morning she would call the doctor.
Charlie said he needed another vodka, and so they sat around the kitchen table, drinking without a word. The silence was all he needed, Charlie thought, as he listened to the wind at the windows and felt the noble Wyborowa lighting him up inside.
They installed him in the upstairs bed of one of their absent sons, away at college, and Jacek undid Charlieâs shirt and helped him pull his trousers off. When Charlie was alone, staring up at low clouds scudding across a skylight above his bed, his hands swollen now and hurting, he thought he might stay here a long time.
When he woke it was mid-afternoon, and there was a carpet of snow on the skylight. Snow in April on the flat Baltic plain was unusual, so he stood at the window and felt lucky. What a great place, he thought. He had trouble pulling on his trousers and his shirt, and his hands were as sore as before, but he didnât think he had a fever.
Downstairs, it was quiet. All the objects seemed to stand separately in their own circle of light: Jacekâs Timberland boots, muddy and worn, by the front door, and her slippers next to them; on the table in the kitchen, potatoes in a bowl; in the sink, two dishes which had held soup, in the room where the TV was, a T-shirt, hers, across the couch. Charlie touched it and heard through the half-open door of the room opposite Magda say, âCharlie?â and caught sight of Jacekâs bare foot as it tapped their bedroom door shut.
Charlie went back into the kitchen, got the door of the fridge open with his elbow, and managed to get a pint of milk to his lips. He drank all of it and turned and stood looking out at the snow blanketing the Lada. It was bad to be in the way, Charlie thought, but he didnât know where else to go, so he stood there, leaning against the sink, watching the snow fall.
It was a while before they appeared. Magda was in a blue striped dressing gown, and she smelt good as she brushed by him. She took his hands in hers and turned them palms up, not opening the bandages, just looking at his arms carefully to see if the infection was spreading.
âWere you ever a nurse?â Charlie asked. She shook her head.
âElizabeth called.â
âThatâs ingenious of her,â Charlie said, making a face.
âWe said you might be here for a few days.â
âThank you,â Charlie said, wanting to put his head on her shoulder. This whole desire to lay his head any where that was soft and female was getting out of control. He smiled and she smiled back.
âThe doctor is coming in half an hour. You need antibiotics.â
âI need an alibi.â She moved away and filled the kettle at the sink, looking out at the snow, affectionately, like someone who loved exactly this view and the way the snow had softened and then obliterated the world outside.
Why explain? He didnât want to go home, and since Magda didnât know his wife and his child, she didnât have to know why.
Jacek, also in a dressing gown, padded in, feet bare, sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his face. When she placed tea in front of him he cupped it with his hands, looking out at the snow. She stood by the win dow at the kitchen sink and Charlie thought that the way they were together, just then, silently watching the snow fall, looking out at their garden, was the closest approximation of happiness he had seen for a long time. He also thought that it had nothing to do with him, and that he shouldnât be here. They would be happier without him.
Etta had called too. She had been talking to the insurance people, Jacek said, and they werenât happy about it but the camera left behind in the valley would be covered. Sheâd had to make up some story, but they had bought it. Charlie knew that was $35,000 that Jacek didnât have to worry about, although since Jacek had an animate relationship with his cameras, he was probably going to
Charlie said he needed another vodka, and so they sat around the kitchen table, drinking without a word. The silence was all he needed, Charlie thought, as he listened to the wind at the windows and felt the noble Wyborowa lighting him up inside.
They installed him in the upstairs bed of one of their absent sons, away at college, and Jacek undid Charlieâs shirt and helped him pull his trousers off. When Charlie was alone, staring up at low clouds scudding across a skylight above his bed, his hands swollen now and hurting, he thought he might stay here a long time.
When he woke it was mid-afternoon, and there was a carpet of snow on the skylight. Snow in April on the flat Baltic plain was unusual, so he stood at the window and felt lucky. What a great place, he thought. He had trouble pulling on his trousers and his shirt, and his hands were as sore as before, but he didnât think he had a fever.
Downstairs, it was quiet. All the objects seemed to stand separately in their own circle of light: Jacekâs Timberland boots, muddy and worn, by the front door, and her slippers next to them; on the table in the kitchen, potatoes in a bowl; in the sink, two dishes which had held soup, in the room where the TV was, a T-shirt, hers, across the couch. Charlie touched it and heard through the half-open door of the room opposite Magda say, âCharlie?â and caught sight of Jacekâs bare foot as it tapped their bedroom door shut.
Charlie went back into the kitchen, got the door of the fridge open with his elbow, and managed to get a pint of milk to his lips. He drank all of it and turned and stood looking out at the snow blanketing the Lada. It was bad to be in the way, Charlie thought, but he didnât know where else to go, so he stood there, leaning against the sink, watching the snow fall.
It was a while before they appeared. Magda was in a blue striped dressing gown, and she smelt good as she brushed by him. She took his hands in hers and turned them palms up, not opening the bandages, just looking at his arms carefully to see if the infection was spreading.
âWere you ever a nurse?â Charlie asked. She shook her head.
âElizabeth called.â
âThatâs ingenious of her,â Charlie said, making a face.
âWe said you might be here for a few days.â
âThank you,â Charlie said, wanting to put his head on her shoulder. This whole desire to lay his head any where that was soft and female was getting out of control. He smiled and she smiled back.
âThe doctor is coming in half an hour. You need antibiotics.â
âI need an alibi.â She moved away and filled the kettle at the sink, looking out at the snow, affectionately, like someone who loved exactly this view and the way the snow had softened and then obliterated the world outside.
Why explain? He didnât want to go home, and since Magda didnât know his wife and his child, she didnât have to know why.
Jacek, also in a dressing gown, padded in, feet bare, sat down at the kitchen table and rubbed his face. When she placed tea in front of him he cupped it with his hands, looking out at the snow. She stood by the win dow at the kitchen sink and Charlie thought that the way they were together, just then, silently watching the snow fall, looking out at their garden, was the closest approximation of happiness he had seen for a long time. He also thought that it had nothing to do with him, and that he shouldnât be here. They would be happier without him.
Etta had called too. She had been talking to the insurance people, Jacek said, and they werenât happy about it but the camera left behind in the valley would be covered. Sheâd had to make up some story, but they had bought it. Charlie knew that was $35,000 that Jacek didnât have to worry about, although since Jacek had an animate relationship with his cameras, he was probably going to
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