Yellow, round eyes
Short story from the series
At the Crossroads
Andrzej Galicki
Yellow, round eyes
Andrzej Galicki
© Copyright 2013 Andrzej Galicki
all rights reserved
Yellow, round eyes
Marta ran along Jerozolimskie Avenue toward Marszałkowska street, ran quickly, as quickly as she could, bumping into other passer-by occasionally. Each time, she threw over her shoulder a quick "I'm sorry", not even looking at the person whom she had bumped into. It was not important. Only one thing was important - she had to get home before Michael.
Recently, he had been acting insanely jealous, and if, after returning from work, he did not find her in the kitchen preparing dinner quietly, he might think again God knows what, probably that she betrayed him, or that she meets someone, or something of the sort. At the thought of his jealous expression, she wondered if perhaps she should have just stayed at home, but then, she simply had to visit her friend, Basia, who just returned from Paris and brought some dresses to sell. French dresses for such money? What kind of girl could resist? But in spite of everything, none of them fit her, they were all too small, making her wonder what all the French women eat to have such slim figures. They probably starve themselves to look nicer, she thought. And she? She even has become more rounded since the wedding. Oh, it would be better to go to work, as Basia did, have a little more freedom, some other contacts, conversations. The comfort she wanted, and she received what she was looking for, the role of a housewife - breakfast, lunch, dinner - still in the pots and the pans.
Then again, Basia’s husband, Paul, was a normal guy, like the others, and Michael turned out to be a unique simply jealous guy, requiring his wife to sit home and wait for her husband to come. So were the rules. At first, that even impressed her, her university friends had to go to work early in the morning, had to race through mud and snow to the crowded tram or bus, and she had only to get up for a moment to eat breakfast with Michael, and when he had left for his office, she could go back to a warm bed and sleep even up to nine, if only she wanted.
But now, after two years of marriage, this kind of life seemed to her so monotonous, she began to wonder if her relationship with Michael was not just a stupid mistake resulting from inexperience and naive infatuation of a young girl for this good-looking guy who had his own apartment and a car and could afford a non-working wife.
But - what happened is done; now, it's too late for any changes. Now she knew it very well and she did not want to resort again to similar explanations like the last time, when he came home from work and did not find her there. So she ran like crazy, looking at her watch from time to time.
Suddenly, running across the Poznanska street, she heard the screech of tires and felt some intense pain go throughout her body. She felt herself flying in the air and after a few meters of gliding, she fell on the asphalt road.
She did not feel the pain of falling, though. She immediately jumped up and picked up from the pavement her purse - a gift from Michael. Then, she walked away in the same direction, even without looking at the car that hit her. It seemed to her at the same time, she heard cries of terror behind her, but did not pay the slightest attention to them. She didn’t run anymore, just walked casually as if all of sudden her haste was no longer important. She was not even sure why she was in a hurry before and she was actually not sure where exactly she was going now. She came to the next intersection. Here, at the back of the pavilion of Cepelia store was a small cafe, more accurately, a cafe bar. Through the window glass, Marta saw Joanna, a friend from high school, sitting right next to the window in a trendy, bright coat and looking out into the street.
A cup of black coffee was on the tabletop in front of her. "Probably waiting for someone," thought Marta. Next date, this girl will never wise up. She stopped in front of the glass, just in front of Joanna and waved. The other did not even react.
"What a monkey," thought Marta. "She pretends she does not see me. And this cheat sheet I sent her for the graduation exam in the Polish language, she had forgotten it as well?"
She opened the door and went straight to the bar ostentatiously, not paying attention to her friend. She sat on a high bar stool. She thought for a moment, how suddenly it came to her this kind of boldness. From the time of her marriage, nothing like that had ever happened. When the bartender glanced in her direction, she asked for a glass of cognac, but the bartender pretended not to hear. She repeated her request louder but only got the same reaction from the bartender. She realized at once what was going on. Nearby is the Hotel Polonia, after all, the bartender had to take her for one of those women ...
