The White King (7 page)

Except for him I didn't meet anyone at all, no, I just sat there hammering away at my pocketknife, thinking how bad it must be, being blind, living in darkness forever, seeing only with a cane, and right when I thought this, all of a sudden someone put his hands over my eyes from behind me.

I was waiting for whoever it was to ask me who I thought it was, and I even tried figuring it out, but he held my eyes shut really tight so I couldn't see a thing, he had pretty big hands, I felt that right away, and also the fingers smelled of cigarette smoke. It couldn't be Janika, he never smoked, and it couldn't be Feri either, he'd gone away to his grandmother's for a week. "All right, Lad," I said, "let me go. I figured out right away who you are, huh," but the two palms were still stuck to my eyes, it seemed like he was pressing his hands harder and harder. "All right," I said, "you're not Laci, but don't go cheating, because if you don't ask me who you are, how am I supposed to figure it out?"

But he still didn't say a thing, all he did was start pulling my head back nice and slow until my neck was really strained and my back was pressed tight against the wood board of the bench. "Go to hell," I said, "go to hell, fuckit, don't cheat or I'll knock your brains out," but not even then did he let me go. I tried pulling my head out of his grip, but he held it tight, and I told him to watch out because I had a knife with me, and then all of a sudden I felt his breath against my neck as he leaned really close to my ears and whispered, "That's right, Djata, you got a knife with you, that's just the problem, because it's not your knife, you cheated my kid brother out of that knife," and by then I knew who it was, yes, I'd heard his voice, so I knew it had to be Big Prodán.

"Okay, Prodán," I said, "I'll give it back, I'll give it back right away, but let me go already," and by now I was really scared because Big Prodán was the strongest kid in the neighborhood, after he was kicked out of school his dad sent him to do construction work, and he got even stronger doing that, he could beat up anyone and he wasn't scared of a soul, so anyway, Prodán then took his palms off my eyes, but as he did so he hooked one of his arms under my neck and pulled my head back, so I got hardly any air, and meanwhile with his other hand he reached down and took the pocketknife out of my hand. "I should beat you up good," he said, and then he let go of my neck, went around the bench, and stopped in front of me. This big boxlike knapsack hung from his shoulders, it looked like our school knapsacks only it was bigger, he took it off and put it on the edge of the bench next to my knapsack and meanwhile he wiped the knife on his pants to get the brick dust off. "Look what you did with it," he said, shaking his head. "I should beat the shit out of you," he said, but he didn't hit me, he just sat down beside me on the bench and said, "Okay, maybe I won't touch you this time, but if I find out again that you played cards with my kid brother, why then I'll knock your brains out, got that, this time I only want your money, so go ahead and empty your pockets," and I didn't say a thing back, no, I only shook my head because I knew full well I didn't have any money on me. Sure, I poked around in my pockets anyway, but I really didn't turn up a thing, and then I said to Big Prodán that I didn't have any money on me, but if I did, I'd give it to him, cross my heart, and if he waited a day, then maybe I could get my hands on some, even though I really didn't have any right now, but Prodán shook his head. "Don't go lying to me, Djata," and then he waved the pocketknife, signaling for me to get up from the bench, and he even showed me where to stand, there, in the middle of the path, and he said, "Now we'll see if you got a jingle and a jangle to you or not, so get to it, hop around a bit in one place," and he waved his hand for me to start, and he kept waving, up, down, up, down, but I really didn't have any money on me, so I could keep jumping up and down as much as I wanted, yes, I knew that nothing was about to jingle or jangle in my pockets, and Prodán must have known too, but he made me keep hopping for at least two more minutes, I was all hot and sweaty by the time he finally waved for me to stop, and he said, "All right, I can see you weren't lying, you can come sit down now."

