"Okay. A little more.
" "A little? No, I'm actually finished..."
"What?"
"Nothing, nothing, I'm on my way."
Anna, in bed, in her pajamas and holding a book, was ready to press the button on the remote control she held in her hand, which would turn on the television, where their favorite program would soon be on. Generally, Anna and Alexander were the kind of couple who didn't watch television. They enjoyed movies, but all the important films aired at hours that made it impossible for any of them to even make it halfway through, and unfortunately, they didn't have a fork. All they had left were books. Books and a penchant for utterly incredible nonsense, the viewing of which boosted their morale and raised their self-esteem, or rather, lowered it in others. "The Lonely Hearts Club," in their opinion, was the ultimate nonsense, and they were always sad when they had to miss an episode. And the timing was perfect, right before bed, which they could enter in a good mood and with an optimistic look on their faces, no matter what bad things happened that day. "The Club..." turned out to be an outstanding cure for insomnia and, in general, for the lack of vitality in their daily lives. And it's unclear whether the fact that they had each other, that they were husband and wife, and that they loved each other madly, mattered at all.
Loved each other madly? What does that mean? Has anyone ever been able to say what that means? And can anyone even prove the existence of such a phenomenon?
Absolutely no one. No one!
And that's why it's so easy for both Anna and Alexander to think about how much love they have for each other and that they are the happiest people in the world.
"Well, I'm here," Anna heard, and she felt her husband's body crawl under the covers right next to her. He lingered for a moment on her stomach ("How's the baby? Still not saying anything? What a bad baby."), before moving his lips straight to hers, which so often formed those two cursed words: I love you.
"You keep saying that..." What more could you want? "
Well, I have to end this sometime. "
"Don't finish, it's sad."
"Don't worry about me, Olek."
"Do you think she was really from the Milky Way?" Olek asked after a moment of silence.
"I guess it doesn't matter... You know, it seems to me that she could just as easily have been from Paris, for example, or some other Denmark. In any case, completely inaccessible to him. Never. And I don't believe they could ever be happy without the heavy fate of a dark end, because she couldn't have done otherwise, and he, of course, was incapable of making any decision. After all, for him, taking on any responsibility is like a journey to the far reaches of the Milky Way. The only thing he can do is masturbate." "
Truth be told, that's how it ends."
"Yes? I have to tell you, I expected this. And you know what I think? That her appearance from the Milky Way was a symbol. A symbol of immense beauty that, out of nowhere, appears in your life and allows you to feel it intensely, only to slip away, leaving you wanting more and more for years to come. That's what I call intensification. And he had just lost, lost everything he could possibly lose. But despite that, I see it as a manifesto demanding this unjustified beauty, appearing regardless of the consequences. Because that's the thing about beauty: it's easier to enter into the hellish consequences of confusion with it than to face boredom without it."
At that moment, Alexander collapsed. He was frightened, a thought he wanted to dismiss as quickly as possible, but was that possible? He realized that despite everything that exists, he had failed her, or perhaps he hadn't failed her, who hadn't given everything he should have. Brr! What a thought. Go away! Get lost, you unclean scoundrel! Shout! It's not like that, it's not like that! And, as if to confirm his point, he turned on the television. "
In today's program, ladies and gentlemen, and especially all the single ladies, you will meet another gentleman who knows perfectly well the words from the Book of Genesis: 'It is not good for a man to be alone.' Mr. Józef has arrived today. Good morning, Mr. Józef." "
Good morning." The older, gray-haired man seemed a bit stressed, which increased his desire to appear exceptionally relaxed, which in turn sparked a burst of laughter in Olek and Anna's house. Although, in reality, only Olek was laughing. Anna stared at the screen with strange eyes, upon which an invisible fog of sudden uncertainty and anxiety settled. Anna slowly began to feel uneasy.
Collapsing. Pressing into herself, despite all her strength.
Completely unconsciously.
Awareness began to arrive a moment later, and with it, the knowledge of her own thoughts, which shocked Anna. She wanted to defend herself, but she didn't know how. She wanted to say something nice and sweet, something she had inside, directly into the boy's ear, but she couldn't. She had nothing.
First time.
"Lonely Hearts Club," okay, let's watch it. It'll get better soon, let's not succumb to anxiety. A momentary lack of confidence. But she'll be back soon; she was there yesterday, the day before, even just a moment ago.
