A woman retreats to the Hungarian countryside, leaving her old life behind, and meets a kindly neighbour.
Image generated with OpenAICould there possibly be a more beautiful place to be unhappy?
Zsofi stood at the window of the apartment’s small living room. The view was of Tihany’s Inner Lake, the tiny spot of water in the center of the mountain peninsula surrounded on three sides by Lake Balaton. The small lake looked like a spoonful of blue water floating in the larger bowl of the surrounding lake waters.
She had arrived that morning. Driving down the northern lakeshore, she kept one eye on the directions from the rental company while also watching the small towns unfurl, one after the other, dotting the lakeside. The fall weather had chased away most of the summer guests, and the picturesque towns felt authentic with only the permanent residents going to and from the vegetable stands and butcher’s shops on the main streets of each village. Finally in the distance she saw the small mountain of Tihany rising above the Balaton waters. She turned off the main road and the smaller path wound its way up the steep cliffs with trees bordering on both sides.
The apartment was small, but spotless and inviting. There was a little kitchen with a view into the back yard. Soft reading chairs sat in the middle of the living room floor, and delicate light from outside gave the room a tint of rose coloring. It was late afternoon now, and the shadows from the tree branches outside were starting to slant across the room. She dropped her eyes from the lake down to the street. A young mother was pushing a stroller. The woman stopped for a moment and leaned down. Zsofi couldn’t hear her, but she imagined the cooing sound of the woman as she stroked the baby’s cheeks.
Is it right to feel this way? She had expected to feel something. But the days since had come and gone, each one perfectly still, as though hanging in the air by invisible threads.
The rental company had sent her an email with the code to get into the apartment, and also a list of local businesses. There was a grocery store at the end of the street. A post office and municipal building was just off the main square in the center of town. The nearest major store was a thirty-minute drive away in neighboring city of Veszprem; when Zsofi read that, she realized she was glad. She had worried the tourism, so common to Lake Balaton, might have turned the northern lakeshore into a buzz of commercialism, but apparently that was more likely to be true across the waters on the lake’s southern side. The north shore was more Mediterranean, with rocky cliffs nestled among volcanic soil and silent rows of grapes more common than crowds of tourists.
What Zsofi came here for was silence, and, so far, the apartment and the quiet street outside lulled her into a sleepy calm. She was jolted when the doorbell buzzed loudly. Zsofi opened the door and saw a woman, smiling, holding a small basket covered with a paper napkin. She was wearing a hair net and a house dress with an apron.
“Hope I’m not disturbing?” the woman said. “I’m Sari from across the hall. You’re new?”
“Yes,” Zsofi said, smiling. “You’re the first person to ring. It’s an odd buzzer.”
Sari laughed. “They all sound that way. We’ve been pestering the caretaker to get them changed, but I’m so used to it I hardly notice anymore. Anyway, I wanted to welcome you. Thought you might want some treats.”
“That is so kind,” Zsofi said. “Please come in for a moment. I’m not unpacked yet, but if you can handle a kitchen filled with boxes at least we could have a cup of tea.”
Sari followed Zsofi in, closing the door behind her. Zsofi put the kettle on and took two teacups out of a packing crate. She put out a few teabags in a small bowl and quickly wiped off two chairs.
“Where did you move from?” Sari said.
“Budapest.”
“Well! This is certainly a change then.”
Zsofi looked toward the front window, “I wanted something a bit different. Some place with less bustle and more quiet.”
“You’ll get that here,” Sari said. “Even in the summer it’s quite calm. The beach lovers come in, but that only effects the shore. Our town stays pretty calm all year. Why did you move?”
Zsofi paused, and Sari quickly waved at the air. “Oh, that is just like me,” she said. “Why is it my business?”
“No, no,” Zsofi said. She paused again, then carefully said, “It’s my divorce.”
Sari closed her eyes and smiled. “We must be sisters then. It’s been two years now since mine. And we’re not alone. Mrs. Krudi on the fourth floor is going on her fourth year single. Good riddance for it. It’s a bit hard at first, but certainly gets easier. The first few weeks were the hardest for me. I kept waking up in the middle of the night and feeling like the bed on the other side was so cold and still.”
Zsofi twisted a tea bag string around her finger.
“Would you like to talk about it?” Sari said.
