Candlelight Stories

  “Not for drunkenness, just for the consumption of alcohol during the hours of service. And I did not get fired, but was officially transferred here. Does your little brain not understand this subtle difference under your stupid beret?”

  Byniek smiled. He was already accustomed to these discussions that led to nowhere, but were so necessary for those two as the air they breathed. It was the only way they could be close to each other. Byniek, of course, had his own matters on his mind, even more than enough of it, especially recently.

  He had left Nadia sleeping on the couch. Now he wondered, when he came home, would he find just the bare walls and empty floors? Everything was possible, after all. He knew nothing about her. After all, he did not ask her about anything. Yesterday, after leaving the bathroom, she lay down on the couch and immediately fell asleep. He had no conscience to wake her up, so he just covered her with a blanket and set aside the second plate of ready-to-eat sandwiches, wrapping them so as not to let them dry out.

  Mariusz, an old friend from primary school, had to replace him at work at four o'clock until evening. Byniek had employed him since the beginning. After all, he could not handle all the work alone. It was difficult to cope with the growing number of customers without a help.

  Now, for example, in addition to Florczak and Malinowski, there were two other guys in railwaymen uniforms. Sometimes, at this time, there was no one, but in the evening Browarek began to get crowded, so at 6 P.M. more or less, it was getting noisy. Sometimes, all the tables were occupied. Browarek was especially popular among the old guards, the dinosaurs the age of Byniek and above, some retirees, a few widowers shining here in the evening for a beer or two and spending some time with their peers talking, or sometimes, just sitting with them without saying a word. Well, it did good. The alcohol calmed the nerves, relaxed. Someone once said to Byniek that he had a sleeping problem. Now, he would simply drop by in the evening for one big mug, relax and sleep like a log until the morning.

  Women came also, but generally with men, rarely alone. Byniek already knew most of his customers, at least by sight. The young came less frequently, preferring disco and other places with loud music, which began to show up in the area more and more. At Browarek, a family atmosphere prevailed. Old Polish classics flowed out of the speakers mounted on the wall, some of them dating back from even before the war. It deterred all those young half-brained pricks infected by American rap. They preferred it when the singer yelled in his hoarse voice something like "Kill the cop, kick the old man and fuck yourself..." It was strange what kind of society was growing up. Scary to think that they would soon rule the country.

  “Well, I'm leaving. I cannot listen to this crap anymore” Florczak said. He walked over to the counter to pay for the beer he drank. Malinowski also stood up.

  “Crap? I say crap? And who was telling me how he was removing the stamps from foreign letters? Now what? Pretending to be sanctimonious?”

  “It happened only once” Florczak felt indignant. “The stamp was from Australia, with the crocodile, part of the series my granddaughter needed. In addition, it was inaccurately fixed, you retard. Do you understand the difference?”

  “What? Retard? Who is more retarded? Mr. Byniek...” He turned to Byniek. “Don’t sell this man any more beer. He must not drink. He might end up breaking a chair or something, or he will pee or puke all over the place...”

  They argued even in the street, after leaving the bar. After a while, their voices went away, eventually dying far away. Byniek grinned. Yes, Browarek was definitely a place where people could feel good, especially him. It was his own place, worth defending it against enemies. But, how? How to get rid of those damn hooligans?

  The two railway workers were later replaced by an official with a distressed expression - maybe he had some trouble at work or at home - and one tourist from France. At first, they couldn’t get along, but finally they succeeded in understanding each other somehow. Exactly at three o'clock came Mariusz, replacing him behind the bar. Normally, Mariusz worked in the morning, but today, for some reason, it was the opposite. Maybe that would be better. After all, Byniek might need to call a doctor to his apartment. Who knew? Byniek said nothing to Mariusz about Nadia, said nothing to no one. It was better not to talk about it, at least for now, when he didn’t know enough.

  "How was today?" asked Mariusz.

  He was one of the few reliable guys Byniek found in Otwock after returning from the United States. Mariusz was calm, conscientious. You could trust him. He fetched a disability pension (something that had to do with his heart) and he was allowed to earn some extra money for his personal expenses so long as the work was within a certain number of hours.

  "A commando fighter would be more handy to me now than a pensioner" thought Byniek, looking at him. “It’s been quiet, ” he said out loud. “Florczak and Malinowski have been here, fighting of course, so now you don’t have to deal with them.”

  “Remember, Byniek?” said Mariusz. “Starting tomorrow, I’m taking a vacation. We've talked about this.”

  “I recall, you wanted to go somewhere?”

  “Agnieszka and I have decided to go to the Mazury lakes. She likes boats. We know someone there. We already booked accommodations. You'll manage alone here?”

  “Do not worry. Zaba can help me if necessary,” joked Byniek.

  “I hope not behind the bar? He’ll drink all your stuff. Was he here this morning?”

  “Sure, he was. Swept the floor, cleaned up everything, drank a beer and disappeared as always.”

  “Is it not better to clean the restaurant in the evening? After the last customers have left?”

  “What are you? Crazy? In the evenings, he is usually too drunk to get anything done and I… I am too tired to do it. In the morning, it is better since the chap has a useful motivation to start the day.”

  Byniek transferred the money in the cash register to Mariusz - not that there was much of it - as well as the key to the establishment and went outside. He got to his Cinquecento and rushed restless toward the house where he lived.

  ***

  Nadia was sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. She was watching TV, both her hands wrapped around a cup of hot tea. She herself was wrapped in Byniek’s brown bathrobe that usually hung on the bathroom door. As he entered, she looked at him with an expression of clear concern.