No, the program wasn't what would help her calm down and emerge from her depression unscathed. She needed something else. Of course! She needed Olek. Let him say something. But Olek just smiled sheepishly and never took his eyes off Mr. Józef, who turned out to be a very pleasant elderly gentleman with a great sense of humor. Now he was talking about his quiet and cozy life in a small apartment in the city center and how, in reality, it wasn't all that pleasant, because the only noise in his house was the radio, not anyone else's voice. Looking from Mr. Józef to Aleksander, Anna thought that the poor old man didn't even know how much fun hundreds of viewers across the country were having with him. And a feeling of disgust gripped her, which she quickly and carefully pushed to the back of her mind.
If I don't talk to him right here and now about anything, it'll be over, and I don't even know why. But about what? Damn it...
"Olek?!
"Well?
"Remember how you said that meeting Godfrey—where the hell did this Godfrey come from?—had some hidden meaning?"
"Yes, so what?"
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anna, what are you doing, aren't you watching? Just look at how he's blushing, it's been a long time since there was such a good episode."
"Olek, can you tell me, do you think that everything"—the words came out carefully and slowly, as if she were afraid to accidentally leave one of them out, not yet fully balanced—"has its own meaning, and everything we do, everything that happens around us, is always, without exception, for something, for a purpose?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Yes, I want to know."
"You know, with Godfrey, it must have a purpose, because I felt it, something compelled me to do it, so there must be something here...
" "And the rest?" "
The rest? I don't know..." Anna, I've never thought about it..." "
Please."
"I think so, no?" Otherwise, we would all have perished long ago if we started doing something that was meaningless. But it turns out that even such actions are only seemingly senseless, and in reality... do you understand me?
- Do you think people never make mistakes, never make mistakes?
- Well, I guess so. This mistake is only a subjective mistake, and looking at it from a global perspective and over a long period of time, it certainly benefited someone.
- So everything is already certain and planned from beginning to end?
- Yes. I dare say so.
- Olku, I'm sorry, but I have to go to bed – oh my, why did I only just now notice how stupid he is? Quick, quick. I have to sleep. Just until morning. Tomorrow everything will be alright, and this evening will be over. I love you, Olku.
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh...
"Fuck, why can't I sleep? What's that fucking shuffling noise?" Gotfryd stood on his feet, thinking he was about to die, his sleep so suddenly shattered. Hallucinations? Delusions? Dreams? When would the calm, blissful state of unconsciousness finally return? He began to fear that it would always be this way. That peppermint would always be his constant companion in his wanderings through the nocturnal land of unexplored situations. But since it was the only cure, there was no way out; sleep was everyone's responsibility.
The day and evening were exceptionally exhausting for Mr. Józef, too, who went to bed with great relief and a heart lighter than ever. He had done a great job and was fully aware of it. He had practically no fear whatsoever about the results the program was supposed to bring—he firmly believed that hardships fully justified by the inner need to endure them always bring results. Therefore, he decided to start waiting now for his future companion, who should arrive any moment now. Even the quiet shuffling that had woken him in the middle of the night was a good omen, telling himself: yes, yes, soon there really will be someone shuffling around here besides me.
Good night.In the morning, Anna realized with a huge sigh of relief that there was nothing like the previous evening and that she must have dreamed something. Fortunately.
The fear and quiet apprehension, however, remained. These two couldn't be thrown out the door like ordinary drunken and intrusive guests. They were the ladies of the kingdom, and we could only submit and suffer. First a little, then more, and always the same... That was probably why Anna suddenly longed for Godfrey to appear at their place again—something happening, some conversation, some masking of fears, some semblance of happiness. What? What semblance? After all, she had dreamed all her life of someone like Olek, and later of his child, who was already on the way.
Godfrey had appeared at their place as if at her behest. He decided to undertake this effort, crossing the city from one end to the other, to, as he told himself, soothe his nighttime fears and return to his bed, which would once again become Arcadia. Sitting alone in his apartment, which looked more like an office and was completely devoid of the smell, warmth, and atmosphere of home. Surrounded by only plastic windows, vertical blinds, office carpet, and an oppressive sterility he couldn't shake. And just yesterday, at three in the morning, a drunk Grzegorz had stumbled in, having had to flee because some damned shuffling had woken him… Yes, yes, he'd heard it too, but had he run to Grzegorz immediately? Of course not. What, was I supposed to babysit him, damn it? A drunken kid. Good thing he fell asleep quickly and dreamlessly. Sure, it's just a shame I couldn't.
