Veronika Decides to Die (On the Seventh Day 2)

Like this young girl, for example, whose only reason for being in Villete was because she had made an attempt on her own life. She had never known panic, depression, mystical visions, psychoses--the limits to which the mind can take us. Although she had known many men, she had never experienced the most hidden part of her own desires, and the result was that half of her life had been unknown to her. If only everyone could know and live with their inner craziness. Would the world be a worse place for it? No, people would be fairer and happier.

"Why did I never do that before?"

"He wants you to play more music," said Mari, looking at Eduard. "I think he deserves it."

"I will, but answer my question first: Why did I never do that before? If I'm free, if I can think whatever I choose to think, why have I always avoided imagining forbidden situations?"

"Forbidden? Listen, I was a lawyer, and I know the law. I was also a Catholic, and I used to know whole sections of the Bible by heart. What do you mean by 'forbidden'?"

Mari went over to her and helped her on with her sweater.

"Look me in the eye, and never forget what I'm about to tell you. There are only two prohibitions, one according to man's law, the other according to God's. Never force a sexual relationship on anyone, because that is considered to be rape. And never have sexual relations with children, because that is the worst of all sins. Apart from that, you're free. There's always someone who wants exactly what you want."

Mari didn't have the patience to teach important things to someone who was about to die. With a smile, she said good night and left the room.

Eduard didn't move; he was waiting for the music. Veronika needed to reward him for the immense pleasure he had given her, merely by staying with her and witnessing her insanity without horror or repulsion. She sat down at the piano and started to play again.

Her soul was light, and not even the fear of death tormented her now. She had experienced what she had always kept hidden from herself. She had experienced the pleasures of virgin and prostitute, of slave and queen, albeit more slave than queen.

That night, as if by a miracle, all the songs she had known returned to her memory, and she played in order to give Eduard as much pleasure as she herself had experienced.

When he turned on the light, Dr. Igor was surprised to see the young woman sitting in the waiting room outside his office.

IT'S STILL very early. And I'm completely booked all day."

"I know it's early," she said. "And the day hasn't yet begun. I just need to talk for a while, only a short while. I need your help."

She had dark shadows under her eyes and her hair was dull, the typical symptoms of someone who has spent the whole night awake.

Dr. Igor decided to show her into his room.

He asked her to sit down while he turned on the light and opened the curtains. It would be dawn in less than an hour, and then he would be able to save on electricity; the shareholders were very tough on expenses, however insignificant.

He glanced rapidly through his diary: Zedka had had her last insulin shock and had reacted positively, that is, she had managed to survive that inhuman treatment. It's just as well, in this particular case, that Dr. Igor had demanded that the hospital council sign a declaration taking full responsibility for the consequences.

He started reading some reports. Two or three patients had behaved aggressively during the night. Among them, according to the nurses' report, was Eduard. He had gone back to his ward at about four in the morning and had refused to take his sleeping tablets. Dr. Igor would have to act. However liberal Villete might be inside, it was necessary to preserve its image as a harsh, conservative institution.

"I've got something very important to ask you," said Veronika.

But Dr. Igor ignored her. Picking up his stethoscope, he began to listen to her heart and lungs. He tested her reflexes and examined the back of her retina with a small flashlight. He saw that there were now almost no signs of Vitriol poisoning.

He immediately went to the phone and asked the nurse to bring in some medication with a complicated name.

"It seems you didn't have your injection last night," he said.

"But I'm feeling much better."

"I just have to look at your face: dark shadows under the eyes, tiredness, the lack of immediate reflexes. If you want to make the most of the little time left to you, please do as I say."

"That's exactly why I'm here. I want to make the most of that little time, but in my own way. How much time have I actually got?"

Dr. Igor peered at her over the top of his glasses.

"You can tell me," she said. "I'm not afraid or indifferent or anything. I want to live, but I know that's not enough, and I'm resigned to my fate."

"What is it you want, then?"

The nurse came in with the injection. Dr. Igor nodded and the nurse gently rolled up the sleeve of Veronika's sweater.