Fingers Pointing Somewhere Else by Daniela Fischerova, Neil Bermel Page A

again.”
    â€œYou know, it’s—”
    â€œâ€˜You know’? What’s that supposed to mean: ‘you know’?”
    The bathroom was full of steam. Eva waved her handsviolently so she could at least see the wall.
    â€œYou know how to make a duck perform, IÅ¡a? I do. But unfortunately I learned a bit too late. It’s the secret of our family. The clown on stage says: Fly, duck! And presto, the duck actually flies! Then the clown growls: Sit, duck! And bonk, at that moment the duck sits right on its bottom.”
    She could hear her brother yawn. It irritated her.
    â€œThe trick is that the duck simply does what it wants. The clown observes every movement it makes and a fraction of a second later gives it the appropriate command. It’s not the clown making the duck perform, but the other way around!”
    â€œSo what?”
    â€œSo, our mother is the duck. Dad’s the performing clown.”
    â€œEva, I get up at four-thirty.”
    â€œThe joke is that they’re a blissfully happy couple. But they didn’t pass their magic down to us. I’ve had three divorces, and your marriage is a bucket of tepid water.”
    â€œLook, do we have to discuss this tonight?”
    â€œNo! Of course not!”
    The mixture of relief and annoyance at today’s absurd pilgrimage flooded into Eva’s blood like some weird sort of fuel.
    â€œIn our house we don’t discuss anything. Night or day. In our house everyone sees only what he wants to see. For Christ’s sake, don’t be blind! Remember how you ran away from home?”
    She knew she was heading for trouble, but it was too late to apply the brakes. What she was doing was disgraceful — one of her many disgracefully truthful deeds — but rage got the better of her.
    â€œWe didn’t discuss that either, did we. Why waste words on it. So listen, brave brother of mine: you ran away in a taxi. The driver who picked you up — Mother paid him in advance. She knew you were going to run for it. She wasn’t stupid enough to try to keep you home. That truck had been waiting for you for over an hour, behind the beech tree.”
    The water was too hot. She turned it off, but did not lower her voice.
    â€œAnd that’s not all, IÅ¡a. Mother set things up with the shepherd too. No, she certainly doesn’t leave anything to chance! The man who took you to that hut had breakfast at our place. He roared with laughter at what an utter fool you were. ‘Madam, I take my hat off to you! You’re a regular fox! Madam, know what I told that idiot boy of yours? Sure, kid, I said, run off, at your age a boy can’t worry about his momma!’ So that’s how a duck performs, see?”
    There was quiet at the other end. Then IÅ¡a said calmly, “I know.”
    â€œYou know what?”
    â€œWell … everything.”
    Eva’s tongue suddenly felt dry in her mouth.
    â€œJust one second: I won’t fall for that. You’re bluffing. How long have you known?”
    â€œI knew it even then, that morning. You think I’d have left Mom for a month without letting her know where I was? She’d have gone crazy with worry!”
    Eva sat there, motionless. The bath water was quickly growing cold. It’s not true, it can’t be true. If it is, I’ve had it wrong my entire life. Since that long-ago morning she’d despised her brother for falling for such an obvious trick, and despised her mother for stooping to it. And he’d known everything all along. Mother knew that he knew, just as brother knew what she knew, and the bond of considerate deception protected them like secret laughter. Suddenly she had an awful vision: what if that’s how it had always been? What if they’d all been perfectly happy: father with mother, mother with brother, and it was only me, my eyes securely blindfolded, what if I was the only one thrust out of the