Читать книгу Possessed hearts - Анна Морион - Страница 6

It's about one o'clock in the morning.

Martin and I are sitting on a wooden bench facing the sea, overlooking a narrow but picturesque bay full of ships, old-looking yachts and boats. On the other side of the bay, to which a wide paved bridge connects us, shine the bright red glowing letters of an advert near the roof of a low building. The lights of the waterfront are reflected in the dark water. The lifeless glow of the streetlights. The quiet noise made by the few mortals left here in the late hours pales against the beauty of this evening. The sound of the waves caresses the ear. Somewhere on another street, a street musician is playing, making a living by singing and playing guitar. But he has a good voice. Strong. Solid. It's nice to hear him in duet with the splash of the sea.

Martin met me at the airport. But I didn't stay in his flat. I went to the nearest hotel, because this time I didn't care where and in what conditions I would spend the few hours when I would come to my room just to change my clothes.

It's one o'clock in the morning and I'm sitting in the centre of an old Polish town looking out over the bay.

Just a couple of days ago, I couldn't imagine spending the night like this. Just sitting on a bench. Next to my brother.

We don't speak. Martin, my dear brother, has always understood me like no one else. Only with him can I be myself. One hundred per cent. With Misha – sixty, because she mustn't know me as I am. With my parents, maybe seventy-five. With Mariszka and Mscislav, maybe eighty. No. Seventy-nine. When I was with Fredrik, I let myself be ninety per cent me. Only Martin knew me inside and out. Only with him could I really relax, discover all sides of my multifaceted character. A break from compromising my nature for the sake of others. He didn't ask me why I'd come here. He just met me at the airport and drove me to the hotel. We made an appointment and parted ways.

We met. We sit. We don't talk. He doesn't ask anything. And it's beautiful. I couldn't lie right now. Not to him, not to myself. But I don't want anyone, not even Martin, to know what I'm hiding. It's too humiliating. My shame and my ruin.

But maybe I should try. Tell him everything? Maybe I'd carry the burden a little easier if I shared it with Martin.

– How long have you been talking to your parents? – I finally broke our cosy silence.

– A couple of days ago. Are you going to have an exhibition? – Martin leaned back on the bench and looked at me.

I had no doubt that he was already aware. As were all the Mroczeks, though. The whole clan.

– Yes. In three weeks. I want to see you at the opening. – I turned round to face him, one leg tucked under me. Good thing I was wearing jeans and sneakers.

Sneakers. That's a red flag. I don't tolerate athletic shoes or shoes without heels. But today I was so sick of what had happened in London that my soul needed a change. So I bought sneakers. In the nearest shop. For seventy zlotys. The most ordinary black sneakers with long black laces, which I hid inside.

But the sneakers weren't the worst part. Something more frightening happened: today I didn't wear a single gram of make-up. I wear make-up even when I don't go out. There are days like that – when I'm heavily engaged in my work that requires the use of photoshop. And today I looked like a teenager. Sneakers, jeans, plaid red shirt.

How come Martin doesn't make fun of me? He's probably being delicate and pretending not to notice the dissonance. And he's different from the Martin who's always sitting in the office. Used to. Now he lives in this small town, where he opened a small restaurant with Eastern European cuisine. So now he looks like an ordinary but too good-looking mortal. Grey jeans, white T-shirt with the inscription "Greetings from Gdansk", white trainers. Not different from a mortal student. The only thing that distinguished Martin and me from the mortals around us was the absence of autumn jackets or jumpers or anything to protect ourselves from the cold September night. Windless and bright. But bright not because of the moon – it was hiding behind the clouds. It was the dead light of the streetlamps.

– Where did you buy that T-shirt? – I grinned, pulling back the collar of his T-shirt.

– There's a souvenir shop next to my restaurant. Oh, you want one of these? – Martin replied with a grin.

– You got me. I've been dreaming about it all my life! – I laughed briefly. – So, will you come?

– I'm not sure. I need to check my schedule. Just a minute. – Martin pulled his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. – Has the exact opening date been announced yet?

– Tenth of October.

– Damn, I'm busy. A meeting with a Japanese entrepreneur," Martin sighed, putting the iPhone back in his pocket. – How about moving the opening date?

– I think it would be a lot easier for you to reschedule the meeting with the Japanese than it would be for me to reschedule the opening date. What do you want from him so badly? – I asked a little irritated. I needed Martin's presence at the opening of my exhibition. Like blood.

– I want to open a chain of Polish restaurants.

– Where?

– Osaka and Nagoya.

– Why not Tokyo? – I asked

– A little later, if the business makes a good profit. – Martin smiled contentedly. – But for friends and family, everything is on me.

