Candlelight Stories

by Andrzej Galicki

  Onuca tried to mumble something. Byniek loosened the rag tied around his mouth.”

  “Water" the prisoner wheezed with effort.”

  “And what would you wish to drink, if you please?” Byniek asked politely. “A large mug of clear beer as yesterday? Or maybe a pint of some amber?”

  “Are you nuts, man? The boss will get you before the evening. Only a wet stain will remain of you. Of this you can be sure.”

  “Look at yourself, “ said Byniek, unafraid, and he pointed at their pants. “You are both wet stains and you stink like hell. Just two filthy mucks pissed with fear you are. Only this and nothing more.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Onuca asked.

  Byniek noted that in addition to hatred, in the eyes of Onuca appeared clear anxiety.

  “What to do? Nothing. You'll die in a few days of hunger and thirst. Then I’ll dig a hole in my cellar and throw you there so you can join your piss.”

  At those words, the anxiety in the eyes of Onuca turned to horror. The exact same emotion could be seen in the eyes of Bula.

  To prove his threat, Byniek put the towel back on the mouth of Onuca despite his protests, checked the knots on their hands and feet - the electrical cables held fast - and left the cellar, closing the door firmly.

  At the same time, Zaba just entered Browarek, thirsty as usual. Byniek poured him a pint of beer and said that today he did not have to clean up.

  Zaba shrugged indifferently, drank beer and took off.

  "Well," thought Byniek. "He could find out something, smart ass.”

  The day was a difficult one, the customers grumpy. Florczak and Malinowski quarreled over something as usual, without reason, and the time passed mercilessly slowly. Byniek, with the rest of his patience, survived to the end of the day. Then, he swept the floor quickly and was about to leave when the door burst open violently and on the threshold stood Pacan with a second scamp, even younger than himself.

  “Hi Grandpa!” Pacan used the tone he had picked up earlier from his older colleagues. Byniek did not answer.

  “You have not seen my pals, Bula and Onuca?” Pacan demanded to know. “They were supposed to be here yesterday.”

  “Yes, yesterday they were here, ” replied Byniek calmly.

  “And what?”

  “What do you mean what? They picked up the money as usual and went away.”

  “They did not say where they were going?”

  “You watch them yourself. What is this? Does your boss already pluck boys from kindergarten?” Byniek looked at the new candidate for a thug.

  Pecan blushed, but kept his shoulders square. “You grandpa, better not mess with me because you're gonna get a lesson. Have you decided already whether or not you’ll avail of the protection? The patience of our boss has its limits. In the meantime, two pints with low foam for us. Get it?”

  Byniek put a mug under the faucet. The beer poured in a thin stream, creating a white, fluffy feather-blanket on top of the pint.

  “You know what, Pacan?” he said. “You better go back to school before it is too late. And tell your boss that if he has business with me, he should come see me himself and not send children here. I run a bar, not an orphanage. And tell him yet I piss off at rugs like him. Let him fuck off me once and for all.”

  The eyes of Pacan nearly popped out of their sockets with astonishment.

  “Grandpa, are you completely nuts?” exclaimed he, frightened. “He will destroy you, kill you. Only a wet stain on the floor will be left of you!”

  "Already heard this today," thought Byniek. “Here’s your beer, ” he said, grabbing the mug by the ear and splashing the contents straight into the startled face of Pacan. Then he grabbed the broom and no longer being able to control himself, shouted: “Get the fuck out of here right now! If not, I’ll break your bones into small pieces. And I don’t want to see you here ever again!”

  He waved his stick furiously, but the bristles encountered only pure air. The entrance door was ajar, moving with a light creak.

  "I have to lubricate the hinges," he thought, walking to the back for a bucket and a rag to clean the floor.

  Returning home, he wondered what to do next with Bula and Onuca. Maybe he would try to exchange them with their boss for the other three girls. Who knew? Maybe it would work, but then again, maybe not. The girls, after all, were for sure worth more than those two cheap thugs. Byniek gave them nothing to drink. Let them suffer a little more. Besides, in the end, he would be forced to send them to the police and he could only hope those guys will already have been reformed a little.

  This time, Nadia was not asleep. She watched him closely during dinner. She probably guessed from the expression on his face that something had happened, but she did not dare ask what.

  In the morning, Byniek was awakened by the doorbell. A friendly, young police lieutenant stood in the doorway and asked Byniek if he could go with him for a ride. It would take them one hour or so. Byniek got dressed and left without a word with the lieutenant. He was feeling rather less than comfortable. He didn’t know what to say to Nadia as she followed him with restless eyes.

  They rode the police patrol car without talking until they reached their destination. Of Browarek remained only a charred heap of rubbish and smoldering junk. Firefighters were topping the ashes with water from their hoses, and the white steam was floating up towards the sky, hissing menacingly. It was impossible to get close. The stinking heat of burnt embers shot up in the air with violent red sparks.

  Byniek stood motionless as if paralyzed, staring numbly at the slowly expiring remains of what was left of his beloved Browarek, not daring to even think about what lay under the glowing pile of rubble.

  “I understand your feelings” the police officer said gently. “Fortunately, the building belongs to the city so you did not lose very much.”

