But I'd miscalculated. The air didn't irritate my respiratory system, and the view of the room was quite bearable. Both Michał and Jarek were at home.
"Hey," I said.
"Oh, Jacuś," Michał greeted, "we haven't seen you in ages. We even thought about taking you for a beer or something.
" "Exactly," Jarek added, "you've been neglecting your friends lately."
"You still can't get enough," I replied, thinking that two days ago was a long time ago for them. "Just the day before yesterday you dragged me and Magda to a club, and today you've got another proposition. You're going to tire me out.
" "Uh... what are you talking about? What Magda?" Jarek asked, genuinely surprised.
"What do you mean? Your classmate.
" "We don't know any Magda from journalism," Michał said, "nor were we at the club with you on Friday. What's the matter with you? Were you smoking something?"
"Don't make fun of me.
" "You're completely crazy."
I looked at their embarrassed, laughing faces and felt exactly like when, during our first conversation in the pub, Magda called me Marek. I thought they were making me out to be an idiot, or I was on hidden camera. Or both.
" "Do you think this is funny?" I asked.
"Are you feeling okay?" Jarek replied with a question, completely different from himself, already unsmiling, confused.
"I'll pop in to see Magda, maybe she hasn't gone mad yet," I said, and left the room and into the hallway. Apparently interested in my behavior, Michał followed me, and after a moment, Jarek joined him.
I stood in front of a door that had previously had the number 257 on it, but now had 232 in its place. "What the hell?" I thought. I walked to the end of the hallway. No sign of number 57. No sign! Had I really gone mad? I turned to the guys, pointed to door number 232, and asked,
"Who lives in this room?"
But I didn't hear an answer. They were both fighting laughter a few meters away, clearly losing. I'd often seen them like this, but usually I wasn't the butt of their jokes. I knew they'd be incapable of any normal conversation for a while longer. And although laughter is contagious, and highly so, as I'd witnessed many times, I wasn't amused by this situation.
I looked at the mysterious door, intending to knock, but it beat me to it, opening on its own. Well, not on its own, actually, because a tall, blond man appeared. I took the opportunity to peer through the stranger's body and saw a room like many others in student dorms. Essentially, they were all the same, differing only in the personal gadgets of their occupants. This one was clearly occupied by men, which I recognized as quickly as I could distinguish Magda's room from Jarek and Michał's. The surprised blond looked first at me, then at the cackling boys, then shrugged like someone who hadn't gotten the joke, closed the door, and headed down the hall.
I didn't know what to think. After all, I'd seen with my own eyes that there were men staying in Magda's room, I'd also seen that the highest number on the second floor was 240, I'd heard Michał and Jarek denying they'd been to the club with me on Friday, and they had no reason to lie. But the events of the past few days weren't a dream. I was there, that's for sure.
"What day of the week is it?" I asked Michał, who had already more or less contained his laughter.
"Sunday," he replied, then added, "Listen, I don't know what's wrong with you, but you better go get some sleep and stop making a fool of yourself."
Without a word, I turned and headed for the stairs that would lead to the exit. As I reached the wall, I heard Jarek's loud laughter. And then Michał's. This is truly contagious, I thought.
Descending the stairs, I pieced together the facts in my tired head. On Thursday, I was at the Stasiek pub, I wondered. On Friday, we all drank beer at the club by the dormitory, I spent Saturday with Magda, and now it was Sunday afternoon.
Something was wrong. When I stepped outside and the cold, seasonal wind blew over me, everything seemed unreal, artificial. The trees, clouds, and sun were colorful cardboard models cut out of them; the people walking down the street looked as if they were hiding their real faces behind well-made masks. These masks could change expressions, frown, move their lips—everything human faces can do. But they weren't real. I could feel it.
"Easy," I thought, "just don't go crazy. Michał and Jarek must have played a stupid joke on me." And now they're laughing at me even harder. This kind of joke makes me imagine who knows what—I looked around again, and the trees looked like trees, the clouds like clouds, the sun like the sun, the masks disappeared from the faces of passersby—though on the other hand, how can I explain the sudden change from number 257 to number 232 and the tall blond man in Magda's room? Surely they wouldn't have gone to all this trouble. What if we went to the student club next to the dorm? Maybe I'd learn something there? No, why? I remember very few details from that evening anyway. I don't even know who was behind the bar. Or maybe... Yes! The Stasiek Pub! I might run into Magda there, and even if not, I'll ask about her and find out what interests me.
