Napsal jsem první anglickou povídku a ona v soutěži obsadila druhé místo! Psaní v cizím jazyce má svá specifika, ale je to výzva a skvělá zkušenost. Určitě to nebyl můj poslední pokus.

Brno Writers Group každoročně pořádá soutěž v psaní povídek na zadané téma. Letošní ročník byl již osmý v pořadí a tématem bylo "Only in Brno" (Pouze v Brně). Přestože jsem se o soutěži dozvěděl jen dva týdny předem a na psaní jsem měl kvůli korekturám druhé knihy omezený čas a kapacitu, byla to výzva, kterou jsem si chtěl vyzkoušet. Asi mám v sobě pořád něco ze studentských let, kdy jsme odevzdávali seminární práce a eseje minutu před půlnocí, takže i tady mě stres a šibeniční termín hnal kupředu. Nakonec se ta práce vyplatila. Povídku jsem odeslal o trochu dříve, 23:16. A možná jsem si měl text ještě jednou přečíst, aby v něm nebyly zbytečné školácké chyby. Strach z výpadku internetu nebo technických potíží mi to ale nedovolil :)

Jako hlavní motiv jsem si vybral Svratku a její důležitost pro dva hlavní hrdiny, kteří se v Brně ocitli na Erasmu. Zároveň je pro příběh důležitá velikost Brna a fakt, že je to druhé největší město Česka. Někteří lidé totiž nemají rádi hlavní města, necítí se dobře ve velkých davech, a "druhá města" jim nabízí všechny možnosti velkého města, zároveň však nejsou přeplněná turisty a dá se v nich svobodně dýchat.

Po vyhlášení výsledků byli autoři příspěvků na prvních třech místech osloveni, aby své texty přečetli v Brno Expact Centru na Orlí ulici. Přestože v angličtině komunikuji pravidelně, člověk je i tak nervózní ze své výslovnosti a přízvuku. Strachoval jsem se ale zbytečně. Místní literární skupinu vedou skvělí a otevření lidé, kteří jsou shovívaví a velkorysí. Setkávají se jednou měsíčně a společně se baví o literatuře, píšou na zadané téma, a snaží se rozvíjet anglickojazyčnou kulturu a literaturu v Brně. Pokud by kohokoli z vás daná skupina zajímala, dejte mi vědět, mohu vás propojit.

Pokud mluvíte anglicky a má povídka (před korekturami) by vás zajímala, tak je dostupná zde a také v textu níže. Text obsahuje chyby, takto byl ale hodnocen a přijde mi fér, že uvidíte verzi, kterou jsem do soutěže zaslal. Text projde korekturami a následně bude vydán ve sborníku vítězných textů za tři ročníky.

Doufám, že se vám bude povídka líbit! Jejím čtením si můžete zkrátit čekání na mou druhou knihu. Těším se na zpětnou vazbu a na setkání na křtu, na některém z mých plánovaných autorských čtení či kdekoli jinde.

Mějte klidné letní dny.

The flow of the ice islands

Ice islands flow lazily on the surface of Svratka river, in the water of this insignificant river, in this big village in the middle of Europe. Ordinary memories like that are usually those affecting our lives the most.

The river was still that day. It stopped snowing and the snow that came down at night and during the early morning covered the surrounding into soft and feather-like blanket. It was freezing. I was alone, only a pair of ducks was angrily quacking on the opposite bank. I sat on the cold bench and watched the river. Hundreds and thousands of small ice islands were lazily moving on the surface, sparkling and reflecting the first rays. The sky was blue with the last still visible stars.

I drank a mouthful of tea with lemon and honey. It always took me a while to start undressing. I had to encourage myself. I had to prove that the whole idea isn't some kind of social media bullshit. I had to feel that I am not part of that herd which will come soon enough to take the photos to have new content.

Not now though. It is still only me.

Slowly I began undressing. I could feel the cold all over my body when I stood there only in my shorts and socks. My breath sped up automatically and it took me a while to calm down.

Focus!

Shorts were off. One sock down and another. I stood there naked, shivering. Out of nowhere, a granny with her poodle dressed in a funny small clothes was standing just behind my bum. I could feel the dog's smell and the look of the woman on my naked body. She did not hurry to be off. And there was only one way how to get away from her.

The steps were slippery and my toes were freezing into them when I touched the wood soaked with water. When I was on the last one above the surface, I heard the woman leaving, her Come, come, Lady echoing from the distance. My pulse steadied but I had to be fast. I was naked for too long already. When the cold water touched the skin on my toes, chills went around my veins.