Zsofi hesitated. Then she said, “I know I need to talk. That’s what my therapist said. She said if I kept everything bottled up inside of me, I would eventually explode. But…” she faltered and wound the string around her finger again, pinching the skin.
Sari extended her hand for a moment and then pulled it back. “Look,” she said. “I’m always across the hall. The only time I go out is for shopping. Anytime you want to talk, just ring.” She stood up.
“Thank you so much,” Zsofi said. “I’m sure I’ll be pestering you with questions. This is only my second time in Tihany. I visited a month ago to see some apartments before I finally found this one. I’m not even sure where the market is.”
“Well, that settles it,” Sari said. “We’ll go together. Tomorrow afternoon? I usually do my shopping after Saci’s nap. My daughter. She’s three.”
“Let’s do that,” Zsofi said. “Thank you so much for the offer. And for these.” She nodded at the basket Sari had put on the table.
“Just some cheese biscuits,” Sari said. “I’ll leave the basket. We’ll see each other again soon.”
Sari waved as she closed the front door behind her. Zsofi sat in her chair for a few moments before finally standing and moving back to her boxes.
The next day, Zsofi walked down the three flights of stairs. She wanted to look at the back yard, but the door was locked. Zsofi tried it a few times and was just about to go back upstairs when Sari came down the stairs, holding the hand of a girl with blond pigtails.
“Silly me,” Sari said. “I forgot to tell you. The caretaker always keeps it locked, but I have my own key.” She fished the key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. It opened onto a small yard, fringed on three sides with fences that looked into the yards of the neighboring apartment buildings.
“Charming,” Zsofi said. “In Budapest we didn’t have a back yard. Everything was smashed together. Our district was all loud streets and concrete.”
“I suppose that it’s one of the nice things about the Balaton,” Sari said. “People come here during the summer for the lake, but the rest of the year things are pretty quiet. And I believe every building has its own yard.”
The two women stepped outside onto the soft grass and looked in the direction of the play set. It had two swings and a small slide. There was a sandbox next to it. Just behind it near the back fence was a low brick structure about a foot high. Saci was already climbing and sliding.
“What’s that?” Zsofi said, pointing at the brick structure.
“It’s an old well,” Sari said. “The caretaker has it covered with wood planks. I don’t think it’s been used since the turn of the century.
They walked around the periphery of the yard. The windows of the building reflected the late morning sunlight and, even though the yard was partly in shadow, the reflection gave the grass and few trees a dappled look.
“This is nice,” Zsofi said.
“I think so. We’ve been here a year. My husband set us up with a nice enough alimony. Otherwise, I could not have afforded my own place. It’s near to the town center and we have everything we need.”
Zsofi said nothing. Sari gestured toward a bench that lay against the back fence. Zsofi sat and straightened her skirt.
“You’re wondering about my divorce, aren’t you?” she said.
“No need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“But I do, a bit,” Zsofi said. “I think it helps to keep it out in front of me. Prevents me from fooling myself into thinking there was anything I could have done.”
“We really are sisters then,” Sari said. “Exactly the same.”
“It was all the usual stuff,” Zsofi said with a shrug. “We met in high school, probably too early. Dated through college. He already had a job offer by the time graduation came around. I studied music and there wasn’t much in store for me. I had a few teachers who thought I had promise, but it was then he proposed. He already had a flat near the river. I liked the idea of walks along the embankment and coffee on Sundays after mass along the waterfront. It was really the idea of contentment that made it solid.”
Sari nodded and reached down to brush a few bits of grass from her shoe. Zsofi looked up at the branches above them. A faint breeze stirred the leaves and the shadows moved gently across the yard. She sighed.
“We were together for three years, but something felt off almost from the beginning. His work kept him out late most nights. At first, I tried to fill my days with activities. I kept at my singing for a bit. He told me I could find a tutor if I wanted. I never bothered. Something about the finality of marriage took all the drive out of me. It was like I was…” Zsofi paused, searching for the right word.
“Like you were captured,” Sari said. “You had everything, and that was its own kind of prison.”
Zsofi nodded. “Isn’t it silly?”
Sari shook her head. “Who wouldn’t want happiness and contentment.” She looked over at her daughter on the swing. “Did you ever think about kids?”
