A Wish

By Lubomír Mikisek

Main characters in the collection of short stories written by the Czech author Lubomr Mikisek are quite ordinary people like us. With turbulent sensitivity and often with scars on their souls, they wish to step out of their stereotypes and find someone who would understand and love them. Desire usually remains hidden but can erupt from time to time. Then, a wish emerges too. Main characters often make decisions whether to realize these desires and wishes, maybe by making only an undaring move forward or waiting for a coincidence that could bring them happiness, and then even a miniscule episode suddenly turns into a deep internal drama. Sometimes, disappointment arrives; at other times, a journey of new hope opens. Those who lend a helping hand before asked, are not absent from the stories either.
The deeply psychological fiction is written in a readable and gripping style, providing exact descriptions and a poetic touch, and surprises with an unexpected punchline or an open end. As if the author was telling the reader - it can happen to you too. Under the cover of the seemingly everyday reality, it is possible to extent a hand out, let a rose blossom although it sometimes has thorns.
The authors fiction is thought-provoking, makes us sympathize with others and often soothes unexpectedly too. It is definitely nothing minor in the contemporary, presumably heartless and fast-moving world.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 30, 2011
• ISBN: 9781462898732

Lubomír Mikisek

Lubomír Mikisek was born on 2 January 1950 in Prague in the Czech Republic. He graduated from a secondary technical school, which specialized in mechanical engineering. He worked as a tooling department manager in the ŠKODA Company in Pilsen for many years. So far, he has published his work in newspapers and magazines in the Czech Republic and abroad and received awards from various national literary contests. He made his debut with this collection of short stories called A WISH and published it in the Czech Republic in 2005. In 2008, he also published a novel for women called WHEN DRAGONFLIES DANCE.

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Copyright © 2011 by Lubomír Mikisek.

ISBN: Softcover    978-1-4628-9872-5

ISBN: Ebook        978-1-4628-9873-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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CONTENTS

An Idea

A Wish

In The Park

Anticipation

Test

A Feeling of Being Deeply Moved

When Some Things Come to an End

Silence

Gift

Evening For Two

Restlessness

In A Different World

To Have Someone

Thank You

A Feeling of Anxiety

Serenity

For love

And your gratitude

Stroke them all

Unwittingly

Though it is gloomy

And not feeling your best

AN IDEA

The bus cruised to the top of the hill and the driver changed gear. We were going downhill to the valley; a town covered with a cloud of smoke and fog gradually revealed its face.

I was sitting by the window and watched apartment blocks passing by along the road. I was not convinced yet that I was doing the right thing. That unsettling feeling of uncertainty could not be chased away by anything, not even by the fact that Eliška was coming along. The town felt unfamiliar and made me not trust it much. I sighed and looked at my friend.

I feel like going back, I said uneasily but it was not entirely true. All I needed was just some cheering up, which would uproot my indecisiveness.

Are you insane? replied Eliška, once we’re here?

I turned to the window again and glanced at the surface of the river flowing murkily along a deep gorge. I shuddered with cold and fastened the last button on my blouse.

Do you think we’ll find him? I turned to Eliška again.

Why not? You have the address, don’t you . . .

But what am I gonna say to him, I sighed helplessly, simply, what am I gonna say to him . . .

That thought had occupied my mind ever since the moment we boarded the bus.

Well, in this case, I don’t know, said Eliška and she thought hard about it for a moment. Maybe say to him . . . Sir, I’m your daughter. She laughed shortly and then uttered a sound: Sorry.

We both fell silent. This affair was making our hands tigh; it was making us grow away from each other and grow closer at the same time.

You seriously know nothing about him . . . ? Eliška asked after a while.

I was five when he left us. And mom has never told me anything about him . . .

I see. And has he ever written a letter to you?

No. At least I know nothing about it. Only postal orders, which was alimony . . .

It was unclear to me if I should have defended dad—at least in front of strangers—but that indifference of his of fifteen years was turning me against him. I remembered him as a slender, dark-haired man with a pleasantly graff voice but they were only vague memories, meaning nothing to me any more.

The idea to visit my father crossed my mind a month ago for the first time when I was looking for some kind of papers in the cabinet; suddenly I was holding the postal order slip with his address in my hand. Then, I got it immediately out of my head; but about a week ago, after I completed my school-leaving examination, it crossed my mind again. That day, I was sitting down on a park bench and watched a young man playing catch with his small daughter between trees and laughing mischievously. The little girl could have been about seven years old; she had long wavy hair and looked very happy. Her face wore the happiest expression that a child could possibly have and it touched me deeply. I felt so lonely at that moment and tried to hold back the tears from draining from my eyes. Why haven’t I had a chance to experience something like that, I was asking myself on my way home, truly feeling sorry for myself.

