Stone Upon Stone (36 page)

“Oh!” she sighed in a squeaky little voice like a baby bird. “You’re a quick one, your grace. Let me at least put the tray down.” And like a little chick going out onto a branch for the first time and shaking because it doesn’t know how to fly, she bent down over that hand of mine.

When I went back to the woods after that, for a while I lost the will to fight. I just kept thinking over and over, when it comes down to it, what’s the point of fighting? Wouldn’t it be better to just lie there in an attic like that? It was only when I got thinner from not eating so much that I started to feel like fighting again.

To begin with, one day I gave her a bolder nod than usual and instead of just good morning I also said Miss Małgorzata. Good morning, Miss Małgorzata. Then a few days later I added:

“You’re looking nice today, Miss Małgorzata.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Nice of you to say so, Mr. Szymon.” And though she was always so serious and she seemed to look down on everyone, you could tell I’d embarrassed her.

Some time later, it happened to be raining that day, the two of us stopped in the porchway to at least wait out the worst of it, because it was cats and dogs, and we got to chatting the way you do in the rain, that it’s been like
this for a week already, that if it keeps up all the crops’ll rot. Since it wasn’t easing up we kept talking, and I invited her to come by sometime and watch me give a wedding.

Not long after that, Wojtek Lis married Kryśka Sobieska. As usual, almost every woman in the place gathered to see it, and quite a few of the men, including the district secretary. And the window that opened onto the courtyard was so crammed with heads it looked like they were all growing from a single body. I didn’t think she’d come. Then suddenly I saw her standing with the others in the half-open door, and my heart began to thump. I invited everyone to come inside, let Wojtek and Kryśka at least have a crowd of strangers at their wedding, since their parents weren’t there, or any of their relatives. Actually I liked Wojtek, though he was a good few years younger than me, and Kryśka was in about her sixth month, she had a belly big as a drum, and she was a bit embarrassed. But I said to her:

“Don’t be ashamed, Kryśka, you’ve got a person inside you, not a wild animal.”

And I gave such a speech that almost everyone was in tears. The girls were one thing, but even some of the guys looked like they’d been staring into a bright light for too long. Kryśka cried, Wojtek cried. The people in the window cried. Though I wasn’t saying anything sad. I talked about happiness. That you need to look for happiness inside yourself, not around you. That no one will give it to you if you don’t give it to yourself. That happiness is often close as close can be, maybe in the simple room where you spend your whole life, but people go looking for it in all kinds of strange places. That some people search for it in fame and riches, but not everyone can afford fame and riches, while happiness is like water and everyone’s thirsty. That often there’s more of it in a single good word than in an entire long life. Kryśka’s folks had disowned her and thrown her out of the house. Wojtek didn’t have a father and his mother had died a year before. That a person could be famous and rich but not be happy.

I told them about a certain king who lacked for nothing, but who never
had any dreams. Because of this he was afraid to go to sleep, because when he got into bed it was like he was lying down in his coffin. Though his bed was made of solid gold and he had a quilt of the finest down, and down pillows too. The greatest doctors on earth were brought in, they cast all kinds of spells on him, gave him different herbs to drink, they poulticed him with flowers and scents, they played music for him without cease and six naked women danced for him, but he didn’t dream of so much as a daisy in the meadow. Nothing. Every royal night was an empty hole. He prostrated himself, he wore sackcloth, he even took off his golden crown set with diamonds and put on a crown of blackthorn. And he prayed endlessly, to different gods. Because some people advised him to pray to one god because that god was a king himself and he was more merciful than the others, while for another god faith was a great dream, and he might be granted some of that for one night at least. He built churches and almshouses, he washed the feet of the poor, anyone could walk into his palace as if it was his own cottage, and no one ever left empty-handed. In the end he grew thin as a lath and his brother started making secret preparations to take his place, because through all this time the kingdom had been shrinking like a fist. Just like one farmer will start plowing over another farmer’s land, his neighbors were doing the same, plowing over his kingdom from every side, and not just in the spring and fall but all the time. He got sicker and sicker, his servants caught him talking to himself and laughing, shouting, threatening himself with his fist and stamping his foot. He thought about throwing himself off a cliff, because what kind of life was it when you didn’t have any dreams, even if you were the king. It was like he was only half living, he lived in the day but he died at night. Imagine dying like that for years and years, when even dying once is so hard.