Obsessed with a single thought, I stopped walking and ran along my old route, and a few minutes later I arrived. Panting and sweating, I was about to try the doorknob, about to enter the pub, but he... He was gone! There was only a barred door, secured with several turns of chain and locked with two old padlocks. There was no sign above it with the word "Stasiek" burned into it.
This news hit me like a brick that, a dozen years ago, when I was still a small child, had missed the top of my head by a few centimeters, resulting in only a small scar. My parents always attributed it to divine providence. Great, I thought, a guy lives in Magda's room, there's no door number 257, the "Stasiek" pub doesn't exist. What else will happen to me today? Maybe Radek will convince me I'm a Martian? Radek, that gossipy Radek... Only he can help me. If this is a joke between the journalists, he definitely has nothing to do with it. They don't like each other.
Taking my time this time, I walked calmly through the last minute of my walk home, not even looking at the usual spot for the black-and-white cat. I climbed the stairs and entered our shared small apartment. Radek was sitting at the table eating dinner. Pasta with sauce, as usual. I wanted to throw my fists at him, punch him in the face, and force him to confess about the past few days. But I didn't, and instead sat down across from him, and, trying to sound as natural as possible, I began:
"Hi Radek. Listen... Remember the day before yesterday at breakfast I told you about an acquaintance of mine?
" "Not really, because the day before yesterday after ballet, I slept over at the boys' math class. And who was this acquaintance?"
I placed my hands on the table, covered my eyes, and drifted away to unknown lands, seas, strange lands full of unexplained phenomena...
"You have a visitor," I heard, as if through the wall, a dull, unfamiliar voice.
"Hey, sleepyhead," said the second one, also familiar, though I couldn't remember who it belonged to, "hey you!" he shouted, "get up!"
The voice struck the inner walls of my head, reverberating, returning, crumbling them, causing cracks along their length, and waking me from my peaceful sleep. I knew who it was now: Jarek. I turned my head and saw him standing over me with a plastic bag full of beer, followed by my gossiping roommate, who was just slipping out of the room, even though I knew he'd be eavesdropping.
"Hi," I said, "has something serious happened that's making you haunt me so early in the morning?
" "Early in the morning... Interestingly put. It's half past one. And what happened is that you're starting to go crazy, and I, as your good friend, am saving you." It dawned on me that all that confusion in my head from yesterday, the changing numbers on the doors, the disappearing pubs and beautiful barmaids, wasn't just a bad dream. This was really happening.
"With beer..."
"Like what? Listen, it's all because you haven't partied with us in ages." Just a few beers and...
"What day is it?
" "Sunny, ha ha!" he laughed at his own bad joke. I never liked it when people laughed at their own jokes—sunny Monday, Jacek.
"So it's still..."
"So it's still what?
" "Nothing, nothing...
" "You really went crazy yesterday. But everything's fine today, right?
" "Yes..." I replied. Jarek's voice, a little too powerful, yet somehow gentle, had a calming effect on me. I felt that despite my many doubts, the whole situation made sense. If a movie can go off for a few hours, then it probably can go on for a few days. It was the only "logical" explanation I could think of. Not bad, actually.
"That's good. How about a beer?" he asked, setting two cans on the table.
"Why not?
" The situation was getting out of control. I always feared the moment when I couldn't say "no" anymore, when I stopped counting the beers, when I would drift further and further away on my own. I couldn't remember how I'd found myself in the boys' room, so familiar to me, nor did I know what time it was. Only by the light streaming in from outside did I realize it was still daylight.
"Jacek, I'm telling you, look at how you looked in front of that door," Michał said, and after a moment they both burst out laughing.
"Like a lost little girl," Jarek added. My already-closed eyes registered the cigarette in his mouth, which moved to the ashtray and back with infinite frequency.
"And when Marek came out..."