– Well, then the fact that we don't eat their food is good for you. Imagine a bunch of Mroczeks and Morgans eating you at three mouthfuls each! – I grinned. – But you've upset me, really upset me, Martin.

– I'm sorry. This meeting was planned two months ago," my brother said in an apologetic tone. – By the way, when you came here, none of the teenagers asked for your phone number? They didn't take you for one of their own?

"Well, they did!" – I thought mockingly.

– 'Ha ha, that's so funny! – I punched him lightly on the shoulder, and he was smiling with his mouth, clearly pleased with his joke. – You must have all the high school and college girls here in love with you, right?

– Well, you don't have to exaggerate. Not all of them. But I do get a lot of eye contact. – Martin blinked his eyes, mimicking those unfortunate ones. – I've never asked you before, but what's your age limit?

The age of the victim.

I hesitated, but couldn't pinpoint an exact figure.

– What's yours? – I asked instead of answering.

– Twenty-six.

– That sharp?

– It's just right-still young, but almost aged.

– And before you drink the wine, you ask, "Don't take it as an impudence, my good man, but would you be so kind as to tell me your age? – I asked ironically.

– Very rarely. But it happens. I've only been wrong a couple of times, but only by a year or two.

– Who do you prefer to drink with?

– I'm not sexist. If wine is worthy of consideration, what's the point? But you didn't answer.

– Honestly, I don't even know. I don't ask their age unless they tell me. But I don't deal with high school and college kids. So somewhere around twenty-five… Or, hell, it's entirely possible that I've drank wine with students too, if they were deliberately deceiving me. But that wasn't my fault anymore. – I shrugged and crossed my arms over my chest. – You know who's sponsoring my exhibition? Brandon.

– Oh, my gods! I give him a big thank you for that and all the blessings! – Martin clapped his hands theatrically. He liked to fool around. – But seriously, I hear he's a devoted philanthropist. As devoted as he is to fucking mortal women.

– Let him have them, it's his choice. Or are you jealous of him? – I was joking.

– Oh yes, I'm full of envy! How can I live now, knowing that in my years I have never once fondled a mortal girl? – Martin sighed playfully. – My whole life is going down the drain! I'll hook up with someone tonight, I promise.

'You'll never do that, my dear. "I know you like the back of my hand. You only know how to joke," I thought with a sweet smile, knowing full well that his words were just a bluff. After all, he despises mortals. And so do I. But I liked to play with them, and Martin considered it perverse. But while he found Brandon and his passion for mortal women ridiculous, he accepted me and my passion for them. Naturally, for I am his sister, and he loves me no matter what I do. My dear big brother.

– There's the moon," I said quietly, looking up into the sky.

The moon slowly slipped out from behind a herd of dark, almost black clouds and cast its divine soft light over the earth. To Gdansk. On Martin. On me.

– If it had shone forever, there would have been no limit to my gratitude. – Martin also looked up at the sky. – What a beauty. Too bad it's not full.

We contemplated the pale face of the moon in silence for a minute. Everything died in that moment: the noise, the sea, the people, the music. Only the moon was alive. Caressing me, comforting me. It was like stroking my cheek and whispering: "Be strong. I'm always with you."

Well, moon, you're right. I should tell Martin. You've given me strength.

I looked at my brother: he was still looking at the moon, and it was reflected in his eyes.

– Martin, I have to tell you something. – I touched his arm. He looked back at me. – It's very important. But it's so difficult… I've been carrying this secret in me for so long…

– What? – He squeezed my palm as if to encourage me.

I opened my mouth to finally get rid of my secret, to unleash it on my brother. To share my innermost thoughts.

– Do you remember at Mariszka's wedding… There were so many guests," I began quietly.

– Yes. Almost all of us.

– And…" My tongue twisted and my throat constricted. – And I wanted to sleep with Cedric.

– Don't tell me you're in love with him," Martin said with a half mocking smile.

– What? No! – I even laughed at his guess. – But he was so… – I sighed, remembering the moment I'd seen Cedric that day. – A deity on earth. I wanted him, Martin, you know? And he's almost my brother.

– And that embarrasses you? All eight years? – Martin laughed briefly. A rather benign laugh.

– But isn't that the height of perversion? – I was surprised at his reaction.

I thought he should throw my hand away, jump up from the bench, and shout, "Scum!" and go away. And he laughed.

– My dear, Cedric is only your sister's husband's brother. Nothing more. And if you sleep with him, no one will think it a perversion. And this is the secret of the century you promised me? – He was still laughing.

I couldn't stop laughing.

Yes! Promised!

But I kept my biggest secret to myself.

I couldn't. No-one must know. Never.

– Isn't my secret worthy of your attention? – I smiled ironically.

A lie. A disgusting, nasty, filthy lie. Confusion. Shame.