Then one day a certain peasant learned about the king’s unhappiness. He wasn’t a fortune-teller or a herbalist, just a goatherd that drove goats to market in the town. He came into the royal presence and said:

“Your majesty, there’s a remedy to make you have dreams. Move into my
cottage, you’ll dream my dreams, and I’ll live awhile in your palace without any dreams.”

At the end I told them happiness is easier to find with a husband or a wife than on your own, and I wished Kryśka a son.

Where I got it all from I have no idea. What did I ever know about happiness, and today I know even less. But maybe happiness is only good for talking about, maybe it’s not something you can ever know. In any case I could tell I’d done a pretty good job, everyone in the offices congratulated me. And one of the farmers that had been listening outside through the window, who’d come to pick up his benefit money, he asked me if I’d known that king, and he couldn’t get over it:

“You’ve got the gift of the gab, son, you really have. If only everything you said could be believed. But even just listening to it is nice.”

So then, I was certain she must have liked it as well. But she disappeared soon as the wedding was over. It was only the next day I ran into her in the hallway.

“That poor king,” she said when she saw me. “Did he really not have any dreams?”

I couldn’t tell if she was making fun, or if she just said it because she couldn’t think of anything else to say. It hurt me a bit, but I let it go.

“I have something for you, Miss Małgorzata,” I said, because I’d decided to use the opportunity and give her some stockings.

“What’s that?” she said, intrigued.

“Come into my office.”

She came in, she seemed a little excited from curiosity. I took the stockings out of my desk. I’d even wrapped them in colored paper.

“What on earth is this?”

“Stockings. Nylon ones.”

She opened the package.

“They’re lovely. Thank you. How much do I owe you, Mr. Szymek?”

“Nothing. They’re a gift, Miss Małgorzata.”

She reddened.

“Mr. Szymek, I can’t. Please tell me how much. Really. No, in that case I can’t accept them.”

And she didn’t.

It made me so mad that after work I went to see Kaśka that ran the grocery store and I gave her the stockings. Though she was the only one you didn’t have to give anything to. You only had to go visit her, she always knew why you’d come. Because sometimes, when I didn’t have anywhere else to go I’d go to her. Or whenever I needed to get as far away from everything as possible, I’d go to her. Or I was so frustrated that I didn’t feel like going anywhere at all, I’d still feel like going to see her. Or when I didn’t have the strength or the will to go see anyone else, I’d go to her and it would always be the same. Because with other women you had to spend time with them and flirt with them and walk them home and promise them things the whole time, and sometimes you still came out losing. But with Kaśka I’d swing by for matches or cigarettes, lean over the counter and whisper:

“Stay back in the store after work today, Kaśka.”

With her, her heart was always on the outside.

“Just take your cigarettes or your matches, you don’t need to pay. I bet one of those bitches of yours went and dumped you again. Office girls, big deal. Like they don’t know what their body’s for. It’s for the same thing as all women. Either way you’re gonna end up eaten by worms. They’re not soap, they’re not gonna wear away from being used. What the hell are they afraid of? That the priest won’t give them absolution? So don’t tell him everything. When you don’t tell something it’s like it never happened. If I were you, Szymuś, I’d find myself a nice ordinary girl. She doesn’t need to be smart, the main thing is she should stand by you. You’re smart yourself, any girl is going to look dumb next to you anyway. What do you need an office girl for? You can’t even whack her one, she’d up and make a big fuss.
Those kind make all sorts of noise. I saw it at the pictures one time. He didn’t even hit her that hard. She squealed so loud I had to cover my ears. What’s the point in making a racket? Lie down, your man wants you to, and don’t pretend you don’t either. Or she’ll start running around on you, and what’re you gonna do, tie her down? When you have sit on your ass for eight hours a day your ass can go crazy. And when your ass goes crazy it’s worse than when your head does. When your head gets like that, the worst it’ll do is talk nonsense. But asses are trouble. You’re getting old, Szymuś. Dear Lord. Though for me you’ll always be a first class young feller. Tell me which one it is, when she comes in the store I won’t sell to her, the bitch. Get out, slut! Go do your shopping in town! Office girl – big deal. She wants gingerbread. Not a snowball’s chance!”

