TE15 Lithuanian Honey Cake

Jaroslavas Melnikas

not life itself. My wife valued my relative patience even if she couldn’t understand where it came from. Somehow, nothing seemed serious. It was, of course. Was it serious to warm up pots of water and then find somewhere in the flat to have a wash? Or to play cards, the six of us, in the living room in the evenings? I was just about to deal an ace and a king when I shivered; what was I doing there? Who was this playing cards? It seemed reminiscent of a scene from a horror movie. Another time I caught myself, with my wife and my father, all quite tipsy, giggling and gossiping about the neighbour’s wife who was cheating on her husband with her boss. I stood up right away, went into the kitchen and put my head under cold water. ‘Where are you, Jura?’ I heard my wife’s voice from the living room, sounding drunk and content. My Lucy never used to drink alcohol. I appeared in the doorway, my face wet, water running down it. In the smoke- filled room, face on the table, my inebriated father was muttering something. Next to him sat an unfamiliar old woman with a silly smile on her face. ‘What’s up, hic?’ My wife hiccupped loudly. ‘Here, have another drink.’ ‘Lucy,’ I said. ‘When did you start drinking?’ ‘Oh, I can’t anymore!’ She burst into laughter, her massive breasts shaking. ‘What a joker you are, Jurcik. Sit here.’


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