“It happened to her. What do you call it? Accidental betrayal” [FRAGMENT KSI¡¯KI]

14:45

In the plaza, Ruth hears a rumble, boom, boom, it sounds like a drum, but it’s nowhere to be seen. Somewhere far away, at the edge of the trees. He walks there along a path that runs around a wide expanse of greenery, the drum pounding louder and louder. It’s still weird to be wearing clothes, reminding her of the body underneath. He will meet Lisa soon. It will be difficult to hide from her friend that something is wrong, no, it’s impossible. But how much and what can he tell her? There are more people in the park than usual, Ruth doesn’t feel ready for the next step yet, she sits down on a bench. Just for a moment. To the south they set up tents, a jumble of turquoise and green. Maybe the rain will be kind to them and it won’t fall. A few banners stuck in the ground make her smile, like this one: “WHAT ABOUT THE CLIMATE?”.

In April, before the bleeding started, she had…what do you call it? Accidental betrayal, all too much. The Mental Health Working Group finished early and EU delegates wanted to make the most of the afternoon. “Discover Dublin,” they repeated the slogan, wondering if there was a place to grab a beer in the area. As a local, Ruth naturally became their guide. She led them to The Swan, thinking it would be empty at this hour, and she wanted to show them the park. The guests followed her eagerly, praising everything along the way. They found the bar “charming”, especially when she told them that it was named after an underground river. She enjoyed their satisfaction, saw the wooden interior and large windows in a new light, felt the festive atmosphere of an unexpectedly free afternoon in the middle of the week.

She spoke to Lucas in the morning, then there was no occasion until they were standing side by side at the bar. He barely spoke, but it was clear he was watching her and listening to what she had to say—she liked the attention. After a few beers, some of the group wanted to listen to traditional music, and when Ruth shrugged, they began tapping their phones until they found Slattery’s in Rathmines, accenting the wrong syllable in the name of the neighborhood. Ruth texted Aidan: I WILL BE BACK LATER, to which he replied: HAVE FUN.

She shakes herself out of her reverie, follows the path under the trees, from light to shadow. More benches, a playground, several children and parents. You can still hear the boom, boom, the trees muffle the sound a bit.

They ate fries at Burdock’s before moving on to a crowded bar; there was such a racket that you could barely hear a violin. He was talking to two other women, maybe from Italy, who were looking at him as if the sun was about to emerge from his forehead, but he kept glancing at her and caught her eye several times. Two people vacated their seats next to Ruth, and then Lucas approached.

“Do you want to go to seclusion?” she asked. He was from Denmark, she had to explain to him that it was such a secluded room.

“Intriguing,” he said as the shared door closed behind them and they settled on the bench. – How did you come to that? Is it because in Victorian times women didn’t want to drink in plain sight? I understood?

Ruth was about to say that there would be more reasons to want privacy when the head of one of the colleagues appeared in the doorway.

– Can I go in?

Yes of course. What did she really want, what course of events? She tried to continue the conversation, to go back to the ways of Irish bars, but suddenly she didn’t like the beer. It’s a sign, she thought, time to get out of here. She apologized and explained that she had to go to the restroom, then gathered up her things, waved good-bye to the few people still left, and left. Nonchalantly, as if she was saying good-bye to her friends, as if they kept running into each other in crowded Dublin pubs.

At the corner, standing in front of the bar, she reached out to hail a taxi, the golden lights were already closing in and the car was slowing down. Suddenly he was there too.

“You wanted to leave without saying goodbye?”

Then she felt something, and as he leaned in to embrace her, she turned her mouth to him. They kissed like a couple of teenagers. Ruth thought, oh, someone is kissing me, she told herself as if nothing was really happening. He pulled away for a moment, only to touch her cheek, ear and neck with his lips, something she hadn’t expected at all, such expressions of tenderness. Over her shoulder, she saw a taxi idling waiting to take her home.

She reached the other end of the square, to the war memorial by the gate. Is it a specific war? No, now he sees a plaque commemorating all those who died defending the country. An invisible gust moves the flame. Ruth feels dizzy, the drums are now beating in time with her footsteps, or is she walking with them? He stops at the gate, sees the Gardaí in their bright jackets and hears the piercing whistle of a whistle. People are moving, but without order and composition, something must have ended, Ruth thinks, reading the banners and slogans with which they pass her by. “Do something before it’s too late!” She says it all the time at work, in one form or another, and she’s used to no one listening.

She came home. It was late, Aidan was already asleep.

– Good evening? he murmured as she slid into bed next to him.

“Yes,” she replied in a whisper.

Still, she lay on her side, her back to Aidan, burning with the feeling. Someone wanted me.

She feels faint again, tries to breathe deeply, is about to enter the gallery. “Anything else?” the doctor asked, and maybe this was the moment – frankly, Ruth could say it, admit it, ask for what she needed. Such a small thing and such a big thing. Please fix me. Because she can’t heal herself. Fix me. Fix it. Fix it. Voices from the street rise again, calling for justice, but Ruth turns away.

“Ruth and Pen” translated by Olga Dziedzic will be published by Cyranka on February 15, 2023

Ruth and Pen – cover Teal