She was just a shop assistant, but she was a tower of strength. Sometimes she seemed dumber than a sack of rocks, but she had more wisdom in her than a hundred wise men. And her thighs, her backside, two women could have shared them and they’d still have looked good. When she took her clothes off you’d never know she was a shop assistant. Her breasts, it was like there were four of them. They stretched from one arm to the other, from her neck to her belly, like pumpkins in a patch. And whatever she was lying on, whether it was sacks of salt or sugar or buckwheat, or on the floor, she’d always lie down like she was in a made-up bed, she didn’t like to do things any old how.

“Just a minute now, let me get undressed. I don’t want to get my frock all crumpled.” And she’d undress like it was her wedding night. “Touch my breasts first. I like it when I get gooseflesh. And I want us to do it for a long time. I’m not going to open up the store again anyway, so why do we need to hurry. It was open for hours, people could come buy whatever they wanted. There’s always this big rush, then when it’s over you regret hurrying. And you won’t be back for a month or two, maybe even longer. They say I’ve gotten fat. No way, it’s not true. What do you think? Tell me – am I
fat?” Though sometimes it would be like she was suddenly afraid, and out of nowhere she’d ask: “Do you think there’s life after death, Szymuś?”

“Come off it, Kaśka. You’re a shop assistant, you believe in that nonsense? If there was it’d be the same as this life.”

“You’re a smart one, Szymuś. I’m glad you came today. Hee, hee! Just don’t make me a baby, so I don’t have to cry afterwards because of you. Though whatever you want. Oh, Szymuś. You’re a one, you really are. Dear Lord!”

“I’ve got something for you, Kaśka,” I said. “Close up the store.”

“Are you nuts?!” she snapped back. “It’s still early! Look how much bread I still have to sell. Almost two shelves’ worth. What, am I supposed to sell it stale tomorrow?”

“If there’s nothing else, they’ll buy stale. Close up.”

“What’s your hurry? Can’t it wait till the evening? It’ll be evening soon. Do you want them calling me a whore again? That bitch Karaska’s gonna come running and she’ll be all, you whore, you closed up shop again yesterday and I didn’t have any bread to give my man with his cabbage! Someone ought to report you, they ought to, it’s downright ungodly. Whenever her ass starts itching she closes up, like she didn’t have opening hours posted outside. So report me! I’ll tell you where you can stick your complaint. Come and work here yourself, you old witch. Stand here on those skinny legs of yours for two hours and your ass’d start itching too. She ought to have kicked the bucket years ago, the bitch. Same goes for her old man. He won’t eat his cabbage without bread, but that doesn’t stop him from coming to the store and being all, how about it, Kaśka, eh, how about it? How about what, spit it out! What’s under your dress. Buy some cigarettes, that’s all you’re getting. You think I don’t get enough of that sort of talk? Sometimes I think I must have a hole in my frock. The women are even worse than the men. You’ve put on weight, Kaśka. The hell do you care if I sleep around and put on weight? What do you need? Get on with your shopping. Don’t
come hanging around here and complaining, it’s not a waiting room, it’s not a church. On top of that they’ll tell you you’re a lousy shop assistant. When the store’s out of something it’s your fault, because it says in the papers there’s plenty of everything. You’re screwing around instead of stocking up. How can there be no vinegar? How can there be no this, no that? Sometimes I just want to grab a broomstick and let them have it. I have to hand them such and such, measure something out, wrap it up. Or they take forever choosing, and all you can do is stand there waiting. Not this one, not that one, and inside you’re all furious. If it were my store I’d chuck the whole damn lot of them out, go choose on your own time. But as it is I even have to make suggestions. What do you think, Kaśka? Which one is better? Do I get paid for handing out advice? Beside, what is there to choose from? Take what there is, even that’s gonna be gone soon. With bread, one of them wants a well-baked loaf, the next one tells me to look for a lighter one. Sometimes they make me turn over every loaf in the place, because when they deliver it they’re either all well-done or all not. And God forbid you don’t have five groszes change, there’ll be a whole line of moaners standing there looking daggers, come on, give her the change. I’m not budging from here till you give her the change! What, am I trying to stop you? It’s not exactly a fortune. But am I supposed to give her the change from my own money? If I did that every time I’d be stone broke. And don’t think they don’t talk about me and you screwing. If you didn’t have things so easy with me you’d have gotten married long ago. As it is you come here, do your business, what do you need to get married for. About today, go have a drink at the pub, the time’ll pass quickly enough. I’ll close up once I’ve sold the bread. You’ll be even better if you’ve had a drink. Hee, hee! Not in such a hurry.”