Candlelight Stories

  "That's good enough for me," he said, pointing to one of the bottles Pawel had brought. (He had already opened it even before bringing glasses from the kitchen.)

  "He is completely dry," thought Paul. “How could she have agreed to be married to such a drunk? Or maybe he started drinking after her death?"

  Ludwik came back from the kitchen and immediately poured Siwucha into their glasses.

  "Well, cheers!" he said, and drank everything to the last drop.

  "Have you prepared a Ludwik’s curve for today?" Pawel inquired anxiously.

  "Take it easy, buddy. Take it easy. First, the medication. Drink it or you will lose your turn."

  Pawel forced himself to drink a few sips. His throat was constricted due to his excitement, making swallowing difficult.

  Ludwik poured another round.

  "The first was for Socrates, now for his student, Plato!" he pronounced as he raised his glass in a toast, now with a more normal voice. "Just do not tell me you won’t drink for him!"

  Pawel forced himself again. This time, it went a little better.

  Ludwik quickly regained his usual form. He pulled out of the dresser drawer a roll of paper and threw it on the table. Pawel carefully studied the graph.

  "Again, going down?" he pointed at the green line on it with an expression of amazement.

  "As you can see, the Ludwik’s curve does not lie. It promises to take another leap down. And no wonder. From your greed, you created the crisis. There may be even few more such jumps down."

  "After all, banks are completely at the bottom. They cannot go lower."

  "Of course they may. In this business, the word ‘cannot’ does not exist."

  "Could you tell me in the end where you take these indicators, you know, those you mentioned - greed and fear?"

  Ludwik poured again. He was now in an excellent mood.

  "I promised you that I'd tell you, so I will. But it will be of no use to you. You are not a philosopher."

  They drank again. Pawel’s throat started to function normally.

  "You see, I know English quite well. While working at the University, I often used this language in communication with other universities, especially in the U.S. Even now, I read some magazines every now and then, especially if something falls into my field of interest."

  "But you told me you do not believe the newspapers."

  "And I do not. I do not draw my news from the newspapers, but from the Internet."

  "Do you think the Internet does not lie?"

  "Of course, it does, just like a newspaper. The difference is that on the Internet, everyone has the right to express himself. This is the genius of this invention. There, apart from the official websites of various newspapers and financial institutions, there are various sites of blogs from different domains of life. When you sign up to any of these sites, such as "Twitter", you will find financial blogs on the economy and U.S. stock exchanges without any problem. There, each investor can write what he thinks about this subject and can exchange opinions with the others, especially regarding what in consequence decides the movements of the stock exchange".

  Pawel tried to grasp the logic of this reasoning, which was needed for this next round.

  "If they know which way the stock market will go, why announce it on the blogs?"

  This time Ludwik was upset a little.

  "Who said they know?" he screamed and out of nervousness, poured another round. "They know shit! I told you that I need only their opinion as indicators for my curve."

  "Brilliant and simple at the same time" Paul said appreciatively. "And you convinced me that it really works. There is only one thing I don’t understand. It seems to me that everyone, the average mortal can make such an analysis. What role does philosophy play here?"

  "Oh no, not a mere mortal can do this. Not even a mediocre philosopher or psychologist. You see, because these blogs are so popular, in addition to investors, there is on them a huge amount of paid scums. They call them colloquially as "bashers" and are paid by various institutions to spread false information about companies to pump their stock up or down. There is a huge amount of them and if you take their voices into account, your rates will not have anything to do with the truth. I learned to recognize them correctly and that's why a good philosopher is needed here. Not just any. The only one who has reached the magic level "I know that I know nothing" is able to do this."

  Pawel listened, stunned. Here lay before him on the doorstep the key to the greatest treasure in the world, but it was barred from him with an armored glass pane. At the same time, here, in his torn dressing gown sits an unshaven dude, crossing that pane both ways without effort, and he does not care for it at all. Suddenly, he felt like a prisoner walking in the tiny courtyard of the prison, watching with envy an ordinary fly passing from one side of high wall to the other, completely indifferent of which side of the wall it was sitting on.