– Worthy, of course. But it can't be called secret. But it can't be called shameful either. I once wanted Christina Vanini, even though she was married to one of my friends.

– And?

– Nothing. I think it was just a crush, like you and Fredrik. And now I don't see Christina as a woman at all. She's part of Anthony. That's all. – Martin took my palms in his and grinned into my face. – Do you think we'll be like this when we fall in love? Like Mariszka and Markus? Misha and Fredrik? Our parents?

– Just as funny, you mean? – I dropped it and sighed. – I don't know… But I hope that day never comes. Do you?

– I've been without love for so many years that it's no longer a lofty thing. – Martin made a grimace. – But, as so many examples show, at some point we become supersensitive idiots. Mum and Dad will forgive me.

– What a high opinion you have of Misha and Mariszka! – I grinned.

– Okay, Mariszka is a perfect example of prudence. But Misha…

– Misha what? I'm warning you not to speak ill of our little sister, you whistle-blower!

– I'm not going to. But her behaviour is hardly what you'd call reasonable. If Fredrik decides to live on Mars, she'll go with him. Is that the right thing to do? Going after someone else, even if you love them. I can't understand that.

– But you forget that Mariszka isn't twenty-seven like Misha. In 200 years Misha will be as sensible, you'll see. But hopefully not as prude as Mariszka. – I grinned derisively.

– I can't get used to the fact that you love each other so much," my brother said with a chuckle. – So there are only three sane people left in the Mroczek clan at the moment: me, you, and Mscislav. Everyone else is either in love, unhappy, married or married.

Martin's words made me laugh. If he only knew! If he only knew that there were not three, but two!

– Hungry? – Martin suddenly asked.

– I wouldn't mind a glass of wine. But no more than twenty-six years old," I winked at him.

– I know the perfect place. Come on.

We got up from the bench and headed out of the old town to one of the disadvantaged neighbourhoods, somewhere on the outskirts of Gdansk.

Martin was right. A great place to hunt.

At four in the morning we parted, fed and satisfied.

I returned to my room and fell into bed, feverishly thinking about Martin's words, which were playing in my head like a broken record.

"Going along with someone else, even if you love them."

That will never happen to me. I swear to myself. Falling so low may be for others, but not for me.

***

– How about a karaoke bar?

– Don't be ridiculous.

– I go there all the time.

– Oh, my gods, Martin, you can't even sing.

– You don't know anything about music.

– I think the only one in our family who can sing is Misha.

– And me.

– You love yourself too much.

– Come on. Sing something.

– No, I can't.

– That's it, no more objections and no more refusals.

– Get off me already!

– Are you afraid of the audience?

Martin was totally messing with me. Karaoke bar! Sing! I can't even remember the last time I listened to music and he's asking me to sing! Hmm. The last time I sang was when I was seven, for my grandparents. A Christmas carol.

– I'm not afraid of anything! But you can't take me at my word! We're not children, and I won't fall for that! – I mockingly answered Martin's question.

– That's what they all say. You coward! – Martin put his arm round my shoulders and dragged me along the crowded street, through the evening lights, into some creepy semi-basement. We stopped in front of a black iron door.

– It's a good thing you're dressed up today, or they would have sent you home to your parents," my brother said jokingly.

– Ha-ha-ha! – I faked a laugh.

But he was right. Tonight I was wearing full evening make-up, a dress, heels and a black leather jacket.

– I'll be singing and you'll be jealous. – Martin pressed the round bell located on the yellow wall, and eight seconds later the door opened. A middle-aged woman appeared on the doorstep. With tunnels in her ears, long blue hair and shaved temples.

– There's our star! Hai, Martin! – She said hello in a rough, smoky voice.

Martin winked at her.

– Damn, you're gorgeous as always! – Martin also greeted her.

– Who's that with you? – The woman looked at me curiously.

– This is my sister, Grue. She'll be rocking out tonight. – Martin clapped her on the shoulder like some kind of man.

What a familiarity with mortals!

– Baby, do you have your id or passport with you? – I was approached by this "friend" of Martin. – That's a swell sister you've got there, Martin.

– Oh, gods," I whispered mockingly, and then coughed softly. – I'd love to show you my passport, but your star didn't tell me I might need it.

– Sorry, it slipped my mind," Martin told me. – 'I've been here so often, I haven't been checked in a while. – Grue," he turned to his 'friend', "She's been an adult for a while now.

– I hear that two hundred times every day. Baby, how old are you?

– Twenty-five," I answered. – Honestly.

– 'Grue, I wouldn't lie to you, really,' Martin said insistently. – You know me!

– Well, all right, handsome, just for you. Come on in, baby. – Grue stepped aside, giving us passage inside.

– You're a miracle, Grue. – Martin gave her a peck on the cheek.