I want to know what it’s like, I said to Eliška, my best friend, the next day. I want to see him, speak to him and tell him that I graduated . . . Come with me . . .

At that moment, it all looked so simple but as Saturday, for which we planned the trip, was coming closer, I started realizing all details of that future encounter and I felt panic-stricken fear at times.

The town was the last stop for our bus; the driver got off right after us, locked the door, threw his bag over his shoulder and strode at a tired pace across the town square.

We stood by the bus stop and stared at him from behind as one of our last close friends was leaving us.

Shall we . . . ? Eliška said.

We walked wordlessly across the town square until we stopped helplessly by an old town hall. For further directions, Eliška asked a young woman pushing a pram past us.

Once we entered the street where he was supposed to live, my pace slowed down and I tried to work out my own emotions. I was feeling fear, had butterflies in my stomache and felt something so unclear that the last bit of my courage deserted me and I had to stop on the sidewalk.

Eliška, I’m not going any further, I bursted out unhappily.

Don’t be a fool . . . , number twenty is the house right there, Eliška said in a persuvasive voice but I gathered that the uniqueness of the moment and the excitement from the upcoming encounter passed on to her too.

I was staring at the house with the flaked-off façade, tall windows and a colourful fresco on the gable. We were approaching the house entrance slowly and undecisively when the door opened and an about-fifteen-year-old boy walked out into the street. He looked at us and then he pushed his thumbs in loops on his denims, leaving in the opposite direction.

We’ll ask him, what do you think? Maybe he’ll tell us something about him . . . Eliška whispered, waited for no reply from me and ran after him.

Excuse me, please; we’re looking for Mr. Kraus. Can you tell us where he lives . . . ?

It’s my dad, the boy said, what do you want from him?

So, this is my brother, it struck my mind, I have a bro . . . I have always wished to have a bro but I have always been the only child.

I see, Eliška said and fell silent for a short while . . . , it’s a work matter . . .

Oh, ok . . . He is at work.

And where is it . . . . at work? I overheard Eliška saying.

At the hotel, don’t you know?

We were going back towards the town square, the hotel stood right on the corner, we pasted by a while ago. It was a two-storey building with a large glass door. We walked through the hotel lobby past the reception desk and stopped in front of the hotel café.

Is he a waiter? Eliška asked.

I don’t know. Apparently, he used to be some kind of technician or something like that . . .

We entered the café and sat down at a small round table right behind the door.

So, what will happen next . . . ? I asked as the situation had been out of hand for a long time. Eliška was still looking at it, to a certain extent, from above.

Do you think that it’s him . . . ? she pointed discreetly at a waiter with greyish hair who appeared behind the bar.

What do I know . . . ? I was scrutinizing features in his face.

He is a good-looking man but you don’t look much alike, Eliška said.

I think you’re right, I replied thoughtfully. It crossed my mind that even if I did, I would not be able to tell anyway. My ideas of what he looked like those days were changing; they were different each day and it always depended on the mood I was in at that very moment.

We ordered a meal and glass of wine each, the waiter attended to us and then he switched on the lights in the café. A man wearing a pale suit came out to the elevated stage and started playing a slow foreign song.

After dinner, we became engrossed in listening to music and completely forgot why we actually came there.

Eliška, what are we going to do . . . ? a glimpse at my watch terrified me, the bus is gone and the train leaves only at midnight.

We’ll stay overnight here at the hotel and leave for home tommorrow morning, Eliška replied quite calmly. It was clear that she was thinking of something else. A fairly good-looking young man in a leather jacket was sitting by the window and already smiled at her twice with great significance; once he even lifted his glass of wine in order to drink a toast to her at distance.

Again, I remembered my dad and suddenly it crossed my mind that I was actually not entitled to invade his privacy. I felt a little bit embarrased.

I’ll be right back, I said to Eliška who was still looking towards the window.

When I was passing by the reception desk, a line of colourful postcards placed on a small rotary stand caught my eye. I stopped and grabed one of them. I inspected it closely because it had the local chateau that we had seen from the bus window in the distance, on it.

 . . . you must be reasonable, Helenka, suddenly,