  "You are really brilliant," he said honestly. "I'm starting to actually believe in the superiority of philosophy over all the teachings of the world. It is really amazing."

  "Your next visit will be the last," said Ludwik. "If you will be convinced ultimately, you have to consider taking a certain step."

  "What is it?"

  Ludwik walked over to the dresser. For a moment, he rummaged through one of the drawers, then pulled out an object wrapped in old pajamas. Pawel watched him curiously. Once the fabric had been unwound, it turned out that what was inside was the alabaster bust of a bearded man with a high forehead on a pedestal of some darker stone.

  "Who is the guy?" asked Pawel, intrigued. "Is he your master, Socrates?"

  "You guessed it, man. You're making progress. Thank you for not confusing him with Jessie Livermore. Well, you have to promise me that if, during the next time I see you, you become completely satisfied with the outcome of my analysis, you will execute a dignity kiss on his forehead and repeat the same thing about philosophy that you just said to me. I want him to hear it."

  Pawel promised eagerly. Ludwik carefully set down the bust of the famous philosopher in the middle of the table and went to the kitchen for a moment. He returned a third time with a third glass, which he set directly in front of the master. It was necessary to open the second bottle. They drank without hors d'oeuvres for the health of Socrates and Plato and other philosophers that Pawel did not even know existed.

  "Why do you keep it in a drawer?" asked he with slightly tangled and longer words.

  "When I broke up with science, I felt unworthy of him. He fought to the end for the matter in which he believed. He sacrificed his life for his ideas, although he was offered an escape. I escaped, although I could fight. You gave me my last chance, so he goes back to his old place. Now I can look directly into his eyes."

  ***

  When Pawel found himself on the street, it turned out that someone rearranged all the flagstones and walking on them became quite difficult. He needed some time to get used to a new way of stepping so that his head was as high as possible at the top of his body. After passing a few blocks, his sense of balance had somehow returned. "I wonder if that Socrates guy also drank Siwucha" - he wondered silently, but there was just nobody around to inquire. Suddenly, he noticed a familiar place. Once again, he stood before the gate with gargoyles.

  "What if I go inside, only to see the yard? It will be interesting to see how it has changed" he thought.

  The yard had not changed, at least, not too much. “Wait, how was it again? You turn out of the gate then to the right, then up the stairs to the second floor. No, I will not go there yet. What the hell? After all, she is not there anymore... Well, yes, but at least. I see the door. I wonder if the doors are still the same" - he thought chaotically while holding on to the wooden railing.

  He stood before the door panting a little, waiting for his breathing to return to normal.

  "Not the best thing to do in my condition. It's only the second floor and I’m like this. I will need to work on my
self..."

  Suddenly, from behind the door, he heard the music. He could not help putting his ear to the door frame.

  "Love me tender, love me true,

  All my dreams fulfill

  For my darlin' I love you

  And I always will... "

  He heard the bell. At the same time, he noticed that his finger was on a white button, pressing it firmly. He jumped from the door. What the hell was he doing? And what should he do now? Run away? Too late. He heard footsteps and then the door opened slowly.

  Helena stood in the doorway, staring at him without a word. She was not even shocked at seeing him, just maybe a little surprised.

  "Finally, you showed up," she said after a while. "I was curious if you would remember me. I must admit to you that I was even kind of waiting."

  "What? Did you know that I had returned?"

  "Of course. Ludwik told me about it. He said, you didn’t even ask about me." She opened the door wider. "Come in. You look as though you are stuck to the doormat."

  Pawel tried to take a step forward, which was not an easy matter since his legs were suddenly so stiff in the knees.

  Helena looked at him attentively and laughed.

  "You’ve been at Ludwik’s place again, haven’t you? It’s his fault you’re this way? Siwucha?"

