“Stefan, may I?” Monika smiled at Jonathan, and pulled her husband aside.
Jonathan glanced at Victoria standing next to him with a hesitant smile.
“What do you do?” Desperately, he filled the awkward silence.
“I’m a fonctionnaire. I work with…” For a while, she went on about her position and about the connections between people he didn’t know and, since he didn’t pick up these threads, she grew bored of him. Desperately, he tried to throw the ball into another court.
“Have you read The Arrangement by Elia Kazan?”
“Was that on the reading list?”
When Stefan appeared with neither glass nor wife, Victoria was no longer there.
“What’s a fonctionnaire?” asked Jonathan. Coming from him the word sounded like the name of an insect repellent.
“A position in the Commission for which you have to…” began Stefan. Jonathan stood with the face of someone who’s had a crowbar forced into his brain, making the mechanism grind to a halt. In the end, Stefan waved it aside and went to get something to eat; Jonathan followed him. But on the way he stopped short – he had caught sight of Andrea.
She was standing in the door, eyeing the place and the gathering people. She hadn’t exposed her legs or bust yet there was, as usual, something intense about her appearance that turned heads. Jonathan wondered by what miracle such a woman had noticed him. Before he had time to move in her direction, she was sucked into the circle standing nearest the door. Regret racked him. He couldn’t go up to her, kiss her, introduce her; he could only watch from afar as she stood there unattainable – and alone. Simon had gone to England to visit his children before Christmas; Jonathan knew that better than anyone because just three hours ago he had made love to Andrea in her apartment.
When he finally managed to get to her, their host sprang up between them.
“Ludwik.” She pecked him on the cheek, glancing over his shoulder at Jonathan.
Ludwik watchfully followed her eyes.
“I’d like you to meet Andrea Kunz,” he said. “An excellent journalist working for Swedish television.”
Jonathan’s mouth grew dry. He had just caressed her yet he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that was always with him when they were together – arousal and stage fright shook him even when they had worn themselves out with love.
“And this is Megi’s husband,” concluded Ludwik.
It was as if someone had struck Jonathan. Ludwik greeted other guests, introducing Andrea to them, while Jonathan turned away and started to study the apartment. The interior looked as if the owner had wanted to kill himself: white and beige cut through here and there with flashes of metal fittings and surfaces; everything closed, fitted, nothing protruding. “He must think that by getting rid of old dishcloths and shoving the rubbish into hermetic cupboards he’s going to smooth out his own mucky insides,” Jonathan thought vindictively and muttered to himself: “Perhaps the son-of-a-bitch hasn’t got a soul.”
“What’s that?”
Megi was staring at him, half amused, half unsure whether she’d heard correctly.
“Want some fudge?” Jonathan answered with a question.
“Not now but thanks for buying it. You know how much I love it.”
“Are you enjoying yourself?”
Megi shrugged.
“Day and night discussions about work. ‘That document, Megi, which category did it belong to?’” She grimaced, parodying the way Przemek spoke. “‘White paper, yellow paper, non-paper?’” I want to go home!” she ended and slipped her hands around his waist, beneath his jacket.
Instead of returning the hug, Jonathan stiffened. Andrea was watching them above the guests’ heads.
“I wonder where Simon is?” muttered Megi, following his gaze.
Andrea was now laughing with the rest of her crowd, throwing back her long, glistening hair.
Jonathan pushed Megi’s hands down.
“Simon?” he repeated mechanically.
“Simon Lloyd, they came to our place, don’t you remember? That’s Andrea there, his woman, partner, or whatever they call her. It’s hard to find a name for a concubine who’s over thirty. Everything sounds so infantile. But they’re quite a couple. Simon, well… And she, although no classical beauty, is as radiant as an icon. She has some sort of distinction, style. She’s certainly not common.”
“Let’s go and eat something. Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’ve already eaten. I’m going to say hello to her. Have a kabanos, they’re pretty good.” Megi kissed him on the cheek and made toward the circle where Andrea shone and which was mainly made up of men. Jonathan saw, from where he stood, that some of them reacted to Megi’s appearance but a moment later all stared at Andrea again. “No one can share the spotlight with her,” he thought with a strange pride yet simultaneous stab of disappointment that they weren’t looking at his wife in the same way.
Without much thought, he pushed his way toward them.
“Simon?” Andrea was saying. “In England. Gone to visit his children.”
“So you’ve got a free pad!” smiled Megi.
“What’s that?” Andrea raised her eyebrows.
“It’s a Polish saying. I meant that now you’re alone you can lie in bed as long as you want and parade around in your pajamas. I envy you,” sighed Megi. “I’ve not had the house to myself for years.”
Andrea looked at her as if she hadn’t understood that either.
“I’m going to get myself something to eat,” she said after a while. “Can I bring you anything?”
“No, thank you, I’ve already eaten,” Megi replied for the second time that evening.
Jonathan almost ran alongside the apartment façades. Street lights were reflected in the windows and in the stained-glass trimmings on doors that looked more like ornate church doorways than stairwells. Metal stirrups, which protruded from the walls and served for wiping shoes, assumed the forms of Art Nouveau. Pavements glinted with dampness; the first snowflakes of the winter stuck for a moment then instantly melted. Winter hung in the air but did not stay for long.
He turned into a one-way street and reached the military school. The cadets must have gone home for Christmas because the historic building stood in darkness; only the flags swayed lazily. He ran across the street to a fence. There was nobody there the day before Christmas Eve; the arch towered over the silent park and the green parrots had hidden themselves away.
Jonathan left the playing field to the right, ran a few meters, and turned down a dark pathway leading beneath the arch. He stopped at an ancient chestnut tree and lowered Andrea’s hood. The temptation grabbed him to kiss her with open eyes so that he could see her eyebrows, forehead, the snowflakes perched on her hood. He slipped his fingers beneath her hair and held her head. He wanted to suck in all of her, swaying with passion – in her, on her.
12
HE PASSED CHRISTMAS, which they spent in Poland, mainly in the company of his cell phone. The family discussed politics, not asking about their life in Brussels, and only occasionally, returning from the balcony where he’d slip out under the pretext of having a cigarette, did Jonathan hear Robert say that Belgian women were ugly and Adelka claim authoritatively that the clothes were too expensive. Megi compulsively looked after Antosia and Tomaszek, who were irritable because of the changes. Later, they distributed the presents they’d brought from Brussels and returned laden with gifts they’d received in return.