– There's no karaoke tonight. We've got a show," Grue shrugged him off.

– Oh, shit! I was looking forward to singing Jackson's "Bad"! Who's playing?

– Moonlight," Grue said, following us.

– They broke up a long time ago… Why didn't anyone even mention they were performing? Grue, I would have hanged myself if I hadn't been at that concert! – Martin exclaimed with fervour.

– Darling, it's your own fault! It's been a long time since you came and did not follow the poster! – laughed Grue.

– The first time I've heard of them, – I told my brother. – What kind of band?

But Martin didn't seem to hear me.

– They decided to give three concerts, and we are very lucky tonight. A ticket costs two hundred zlotys, – the woman told us.

– We'll pay. – Martin stopped abruptly and took out a purse from the pocket of his black jacket. – Here, for me and my sister. – And he tried to shove the notes into Gru's hands.

– Here's more! Keep it. Just go on in.

– No. I like their songs, and I don't want to rob them of an honest income!

Grue reluctantly took the money from him.

– What a noble man you are," I jokingly remarked as we continued on our way. – What are they playing?

– Rock. – Martin seemed to be seriously excited about the event. – How lucky! I never thought I'd see them play again!

– So you've been to their concerts, too? Did you get an autograph on your arse? – I was amused: Martin was a bit funny.

– No, but tonight I will! And we'll ask you to sign your chest! – My brother replied enthusiastically.

We came to a large, wide hall. Despite the fact that the hall was located underground, on the ground floor, its ceilings were high. That's fine. I hate low-ceilinged rooms-they're just too hard on the psyche.

– What a crowd today! – Martin remarked.

– It's like meeting the Pope! – I agreed.

How I loved to make fun of him!

But Martin didn't pay any attention to me, but worked his shoulders hard, forcing his way to the stage, saying: "Pardon me", "Sorry mate", "Sorry baby" and "Make way for the biggest fans!".

– You're a pro! – I complimented my brother.

Now we were standing by the stage itself.

The stage was small, but I thought it was pretty spacious if you kept the ballet off it. A microphone stand, electric guitar, bass, drum kit, synthesiser. The only thing missing was the people for whom all this noisy crowd of people had come.

– That's nothing! Here's what I can do! – Martin stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly and shrilly. I laughed. Oh, my brother! What talents he was hiding from me!

– Clap as loud as you can and shout like a madwoman! – he told me. – It pleases the performers!

– Shout what? – I asked obediently.

– Whatever you want!

– Give the money back? – I joked, starting to clap my hands loudly and often.

– If you shout that, I'll shut your mouth and push you out the door myself! – Martin replied with a happy smile, clapping like a madman.

The crowd seemed to be infected with his energy, and in a minute the noise in the hall was such that I thought my head would burst.

– Whoo-hoo! – I also shouted and laughed.

Wow: I'm in Gdansk. At a rock concert! With Martin!

It was probably the best idea of my life to come here! To try something I've never done before. I've never been to a concert and screamed my head off. But tonight I loved being like this – a fan. I liked the atmosphere, the energy of the crowd, I liked being free of my habits.

– Here they come! – There was a loud, hysterical female scream, and the noise got even higher.

Four men and one woman came on the stage. The men were dressed in dark t-shirts and jeans, looking nothing at all like classic rockers. The woman, as I guessed – the frontwoman, had an interestingly attractive appearance: expressive facial features, long straight black hair. Blue eye shadow and dark maroon lipstick. She was wearing jeans and a black sweatshirt. That was it.

"And they're the ones Martin is so crazy about?" – I thought mockingly, but continued to clap like a monkey.

– Good evening!" said the frontwoman, approaching the microphone, and the crowd of fans immediately responded with a new wave of noise and applause. – We haven't performed together for a long time, but tonight is the first of our three concerts in our native Poland. And it all started when we met by chance at one of the rock festivals and decided to please our fans…

– Thank God! – There was a loud male shout, which made both the crowd and the musicians laugh.

– And tonight we hope you'll have a great night with us! Feel free to sing along! – said the frontwoman with a laugh. – Let's get started!

The crowd squealed with joy.

– Shit, I like it already! – I said to Martin.

– It's just the beginning, sis! – he said to me.

The noise was so loud that the frontwoman had to raise her hand to silence the fans. And when there was relative silence, she sang.

Yes, it was a momentary thought.

But it was a lie

I saw it, just me.

Then you were gone

And I'm left with this moment

And I drink wine like that lie.

I drink the wine and feel her

(free translation from Polish by Author)

Her beautiful melodic voice sounded lonely. Filled the room. Our hearts. The world. And suddenly there was a roar of guitars.

When you look at me

It's poison, it's just poison

Like the sin that

I'm so close to

For a moment that can't be born

A moment that can't be

nor should be.