  Pawel nodded without saying a word.

  "Sit down here on the couch. I’ll just make you a strong tea. It will help you a little."

  He kept his eyes on her as she walked into the kitchen. No, she had not changed. The same blond hair, she had was pinned up high just as she used to wear it and she still had the same shapely figure and that beautiful face. How did she do it? Elvis finished his singing. Pawel reached clumsily for the turntable and pushed back the needle. It was, after all, still the same long-playing record. Something creaked, but Elvis obediently began to sing from the beginning.

  "Remember this tune?" asked she as she placed a cup of tea before him. "This was our tune."

  "How could I forget? After all, it was then... " He stopped abruptly, not knowing what to say next.

  "That we loved each other," she finished the sentence for him. "Now, I think it was the most beautiful night of my life. All the rest, they were all mistakes and disappointments. I paid dearly for them."

  "What about Ludwik? Why did you break up with him?"

  "Break up? You don’t believe that we ever were together, do you? We have seen each other sometimes, as friends from the old years. That was it. Anyway, I do not think that there is a woman who could live with such a freak under one roof."

  Pawel sipped his tea, then began to laugh quietly, long and continuously, unable to stop. Once he had regained his composure, he apologized and said:

  "And you know, that night years ago was also the most beautiful night of my life. I know this for sure, and tonight is probably the second."

  They sat still for a long time, listening to Elvis and remembering those silly years when happiness leaked between their fingers like water, and they did not even try to tighten their fists to stop it until the water had escaped completely, leaking down to the last wet and happy drops.

  Paul felt tired, damn tired. He stood up to say goodbye.

  "Are you crazy?" she exclaimed indignantly. "I will not let you go in such a state. It is still the middle of the night. You can sleep until the morning right here on the couch, and in the morning, you go back to the hotel."

  She kissed him good night on the cheek and disappeared into the bedroom.

  "How does she manage to still stay so beautiful?" wondered Pawel as he stared at the closed white door.

  ***

  In the early morning, the noise of the agitated street woke him up. Remembering where he was, he got up from the couch where he had fallen asleep in his suit, covered only with a blanket. He walked over to the mirror in the hallway, the same mirror that had burst then, under the killing effect of Lutek’s gaze so that he could take a look at himself. The mirror was a whole piece now. It had surely been repaired. But he himself - was a ruin. "I cannot show her my face in such a state," he thought in panic. He fixed his hair up as best as he could then went on tiptoe to the bedroom door, slowly opening it.

  On the bed, her back to the entrance, lay a woman no longer young. Heavily wisps of graying hair fell across her lean back, a back which twitched slightly from time to time. Was she crying?

  Pawel closed the door as gently as he had opened it, walked past the hallway and slipped out into the stairwell.

  ***

  The next three days were like a carousel. The stock exchange rates were bouncing around like mad. The Dow Jones plunged three, four or even five percent per day. Something like that Pawel had not yet seen.

  Finally, when the price of the Lehman Brothers shares declined by another 95 percent, Pawel withdrew everything from the market. He had earned enough on his shorts. He felt obscenely rich. Going for the last visit to Ludwik’s apartment, he took with him only one bottle of Siwucha. He did not want to commit the same mistake he made previously.

  "Do you know what happened?" he asked when Ludwik came back from the kitchen with two glasses.

  "I know," replied Ludwik. "Lehman announced that they have applied for bankruptcy protection. The bank is almost dying. Probably you earned a lot from it?"

  "So, what's next? What will be next?"

  "What do you mean what? You will kiss Socrates on the forehead and loudly declare that philosophy is the most important science in the world, to which all others are subordinate."

  Pawel accomplished the request of the philosopher without a murmur of complaint.

  "Did you not prepare a Ludwik’s curve for today?" asked he with a tinge of disappointment as he gestured at the empty table.

  "Why? It is no longer needed. My task is complete. I do not care about the rest."

