Suddenly, Love

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ERNST TURNED SEVENTY, AND FOR HIS BIRTHDAY IRENA baked a cheesecake and decorated it with strawberries.

“Happy birthday,” she says and places the cake on the table.

“At my age, one no longer celebrates,” says Ernst without looking at her.

“That’s not true,” Irena replies, frightened by the words as they emerge from her mouth.

Irena has been working in Ernst’s house for two years, since his operation. She arrives every day at eight and leaves at three. Some days she stays longer. They speak little, but sometimes Ernst surprises Irena with a question, or an idea that is preoccupying him.

“Why did you think of baking a cake for me?” he asks without raising his eyes.

“I thought it would make you happy.” She answers in a full sentence.

“Me?”

“Cheesecake always makes people happy,” Irena says and is pleased with her reply.

“I enjoy a good cake,” Ernst says, “but it doesn’t make me happy.”

Irena doesn’t understand the difference and doesn’t answer.

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