Walks Outside by Zary Fekete

A Hungarian couple who have lost the spark in their relationship start taking daily walks that get them talking together again.

Image generated with OpenAI

The slip of paper in their mailbox was from the gas company. Gyuri already heard the news from their neighbor lady. The gas company was testing the new pipes installed last month across the district. Starting tonight, for one hour every night between 7 and 8pm, all the residents needed to vacate the building in case there was a gas leak.

Gyuri walked up the three flights of steps. The elevator was too small since his hands were filled with grocery bags from the store on the corner. Once in the flat, Gyuri breaded the turkey from the butcher's and was just finishing cutting the spears of asparagus when Judit came home. She had been staying later at the university the last few weeks to grade papers. Because Gyuri was in the dissertation phase of his seminary degree, he worked in coffee shops around the district and had a far more flexible schedule than Judit.

They sat down together and ate silently. Gyuri looked at her across the table. They had been speaking less in the evenings for the past few weeks. The apartment was empty since their son Isti left for university last summer. Judit planned to turn his bedroom into a library, but she was too busy with work. She left early each morning and came home just before dinner. After dinner she sometimes graded a few more papers before turning in for the night. Some nights they didn't speak at all. Gyuri would clean the dishes and Judit would work or lay on their bed and read. They had lived in the apartment for almost twenty years, since just before Isti was born.

"The gas flyer came today," Gyuri said.

Judit glanced up at him from her plate. "Good," she said.

He glanced at his watch. It was almost seven. "I'll finish up the dishes when we get back."

Judit sat back and looked at the ceiling. "Do they say how many days for this maintenance?"

Gyuri stood and took the flyer from the key shelf where he put it and read through it again. "One week. Perhaps two."

She glanced at the bedroom doorway where her book was waiting for her. She looked back at Gyuri. "Are we just supposed to walk around the block for an hour?"

He stacked their plates on top of each other and ran some water over them in the sink. "We can do anything we want."

"We could go for ice cream?" she said. A confectioner was across the main road next to the park. "That's easy, at least. Let me get a sweater. It's chilly."

"Will they still have ice cream?" Gyuri asked.

Judit's head was in the hallway closet. "They should," she said. "They don't stop making it until October." She straightened her back after finding her sweater and pulled it over her head. She fluffed her hair in the mirror.

Gyuri locked the front door and they walked down to the lobby. Most of the other neighbors had already left the building, but Jozsi bácsi on the ground floor was looking out his door when they passed. He was a retired electrician and had lived in the building the longest. Even though he was retired, he still enjoyed tinkering around with electronics, and had rigged up a buzzer system. There was a button in his apartment near the window which opened the outer door to the building. If he saw a tenant approaching from the sidewalk, he would buzz them in before they needed to take out their key.

"Out for the night?" he said.

"Just for ice cream," Gyuri said. "The gas company's coming, you know. Aren't you coming out?"

Jozsi bácsi shook his head. "Not me. If I smell gas I'll just open my window."

"Be careful then," Judit said. They left the building and turned down the block. They stopped at the street corner before crossing on the green light. Gyuri looked up the main street to the north where the road eventually curved toward the Danube River. When they were first looking for apartments, they looked at several along the river. Judit was the one who suggested they look near the park.

That seemed so long ago, Gyuri thought as they crossed the street. Another life when they were younger and had no thoughts yet about babies or future years. He hadn't started his doctorate. In fact, that younger version of him couldn't have imagined dissertation work and research and revisions. After they bought the apartment, they eventually settled into a rhythm. The block where they lived became their entire world and it was more and more difficult to imagine anything beyond it.

They walked up to the ice cream shop. Judit bought their ice cream and Gyuri put a few napkins in his pocket. They walked into the park. A breeze blew among the trees and orange and red leaves floated around them as they walked. It was quiet as they ate the cones. The silences between them didn't seem to matter as much when they were in the apartment at night, but out here in the park they seemed amplified. Gyuri searched his mind for something to say.

"I saw Gabor today," he finally said.

"The student?" she said.

He nodded. "He's been a lawyer a few years now. He was at the same coffeeshop where I was writing today. I didn't notice him until I stood up to leave. He told me he just turned 33." Gyuri chuckled.

"Is that possible?" Judit smiled faintly, and her eyes seemed distant. Gabor, along with several other students, helped them move into the apartment after they bought it. Judit sat silently for a moment. A few joggers trotted past them. She blew out her breath after finishing the final bite of her cone. "This reminds me Sundays when I was a little girl. Apa always took me and my sister out for ice cream. He said we needed to pay him with memories."

She looked at him sideways with a small grin. "Tell me a memory."

Gyuri sat for a moment. "From when? Any memory?"

She shrugged and held her open palm to him. He wiped his fingers with the napkin from his pocket and then offered it to her. She took it, and he said, "I remember the crib."

A smile came to Judit's face. "When we moved in."

He nodded. "Gabor helped me. We already had almost all the furniture in place, but the crib hadn't been put together. There were no instructions."

She nodded. "You were angry. You wanted to wait until my sister could dig the instruction sheet out of her storage cabinet."

Gyuri traced his finger in the air, remembering the shape of the crib. "Gabor said we could figure it out. And we did."

Gyuri looked over at Judit. "Your turn," he said.

"It's funny you mentioned the crib. I was just thinking about Isti earlier today. I remember you were upset when he said he wanted to go to college in England."

Gyuri chuckled. "It seems I'm angry in all these memories."

Judit shook her head. "No, I was upset too, but I tried not to show it."

They sat quietly. A couple with a dog on a leash passed them. The dog sniffed at Gyuri's shoe.

"So sorry," the man said.