  "I am just wondering what will come next. If a bank like Lehman goes bankrupt, it will be a disaster."

  "They will not go bankrupt. Be calm." Ludwik admonished him.

  "What do you mean they won’t go bankrupt? What are you talking about?" Pawel was amazed.

  "Did Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac go bankrupt? The government practically bought them using taxpayers' money. And you see what just happened with AIG? Exactly the same. Yet the managers asked for huge bonuses. They proved to be too big to let them go bankrupt. And Lehman is even bigger. It is one of the oldest and most important U.S. banks. You will see what will happen in a few days. I do not know how to trade, I absolutely do not care. But if I were an investor, I would buy the shares of Lehman with all my existing money. Those will go up like crazy right after the government announces the bailout. The transaction of a lifetime. A second time will not happen."

  He emptied the contents of his glass and went to the toilet, of course, not closing the door behind him. Pawel pondered deeply. What Ludwik had just said came as a surprise. He was going to withdraw himself completely from the market, but after what he had heard? Ludwik was a magician, and the magician a genius. That meant he certainly knew what was going to happen next. If anyone knew it, he would.

  Should he buy a lot of Lehman shares as Ludwik had suggested just for the sport even? After all, he could win a lot of money and it was pushing right into his hands. Yes, he should, but it would be the last time. Really the last time. Definitely.

  Then he looked for a second towards the hallway and froze in horror.

  Through the half open door of the washroom, he saw a small mirror hanging on the wall. And in the mirror, he saw for the third time in his life the Medusa gaze. It lasted only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. He felt a trickle of cold sweat running down between his shoulder blades.

  When Ludwik returned to the room, Pawel apologized to him and said he had to get back to his hotel because he did not feel very well. Ludwik did not try to stop him.

  "Only once in a lifetime," he muttered only to himself thoughtfully before he said goodbye. Then they arranged for the ne
xt meeting, though neither of them sounded serious about it. Maybe they both felt that they would never meet again?

  ***

  He roamed the streets and tried to calm his rickety nerves. What the hell had happened to Ludwik? Why the sudden hatred? Where had it come from? And then, a glaring idea came suddenly to his brain. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and thoughtlessly allowed himself to be pushed aside by passers-by hurrying off somewhere.

  He found out! Yes, Ludwik learned that Pawel had met Helena! That Pawel knew that Helena was alive! That she and Ludwik were never married. What a humiliation. But how could he have learned about it? How did it happen? Well, Helena said that they were in contact. And she had no reason to conceal the fact that Pawel had come to her place. Now, everything was clear. Pawel returned quickly to his hotel. Now, what he needed was some peace.

  ***

  After two days, when he checked the web page of Yahoo Finance, big headlines screamed: "The Lehman Brothers bank went bankrupt". The share prices fell again by 75 percent to two cents per share. Trading was halted. Pawel sat in front of his laptop and felt like a big block of ice. Until yesterday, he had hesitated to buy these shares with everything he had. Until yesterday, the words of Ludwik rang in his ears: “Only once in a lifetime". He even put his finger on the button to press BUY, when once again the last glance of Medusa appeared before his eyes. He slammed the lid of the laptop and did not open it until now. Ludwik knew what would happen. When he had proved his point, when a defeated opponent had already executed a kiss on the forehead of Socrates, the time came to settle personal debts. Just by chance it did not work out, he underestimated the strength of his gaze.

  Early in the evening, Pawel stood before the gate with gargoyles. He was dressed in a light suit that was appropriate for late summer and in his left hand, he held a large bouquet of flowers. Maybe he could still manage to make things right. Apparently, time could be unwound only if you really wanted it to. He ran lightly to the second floor, this time with no sign of fatigue. He pressed the buzzer.

  She opened the door almost immediately, as if she had been waiting for him, young and beautiful as ever.

  Upon seeing the flowers he had brought, she smiled.