Zoltán Jókay

Mother's face puffy and tired she lies in bed day and night a cigarette in her hand half propped up facing me she looks at me and doesn't see me an awkward photo I took as a child the horror of that time catches up with me again mother puffy and tired, she lies there day and night how ugly she was.

Mother whimpers night after night her wailing penetrates through closed doors penetrates through walls when she falls silent, I listen intently into the hoped-for silence of the night until she starts all over again her crying swells, she seems to squeeze it out of herself listen to me don't leave me alone then becomes quieter this dry sobbing mechanically repeating she can no longer.

We all lay awake sometimes each one of us listening to her we didn´t talk to each other we didn´t help her nor each other all of us stayed alone.

The easiest times are the times when she stays in the mental hospital visits there are an annoyance everything is shabby there, I feel watched cramped boredom endured time.

I don't like the house where she killed herself rows and rows of prefabricated concrete parts whitewashed gray gardens separated by wire mesh each house a box in itself firmly locked.

Stupefied her the features puffy a bone structure hung with skin and flesh the breasts limp she took unsteady step to empty herself I look at her in shame and close the door.

You didn't come out of your room any more I didn't notice I was relieved father asks and calls and we enter your room on the floor tilting beer the newspapers yellowed and you dead on your bed smell of stale smoke I don't look at her I look at her secretly clean up wordlessly we tidied up her room I haven´t seen anything father calls the ambulance he doesn’t want to have another look at her the doctor is indignant he shouldn't make a circus exact time of death can no longer be determined because she already has been dead for longer on a stretcher down the wooden stairs and out of the house.

When they sank you in the pit I was afraid that my face would turn into a grin or that I would start laughing strange  the priest strange after an embarrassing silence finally someone throws earth om your coffin as is so common and strange the chapel and the funeral procession meaningless the neighbors an old friend of yours you were there a few lumps of earth only the event dissolves we drove home spoke everyday things not a word about you never a word about you we lived together a few more years father sister and I we knew each other and didn't know each other we seemed to  have forgotten you and can't get away from you.

Locked me in my room for years I stayed alone with my misery, books to comfort myself watching for hours TV I thought it over and over again and didn't get very far with this I didn't understand why I was so alone didn't talk about you when you were alive neither did I when you were dead and I didn't invite anyone to my place out of shame.

I dream of my mother she is only skin and bones smaller than me, she is beside herself with rage she strikes at me with windmill-like movements helpless her hits I keep her away from me.