Chapter 2: The Infirmary; from Life in the Barracks

This is the last section of Chapter 2 from my book, Life in the Barracks. I decided to post it in an effort to support the five-day free promotion of the book on Kindle - see previous post on this site -.

In this section the protagonist, Tibor, meets his roommate, Captain Kerekes, for the first time after his arrival to the base. Their conversation steers toward women and what they mean to men, although by the end homosexual relationship is also touched upon. Kerekes later will become one of Tibor's few supporters in the "barracks." So, here is the part:

Chapter 2: The Infirmary
...

That evening Tibor finally got to meet his roommate, Captain Kerekes. He was a tall man, probably athletic once. But now, in his early fifties, he well past his prime.

   “Tibi!” he exclaimed with boyish vigor. “So, we’re corralled together!”
   Tibor picked up on the playful tone. “Not that I’ve seen much of you in this corral.”
   “Oh, no, Tibor, I prefer pristine waters, with mermaids ... not muddy men’s quarters.”
   “I hope I didn’t scare your mermaids away with my mess, captain.”
   “Just call me Keri; everybody knows me that way. Keri, the political activist,” he grinned. “The guardian of the socialist values in the fallible institution of the military.”
   Tibor was well aware of Leonid Brezhnev, the stiff, morose-looking General Secretary of the Communist Party of the USSR, who rose to power from being a political commissar during World-War-Two. Somehow, for him Brezhnev embodied the entire class of political officers even in the Hungarian army: bureaucratic demagogues who you have to choose your words with, who you always have to be suspicious of being a mole. The first impression of Keri was nothing like that. He’s certainly a most unusual political officer, Tibor concluded.
   “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Tibor stretched out his hand. “I’m Tibor Dalos; although you probably found that out already from my personnel files.”
   Kerekes smiled and gave him a firm handshake. “You look like an agreeable guy, Tibor. We should have a good time together! I loved your predecessor, Charley Lang too. Do you know him by any chance?”
   “No, I’m from Budapest. I heard that he was from Pecs.”
   “He was a fun guy. The mermaids liked to visit him even in this dusty wasteland here. One of them was really cute. Boy, was she all over him.”
   Tibor heard a shade of jealousy in Keri’s voice.
   “He played the guitar really well. Just give him a few beers and whoa, did he sound good! I must say doctors know how to drink, and that helps here a lot, believe me.” Kerekes’s speech faltered ever so slightly in testament of his strong conviction about this last point.
   Tibor had never been a heavy drinker, but he’d noticed how much his consumption had increased since arriving in Kisliget. Kerekes had a point: alcohol did help on the base. It enabled one to cope with the isolation, boredom, military rigor, and crassness, and even to enliven it with a certain artificial cheer. Clearly, many officers had come to the same conclusion. During his short stay there, Tibor already had learned the addresses of several high-ranking officers. In their various stages of drunkenness they frequently required his assistance to find the way home from the Officers’ Club or the hotel restaurant.
   Kerekes was not that drunk now and Tibor suspected that he was the sort who never entirely lost control. With a well-developed sixth sense, Kerekes seemed to have kept himself in a sort of perpetual no man’s land. Never quite sober, never really drunk: that state of mind where one doesn’t care anymore why things are the way they are, but still knows how to enjoy what good is left in life.
   The remaining good in life for Keri was women.
   “Never married, never without a woman,” he bragged.
   “Let’s have a glass of wine,” Kerekes proposed as he pulled out an unlabeled bottle from his attaché case. “I got this from the village innkeeper. It’s good stuff, half Nova, half Kadarka. Very refreshing. She’s getting it from local growers.” Kerekes pulled the cork with his bare hand and held up the bottle against the window, carefully inspecting its contents. “She always gives me a bottle when I visit.”
   Tibor knew Kadarka, the velvety red, pleasantly aromatic wine, but had never heard of the Nova. He asked Kerekes about it.
   “It’s a local specialty, tempered from some wild vine that has grown in this area for centuries. You’ll see in a moment how refreshingly dry it is, just perfect when mixed with the Kadarka.” Kerekes smacked his lips with clownish piety. “You have to be careful not to go overboard with it, though, because it can ruin your vision.”