In a single glance I see us

When we love

images and thoughts change.

The loneliness leaves me

And I'm so sure of myself

I think you're just a dream

cause this dream is so hot

But, God, I can see that it's

Just millions of pieces of myself

(free translation from Polish by Author)

– What's the name of this song? – I asked Martin.

– Taboo.

No. It can't be.

I was suddenly bitter at the realisation that this song was about me. Expressing what I've been feeling for so many years. It denounced me, knew my secret.

Now I wasn't happy at all. I was creepy.

I had to get away.

No! Run away!

Now.

I couldn't bear the truth any longer.

– Martin! – I grabbed my brother's elbow. He looked at me. – I'm leaving!

– Are you laughing? – he grinned. – The concert has just started!

– I'm not forcing you to come with me! I just don't like it here! I'll find a nightclub! – I said insistently, raising my voice as the song came to an end, the music stopped, and the room erupted in applause, shouts, and whistles.

– All right! I'll call you later!

I hastily kissed my brother on the cheek and with difficulty headed for the exit: people were standing so tightly together that I thought I would reach the exit without clothes.

– Baby, where are you going? – I suddenly heard Grue's voice. I had already reached the stairs.

– Smoke! – I briefly threw her and hurried out into the street.

In my head, your voice

Tantalising me with no stop

Endlessly…

(free translation from Polish by Author)

– Enough! Enough! – I whispered irritably and covered my ears with my palms so I wouldn't hear the words hitting me in the back.

– Pretty girl! Are you a little drunk? – came from beside me. A man's voice.

I dropped my hands and cast a disgruntled glance at the tall guy who had suddenly appeared in front of me, out of nowhere.

– What's it to you? – I muttered. My mood was like a tornado, just waiting to tear down, to destroy everything around me.

– I have a car nearby. Let me give you a lift," the guy winked at me.

– Thanks, but I'm full! – I threw him aside, and he crashed into the wall of the house where he'd dared to stop me. I was immediately overtaken by the smell of blood. Unpalatable, alcohol-soaked, shitty blood.

I walked quickly away. It was a good thing the poor mortal could barely see my face-I was standing with my back to the only glowing streetlight on this filthy, dark street.

– Fuck! – I heard behind me. Then uncertain footsteps. – Holy shit!

– Motherfucker! – I muttered.

– No, you can't be left alone!

– Martin! – I flinched in surprise and stood up.

My brother was standing next to me.

– Why aren't you at the concert? – I asked unhappily.

– I heard that some cretin had annoyed my little sister. – He turned back round.

– As you can see, I did fine without your interference! – Even the thought that Martin thinks I'm weak, on par with mortal women, thinks I can't defend myself, offended me. To the depths of my soul. If I still had one.

– I've noticed. Shit, what's wrong with your mood? – Martin put his arm round my shoulders. – Come on. I'll put you in a taxi and take you to the club.

– I didn't feel like it. – This time I was telling the truth: the only thing I wanted was to lock myself in my room and lie in bed, under the duvet. All night. All day. – No need to sacrifice your concert. You go. I'll get to the hotel just fine.

– So you're going to a hotel?

– Yeah.

We were walking down the street. My arms were crossed on my chest.

– Shall we meet tomorrow? – Martin suggested it.

– I'll call you. Go to your concert," I said.

– They're taking a five-minute break. Something with the microphone.

– So that's why you're with me now! – I laughed.

Well, I got mad at him for nothing!

– Yes, and in those five minutes I can get you in a taxi and back. There's a taxi just round the corner. That's why I like Gdansk. Have you wandered round the city yet? – Martin looked very happy.

– Not yet. Shall I? – I asked.

– You tell me yourself.

– Where did you leave the Snow Maiden?" – I asked, suddenly realising that I hadn't seen my brother's car for two days. A white Volvo. A sedan. Martin affectionately called it "Snow Maiden" and washed it almost every day. By hand.

– In the garage. Let it rest," he said.

– Yes, it's a big city, and she's so tired, poor thing! – I snickered. – Did you wash her today?

– Of course I did.

– Doesn't it bore you?

– How often do you wash your car? – Martin asked in an ironic tone, instead of answering.

– I don't know. Once a week.

– If I were your car, I would have found a more caring owner a long time ago.

***

Elle magazine sent a request for a shoot.

My fingers are on the keyboard of my MacBook.

Yes or no.

A simple question. But I've been staring at the monitor for four minutes now, and I don't know which to choose.

Gloss. It's that damn gloss again.

I type, "Thank you for your interesting offer, but at the moment my work schedule does not allow…".

But. This shoot can take my mind off my perpetual thoughts and musings. From my unhappiness.

I press Backspace.

And once again, the field is blank.

