I’m awakened by the most delicious smell #3
“Everything. Certain rules apply. The dish was not served as I asked. They should replace it and serve a new one.”
“And also, by the way, they would spit in your jam, and smear all over the crêpes with a finger inserted in the butt first.”
“I don’t understand.”
“What don’t you understand, Jan? That you clung to those crêpes as if your life depended on them? Or that you insulted the waitress?”
“I didn’t insult her, I just told her the truth. I asked for jam in a bowl, and she didn’t remember that. Did I really ask that much of her?”
“No, but it happens. Maybe she’s having a bad day or has some family issues on her mind, or maybe she really is stupid.
Whatever. I figured it would be quicker, more efficient, and less risky to remove the jam myself, rather than wait for the meal to be prepared again.
Now it’s just the way you wanted it. You have jam separately in a cup and clean crêpes separately.
Eat, they are really good.” I return to my dish.
Jan doesn’t say anything. He digests my words. He looks at his plate, murmurs something under his breath, shifts his gaze to the jam and murmurs again. Finally, he reaches for a paper napkin, spreads it neatly on his lap, picks up his cutlery and begins to eat the crêpes.
“So, are they good?” I ask, sending him a cocky smile while he swallows the first bite.
“Acceptable.”
“My highlander’s pancake is delicious. Would you like to try it?”
“No.”
“Just a little bit. You lose nothing, you can only gain.” I scrape the sauce off the piece, scoop it onto a fork and slip it to Jan almost right under his nose.
He sniffs the food like a child who is told to eat liver with fried onions. God, I’m about to lose it. I can hardly restrain myself not to burst out laughing.
“This is just the potato pancake. I got rid of the sauce.”
He peruses it carefully.
“Well, Jan, this one is for Maria.” I’m grinning from ear to ear. “There will be a reward.”
“What reward?” He raises his eyes at me.
“Whatever you want.”
He looks at me for a long moment, and his eyes darken.
“In this case, we need to buy lube on the way home.”
A shudder runs through me.
“OK,” I agree.
Jan opens his mouth and puts the potato pancake in, without taking his eyes off me.
An exciting tingling sensation spreads between my thighs.
“And how does it taste to you?” I ask.
“Three stars out of five. The crêpes are better.” He’s back to eating.
I watch him for a long moment and realize that I have never dined with any guy in such an unusual atmosphere. And strangely I like it very much.
Over the remainder of the meal we talk about what we could do for the rest of the day.
Of course, anal sex is first on the list, and later (if I don’t drop dead from exhaustion) we’ll watch a movie.
We’ve already agreed that it won’t be any romantic comedy this time.
Jan is leaning toward a documentary. We are on track to agree on a common version—it is to be contemporary, interesting, controversial, maybe a biography… ?
Suddenly, the restaurant door opens and a crowd of tourists pours in. They are loud, laughing, you can see that they have been drinking — quite a bit.
“We have reservations from booking.com!” A short man with a tummy yells toward the waitress and squeezes through the crowd to the counter.
There is a bustle. People are pushing back chairs, taking off clothes, and talking in excited voices.
Only now do I notice small cards with the word ‘Reserved’ written on them, lying on all the tables.
That would explain why it was so empty here when we arrived.
Apparently, we ended up at the only available table for two.
One of the tourists shouts out at the top of her lungs, “People, today is Anka’s birthday!” and begins to sing Happy Birthday. The rest of them join her and it is cacophony: some people clap, one person hits the table-top, another fiddles with the light switch, turning the restaurant into a disco.
I laugh. What a party.
“So it gets busy here after all.” I shift my gaze to Jan and I gasp.
He looks as if he is about to have a heart attack. He is pale as a sheet, his eyebrows are drawn together, his breathing is uneven, and I notice drops of sweat on his forehead. He searches for something with his eyes, blinks too fast, clenches his fists…
“Are you OK?” I ask, but he doesn’t respond.
He is sweating more and more, swallowing, his chest rising as if he were running.
“Jan, what’s wrong with you?” I touch his hand, and then he springs from his chair. He resembles a deer trapped at night by the blinding lights of a car. He is terrified!
“I have to get out of here.”
“Sure, I’ll just call the waitress to—” I don’t finish because Jan is already leaving the inn making huge strides, as if the ground were burning under his feet. He didn’t even take his coat with him!
Shit, what happened to him?
I walk quickly to the counter, ask for the bill, pay with my card, then put on my jacket, take Jan’s overcoat and go outside.
Then I immediately track down the parked BMW, but Jan isn’t there.
I look around everywhere… and suddenly, I spot him.
He is standing with his forearms resting against the facade of the restaurant.
His palms are flat on the wall, his arms tense, his head lowered.
A puff of steam comes out of his mouth, accompanied by quietly pronounced words.
I walk towards him and look at him attentively. The hair on his temples is still damp with sweat; but thankfully, his face has already regained a more human skin tone.