Marek... That's exactly what Magda had called me on Thursday. Coincidence? Or was it something more? No, because Magda wasn't there. She existed only in my consciousness. The moments spent with her seemed so distant now that they could just as easily have been a dream as reality. She was a beautiful memory, a mistake of a cooled mind, incapable of distinguishing the real from the fictional world. But was it possible that I had fallen in love with a being who didn't exist? How could I explain this?
In my mind's eye, I saw the green-gray interior of the Stasiek pub, the stairs in front of the dormitory dimly lit at night, a bottle of well-disguised homemade wine, brown hair flowing in the wind. Was it possible? Did it really not exist? And the rolled-up jeans, the blue low-cut blouse, and the subtle makeup? Was it possible? Did it really not exist? And the book that seemed like a Harlequin was actually "The Lord of the Rings," the green eyes gazing at me with pity, the colorful shapes flashing in dance, and the touch of her hand? Was it possible? Did it really not exist?
Did I subconsciously want to love a woman so perfect she didn't exist? Had my search for perfection led me into the dangerous and unexplored depths of a dreamland that, unlike reality, was susceptible to every interference, able to be shaped and changed depending on my mood? Didn't all these situations seem suspiciously beautiful? An evening alone with a beautiful stranger, similar interests, reciprocated feelings? Now they seemed only a dream, a dream whose splendor gave hope for the coming day.
A cigarette in Jarek's mouth, brown hair, tobacco smoke, a label reading "cherry wine," a glass ashtray, a blue blouse, a dorm room. Images, real and imagined, intermingled, created something that occupied my mind and warred with me, and after long hours of fighting, weakened and dejected, alone on the battlefield, I collapsed helplessly onto the hard ground and for a moment stared at my rifle and bayonet, the only thing left, the only thing that still belonged to me...You have a visitor," I heard, as if through the wall, a dull, familiar voice.
"Hey, sleepyhead," said another, also familiar, though I couldn't remember whose it was. "Hey you!" he shouted. "Get up!"
The voice passed lightly through my head, leaving its mark on every brain cell. I already knew who it was: Michał. I turned my head and saw his broad frame standing over me, his bald head with the high forehead he liked to smash beer cans against, and his smiling, plump face. My gossiping roommate, Radek, had retreated to his room, even though I knew he'd be listening anyway.
"Hi," I said, sound asleep. But I was glad to see him. I knew everything was alright—what brings you here?"
"What brings me here? What's this all about? We haven't seen each other in ages, right? How's Magda? Tell me!"
A hard hammer blow to the head and a cold shower on the back. There was a moment when chaotic thoughts flew around and wouldn't settle, a moment of uncertainty and disorientation. Who was Magda? Or the woman I'd already considered a figment of my alcohol-damaged imagination? Or her?
"Okay," I replied, completely unaware of what was going on. "Listen, what did you do yesterday?
" "We mean who? Me and Jarek? We were partying out with friends. There's no point in telling. But I'm curious what YOU were doing.
" "Was Magda with you?
" "What are you talking about? Have you lost your mind? Magda was with you!
So it's true! I've gone mad. I'm a lunatic," I thought. "I can get myself a yellow card now. Or I'll murder someone in a fit of passion and the state will have to support me. Ha, cunning plan!
" "What time is it? What day is it?" "I'm fine ," I asked, though something told me he'd say "sunny."
"A few minutes after noon. And Tuesday," he surprised me, "is something wrong with you?"
"No, no. I'm fine. But I have a headache," I lied. "I wasn't fine at all, and I didn't have a headache at all, I just didn't want to embarrass myself again.
" "Ooh, don't tell me you blacked out on your date with Magda. What a story!
" "Oh, you didn't, it was quite a nice evening. I'll tell you later," and I started thinking about what I'd tell him.
Michał looked at me with a smile and said,
"Good. Because, you know, I saw her this morning and she was acting strange too. I have an idea. Get yourself together and we'll go to the Stasiek pub." No, no... It's not what you think. We're not starting the day with a few beers. That's where Magda works. You can talk to her calmly, right... So what?"