There was no coming back now. That long awaited numbness combined with cold flooded my body and enabled me to keep my mind oblivious, free from memories, worries and doubts. Step by step I immersed deeper and deeper until it was only my head floating in the dark water. I stand still with my eyes closed and let the river work.

Breathe! Slowly, deeply.

When the cold was too intense, the pain in my groin was unbearable and there was no sense in my toes anymore, I opened my eyes. For the fraction of a second, he was there. In front of me, so close that I could nearly touch him, that I could feel his hot breath on my skin. The steam from his breath and head painted such a beautiful image in the air I couldn't get it out of my head, even after all those years.

I blinked and he was gone.

***

We are not boys for the capitals, he used to say. We were born to live without the cosmopolitism of London, Paris or Berlin. It's just Birmingham, Marseille or Hamburg for us. The fact that we met each other in Brno has proven him right. Only in Brno, he used to whisper into my ear, nowhere else on Earth could we have met each other. Only here, in this big village in the middle of Europe.

We met during our first week of Erasmus. It was Friday, the sky was azure and flawless, it was so hot that I didn't really sleep that night. The air was still and heavy. We were hoping for some rain but no rain shall come for another fortnight. Even though the summer was officially over, there was no sign of fall in the air.

Our buddies prepared a trip to the dam. They were excited about it, they talked about how big it is, about the boats, the castle and about the Hitler's highway. That will be huge, we all thought. After the first week of socializing mostly within the buildings of Faculty of Arts, we all welcomed the change. We sat at the tram number three at Česká station and with the typical sound signal the doors closed behind us.

Czechia was new for both of us. I came from Porto and Chris from Edinburgh. It is the capitol, all right, but still, it is the second city. I don' t lie, he smiled. As for myself, I picked this country because the size of it was comparable to Portugal. Any bigger country would make me feel anxious. Nothing like France or Germany. Not for me. Chris was different. The size was not the issue in his case. He went here for fun, cheap beer, and a bit of education as well. Not Prague. Prague was not for him. He used to say that it is full of snobs and big-heads as in all those capitols. In my case I just didn't meet the criteria for Charles University, a coincidence.

Faith, he would respond.

The dam was what we expected from the city of Brno's size. Chris loved it there from the beginning. He could laugh his head off when the buddies repeated in their simple English that this is Brno's sea. Boy, he laughed. Did you hear that? Have they seen sea before in their life? Sea my ass, he said. I loved that. I loved both the pride and arrogance of the locals and his compassion to their ignorance. His empathy. His kindness hidden behind the manly manners, coarse voice, tattoos and dark green eyes.

We sat around the fire for hours, talked about everything and anything, enjoyed ourselves and the setting sun. When the sun was down, the fire was still on and the others were sitting around it, learning to sign the Czech folk songs and drinking the last can of beers while fruitfully pairing off. We were among those few who remained there that night. It was only me and Chris swimming in the green water of the Brno' s sea. Only two of us, because the water was too cold for the others already.

Not for us. This puddle could not beat the Atlantic and the North sea, this water could not scary us, we said.

It was where he first kissed me. My teeth were chattering but I wanted to be around him, be with him and his curly ginger hair. We kissed and Chris started to laugh afterwards, happy smile on his face. That was nice, Marco Paolo. I have a strange feeling that you kissed a boy before. And another laughter. I did not answer. My ears were hot and I could not breathe. My body could not cope with the situation, my head wanted to explode. The combination of excitement and shame circulated in my veins. It was the first time for me. Far, far away from my family and church in Portugal. I think I have never asked whether it was the first time for him. But it would be pointless anyway because we both knew the answer didn't matter.

Hey, you two, stop horsing around in the water. You'll catch cold, the others shouted from the camp fire, peeking at us through the leaves of the willow trees. But boy were we hot at that moment. I have to smile just thinking about it.

***

Both Chris and I haven't chosen the most challenging classes for our Erasmus semester. It was just a couple of months, we thought. Few weeks in the new environment, exploring the limits of adulthood and our bodies. Free from our families and social barriers.

Chris was a rower, water was his natural habitat. The same with me. I come from the fisher family, the smell of water and fish deeply rooted into my mind. We were attracted to the dam and Svratka river. We needed the only water in the city to survive, to feel wholesome, regardless of the color of the water.