"Thank you for your interesting offer. It would be my pleasure…"

Backspace.

At the mere thought that after such a success as the first exhibition of my truly worthwhile work, the world of glossy art would once again seize me with its slippery multi-coloured clinging tentacles, I was terrified. I have to break free. Do decent work. Be worthy. And the gloss pulls me down to the bottom of its sticky swamp.

But my tired mind has already seen the little welcome respite it will get from fake smiles and flashy clothes.

"Thank you for the interesting offer. I can't give an answer now, I need to check my work schedule. I'll give an answer tomorrow."

Send.

With a sigh of relief, I lean back on the headboard of my bed. I look round my large bedroom. It's classic, kept in light colours. Not a single interesting interior idea. The curtains are the colour of coffee and milk – too light, made of fine silk, and the sun will shine through them. Obliterate me. I'll have to call reception and demand they replace them with darker ones, preferably black and thicker, albeit cheaper.

But it's been raining all day today.

I'm sitting up in bed, and my knees are covered with a blanket. I'm cosy.

I close my eyes and try to banish all thoughts from my head. Not to think. Don't think about anything. Block out the noise of the other residents of the hotel and the street. Listen to the rain and breathe in its scent.

When you look at me

It's poison, it's just poison

Like the sin to which

I'm so close to

For a moment that can't be born

A moment that can't be

nor should be.

These lines burst into my brain.

– Can't be and shouldn't be," I repeated quietly. – Can't and shouldn't be. It shouldn't. Can't and shouldn't.

Get out! Get out of my head!

I jumped out of bed in a frenzy and went to the bathroom. I needed to get away from myself. Now. A perfect excuse to look round the city and give Martin a report.

It was raining outside. Quite heavy. Must be cold. I don't have an umbrella.

I quickly put on jeans, socks, T-shirt, sneakers, – and ran out of my room without even locking it. I quickly walked down the stairs to the ground floor.

No make-up again. I look like a teenager again. But I don't care at all. I don't care! I have to escape.

– Where can I buy a rain jacket here? – I asked the receptionist.

– You can get one for free from us," the girl smiled back at me.

– Great! Bring it!

A minute later, wearing a long translucent blue mackintosh that looked like a big rubbish bag, I stepped out into the rain and inhaled deeply the smell of wet asphalt with trepidation.

Cars drove along the wet road, with their headlights on, as it was semi-darkness all around. The sky was so grey that it looked like Gdansk would be swamped in rain that would flood it all the way to the roofs of houses and hotels. People passing by me were wearing jackets. On their feet were rubber boots, water-repellent trainers and leather half-boots, half-boots. I was surrounded by a sea of colourful umbrellas. And I stood in this sea – like a lighthouse, in my blue mackintosh. My sneakers were soaked after five seconds of being in the rain.

Everyone was running, in a hurry.

I was the only one who didn't know where I was going.

– Can you tell me what time it is?

The passerby looked at me perplexed. Then at his watch, hidden under the sleeve of his jacket.

– Seven minutes to eleven.

– Thank you. – I slowly walked on.

It was pouring cat and dogs. My hair, which didn't fit under the hood, hung down like rat tails, streams dripping from it. Unnaturally long rat tails.

We got to the main road and I saw three old Skodas, pressed up against the kerb, under a taxi sign. Next to them were three elderly men smoking.

– There was Ales. Hello, Ales! – Martin shouted hello to one of the three taxi drivers.

– I see you already have your own mafia network! – I joked quietly. – Do you know everyone and everyone who lives in Gdansk?

– Every last homeless person! – Martin said cheerfully. – Ales is a great guy, with a healthy sense of humour, and I always go only with him.

– Jesus, it's less than a minute's walk.

– Eight seconds. I timed it.

– Then why do you need Ales?

– I'm trying to understand the psychology of mortals.

– You're writing a report? – I laughed again.

Martin surprised me more and more: though we had been in touch very often, I heard the news only now.

– No. I'm just bored. I have to have fun somehow. Do you?

I realised what he was getting at: that when I'm bored, I sleep with mortals.

– Martin! – A man in his sixties, wearing dark trousers, a windbreaker and a cap, came to meet us. – Where have you been? Have you forgotten old Ales?

– Business, business. Here, I'd like you to meet him. This is my sister," replied my brother, shaking hands with the man.

– Good evening," I smiled politely, even though it was late at night.

– Good evening, good evening," Ales smiled. – Where to take you?

– Tonight – just her, and I'll walk myself, – said Martin. – She will tell me where.

– Then you're welcome. The car is not fancy, but you will be comfortable. – Ales opened the front door of his Skoda.

– I'll ride in the back seat," I told him as I approached the car.

– As you wish. – And the back door immediately opened in front of me.