At that moment the little girl ran up to Sari. “Mommy, can we go in now?”
“In a bit, darling,” Sari said. “Mommy’s talking.”
“No, no,” Zsofi said. “I should let you get about your day.”
They stood, and Saci ran ahead of them into the building. When they reached the first-floor landing, Sari turned to continue up the stairs, but Zsofi lingered. “I think I’ll take a walk,” she said. “Didn’t I see a temple a few streets over?”
“Church of the Virgin Mary,” Sari said. “They’ve just switched to morning masses for the fall. But it’s probably still open if you want to have a look.”
“Thank you. I think I will.” She turned toward the front door and then stopped. “And thank you for letting me burden you with my talk.”
“Nonsense,” Sari said. “Anytime. Remember, I’m just across the hall.”
Zsofi nodded and turned away.
The temple was closed. There were workers inside, fixing the lighting and restringing some electrical wires. A priest happened to be coming out on his way to the neighboring monastery, and he invited Zsofi to come back the next day. We’ll be open by then, and the lights will be on, he said.
Zsofi walked back down the main street. She couldn’t decide what to do. The boxes in the apartment still needed unpacking, but she didn’t feel like returning to the mess. Instead, she slowly wound her way through some of the side streets. A young mother passed her with two children in tow. Zsofi walked by a yard where another woman was sitting in the sunshine with a baby carriage in front of her. Zsofi kept her eyes on the ground.
A moment later she stopped. She was at the gates of a cemetery. She hadn’t noticed it when she was walking toward the temple earlier. Without thinking, she walked through the entrance. There were rows of headstones stretching off into the distance. The cemetery was filled with trees, and the late afternoon sunshine threw long shadows across the well-tended plots.
Zsofi walked forward, looking at the words on the graves. Nagy Ferenc, 1909-1970, Beloved husband and father. Major Zsuzsa, Member of the Hungarian Academy of Knowledge, 1945-2021. Some stones were swept clean. Others had dry leaves scattered across them. As Zsofi walked the names and dates changed. There didn’t seem to be any particular system as to how the plots were chosen.
She stopped. There was a small stone behind one of the larger markers. It looked new. Zsofi stepped toward it. It said, Kis Jozsef, Our son, 2022-2023. Zsofi stared at it until her vision blurred.
That evening she was back in the small living room, sitting in one of the chairs. She had unpacked her books and was trying to decide if she felt like reading, but the very effort of choosing had seemed exhausting. Instead, she looked down at the wood floor where the final bits of sunlight slowly crawled by.
It was too early for bed, but she couldn’t muster the strength to do any more unpacking. She stood and walked to the front door. After slipping on her shoes, she crossed the hallway and knocked at the Sari’s apartment. She waited. There was no answer.
Zsofi turned back toward her front door, but then, changed her mind, and walked down the three flights to the ground floor. She was turning toward the front door, when a soft sound of wind sounded from the back yard. Sari had locked the back door when they came in earlier, but now it was open again. Maybe the caretaker left it open, she thought. Zsofi slowly walked down the half flight and stood in the open doorway, looking out into the back courtyard.
The playset stood silently under the shadow of the building. The sunlight was setting on the front of the building, and the entire back yard was dark in shadow, almost twilight. Zsofi took a few steps out and looked up at the sky. The moon was just visible, beginning its slow march across the sky toward nighttime.
She walked toward the bench where she and Sari had sat earlier, and then she noticed the well again. She walked to it. Most of the boards covering it were still solidly in place, but there was a chink in one of the pieces. It looked like a black eye staring up at her. Without knowing why, she crouched down, looking at the black hole. There was a scattering of gravel around the base of the brick sides of the well. She reached down a took a few pebbles. She extended her hand and dropped one of them into the well. A moment later she heard it hit the water far below.
Why did it have to happen? The images suddenly came at her, fast and harsh. Her husband’s face above her in their darkened bedroom as he woke her. The light from the hallway. His desperate voice on the phone, calling the ambulance. Her quick steps down the hall in the direction of the baby’s room. The crib. The tiny silent body. Why?
By now it was too dark to see anything around her in the back yard. But she stayed, hunched down by the well, feeling the wet tears on her cheeks. She dropped pebble after pebble into the well, each time waiting for the tiny splash to come, down in the depths of the earth.
