how to fly." He shook his head, a grin spreading across his lips.

  "Maybe we are different from animals, maybe there is a God. I do not know these things. These things we will never know."

  "Really? Never?" She stared at him, putting on as serious a face as she could. "Never is a big word!"

  His laugh. His delicious laugh.

  "Enough of love and lust, animals and man."

  He slid to the side of the sofa.

  "Come sit next to me." He patted the sofa. "You have to see these poems to truly enjoy them."

  She sat next to him, pulling her legs under her and leaning her head on his shoulder to see the book better. She inhaled his scent of pine, her body nestled into his, as she had done so often before. Comfort flooded her being.

  He turned to a page and read:

  The Snail's Monologue

  Shall I dwell in my shell?

  Shall I not dwell in my shell?

  Dwell in shell?

  Rather not dwell.

  Shall I not dwell

  Shall I dwell,

  Dwell in shell

  Shall I shell,

  ShallIshellIshallIshellIshallI...?

  (The snail gets so entangled in his thoughts or, rather, the thoughts run away with him so that he must postpone the decision.)

  She sighed. What wonderful nonsense.

  He looked down at her. "I bet you can't translate that into Hungarian."

  She looked up into his smiling eyes. "Csiga for snail."

  She was sure she could make something work.

  "But that also means helix. There are possibilities there."

  "And?"

  Oh! The challenge! The mischief in his eyes! His wide smile added fullness to his cheeks, his eyes on her, waiting.

  She knew there had to be a better approach. Her tongue savored the Hungarian as she spoke. "Shall I leave my little shell?"

  He nodded.

  Then the words flowed:

  Shall I leave my little shell?

  Leave my shell or shall I not?

  Open wide

  and step outside --

  or better hide?

  I can't decide

  to leave my shell

  or shall I not?

  "Not bad...."

  His lips turned down in his fake frown.

  "But the word 'hide'...."

  He shook his head, the light in his eyes still gleaming.

  "You are implying much more than the original poem. You are telling us the motive for the snail's indecision."

  "Which is good!" She huffed. "This way we can empathize with the little fellow."

  "Yes, yes."

  His body shook with his attempt to contain his laughter.

  "But you may have the wrong motive. Maybe he's undecided because it's too warm inside and too cold outside." He chortled. "Or maybe there are fleas inside and escargot-eating Frenchmen outside."

  She shook her head, grimacing.

  "You could help, you know." Sometimes he was so annoying. "Otherwise you will be outside my shell."

  He grinned.

  "Oh, never mind." She reached for the book. “Let me see it.”

  Flipping through the pages, looking for something that might not be so challenging, she stopped at a page with the poem "Fish's Night Song," which looked like this:

  She stared at it, thinking of the possibilities. She showed it to him.

  Finding paper, a pen and ink at the desk, she scribbled for a short while, then gave Ede the paper.

  "There's your translation!"

  His laugh exploded, as he looked at her drawing.

  He wiped the tears from his eyes as his laughter subsided.

  "Oh, my Ella. My brilliant Ella." He pulled her to him.

  She loved him. She put her hands on his cheeks, pressing her lips to his.

  His hands were on her face, her neck, her shoulders, on her breasts. He pulled away from her.

  "My beautiful Ella!"

  He brushed his finger along her cheek.

  "I love you beyond words."

  He stood and placed the book of poems in his briefcase.

  "I must go."

  "But why?"

  "I don't want to leave." All trace of humor had faded from his face. "But it's best that I go."

  And he was gone.
/>
  She touched her face, her neck, following the path his fingers had taken.

  She trembled.

  Women of Tomorrow

  The next morning after breakfast, Ella took Ede's book into Sandor's office, sat at the desk, and flipped through the pages.

  The first chapter was the essay she had read, so long ago it seemed, The Sorrows of Sex.

  The next chapter compared men and women. Men, according to one argument in the book, had heavier brains and were therefore more accomplished than women. Ede proceeded to examine the relative brain weight of men of different nationalities.

  She laughed out loud when she read that French men's brains, on average, were lighter than German men's brains.

  Oh Ede, what a sly one.

  Ella read the conclusion of this chapter several times, trying to understand it. It seemed to say women were less intelligent than men. Or was he just saying they had accomplished less?

  Intelligence or accomplishment, Ella did not know how one measured these things.

  The next chapter discussed possible reasons for the differences between the intellectual capacities of the sexes. Ella read and reread, trying to understand.

  Certain comments infuriated her. Could Ede really believe these? Or was he just setting down the argument so he could refute it. She looked out the window, overwhelmed. Finally, knowing she needed to talk to Ede about this, she turned the page to start the next section.

  "Mimi?"

  Ella looked up to see Clara standing in front of her. She had been so engrossed in Ede's book she had not heard Clara enter.

  "Mimi, it's time for dinner."

  "Oh, yes." Ella stood. "I'm coming."

  Clara grabbed her hand, leading her to the dining room, chattering.

  "Auntie is going to take Moni and me to the city park this afternoon."

  "Nice."

  "She says there are all kinds of wonderful things there, a zoo and a swimming pool, and there's a big surprise at the park."

  "Auntie took me there years ago. I think you'll like it."

  "Can you come too?"

  Ella wanted to read more of Ede's book. It wasn't required, but it was what she wanted.

  "Clara, it sounds like so much fun, but I must work today."