Under different circumstances, I probably would have been surprised that this pub, "Stasiek," existed, but nothing surprised me anymore. I wasn't thinking about anything, not even interested in what kind of sane person frequents such a bad place on a Tuesday afternoon. I surrendered to fate, to which I had probably belonged for a long time. I dutifully followed Michał's instructions, showered, and dressed. We emerged from the cage together.
A black-and-white cat was pacing between the cars.
The day was sunny but cold. The sky was as blue as it had been a few days earlier; the sun seemed to be in its rightful place, but the cool breeze gave me goosebumps and heralded the imminent arrival of autumn.
After a minute, maybe two, we were standing in front of a door that should have been barred and locked with two padlocks, and a wooden sign that shouldn't have existed. Yet everything looked just like the Thursday I'd first visited. We walked in, and our eyes met the dreadful, now familiar, green-and-gray decor. Magda stood behind the bar. She looked beautiful, as always.
"Hey," she said. "
Hi," I replied.
"So? Shall we tell him already?" Michał asked.
"Yes," Jarek's voice came from behind me. I turned. He was standing with a tall blond man, an obese blonde woman, and gossipy Radek. He held a cake with candles in his hands. I didn't have to count them. Several figures of old friends emerged from the darkness, as well as a young couple and the merry company from Thursday night.
"Oh no..." I whispered, sensing the situation, "so I was on hidden camera after all?"
"No, not on hidden camera," Jarek replied, "we just played a little joke on you. Happy birthday," they all chorused. "I completely forgot about my birthday. September 30th... How could I not have guessed?" I started laughing out loud, and a moment later, everyone else did too. Hilarity engulfed the entire Stasiek pub.
"You guys really had me fooled," I said after a few seconds, barely able to speak. "Who came up with that?"
"Me," Michał replied.
"But you talked Radek into it... How is that possible?
" "Everything had to look convincing, so they approached me," my roommate replied. "Besides, the guys from journalism aren't such idiots after all. We even liked each other.
" "That's true," Michał added.
"I take it changing the numbers on the door wasn't a big deal for you?
" "None at all. We were just afraid you'd get suspicious the first time. After all, you've been here a few times before.
" "Okay," I hesitated, "but what about this pub? How did you do it?"
"It's my place," Jarek replied. "I've decided to start a business. We'll be opening in a week. As you can see, there's still a bit to do. We need to repaint the walls and stuff," he smiled. "And we'll definitely change the name.
" "And how did you know I'd come here and meet Magda?
" "We didn't know," Michał said, "but we assumed it would be possible. We know you too well," he laughed. "We knew you'd notice her. And even if you hadn't come of your own accord, we had a backup plan. You would have met Magda some other way, she would have mentioned where she worked... or something.
" "I could have guessed.
" "Unlikely. There was someone with you the whole time, someone who was trying to make sure you didn't mess up the plan. And you were being followed. You see, we had to know what you were doing to adjust our actions."
"But you know what... I should have killed you for that funny guy at the club back then," I said.
"I had to spice up the whole story.
" "And Magda?" I looked at her. "Is she really studying journalism?
" "Yes," she replied. "And I'm your birthday present." She looked at me with her green eyes, no longer with pity, but with genuine, passionate affection.
"You surprised us with the sleeping on the bar," Michał interjected. "But we had a good laugh.
" "So?" Jarek asked. "Sing?" and I heard the song known worldwide, translated into all languages, "Sto lat..."
I didn't know what I was feeling. And it's good they didn't ask me about it. No one had ever done something like that for me. In a way, I even admired them for it. They must have put in so much work, so much effort. And to think I started thinking I was crazy...
My twenty-second birthday was wonderful. The best I remember from my short life. But everything pointed to another attraction that day, or rather the next, for me.
It was already after two in the morning, the black sky filled with white dots that I would probably have missed if Magda hadn't been there, and our bodies, pressed together, hadn't been lazily gliding along the already sleepy street.
"Do you really want to hear about the little boy with the puzzle?" I asked.
"I'd love to," she replied in a whisper. We passed the gray building where my rooming house was, shrouded in darkness and separated from the street by a purple light. A black-and-white cat sat at the entrance. It purred to me. "
So you too," I thought.
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