"I can't stay," I said, shaking my head, "I've got to go home," but Prodán just gave another wave of his hand. "Fuckit, Djata, I said you can come sit down," and then he slammed his fist down on the bench, and so I sat down, but I didn't look at Prodán, no, instead I kept my eyes lowered, staring at the rips in my sneakers, waiting to see what would happen, and for a while Prodán didn't say a thing, but then he spoke after all. "Djata," he asked, "is it true you spent two years learning how to play the piano?" I thought I heard wrong, but I didn't ask him to repeat what he said, I just nodded, and I thought of my piano teacher and her reed cane, and how she sometimes hit my shoulders or my hands when I didn't hold myself like I was supposed to. I looked at Big Prodán and said, "It wasn't even a year, we had to sell our upright piano when they took my father away because we needed the money," but Prodán just slapped me on the back and said, "Fuckin hell, Djata, you studied piano playing for a year, so you gotta know it really well, so you'll teach me too, because the good summer weather will be here in a month, the weddings will be starting up, and by then I gotta learn, I really gotta know how."

"Impossible," I said, shaking my head, "one month is nothing, and anyway, it's not like I know anything anymore,
even back then all I knew was 'The Flea Waltz,' but I didn't even know that properly," and right when I said that, I almost broke out laughing, I mean, Big Prodán had big, shovel-like hands, and his fists were all scratched up from laying bricks and fighting all the time, anyway, I tried sucking in my gut to keep from laughing. "Your hands are too big for piano playing," I said, but meanwhile the corners of my mouth kept wanting like hell to curl up, but I didn't want Prodán to sock me in the gut, and so I didn't laugh after all, no, I just said, "You need at least three years for the piano." Prodán smirked and said, "Stop kidding around, Djata, a guy can learn to ride a bike in three days, and anyway, it's not piano playing I'm after, where am I supposed to get a piano, hell no, I want you to teach me with this thing here"—and he hit his elbow hard against that big black bag he'd put down beside him on the bench just before—"with this fucking accordion," and again he hit his elbow against the bag, and then he took that bag by the strap and put it on his knees, he opened it up and removed an accordion that was all scrunched up. "Here it is," he said, "my father got it from somewhere, and now he wants to take me off construction work and send me to play music at weddings because he says there's a shitload of dough in that, and it's not like playing music is work anyway, so we can get rich real easy."

I looked at the accordion and didn't feel like laughing at all anymore. "You must be glad," I said, "because it's not too good for you doing construction," but Prodán just shook his head and said, "At first I was glad about this music thing, you can imagine, but the problem is, I don't hear the notes, I can't hear the difference no matter what, and today the teacher said I didn't practice and that I shouldn't go there anymore, even though he was teaching me in the first place only because we slipped him a little dough, you know, because when they kicked me out of school they took away my red cravat and ever since then I haven't been allowed to go to the Young Pioneers center, and that's where the accordion classes are at, and that's why you're gonna teach me now instead of him, unless you want me to beat your brains out, of course. And don't go teaching me chords, just show me how to move my fingers and show me when I have to press which button so I can get the sound out of it, I can learn that for sure, I'm really good with my hands, besides, I gotta learn, I gotta, you understand, huh, Djata?"

By the time he finished saying all this he was almost yelling, but not the way he shouted when making me jump up and down, no, it was different this time, not so loud, but a lot more scary, and I had no idea what to say, I just looked at that accordion, it was really big, with a whole lot of buttons and keys, and I knew that Prodán would put it in my hands in no time to have me play him a little something, play a tune, something entertaining, some nice wedding music, and then it would turn out I couldn't play, and Prodán wouldn't believe that I really couldn't, no, he'd think I was doing it on purpose because I didn't want to teach him, and then he'd beat me up really good, he'd use his brass knuckles on me, and I knew Prodán was waiting for me to say something already, but my heart was up in my throat, and I was still staring at the accordion, at those black folds on the part that can be pressed together, and the metal corners on the folds, and then I finally spoke after all. "Whew," I said, "this accordion is big, it's really big," that's just what I said, and I was surprised too at what I was saying. "It's a real adult-size instrument," I added, and Prodán nodded and said, "That it is," and he wanted to say something else too, but he cut himself short, he must have seen something because all of a sudden he brought his hand to his mouth so I'd keep quiet too, even though I didn't want to say anything anyway, but I slowly looked back because I wanted to see what made Prodán go quiet all of a sudden.
Well, it was just old Miki on his way back from the spout, tapping out the path ahead of him with that white cane of his.