  “I've lost more than you think, ” said Byniek. “Emotionally, I lost everything that was to me the most precious.”

  “Yes, I understand. You see, this was arson. Near the fire, we stopped two young men. In the trunk of their car, we found the empty plastic containers of gasoline. The police know one of them, despite his young age. He is called Pacan. The second we do not know about yet. This Pacan, was he one of the three who were trying to force money out of you for protection?”

  “Yes, he was one of them.”

  “This night, without difficulty, we were able to officially confirm the name of the person for whom he works, so we could rapidly obtain a search warrant from the prosecutor for the disco Marycha.”

  “From what you said previously, I understood that this place is untouchable for you?”

  “It's no more. You see, other winds blow now. Presently, I am the commander of this facility. I promised you once that we would deal with these thugs and we have reached just this point.”

  “And what did you find when searching this restaurant?”

  “Actually, it is confidential for the sake of the investigation. But since you are involved, I can personally say a little bit. We found there three battered and frightened girls. Before, there were apparently four, but one disappeared, vanished into thin air. Presently, we are looking for her.”

  “Are they in danger?”

  “The girls? Of course not, but we need them to testify before the court, then we'll send them back where they came from. Maybe the court will later give them some financial compensation from the owner of the disco where they were kept against their will.”

  “And how about this guy?”

  “Of course he is under lock and key now. He has ceased to be untouchable. I told you - the new winds. He will be charged with enforcing protection, keeping an illegal brothel and perhaps even human trafficking. The list is long. I hope to bust him for many years. We are still looking for his two main thugs, Onuca and Bula. They are the ones who visited you the first time with the proposal of protection. We are looking for them everywhere, bu
t so far without success. It is as if they sank into the ground. Maybe they left the country, who knows?”

  Byniek involuntarily looked at the stream of steam soaring over the burning trash. "Maybe they are now floating somewhere in the air and watching us," he thought uneasily. "It would be better not to find them."

  He returned home on foot, torn by strange feelings. He felt guilty, thinking he should have reported to the Lieutenant about Bula and Onuca. But somehow it could not escape from his throat. Moreover, what would it change? They would not stand before the court as they were already appearing before the court of divine justice. But he would probably be accused of involuntarily causing their deaths. The idea of being responsible for those two thugs did not seem to fancy him. No, he was going to wait for the development of events. Maybe nobody was going to find them and if they did, well, he would worry about it later on.

  Nadia was waiting for him, already dressed, restless.

  “It's over, ” he told her. “You don’t have to hide any longer.”

  He told her all he had heard from the lieutenant. She cried with happiness. He said that after breakfast, he would take her to the police station, but it made her less happy.

  “I would like to stay here with you, ” she said.

  He looked into her eyes and he could see that she was serious. When he embraced her, she clung to him tightly and started to cry again.

  "Maybe it does not matter that I'm older?" he thought. "Older Poles can also do.”

  ***

  The court case was going to last for many months. The girls were given temporary papers and tickets to return home with the obligation to appear at the appointed dates of the hearings. Byniek received a notice from the Town Hall that his license to operate the restaurant in the same location was not going to be renewed. The city was not, in fact, planning to put up a new building. In the place of the old one, a small square with benches and flowers would be created.

  Indeed, when a few weeks later he passed near the place where Browarek was previously located, Byniek saw a large bulldozer leveling the square. Sometime later, he saw there a trolley, which brought huge amounts of black soil and autumn flowers.

  The gardeners formed beautiful flowerbeds and set a few benches around.

  Browarek passed into history and Byniek noted that since then, he had been sleeping much better.

  One evening, while driving his car by the new square, Byniek decided to get off and sit on a bench for a moment to reminisce. He parked the car near a flowerbed and got out. After taking a few steps, he stopped short. Bula sat on one of the benches with Onuca, watching him. Bula held in his right hand, his baseball bat, with which he hit the open palm of his left hand steadily. Byniek walked toward them, unable to stop. He approached them as if hypnotized. His legs were completely stiff, and his head stopped working at all.

  As he approached the sitting roughnecks, they gradually began to fade, until they completely melted into the darkness and he found himself in front of an empty bench. He did not sit on it. He immediately returned to the car, and after returning home, he made an irrevocable decision.

  He was going to sell the apartment of his mother and as soon as possible, go back to Chicago.

  And Nadia?

  Of course, he would take her with him if only she wanted. After the trial, she would be free. She could continue her studies over there, no problem.

  And he? What was he going to do there? He chuckled. What did he mean what? He would rent a small place in Jackowo and open a bar. What would he call it? Of course, Browarek!

  Wait, how was it pronounced in English? Would anyone understand it? "What am I babbling about?" He laughed at himself in his thoughts. Of course, he would call it Browarek. After all, who spoke English in Jackowo, the biggest Polish place in USA? The name of the bar would be suspended above the entrance and on the windows, it would be written in Polish: Piwo, Bigos, Flaki, maybe also Kaszanka. Then he thought about Nadia and added:

  Bliny.