– Bye, Martin. I'll call you. Enjoy the concert. – I got in the car.

– I'll get her home safe and sound," Ales told Martin.

– Just be careful: she's in a very bad mood today," he advised him. – Bye, sister! See you later!

– What did you say the name of this band was? – I asked, rolling down the window.

– Moonlight. Did you get it? – Martin asked with a sly smile.

– The lead singer has great make-up," I said instead of answering. – Bye!

– See you soon, grumpy! – And Martin disappeared round the corner.

– Where are we going? – Ales asked me, sitting down in the driver's seat.

– Kobza haus, – I answered. – A taxi is a part-time job, isn't it?

– Hehehe, you got me. Actually, I'm a mechanic, but my son is studying in Warsaw, at university. So, I have to take taxis after work. Education is expensive these days.

– I understand. But Martin must leave great tips, right?

– Yes, yes, my favourite customer, – Ales laughed good-naturedly. – Fasten your seatbelt, please.

We drove on a frankly bad road, which made me shake a little, along with the car.

I'm so used to bad roads!

Ales drove me to the hotel. We didn't speak. He's a great taxi driver – he stays out of trouble. I left him a very good tip, in dollars, which he accepted with a grateful smile, which made me smile too.

Well, doing good is interesting and satisfying, too.

Sometimes.

Three and a half hours had passed since I left the hotel. I'd spent them wandering around the old city. Even in the dim daylight, despite the rain, the puddles, my soaked sneakers and knee-length jeans that made me physically uncomfortable, Gdansk was worth seeing.

Martin was right. It is a very cosy city.

The city was badly damaged during World War II, like the rest of Poland, but the Polish government and patrons of the arts have allocated large sums of money to restore the old buildings to their original state, which is certainly pleasing to the eyes of both tourists and residents of my home country. The old town of Gdansk is a magical, childlike, slightly gloomy, but beautiful fairy tale. The houses are tall, standing in rows, striking in their uniqueness. There is not a single identical or similar to each other house. Each house is chiselled to the last detail, to the last curl on the stucco with folklore elements or human bodies and faces. This is an open-air museum. Everywhere there are paving stones, stone, stone railings, sculptures, everywhere you look at mythical creatures melded with stone. A beautiful long promenade lined with good cafes and restaurants. Ships in the harbour. Reminds me of my youth, when all this was familiar. Now that beauty has given way to technology. And while I love the modern world, the architecture and the convenience that civilisation and the best minds on the planet bring with each passing year, I am suddenly struck with a longing for the past. My youth. At that time nothing had bothered me, but now I was the food of a huge leech sitting inside me.

I wished I'd brought my camera. It would have been wonderful footage. Full of dark beauty. I saw it everywhere. She was all around me. I marvelled at her. My face was drenched with rain, my feet were soaked through, but I had been wandering around the Old Town for the third hour, studying every building, every house, watching the people. The smells of food, coffee, and alcohol wafted from the many cafes, all blending into one rather pleasant aroma, like something native, home, something I had known for a long time. Poland is the country where I was born and where my youth passed. This is its fragrance. It hasn't changed for more than two centuries.

My gaze fell on a large wooden sign that read in large black letters, in old-style Polish, "Martin invites", with a modest "Gdansk's best Eastern European cuisine" underneath. I grinned: only my brother could be such a boaster.

"I wonder if you cook yourself, you big mouth!" – I thought ironically as I entered Martin's restaurant.

I had to hand it to him: my brother was a smart guy. From the outside, the restaurant didn't look as cosy as it did inside: roughly chipped wooden tables (old-fashioned), imposing wooden chairs that looked more like thrones. On the tables – beautiful heavy antique copper candlesticks, with real burning candles. On the walls were folk-embroidered towels, wreaths of artificial flowers and red and white ribbons. But the centre of all this splendour was the fireplace. A real, dark stone fireplace, with a real fire lighting up the room. Despite the weather, the room was half full.

– Give me your mackintosh, Red Riding Hood. – Martin appeared from behind the door that led to the kitchen – I noticed it out of the corner of my eye – and came over to me. – I won't hug you yet.

– Blue Cap! – I parried, unbuttoning my mackintosh. It was dripping. So was my hair. – Look at my sneakers and jeans! Through and through!

– Take them off. Let's dry them off a bit. There's a fireplace.

– I noticed. But I'll make do.

– Suit yourself. I called you.

– My phone was left at the hotel.

– I understood that. Come on. – Martin took me under his elbow and sat me down at the cosiest table, next to the fireplace.

– The floorboards are creaking," I said.

– Only a little. People don't notice it at all," Martin grinned.

– Don't notice it or just don't hear it? – I grinned too.

– That's the point. What do you think of the restaurant?

– Five stars, Martin. Named it after beloved yourself. How's it going?