So he showed up at their place and the three of them spent a pleasant, intimate evening. Anna sat with them, as there was no vodka on the table. It was a civilized atmosphere, with conversations on various topics, mostly avoiding heated arguments. Tea. Coffee. Warmth. Home. Family. At some point, however, something seemed off to Aleksander. The atmosphere began to feel increasingly suspicious, unnatural. He sensed a subcutaneous vibration within it, in a rhythm he hadn't known before, shattering everything completely. It all began to feel too normal and too unsettling, and therefore too disturbing, but this time in an extremely negative sense. The purpose disappeared. The sense of something special, something special, something that had to happen so that Aleksander's efforts to meet Gottfried wouldn't be in vain. So that everything would have its own meaning. The Great Unexpected no longer hung in the air, and the hope of experiencing the uncanny had dwindled to a speck of dust on a jacket, brushed off with a single, imperceptible gesture. Was Godfrey destined to disappoint? Or perhaps the goal was to massively disappoint Olek, compelling him to return to the trams immediately. After all, he was willing to give up his canning business for him, to change his lifestyle, and he didn't? Is he just like everyone else? It's impossible; we have to wait. We can't worry about anything for now and wait. We have to wait and observe. Soon, something will surely happen.
Fine, so be it.
Anna's underlying fear, on the other hand, intensified even more. And it intensified because this pleasant encounter hadn't caused it to disappear. How could it? Why? Because something was happening here. Anna knew it perfectly well. And Godfrey too. Although they didn't show it, they both felt uneasy and wanted to get away as quickly as possible – each going their separate ways. And the more they wanted to escape, the more they lingered.
Finally, it was over. Finally, they said goodbye. And a genuine, relaxed smile spread across everyone's faces. Gotfryd resolved never to come here again, and Olek waited. Only Anna was helpless, unable to do anything, or even think about it.
And so, an all-powerful wait hung over the three apartments of this city. And it dragged on, seeming to last an agonizingly long time, and the longer it lasted, the greater the anxiety. Anxiety that nothing would ever happen, or perhaps anxiety that what would come would be too powerful.
Or too small...
If it weren't for that, everything would be normal. Because, really, nothing had changed. Why else would anything change? After all, absolutely nothing had happened, nothing had transpired, nothing had happened. That someone was waiting, that someone had a premonition that the atmosphere had changed? These were all fabrications, concocted in the minds of random passersby. They appeared, driven by a desire for something they'd never achieved, and they themselves didn't know what that something would be. A subconscious longing manifesting itself in unsettling premonitions and speculations that allowed them to believe in anything they wanted to believe. A complete, utter untruth, as every passing day convinces them. Every trivial day of nothing happening.
"Still the same and unchanged..."
Although... something seemed to be happening. Something seemed to be coming true... It was starting to come true... One of a billion dreams was beginning to come true... Could it be?
Beata appeared in Mr. Józef's apartment. And with her appearance, the boredom, the filth, and the nightmare of inner stillness vanished.
Even before they declared their love, they'd wondered together why they'd only met at that age? And how she'd turned on the TV completely by accident, and how it all had so intricately arranged, how all it took was one false chord, and nothing would ever work. And they wouldn't even know it...
Beata took care of Józef, and Józef took care of Beata. Walks, coffee together, evenings reading, fidelity, glances that made them look a thousand years younger, words they'd never believe they'd uttered, hugs, intertwining fingers, kisses. Beata and Józef ceased to exist for the world, and the world began to exist for them.
If only it hadn't shuffled yet... That constant shuffle at night was unsettling Józef. He couldn't sleep, constantly jolting awake at the sound of feet shuffling across the floor. He didn't tell Beata anything about it, afraid she'd think he was going crazy. But this couldn't go on any longer, because he was wasting away before his eyes. He began to fade from lack of sleep, and Mrs. Beata began to die of necrosis.
"Józef, tell me, what's wrong with you?" she asked him in that concerned voice of hers.
"Nothing, nothing, Beata, I get like this every now and then," Mr. Józef replied, simultaneously thinking that this couldn't go on and wondering what categorical steps he could take. What could he do to overthrow the nocturnal hegemony of the shufflers, as he used to call his hallucinations? The only reasonable solution seemed to be to get up and check, but he was afraid he would find nothing. That he would suddenly find himself completely alone in the vast silence of the night, because shufflers didn't really exist, and therefore he couldn't hear anything. And yet he could hear. He could hear because he was insane. If this tentative guess were to prove true, he would die on the spot. Certainly. He would collapse to the floor and freeze, and life would leave him as suddenly and violently as it had arrived centuries ago. No, Mrs. Beata would certainly not endure it either. Not now, when life had finally made sense.
And so the only reasonable solution was met with a categorical refusal. Mr. Józef would continue to languish before his eyes, and Mrs. Beata would futilely investigate the cause. Unless she, too, heard the shuffling. Then they would rise together and go to investigate, hand in hand. Yes, the two of them together would surely make it.
Something else had happened…
Gotfryd…
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