 

  Back to ToC

  Beginning of the Book

  When you feel lost, misunderstood by everyone around you, even by your own wife or husband, it seems that the only thing that could save you is an escape. Find a hole somewhere far away, where no one will find you or rent a room in an unknown house, the best belonging to an older, distinguished person, in order to have the greatest guarantee of peace.

  But you have to be on your guard. Older persons sometimes like to arrange spiritual séances. Sometimes, instead of a peaceful dream, you may encounter quite a dreadful experience.

  ***

  He put the suitcase on the stairs and took out his handkerchief to wipe his wet glasses. It was raining a little, just a drizzle, but enough to wet him as he got out of the taxi. He felt drops of water on his forehead and cheeks. Some trickled down to his collar and slipped into the back of his shirt. It was not pleasant.

  He raised his hand to the doorbell and pressed the white button. Soon, Mrs. Stefania Zagorska stood in the doorway.

  She was exactly as he had imagined her, a dignified old lady in a long, dark dress. She eyed him warily from behind her round glasses, which had a thin, wire frame.

  “Mr. Henryk?” asked she. “Were you the one who called yesterday on the subject of the room?

  “Yes,” he answered. “Mrs. Stefania, right?”

  She opened the door wider and let him inside. From a small hallway, they entered the vast hall, where several doors seemed to lead to individual rooms. Only one of these doors was actually open. Henry caught a glimpse of a table and chair. Probably a dining room or living room, he thought.

  “Please come here.” Mrs. Stefania stopped in front of one of the closed doors. “This will be your room.”

  She went inside first. He walked behind her, bumping his knees with his cumbersome suitcase.

  The room turned out to be better than he expected, spacious enough with a small table covered with a nice tablecloth. Crochet work. (Could it be otherwise in the house of an old lady?) The window gave a view of the garden with some old trees. Even in this weather, it made a pleasant impression.

  “I like it,” he said with sincere satisfaction. “I am glad that the window overlooks the garden. I need a lot of peace.”

  “The street is also calm, but the view here is better. You seem to be a writer?”

  “Actually, I’ve just retired. But I'm also working on a book. This will be my first novel and I have some difficulty concentrating, which is why I'm so keen on the place being quiet.”

  “It will certainly please you, Mr. Henryk.” Mrs. Stefania looked proud. “I think I can call you this way, right?”

  He nodded.

  “It is a peaceful place,” she went on. “In the room next to yours lives a young person, Miss Barbara, but she is a student and is often away from home. Morning lectures, afternoon classes, you know how students are. Or should I say how students were before the war, as I remember?”

  “And this room?” Henryk pointed at the door on the opposite side of the hall.

  “Ah, there lives Mrs. Lewandowska. She does a lot of traveling. She is a flight attendant, a very attractive woman.”

  Henryk noticed a slight wince from his hostess, showing that Mrs. Lewandowska did not enjoy her greatest sympathy.

  “You see, since my husband's death, I was forced to rent out the rooms downstairs,” Mrs. Stefania explained. “I would not be able to maintain such a large house with my pension. Everything gets more expensive as you look. It's scary that way.” She turned to him. “You will be the only man among us. We will feel much safer thanks to you. Please let yourself feel at home. Here is the closet and the bathroom is just down the hall.”

  He looked in the direction she was pointing.

  “When you're ready, I'll show you the kitchen. You can use it, of course. Just as we agreed on the phone, dinner is included in the rent for the room, breakfast and lunch is on you.”

>   “Yes, of course. That's alright,” confirmed Henryk as he began to take off his coat.

  Before Mrs. Stefania went out of the room she added, “Dinner is at seven. I would appreciate some punctuality.” And she left him alone, closing the door gently behind her.

  Henryk walked over to the bed, threw himself on the patterned bedspread and stretched his arms and legs, not even bothering to take off his shoes. He had dreamed of such a moment for a long time, for the simple joy of being allowed to do what he really wanted at home. At home, Teresa never allowed him this kind of behavior. Generally, not too much was allowed him. And here? Here, he could lie down on the bed in his shoes and suit as he pleased. And what? Nothing happened. The world did not collapse.

  Overcome with sudden joy, he stood on the bed and started jumping high up in the air. With each jump, he tried to go even higher and he began to laugh like a man possessed, the loud, free laughter of a human being who had been released into the wild after thirty years in captivity. At that moment, the door to the hallway opened with a vengeance and a young blonde ran into the room, heading straight to the window. She was dressed only in bra and panties, her feet bare.

  One glance toward the bed and she turned to stone.

  Henry, too, froze in the air, his joyful laughter, broken suddenly, his voice lost.

  As the girl moved, Henry sat on the bed, slumping and laughing no more.

  “What kind of freak are you?” she asked finally, not even trying to cover herself.

  “Not a freak, just a new tenant. Henryk is my name,” he creaked with effort. “And you, young lady, are probably Miss Barbara. I've heard about you.”

  “Baska” she corrected. “Anyway, you're freaky, whatever your name is. But it does not matter. It's somehow boring here without someone who’s a little nuts.” She glanced at him. “I hope that you do not bite?”

  “I bite, but lightly and not everybody.”

  “Would you bite me?”

  “If you were older, yes, or if I was younger. Do you always fly around the house half naked?”