   They sat down in Tibor’s room. Tibor only had the single plastic cup he had filled with the Tisza cola on the train station three weeks earlier. He’d been using it for all his drinking needs since then.
   “That’s not the proper presentation for a high quality wine,” Kerekes said. He went to fetch two wine glasses from his room and filled them, smiling as if he were the maker of the precious nectar.
   “Now, that’s better.” He clinked Tibor’s glass with his own and raised the wine to his mouth. His nostrils flared like the muzzle of a sniffing Vizsla as he allowed the fragrances of the wine to drift in. Then, his eyes half closed, he took a sip and swirled it for a few seconds in his mouth. Finally, he took a large gulp and discharged a long, contented sigh.
   “So, what does the innkeeper’s husband say when you visit his wife?” Tibor asked casually.
   “She’s divorced.”
   “Running the pub by herself?”
   “She’s a tough lady. She does it all by herself.”
   “Must be hard.”
   “All the village drunks respect her like a circus tiger respects its handler. Or I respect Colonel Irmai. Heh-heh, don’t tell anyone I said that! When Piri tells someone, ‘You’ve had enough for tonight, there’ll be a new day tomorrow,’ they just get up and leave like obedient poodles; not with the same straightforward regal trot, though,” he added, smiling at the thought.
   “How come she has all this respect?”
   “She earned it over the years. Piri definitely has her ways. And it doesn’t hurt that her ex-brother-in-law is the local police chief. Women like to dominate men, Tibor, if you haven’t noticed it yet. Some do it smart, some stupid. She’s a smart one.”
   “You seem to know a lot about women.”
   “I think so. At least I fool myself that I do.” Kerekes rinsed his mouth with another swig. “The world would be a very empty place without women. I can’t think of a single passion that would come close to giving me the delight I feel when a woman first glances at me with that mystic shine in her eyes that says. ‘I want to own you, take me! I want to surrender to you!’ This is a most exciting dichotomy in women, Tibor, do you feel it?” Not waiting for Tibor’s answer Keri continued. “No, not money, not success, not smarts can give that to a man. We chase after all these other things for one reason and one reason only: the ancient magnetism of female beauty, the feminine scent, smooth curves, and the welding hot kiss that puts the final stamp on it all.”
   Tibor, amused by his roommate’s intensity, said. “You sure sound like one who worships women.”
   “Perhaps, I am a woman-worshiper. I respect women. I can’t escape their magic. I always try to make them feel how much power they have over me.”
   “Power?”
   “Yes, power. Don’t ever fool yourself, for power is what relationships are about. I give power to women over me and I think that’s why they like me. I always treat every woman in my life with the utmost respect and admiration.”
   “If so, why are you still unmarried? Don’t you think that with all your respect, in the end you hurt many of them?”
   “Possible. Quite possible. But there are too many pretty ones and none so far has been flawless.”
   “Yeah, sure! And of course you are flawless.”
   “Hmm.” Keri pensively rotated his empty glass in his hands, while Tibor scrutinized his face.
   “So, for the sake of argument, if you find one who you think has no flaws, would you marry her?” Tibor asked.
   “Tough question. You’re cornering me now, Tibor. You need to finish your glass and not be so smart!” Kerekes chuckled as he gave the question some thoughts. “You know, I think I would, after all ... one more glass?” He filled up the glasses again, emptying the bottle.
   “You know, I think that a man gives up on life the moment he stops wanting to have a woman. When he stops seeing and admiring and ... wanting,” he almost yelled the last word, “the beauty of a woman, he’s dead.”
   “That would leave all the gays dead, Keri, don’t you think?” Fazekas was still very much in Tibor’s mind.
   “Oh, no, Tibor. I’m straight but can easily see the same sort of feelings in gays: just wanting to rule and surrender, to possess and give yourself up to someone. All at the same time. It’s a universal feeling; has nothing to do with gender. The need for the strange duality of a relationship. Just needing another person; another important person in your life, not only you, not always yourself.” A dreamy look filled Kerekes’s eyes. “Some like the gentle slopes of the hillsides, others the tall trees in the ravines.”
   Tibor smiled as he emptied his glass. He thought—no, rather, he wanted to think that despite his flaws, Kerekes would become an oasis for him in this alien world.