"No bother at all."

The next time Gyuri glanced at his watch he saw it was already past eight. The light in the park was fading toward twilight. And even though they could have returned to their apartment they didn't. They sat on the bench and talked as darkness fell over the trees.

---

Gyuri stayed home the next day. He was writing and didn't hear the door close when Judit arrived home. He started when she dropped her bag on the couch.

"Oh," he said. He glanced at the screen and saved his work.

She stood for a moment, staring at the empty kitchen. "Nearly seven," she said. "How long again is the gas business?"

He stood and closed the laptop. "A week," he said. "Maybe two." He put away his papers and grabbed his jacket. As they stepped out of their door their elderly neighbor came out opposite them.

"Ah," she said. "It's that time again, isn't it. Well, it's a good excuse to water the flowers in the back yard." She pushed the summoning button on the lift. "Coming down with me?"

"We can use the exercise," Gyuri said. Their neighbor smiled and lifted a hand to say goodbye. They heard the elevator groaning downward as they walked down the three flights.

Out on the sidewalk, Judit looked up at the sky. "It may rain a bit," she said.

"I've brought an umbrella," Gyuri tapped his pocket.

"Which way tonight?" Judit said.

"We might go down by the river," Gyuri said. "There is a student concert tonight on the embankment."

They walked to the tram stop across from the butchers. They didn't speak while they waited for the tram, but Judit gently extended her hand. Gyuri took it as they waited for the tram. After the tram came, they got on board, and the carriages ambled forward down the street. An elderly couple seated in front of them stood up to get off at the next stop, and Gyuri guided Judit to sit in the vacant seat. They sat facing each other, but their heads were turned to the outside as the city glided by outside the tram window.

"Do you have another memory?" Gyuri said.

Judit looked at him as though anticipating his question. "Remember just after Isti started his junior year in high school... he told us one night his girlfriend broke up with him?"

Gyuri nodded.

She said, "I could tell how it hurt him. But the entire time he spoke I was thinking how happy I was she was gone."

Really?" Gyuri said.

"Yes. He talked so much about her, but I don't think she cared much about him. He always waited for her to call him."

Gyuri looked out the window for a moment. "I suppose. That reminds me of just before we were married. You still lived in Debrecen. I was here. No internet, of course. All we could do was write letters or call each other on the weekend when the phone prices were lower."

She looked at the floor of the tram. "I so looked forward to those calls," she said. "My parents' telephone had a terrible, squawking ring, but when I heard it on Sunday nights I knew it was you calling."

The tram stopped. They looked up and saw the river beneath the embankment. College students from the nearby dorms were gathered in pockets and slowly walked toward the water. Gyuri stood, Judit's hand still in his, and they joined the crowd.

---

With no effort it turned into this. Each night when they left the building, they took a new direction and they shared a few memories. Each afternoon, Gyuri grew more eager for where the evening would take them. With each walk through the park or turn toward a forgotten path up a city street, the memories returned. Gyuri thought during the day of what he might share with her that night. They found themselves returning to places which the past twenty years had once seemed to have irrevocably walled off from them.

Gyuri came home one afternoon to a new notice in the mailbox. The gas works were nearly complete. They only had to leave the building one more time. A sense of sadness mounted in his heart. He turned toward the steps and climbed the three flights feeling uncertain.

Judit arrived home. She took the news of the gas works finishing more matter-of-factly than Gyuri expected.

"Ah, well," she said. "Finally, some order again."

He took her coat down from the rack. The autumn weather had well and truly arrived in the last week, and they were both wearing slacks and thicker socks. They made their way down the steps and out the front door. A light layer of leaves had fallen across the sidewalk, giving the asphalt a soft look.

For a few moments they merely walked without speaking. They did not choose a direction, but instead turned when one of them felt like it. They wound through the streets and were soon perched on an observation platform on Gellert Hill which looked across the Danube River. They sat together and the evening sun gradually cast slanting shadows across their shoulders.

Finally, Judit looked over at him. "A memory?" she said.

Gyuri lifted his hand and pointed across the river. "See there," he said. "There's the hospital where Isti was born." Judit followed the direction of his finger.

"Why do you sound sad?" she said.

He glanced at the ground. "Do you remember," he said. "When the doctor told us the baby was a boy?"

She nodded.

"He showed us the ultrasound photograph of Isti."

Her eyes followed his as he looked across the river again.

"I was not ready for a child," he said. "I looked at the photograph and saw a silent creature who would soon change our lives."

She was silent for a moment.

"The doctor gave me the photograph," Gyuri said. "He then took you back for one more examination. I looked at Isti on the photo and crumpled the paper. I threw it in the trash can of the waiting room." By the time he was finished speaking there were tears in his eyes.

Judit waited until he was breathing more softly again. She moved her hand down and took his hand. They sat quietly and watched the evening clouds.

They stood and walked arm in arm and eventually came back to their apartment again. The gas people were gone. The neighborhood was slowly turning towards night time. Jozsi bácsi saw them coming from his window and buzzed them into the building. They said goodnight to their neighbor lady as she came up from the garden. Gyuri locked their front door for the night.

They sat in bed that evening in silence. Then Judit bent to the side drawer of her night table and rummaged around for a moment. When she sat back up again when held in her hands a folded, slightly crumpled piece of paper. She passed it to Gyuri.

He opened it and then looked at her in disbelief. "How?" he said.

"The nurse returned it to me after that first visit," she said. "You were waiting in the lobby. She found it in the trash can. She thought we had accidentally thrown it away."

"Why didn't you tell me?" he said.

"I suppose I just did," she said. "Some things require more time."

She turned off her bedside light and they sat together in the darkness holding hands.