The Door

by Magda Szabó

if she really means it, the writer lady will.

My God, what would I do with her, if she couldn’t walk, or take charge of things, wash, cook, go shopping or dash about with the christening bowl? What on earth was I going to do?

how would I fit a paralysed patient, needing constant attention, into our lives? And since it’s the only option, when would I have time to bring her the bedpan, wash her, cook for her, keep her from getting bedsores? The district nurse won’t come every day, and what shall I do when I have to be away from home? And what will my husband do? Will she even come if I ask her? She’ll reject the idea straight away, but then where will she go? There’s no room with anyone else.

Everyone had the right to get ill.

The right, protected by law

We were dealing in such different currencies. Emerence’s dictionary featured filth, scene, scandal, laughing stock of the street and shame. His contained law, order, solutions, solidarity, effective measures. Both phrasebooks were accurate, it was just that they were in different languages.

I have to say I am disappointed in you.

“From now on you can do what you like. You don’t know what it is to love. And yet, I believed you might, one day. You would rescue me for this, for what’s left? And you’d even take me into your home and look after me? Idiot!”

I’ve the legal right to be sick for two whole years. That’s what your friend said.

Though she continued to lie there, having been put back on the bed, from then on no-one paid her the slightest attention. The moment I saw her I had collapsed in the doorway as if struck down, and the entire medical team turned their attention on me.

This woman wasn’t one to practise Christianity in church between nine and ten on Sunday mornings, but she had lived by it all her life, in her own neighbourhood, with a pure love of humanity such as you find in the Bible,

Even I had swept the leaves, once, though I was so incompetent Adélka had taken the broom from my hands, and I sneaked off, ashamed that I wasn’t good for anything, probably not even my profession.

The dead always win. Only the living lose.” “I’m grieving for us,”

she’s as pitiless as you are.”