As Marek arrived at number 36 and rang the doorbell, two lads turned up behind him, as if summoned by its chime. Perhaps expecting them, one of Pani Kowiak’s daughters opened the door almost at once.
“Is Vitek there?” Marek asked.
“He’s not in,” said the daughter apologetically.
“Oh…” Again!, he thought. “Ok, tomorrow then.”
“Yes, tomorrow morning.”
He turned to leave and, no longer impeded, the boys stepped forward to enter the apartment. Not two metres away, however, Marek heard a throaty voice and turned to see Pani Kowiak, herself now hindering the callers, trying to get his attention.
“Evening!” he said, returning to the door.
“Evening! Come in! Come in!”
Smiling nervously, she quickly led him to the lounge, where he saw two more visitors sitting on the sofa. They both gazed blankly in his direction, making blank eye contact, as if they’d never seen anyone – or anything – like him and didn’t know what he was. Both were about Pani Kowiak’s age; the man had greying billowy hair that seemed to be escaping like dense vapour from his head; the woman gave the impression of being wrapped in cling film.
“These are… friends of mine,” said Pani Kowiak, hesitating over their designation, as if they weren’t that at all, though what else they could be was unclear. The friends’ unblinking scrutiny was enough to stifle Marek’s already hesitant greeting and he directed his attention back to Pani Kowiak.
“Here’s the rent for October – five hundred,” he said, and started to leave, but then remembered he ought to mention what would happen about the next month. He hesitated, and Pani Kowiak, smiling helpfully, repeated: “For October.”
“Yes…” Marek risked a glance towards the inert guests before continuing: “It’s possible I’ll be moving to Poznań in November, but I’ve already started looking for students to take over the apartment.”
To avoid further explanation, he showed her a copy of the poster he’d hung around the university. She quickly read through the details and smiled at him approvingly. He noticed she’d made up her face and had plucked and pencilled her eyebrows into mathematically perfect arcs, presumably for her friends’ benefit. A faint smell of sweat undermined her achievement, though judging by their reaction to him, it was doubtful whether her visitors were either impressed or disappointed by her efforts.
“Ok, I’ll be off then,” Marek said, turning towards the door.
“Bye!” said Pani Kowiak.
“Bye!”
“Bye,” said the lads, an indifferent chorus, as he passed them in the hallway.
He felt his usual elation at leaving that place, a result of relief rather than success. But what about those friends of hers! It was just as if she’d propped up two corpses, skilfully tilting heads and directing eyes towards the lounge door, ready to gape lifelessly at a chance visitor. Still, their inertia was preferable to Victor’s erratic behaviour: sentimental when drunk; irritable when sober.
Marek now made his way to the supermarket. He was suddenly very hungry and wanted to buy the few things he needed, get home and eat.
“Is Vitek there?” Marek asked.
“He’s not in,” said the daughter apologetically.
“Oh…” Again!, he thought. “Ok, tomorrow then.”
“Yes, tomorrow morning.”
He turned to leave and, no longer impeded, the boys stepped forward to enter the apartment. Not two metres away, however, Marek heard a throaty voice and turned to see Pani Kowiak, herself now hindering the callers, trying to get his attention.
“Evening!” he said, returning to the door.
“Evening! Come in! Come in!”
Smiling nervously, she quickly led him to the lounge, where he saw two more visitors sitting on the sofa. They both gazed blankly in his direction, making blank eye contact, as if they’d never seen anyone – or anything – like him and didn’t know what he was. Both were about Pani Kowiak’s age; the man had greying billowy hair that seemed to be escaping like dense vapour from his head; the woman gave the impression of being wrapped in cling film.
“These are… friends of mine,” said Pani Kowiak, hesitating over their designation, as if they weren’t that at all, though what else they could be was unclear. The friends’ unblinking scrutiny was enough to stifle Marek’s already hesitant greeting and he directed his attention back to Pani Kowiak.
“Here’s the rent for October – five hundred,” he said, and started to leave, but then remembered he ought to mention what would happen about the next month. He hesitated, and Pani Kowiak, smiling helpfully, repeated: “For October.”
“Yes…” Marek risked a glance towards the inert guests before continuing: “It’s possible I’ll be moving to Poznań in November, but I’ve already started looking for students to take over the apartment.”
To avoid further explanation, he showed her a copy of the poster he’d hung around the university. She quickly read through the details and smiled at him approvingly. He noticed she’d made up her face and had plucked and pencilled her eyebrows into mathematically perfect arcs, presumably for her friends’ benefit. A faint smell of sweat undermined her achievement, though judging by their reaction to him, it was doubtful whether her visitors were either impressed or disappointed by her efforts.
“Ok, I’ll be off then,” Marek said, turning towards the door.
“Bye!” said Pani Kowiak.
“Bye!”
“Bye,” said the lads, an indifferent chorus, as he passed them in the hallway.
He felt his usual elation at leaving that place, a result of relief rather than success. But what about those friends of hers! It was just as if she’d propped up two corpses, skilfully tilting heads and directing eyes towards the lounge door, ready to gape lifelessly at a chance visitor. Still, their inertia was preferable to Victor’s erratic behaviour: sentimental when drunk; irritable when sober.
Marek now made his way to the supermarket. He was suddenly very hungry and wanted to buy the few things he needed, get home and eat.
No comments:
Post a Comment