– Not bad. As you can see.

I took a critical look at the audience.

– Not bad, huh?

– Yes. It's not full because it's a weekday. But it'll be packed tonight. – Martin's face lit up with such a smug smile that I realised how much he was in love with his restaurant and how proud he was of his success.

– By whom? I asked.

– Tourists, locals. Mortals, basically. And I have a fifty per cent discount for students, so young people like to meet here in the evening, after classes. And our beer is cheap and tasty. We brew it ourselves!

He described everything in such detail, with such genuine enthusiasm, as if I were a reporter and he a famous restaurateur. Well, maybe he will be one soon.

– I believe he will. It's very cosy in here. You're a great one," I complimented with a smile. – I like it very much. And those wreaths on the walls… Reminds me of my youth.

– Welcome to the past, my dear. I'd like to treat you to something special, but I'm afraid you won't appreciate it," my brother smirked.

He knew I had never tasted, nor had I any desire to taste the food of mortals.

– You know I prefer to drink wine," I winked at him. – But don't tell me you're a cook now.

– No, our cook is Maya.

– Polish?

– Yes, and she has golden hands.

– All by herself in this big room?

– Boris, her son, comes in at five. Also a cook. Yes, and two more waiters.

– You've got it all worked out. You're a born businessman! – I patted Martin on the shoulder.

My wet hair on my back made my T-shirt wet too. It was disgusting to sit there in wet clothes and sneakers. I ran my palm over the back of my head. – Shit. I felt like I'd crawled out of the bathtub.

– What were you doing outside in this weather? – Martin asked.

– Walking," I answered honestly. It was true. Although I preferred not to reveal the reason for the walk. – You advised me to walk around the city.

– And?

– You were right: it's cosy and beautiful. But I couldn't live here. It's too boring.

– Yes, you're a child of megacities.

– Maybe," I grinned. – Small towns suffocate me. But it's nice here. By the way, how did you meet Ales? He's such a nice man.

– I thought about having wine with him, but he started telling me about his son. He's doing his best for him. So I changed my mind. And the wine has gone a bit sour with age… When I become a father, I will also try for my children. – Martin smiled indulgently. – What's going on with you?

– What? – I was surprised by his question and the seriousness of his face. – I'm fine.

– You can't stand the humidity and you don't go out in the rain," Martin said flatly.

– I'm leaving tonight. – I said it just to get him off my back. But now I'd really have to buy a ticket. – So I don't have time to wait for the weather.

– Where to? My brother squinted his eyes.

– Toronto. Elle sent me a booking for a shoot. – Luckily, I didn't have to lie here.

– When?

– Tuesday.

– And you're flying out in a week? – he grinned.

– Do you suspect me of something? – I asked ironically.

– Yes. I know you, Maria. Probably better than you think.

– I'm not lying to you.

– Are you sure you're all right?

– Yes!" I said with a laugh.

– Are you sure?

– Yes!

– If you had a problem or felt unhappy, would you tell me?

– Yes!" I lied, looking into his eyes. I lied to him. To Martin. Right in his eyes. How low my maimed soul is! – Don't worry about me. – And to avoid further unpleasant conversation, I asked: – Are you driving today?

– Yeah.

– Take me to the hotel.

– Would you like to keep me company for a few more hours? – Martin asked in a sad tone.

– I'm sorry, darling, but I have a suitcase to pack. Besides, I'm not wearing any make-up.

– I noticed. That's why I know you're not well.

– You're doing it again! – I let out a chuckle and got up from my chair hurriedly. – Give me my rain jacket. I have to return it to reception.

Martin looked at me suspiciously, but gave me back my mackintosh. We walked out to the backyard, quickly hopped into his Snowman and rushed to the hotel. On the way, I asked him to tell me about why he suddenly decided to open his own restaurant. And he was so engrossed in his own story that I made it to the hotel without his harassing questions about my life.

– If you get tired of your boring life here, come visit me in Toronto," I said goodbye and kissed him on the cheek.

– Shall I take you to the airport? – Martin asked.

– No need, thank you. I'll hire a taxi.

– Ales can drive you. What time is your flight?

Dammit! I don't have a ticket yet, and I don't know what time it is!

– Nine fifteen, but it might be delayed,'' I said. – Give me his number, I'll call him myself after I've contacted the airport.

My answer satisfied Martin. He gave me Ales' number, I kissed his cheek again, got out of the car and walked quickly into the hotel.

"I need to buy a ticket right away," I thought as I walked up the stairs after handing my wet mackintosh to the front desk. The receptionist gave me a surprised look and her eyes rounded. Like I was crazy to go out in this weather!

Luckily, I found a ticket. Ten twenty.

Ales picked me up from the hotel at eight.