Page 67 - WTP Vol. IX #6

his studies, and since last year he’s been working
in Sweden. He’s back for his three weeks’ vacation. He didn’t let her know he was coming. She found
out on Facebook. Although he apologized and told her he was just about to email her, she knows what she knows. She hoped they would see each other soon after he arrived, but he had to spend time with his family. Funny how he suddenly began showing great attachment to his parents and younger brother. Magda doesn’t delude herself. They have to talk and she needs to hear from him that it’s over. That’s why she insisted they meet. She likes straightforward endings and suspects that Eryk could go on deceiv- ing her for God knows how long. He’s a coward. He panicked when she thought she was pregnant. He was terrified she would try to force him to marry her and was ready to spend all his savings on her trip to Slovakia, where, he assured her, she could easily get an abortion. Back then it didn’t occur to her to ask how come he knew so well that Slovakia was a Mecca for women seeking abortion. It doesn’t matter now. Magda pulls up her sleeve and looks at her watch. Eryk’s late—as usual.
A middle-aged plump waitress wearing a white apron appears in the door of the café. The café doesn’t hire foreign language-speaking and fashion- conscious students. Besides the two women, today the café can boast only a young family with a baby in a stroller and a man with a baseball cap who looks like a foreigner. They have been here for quite a while and have all been served. The waitress ap- proaches Magda first. She doesn’t know that Beata came here before her. She jots down something on her tiny pad and walks toward Beata who takes off her sunglasses and scrutinizes the menu. She doesn’t need to; nothing has changed, and she only wants a cup of coffee with cream. When she came here with Mariusz, she also ordered a slice of Marcello, a deli- cious cake with chocolate filling. She won’t do it now. It wouldn’t hurt to lose a few kilos before she goes
to see Paula. Mariusz always loved her slim figure.
He was fifteen years older but didn’t look his age. He took good care of himself. They often went skiing in winter. His wife didn’t like winter sports so he had more time for Beata then. They went places in the summer too but only for a few days. Mariusz couldn’t weasel out of family vacations.
The waitress shows up again. She has a tray with a cup of coffee and a goblet piled high with ice-cream and whipped cream. She walks to Magda’s table. The ice-cream can’t wait. She carries the coffee to Beata. Magda’s eyes rest on her. She admires Beata’s quiet elegance, her cream-colored sleeveless linen dress
and her beige leather sandals. Those don’t come from the secondhand stores where Magda shops and where you buy clothes by weight. With a long spoon she removes the whipped cream. She forgot to tell the waitress she didn’t want it. She never liked it. She always loved plain ice-cream. She could eat it three times a day and never have enough. She often buys a whole carton in the supermarket close to her house. And today she won’t deny herself the pleasure of eat- ing ice-cream at a café. She got paid yesterday.
Beata raises the cup to her lips. Strong, good coffee, tasting the way it used to. Nothing has changed. What a silly thought, everything has changed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have come here. Better not to brood too much. What happened is gone and should be forgot- ten. It’s now that matters. One must have a positive attitude toward life, help oneself and one’s fate, and not rely on chance. Her therapist keeps repeating that. The past is a locked room to which the key was lost. This isn’t from her therapist. Someone said that in the miniseries she watches. It’s worth remember- ing too. That time is lost not because it passed but be- cause it was such a stupid waste. She wasted the best years of her life and is all alone. Maybe it’s better to be unhappy with someone than to be unhappy alone. She glances at her watch. It’s five after eleven.
A man enters the café. He’s medium height, has curly hair going all the way to his shoulders and a balding patch at the top of his head. He wears khaki pants and a jacket the same color. He surveys the people in the café and for a second his eyes alight on Beata. He hesitates and takes up the table to the left of her. He adjusts one of the two wicker chairs so that he can have a good view of the café garden. From under his arm he removes a rolled newspaper and places it on the table. It’s obvious he’s not in a hurry. He doesn’t even gesture at the waitress who is now handing the check to the man in a baseball cap. But she comes to him anyway and nods as if answering his question.
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