Gitta

Gitta (excerpt)

Sonja Blonde

Time flew by in the cave. Despite the sweltering heat, Gitta didn’t call Janó to pick her up, even though the house was a good half-hour walk from the visitor center. She tried to convince herself she was walking back out of politeness. Deep down, though, she knew the truth — she was nervous about spending the afternoon with him. Nobody knew what had gone on in her head and body the night before, yet she still felt awkward. The fact that a single, foolish glance could affect her so strongly unsettled her. She walked determinedly past the thirsty meadow, along the hot asphalt, all the way to the small shop at the edge of the village. That’s where she had to turn off toward the narrow road that wound up into the hills where the houses stood.

“How come you’re on foot?” a loud, husky female voice asked.

Gitta turned toward a middle-aged woman sitting on the shop’s steps, cigarette in hand. Her bleached blond hair was messy, and her voice rasped from years of smoking.

“No one came to pick you up today?” the woman went on.

Gitta gave a shy shrug.

“I thought I’d walk…”

“In this heat?” the woman replied in German, then continued rambling in Hungarian.

From her gestures, it was clear she thought Gitta was out of her mind for walking in such weather, in a place with no trace of shade.

“It’s not that far,” Gitta tried to defend herself.

“Oh, the hell it isn’t,” the woman grumbled. “Come on, I’ll treat you to something cold before you keel over from heatstroke.”

She coughed and cleared her throat a few times, then slowly got to her feet, as if it took effort. She brushed the dust off her backside, pushed aside the thick curtain of plastic strips with a dramatic gesture, and stepped into the tiny shop with its faded posters in the window. Gitta hesitated for a moment, then followed. The woman was already at the far end of the cramped, crowded space, standing in front of a refrigerated drinks case.

“Come on, pick something! Whatever you like.”

Gitta was flustered by the woman’s pushy style, though she appreciated the gesture. She stepped closer, hesitantly, while the woman kept her gaze fixed on her. Her green, cat-like eyes practically glowed in contrast to her gray, weathered skin, dotted with the telltale stains of a lifetime of smoking. It was as if the smoke had seeped into her pores. After a moment’s indecision, Gitta reached for a bottle of mineral water.

“Well, you sure don’t mess around! Wow — water,” the woman cackled. “Come on, have a beer!”

“I don’t usually drink alcohol,” Gitta mumbled.

“There’s a non-alcoholic one too, sweetheart! Cherry-flavored! It’s all the rage around here,” she said with a mocking smile. “You’ll love it, trust me! Come on, don’t be so shy!”

She didn’t wait for Gitta to serve herself — she reached into the fridge, wiped off the top of the can with the inside of her shirt, and handed it to the still-flustered researcher.

“I can’t open it though,” she said, showing off her pink, glittery, heart-patterned acrylic nails. “These cost a pretty penny!” she cackled again, her voice crackling from years of smoke.

That finally made Gitta smile.

“I wouldn’t want that on my conscience.”

With a quick, almost invisible motion, she wiped the rim with her thumb and opened the can effortlessly.

“Let’s sit on the steps while you drink it. Don’t go walking around the village holding a beer can like some common woman,” she added, in a tone that made it impossible to tell whether she was serious or just playfully teasing.

They sat down side by side on the dusty steps. The shopkeeper wasted no time lighting another cigarette. She held it in the hand farthest from Gitta and exhaled the smoke to the side. Gitta should have already been heading back, but the woman’s strong presence — alternating between Hungarian and German — felt oddly comforting. It didn’t leave room for any unsettling thoughts to creep in.

“So, that little sex machine Dalma — does she treat you with respect?” the woman asked, as if she could somehow sense what had been going on inside Gitta earlier.

“She’s a nice girl…”

The woman burst out laughing. Gitta watched in alarm as she clutched her chest and threw her head back in sheer delight.

“That’s rich!” she bellowed. “Nice!”

Embarrassed, Gitta took a big sip of the bitter, cherry-flavored, cooling drink.

“What’s wrong with her?” she asked softly.

The tone of her voice finally calmed the woman down.

“Nothing, really,” she waved it off. “It’s just… well, everyone knows she’s got a quick temper. And that she’ll slap any girl she gets jealous of.”

The color drained from Gitta’s face.

“Hey now, don’t you go fainting on me,” the woman said, grabbing her by the shoulder. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. She doesn’t get jealous of girls like you. More the flashy types, you know. Big boobs, big butt, always flaunting themselves, throwing themselves at Janó.”

She took another drag on her cigarette, then looked up at the sky with a sigh.

“Though… I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind throwing myself at that guy either,” she added with a throaty chuckle.

“I really have to get going now,” Gitta said, standing up. “Thanks for the beer — it was actually really good. And refreshing.”

She dusted off her pants.

“You’re very welcome, darling. It was nice chatting. Drop by anytime,” the woman grinned, revealing yellowed teeth from decades of smoking. “Name’s Vera, by the way.”

“I’m Gitta. And I definitely will,” she smiled back and headed toward the narrow street that led up the hill.