XVI. Erzsébet and her niece visit Dave
Dave “the Dude” Devoran, free‑market ambassador, came to Budapest several weeks ago to make his fortune. In the last episode, Dave spoke to his real mother for the first time in his life. What follows is Episode XVI.
By Berger Bronte
(© Tom Popper)
It's clear to me now that the whole problem is caused by my mothering instinct. I need to feel needed. When he calls me and says he has a serious problem that he just has to discuss with someone, I am eager to be of assistance. Even though I am already babysitting my 5‑year‑old niece, Ildi, I can't resist the opportunity to mother someone else. I grab Ildi and we run to his house. If I am honest with myself, I have to admit that I get a strange kick out of helping a person who seems mentally and emotionally inferior. That must be what attracts me to Dave the Dude.
I even try explaining my maternal tendencies to Dave when I arrive at his place. He just shakes his head and says: “Please Erzsébet, I have too many mothers already.” How could I not love someone who is so simple? I decide to forget my own self analysis and ask him what he needs to talk about.
“Well—I'm kind of embarrassed to say this—but I've been dishonest with you and Karl,” Dave begins, as little Ildi crawls on his lap. “I wanted to discuss it with you, because I have to tell someone, and you seem a lot more practical and down‑to‑earth than that goofy roommate of mine.”
“It's nice to know you trust me Dave,” I say. “But you don't have to feel bad about having secrets. I think Karl is keeping a few things from you.” This is the truth. A couple days ago, Karl told me about a sort of a wild party that he gave in their apartment while Dave was out. During that party, one of Karl's friends nearly killed a very drunken man, who turned out to be a member of Parliament. Karl says he worries that the police will come and arrest everyone in the house, but he still hasn't told Dave about this. I think this is so unfair. Here Dave is being very honest with me and no one has warned him about the danger he is in. I don't care if Karl says it is a secret. Dave should know. I feel like I'm on the verge of telling him all about it, but he starts explaining his secret first.
“It's about those crates in there,” he says, jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. He is referring to the ominous looking stack of cargo marked “FRAGILE,” “DANGEROUS” and “DO NOT OPEN,” which is taking up half the kitchen and making his flat look like a warehouse. “I don't know how to tell you this Erzsébet, but that's not really food in those boxes.”
“Really?” I say, unable to keep from laughing at him. Ildi, who has been twisting and boucning in Dave's lap giggles along with me. Then she shouts “Hülye!” (“Stupid!”), turns around and punches him in the nose so hard that his head snaps backward. I laugh again as he puts her down and she runs away.
“Alright, I guess you already knew I wasn't being completely honest about this.” Dave is pinching his nostrils together to stop his nose from bleeding. It makes his voice sound like a cartoon character's. “But when those men came to dump that stuff while you and Karl were here, I was so shocked that I didn't know what to tell you. Believe me, I did not want them here.”
“Yes. I remember you were very upset. I realize that. But tell me now: What is in the crates and why are they here?”
“Well, this friend of mine, Matthew, wanted me to be his partner in this business—illegal, immoral business. I said no way, but I guess he figured he could force me to go along ...”
Wham! Dave is interrupted by a loud crashing noise. Next we hear the sound of something rolling along the floor, like lots of little bowling balls. “De jó!” (“Alright!”) Ildi calls out. Dave stares at me and goes stiff for a few seconds as fear fills his face. Then he jumps up and runs to the kitchen, with me following.
I can see that one of the smaller boxes has fallen over and broken open on the floor. The contents of the box have spilled out, and they look like —hand grenades! I am too stunned to move, but Dave quickly begins picking up the grenades, holding each one delicately between his index finger and thumb, and carefully returning them to the padded box.
My mind is still struggling to understand what is happening when I hear my niece giggling. I look across the room and she flashes a playful smile that seems to indicate she knows she's been bad but she doesn't care. She is holding one of the grenades in her right hand.
“Ildi,” I whisper. “Can I see what you have there?”
She giggles and steps a few paces away from me. I slowly walk toward her, but she dashes across the room, calling out “Boom! Boom!” and making pretend explosion noises by blowing through her puckered lips. She obviously has some idea of what the metal pineapple she's holding really is. I silently curse that damn cable TV Ildi's always watching.
Dave tries to help, but as soon as she sees him walking toward her she raises the grenade over her head. We both freeze, terrified, which really seems to please Ildi. Laughing hysterically, she turns her back to us and waves at the window. Just when I realize the grenade is gone from her hand I hear the explosion on the street below.
Next: Real trouble on the way. >>>