I can hear the numbers being uttered at one-second intervals:
“Four hundred and forty-five, four hundred and forty-six, four hundred and forty-seven,”
“Jan, what’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer. He continues to lean against the wall all tense and counting.
“Put on your coat, or you’ll catch a cold.
” My first instinct is to stroke his back, but I recall his earlier reactions to my unexpected touch.
“Do you want to drive home? I can drive. I will drive slowly and carefully,” I speak to him in a soothing voice, but he doesn’t respond.
“Jan? What do you want me to do? Tell me, what do you need?”
I wait patiently, staring at the big man, who now looks like a small, wounded child.
“I need peace and quiet,” he finally speaks up.
“Should I leave you alone?”
“Yes,” he replies in a voice devoid of emotion.
“Then why don’t you at least take a coat because you’ll freeze.”
“No.”
Fine. I have no idea what’s going on, and I’m a little freaked out, but Jan gives the impression that he really needs to be left alone right now. I reach into his coat pocket and take out his car keys.
“I’ll wait for you in the car. Don’t stay here too long.”
He doesn’t answer. I walk away toward the BMW. My head is spinning. I need a cigarette to organize my thoughts, but I shouldn’t let Jan out of my sight now. This is the first time I’ve seen him in such a state, and I’m really worried about him.
I get in from the driver’s side, start the engine, turn on the warm air and heat both seats. I’m sure Jan will freeze to the bone if he stands longer without an overcoat.
And he stands like this for a good twenty minutes. In the same position, motionless, as if frozen. His lips move in rhythm with the sequentially uttered numerals.
I suspect he has already reached two thousand.
Okay, I will give him five more minutes and then I’ll try to get him back. After all, he can’t remain motionless for an eternity. It’s seventeen degrees Fahrenheit, he’ll get pneumonia.
I’m about to get out of the car when Jan pulls away from the wall, straightens up and walks toward me. At first glance, he looks normal: he even has rosy cheeks from the frost, but this is only an appearance. The longer I stare at him, the more withdrawn and absent he seems.
He gets into the passenger side of the car and, without a word, fastens his seat belt. He sits upright, seems distant, looking ahead with eyes emptied of any emotion.
“Is everything okay?” I ask.
“No,” he answers dispassionately, like an android.
“Is there anything you need?”
“I want to go home.”
“Should I drive?”
“Yes.”
The car is filled with silence for the duration of the ride.
Jan sits in an unchanged position, looking as if he is in a completely different place with his thoughts.
I don’t forcefully chat him up because it’s obvious that he doesn’t feel like talking.
Maybe when we get home, there will be an opportunity to do so.
However, when we get home, Jan is still silent. He takes off his shoes in the foyer, washes his hands and face in the bathroom, drinks a glass of water in the kitchen and heads straight for the bedroom. He gives the impression that he performs each activity very mechanically.
“Can we talk about what happened?” I watch him as he strips down to his T-shirt and boxers. To my surprise, this time he doesn’t fold his clothes into a cube, but throws them carelessly on the chair, as if he doesn’t have the strength.
“No.” He pushes back the quilt and, with a heavy sigh, gets into bed.
“Can I get you anything?”
“No. I want to be left alone.” He turns his back to me and covers himself, as if arranging himself for sleep.
And yet, it’s only four o’clock!
I stand on the threshold and stare at his silhouette. I have no idea what happened today, but it has clearly exhausted him. Soon his breathing calms down, lengthens, slows down… He is asleep in less than five minutes.
As soon as I leave the bedroom, the sound of my phone rings out. It’s Nina. I pick it up and, listening to her account of the holidays, I put on my jacket and shoes, grab my smokes and head out the door.
“Tadeusz and I are having a New Year’s Eve party at the club.
Everyone will contribute,” she says as she finishes the story about the bad sweater gift she got from her parents.
“I know it’s last-minute, but there’s space freed up for a group of ten in a dedicated area.
There will be a DJ, a buffet, and booze.
We start at eight. I’ll text you the address. ”
“How many seats do you have available?” I ask.
“I’m calling you first, of course. I’ll talk to Toska next about whether she’ll come together with Radek. Then I will contact Arti. Maybe he’ll bring some guy with him.”
“Will you have space for one more person?”
“Sure. For whom?”
“For one more guy.” I smile to myself.
“Er… am I not aware of something?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you meet someone? When? We talked on Christmas Eve in the morning and you didn’t say anything. Who is this guy? Do I know him?”
“Personally, no. But your Tadeo, whose ass I’m going to kick for hiding this from me, knows him very well.”
“Tadeo? Maria, tell me what’s going on and who this guy is because I’m about to go nuts with curiosity.”
I take a deep breath.
“It’s my boss,” I reply. “And I’m spending the Christmas break with him at his house in the mountains,” I add, after which I tell her everything from the beginning, leaving out only today’s incident at the restaurant because I don’t have the faintest idea of what to think about it.