She glanced furtively towards Joanna, to find out if this bitch saw her humiliation. But fortunately, she was already occupied with her gigolo who has just arrived. Marta stood up from her stool angry, and hurriedly left the bar. She was never in her life so mortified like at this moment. It was a mistake to get out of her house today. She should politely just wait home for her husband, not wander in the streets.
Meanwhile, dusk was falling very fast. An old lady passing by was staring at the store windows, Marta hit her so that the women dropped on the pavement an umbrella she held in her hand. Marta began to apologize, but the old lady did not pay any attention to her, she bent down quickly, picked up her umbrella and cursed like a drunken sailor at the same time, as if no one was around. Marta began to embrace some strange questions. What was going on with her? Why was it that no one seemed to pay any attention to her?
She decided to make an experiment, asking the first man she met on the street, then later a girl passing by. The result was the same: no one answered. Something has changed in her from the time she was hit by that car. She made one more attempt: she asked the police officer just passing near her for direction. He did not even look at her, passing her indifferently, continuing to dig his finger in his official nose.
At that very moment, Marta understood. To her mind finally has come this dreadful and merciless truth that after all had to reach out to the understanding of every person who had passed away. Marta realized that she was dead. Just normally dead, like all those who are dead. She suddenly felt terribly confused and lost in this evening crowd, blind at the sight of her.
"What do I do?" She asked herself in sudden panic. "What does someone do after death - stay here on the street or go back home?” She had not the slightest idea what should be done in this state. Somehow, it was different from what she read about death in books.
"Dammit, I'm going back home," she decided.
"And if this idiot of mine will start to fuss again and inquire why I came back so late, what can I tell him; that I died? Oh no, he probably will not notice me, like the others. I'm going back where I have my bed, my nightgown and everything that is mine. I'm going home and let it be whatever will be. "
And then, all of a sudden, she saw two yellow eyes staring into her eyes somewhere from the sidewalk. She bent down and picked up from the pavement a young cat, a kitten to be exact. She picked it up at the height of her face, and the animal stared into her eyes with the confidence and sincerity proper only to small cats, lost and looking with fear for the friendly face of some being, someone who will provide him with love and shelter.
- Do not worry at all a little one - Marta said, hugging its soft fur to her face. - You alone can see me. We'll manage.
When she finally arrived at the gate of her house, the night was black, the house slept.
Marta entered the elevator and went up to the fourth floor, with the kitten under her arm. She opened the door of her apartment and
went inside, lighting up a light in the hallway. From Michael’s bedroom, she heard a quiet snoring.
"So that is how much he cares about me," she thought. "He did not even notice that I'm gone."
She went to the kitchen, poured a saucer of milk and put it next to the radiator, and then she picked up from her linen closet an old towel and put it just next to a saucer.
-Sleep well, little one. Here you will be okay - she said, gently stroking the kitten’s shiny fur. Then, she turned off the light in the kitchen.
When she lay down on the matrimonial bed, Michael did not even wake up. "Same as the others, on the street," she thought, disappointed, and closed her eyes.
***
When she woke up the next morning, she heard the sound of water dripping in the sink in the bathroom. "He already got up" she thought, half consciously yet. Michael came out of the bathroom in his pyjamas; he leaned over the bed and kissed her on the cheek. He looked worried.
- How are you? - He asked - you were sleeping when I came back yesterday from work and you were sleeping so soundly until now.
"So, it was just a dream," Marta thought happily. Very realistic, but it's just a dream.
She felt suddenly that she loved him and no longer detested his jealousy, and that she will never do such silly things again as she did in her dream. After all, life was so beautiful ...
- I had a migraine, she said quickly. - I had to sleep it off. But now it is as if I have been born again.
Michael, reassured, came out of the bedroom.
- And what the hell is that? - She suddenly heard his loud cry.
She saw him almost immediately in the bedroom doorway, his raised hands holding up by the skin of its neck a kitten, whose round, yellow eyes were fixed like yesterday into Marta's eyes with confidence and dedication.
Marta did not know how to answer Michael’s seemingly simple question.
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