When the others were enjoying pub crawls or were recovering from their hangovers, you could find us at the dam or river. Kayaking, rowing, swimming. He insisted that we both go swimming regardless of the temperature or the colorful leaves completely covering the river. He even made me try that Wim Hof nonsense I have never heard of before.

And so we tried it. Together.

It was mid October, just after my birthday. That was the first time. We took the bus 84 close to the Jundrov's bridge. From there we walked to the river. There was one group of people just coming out of the water, childishly laughing and posing for the group photo, their skin red from the cold. They drank tea and some local spirit to cope with the cold, smiles on their faces.

We waited for them to be off before undressing. I hesitated and struggled with my natural anxiety from failure. I feared that I won't make it. That I am a weak, fragile man, not able to cope with that, to do the same as the others do. I wouldn't be there if it weren't for him. And he was there for me. Chris got undressed, his naked body exposed to the eyes of others, without any hesitation. Free.

The water had around eight degrees. We need to do five minutes, he said. Five minutes is nothing, but long enough for beginners. So we went and it was as intense as I imagined it would be. And thanks to him, I made it that day and in the next weeks to come.

The weeks full of us, water colder each week and the ice islands slowly forming on the Svratka river. Each time we hugged each other in the water to cope with the river, shivering with cold. On the bank again, we did several squads to warm us up a bit, still naked, our skin red and our smiles wide. We then hurriedly dried ourselves as fast as we could, drank our tea and went running for couple of kilometers, simply to keep us alive. We ended up at either residence halls, studying and making love.

Later on, when the days were shorter, the trees were naked and the city was covered in snow, when the froze was so harsh that the dam was finally frozen, we used the opportunity to ice skate. The surface that enabled us to row and swim just a few weeks ago was our playground again, just in another form. We moved our bodies on the ice which was crackling under our feet, each crack echoed back from either direction. The water spoke to us and we loved it.

And so it went until the day just before his departure.

***

The future was not bothering him. When we were together, Chris was there, living the moment. For some reason I dreamed this to continue forever. I wanted no change, but change is the single inevitable feature of life as I learned soon enough. We didn't really talk about what is going to happen after the exams. No future, no plans, no marriage or coming-out mentioned. I fell in love with the city, determined to move to this country, this city. Foolishly, I hoped that that is what we both feel. What both of us want. My memories tied me to him and Brno, so it was only logical that after the semester was over and we went back to our countries, to our normal life, whatever that might mean, I knew I will be back. His plans were different though.

Even though he said clearly enough when departing Václav Havel Airport that we should move on, me silently crying and embracing him so tightly he couldn't breathe, I hoped that if I will come back that maybe I can prolong the time of our happiness forever. Even though he shared his plans with postdoc in Bergen, I didn't allow myself to believe it. I didn't believe it even at that moment when I saw his plane taking off.

I believed that me staying will make Chris come back.

But not all our wishes and dreams come true.

***

It has been ten years since our Erasmus ended. Since then I only seldomly look at his social media, at the smiles on his face and faces of his wife and kids. We met each other once when I was visiting Norway on my Scandinavian trip planned only to have another chance to meet him. To see whether the reunion will not bring back the times of our limitless freedom and happiness. But we changed. The ring on his finger symbolized that we were older, prepared for the next chapter of our life. At least he was prepared. He looked happy, confident, ready to become a father. I was sure he will be a wonderful dad, wonderful husband.

We had a few beers in the pub in the city and then swam in the fjord. That time we embraced each other for the last time, with seagulls flying all around us and soft snow falling slowly from the sky. That was my second and last chance to say goodbye to him. He allowed me to use it to the fullest, closing the door behind everything we had together in Brno. For good.

I will be father soon, he said to me then. Isn't that beautiful? Don't you want that too? To have a kid of your own? See a next generation growing up?

That joy in his sound made me cry. I saw the beauty in him, the kindness of the man before my eyes, the happiness, and I wanted to tell him words that I would regret saying. I wished him all good in the world, but I could not imagine me being happy without him. Not then.

And so I was silent. I knew that everything we had we had only in Brno. And with Chris being there, it was impossible to live it again.

***

I still think of him, but I try not to. I see him when I look at those ice islands forming on the river, but I try to close my eyes. I know that the time we had was limited by those few moments of university freedom far away from our homes. There is no other time and place we could restore it. After Christopher left, the river was the only thing that remained. Nothing else. The river is still here. The same with me. But there is an empty space in my heart even the river couldn't heal.

I still haven't figured out whether I am ready for the next step in my life. It would be much easier with him here. But as long as the river is here with me, there is some hope for me as well.