Prodán grabbed my arm to let me know not to move, and suddenly I remembered where I'd seen this accordion before, around old Miki's neck, yes, it was old Miki's accordion, the one he made music on in the summers in the main square, in front of the statue of a guy on a horse, and by playing like that he collected enough in his hat to buy himself some beer, wine, and plum spirits. I motioned my head toward old Miki, and meanwhile I raised my eyebrows in a way that asked Prodán, without my having to say a word, if this really was old Miki's accordion, and from the way Prodán shook his head I knew right away that it was, and then, as Prodán moved just slightly, the accordion's fastening clip snapped open and the accordion filled up with air and gave out a soft boom, and then old Miki stopped and turned around, and I saw him tip his head and listen, and in the meantime the accordion almost dropped, and when Prodán grabbed it to keep it from falling it gave another boom, and then the old man headed toward the bench and he stopped in front of us. "Let me have it back," he said, "let me have my accordion back," and he reached out with his white cane toward the accordion like he wanted to give it a tap, but then Prodán grabbed the end of the cane and yanked it out of the old man's hand. "This accordion here ain't yours no more," he said, "my dad won it off you, you shouldn't have played backgammon with him." The old man waved a hand in the air. "That's really something, huh, to beat a blind man at backgammon, when I've got to tell from the sound what number I threw. Your dad cheated as much as he damn well pleased, you know that full well too, so go ahead now and give me back my instrument," he said, stepping toward the bench, but then Prodán jabbed him in the back with the end of the white cane. "Be careful not to trip, else you'll fall right over and knock your head on something, and then who knows what'll happen," he said, and now the old man turned toward me and scowled. "Djata, my boy, you're still here," and I said, "Yes," but I didn't say "It's too bad I'm still here," I only thought that part, and then old Miki said, "All right, then be a good boy and bring my accordion over here," but of course I didn't take it over, and I even said I couldn't, but old Miki shook his head. "Whatsa matter, are you scared of this shit Prodán?" But I didn't answer, Prodán answered in my place. "You bet he's scared. Why, ain't you scared?" and old Miki didn't say a thing back, he just took a step toward the bench and took off his black glasses and said, "I'm not scared, I was a soldier, I've faced death a couple times already, that I have."

Never had I seen old Miki without his black glasses, and I didn't want to either, no, I didn't want to see what the deal was with his eyes, but somehow I just had to turn toward him anyway, all I saw were two black holes, even his eyelids were missing, it was just like a skull, both of his eye sockets were pitch-black inside, like really deep holes, and Big Prodán looked at him and the white cane fell out of his hand and he didn't say a thing, and then the old man reached out a hand and tapped around a bit until he found the accordion, which he took from Prodán's lap, then he put the jug of water on the ground and got the accordion on his shoulder, and he put the glasses back on his nose, and then Prodán was finally able to speak again. "Give it back," he said, "or else my dad'll knock my brains out," but old Miki didn't say a thing back, all he did was put his two hands on the buttons and keys and pull the accordion open, and he squeezed it together and started playing. To me it looked like his hands weren't moving a bit, but the accordion blared really loud, he was playing a crackling wild sort of music, and it's like I felt my hands move to the rhythm, and my legs started moving too, and I was tapping out the rhythm with my feet against the ground, but then all of a sudden old Miki squeezed the accordion back together and everything went quiet. "What did you do with this poor accordion?" he asked Prodán. "It doesn't play the way it used to."

Prodán just shrugged. "Maybe it's just you who forgot how to play on it," he said, "but you still got what it takes, all right. But now you're gonna give it back to me all the same because if you don't, I'll go tell my dad, and maybe you're not scared of me, but you're sure as hell scared of my dad, because everyone's scared of Dad."

Old Miki shook his head and said, "Your dad's a chickenshit and you're no better than him, and anyway, why do you need this instrument, you can't do anything with it, after all, it's not like you can play on it." Prodán turned beet red. "Then you'll teach me, you will," he said, and he looked at me. "I wanted to ask Djata, but you'll do a lot better. Then I'll be the one making folks dance, they'll go crazy wild for my tunes, they will." Old Miki shook his head and said, "So you think you have it in you, huh, you think you could learn how to play," and he shook his head again. "So let's see, boy," and he waved a hand at Big Prodán to go on over, "let's see if you're cut out to be a musician."