  “You look nice in brown” said Byniek with a smile to reassure her. It seemed she understood a little Polish because her face lit up a bit. It worked. "Compliments always work well with the girls," thought Byniek. "Regardless of the situation."

  “How are you?” he asked. "Do you need a doctor?”

  “No. No doctor needed. Everything is good, ” she assured hastily, frightened again.

  “Well, you can rest here for a while” Byniek assured her. “Nobody knows you're here. Wait. I’ll prepare something to eat.”

  He went into the kitchen and unwrapped the roast chicken he had bought along the way. It was still hot. He cut it into pieces, then cut a few slices of bread, then laid out some cold sauerkraut salad on two small plates. Next, he put two large, flat plates on the kitchen table, knives and forks laid next to them. Then, looking into the room, he said: “Dinner is ready on the table.”

  Nadia got up from the couch. She was no longer moaning like yesterday, but with some movements, she still winced in pain.

  They ate in silence. It was clear she was hungry.

  “It is a modest dinner, I know, but it is all I can prepare” he said humbly. “Rarely do I have guests and for myself, it is quite enough.”

  “It is fantastic, very tasty” she quickly assured, smiling. He felt the remark give him pleasure. Flattery, apparently, also worked well with the guys.”

  After finishing dinner, he brewed two cups of coffee and carried them into the room. Nadia was invited to the couch where she sat before. He sat down in the chair next to it and said: “Now, you tell me wha
t happened. Nobody knows you're here and I won’t tell anyone. If you like, you can get dressed and go home. But if you want me to help you, you must tell me everything.”

  She thought for a moment, then began to talk. Byniek regretted that his Russian was so weak - he had only learned the basics from school, and that meager knowledge was little enriched by his Russian neighbors from the building in the Polish district of Chicago named Jackowo, where he lived, but mostly, he could understand what she was saying.

  Nadia was twenty-one. She came from a small town in Russia, whose name Byniek had never heard of, then studied biology in a larger city, whose name Byniek also did not know nor could not remember. All went well until the completion of the third year of her study. Then, her father lost his job and money from home ceased to come.

  What was she to do? Stop her studies and return home? Just then, at the university showed up Misha. He was elegant and spoke nicely; he suggested a job opportunity for female students - one-year contract job in Poland. They were supposed to work as waitresses in a restaurant, and since in Poland, most people could understand Russian, language was not so much a barrier. Moreover, it was easy to remember the names of the dishes, and they could be paid in Russian money if they liked to, no problem with that. From their own pocket, they had to pay only for transport to Warsaw, and Misha would take care of the rest. A passport was also not required. They would cross the border in a sealed lorry and after a year of work, they would return by the same route with bags filled with earned money. The restaurant would provide room and board, and the promised salary was very encouraging. Nadia hesitated for some time, but when Misha showed them a brochure with beautiful, colorful photos of the restaurant from the outside and from the inside, she agreed, especially since the news from home was not encouraging. Her father still did not have a job. In addition, he started drinking and poverty at home was impending.

  Nadia applied for one year’s leave of absence from the university, and together with three other female students who successfully passed the selection, entrusted her fate into the hands of the elegant Misha. They paid their tolls in advance with the rest of a few saved rubles and in a few days, were waiting on the side of the road for the arrival of the truck. Misha kept his word. The truck came on time, with a huge trailer and the girls were nestled inside, between the cab and the cargo. The driver did not ask any questions. He said that in two days they would arrive at their destination and only recommended strongly that they not talk when they stopped for inspection at the border. While the truck was in motion, they could talk as much as they wished. They had with them water and sandwiches for the road, and plastic bags for their other needs. Everything was so carefully thought out to the last detail, and Misha was so sympathetic that it was really pleasant to listen to him. In general everything went great. Of course, it was a little cramped and dark inside the trailer, but they brought with them some candles and matches, and along the way, they kept talking and playing cards. All four of them were pretty and slim, and had the privilege of good luck. As for the ugly ones, let them eat the beets and that’s it.

  Indeed, after two days, they arrived. Misha did not throw his words to the wind. They got out of the truck on a forest road, very similar to the one where they started their journey.

  Immediately, a big, shiny car appeared next to them. The driver who wore a leather jacket and a shaved, bald head politely invited them inside. One of the girls sat next to him, in the front seat, the other three at the back.

  The bald guy was charming, telling them some probably funny jokes on the way. They laughed with him, even though they did not understand. After half an hour, the car stopped in front of a building set among the trees.

  It was not exactly like the restaurant Misha told them about, but it was, without a doubt, the restaurant. The parking lot had a lot of beautiful cars parked there and over the entrance, they saw the illuminated name of the place: Marycha.

  They entered a side door and inside, an elegant, gray-haired man in a light suit took care of them. He took them immediately to the rooms on the first floor. Each of them received a nice, clean room with a large bed. In each room was a bathroom with a shower, the conditions almost luxurious.

  The refined gentleman told them that they had an hour to prepare themselves and then they had to come down to the restaurant for supper. They were delighted as they were very hungry. Later, refreshed and dressed in their best dresses, the girls were seated at a table for six, and Mr. Stanislaw, as the elegant mister asked to be called, sat between them in his shiny suit. The restaurant was almost full. The waitresses quickly ran between the tables. There were a few of them, but apparently still not enough. Supper appeared on their table immediately. It was a very palatable meal, some Italian style dishes. They wondered how much such a dinner must cost. Mr. Stanislaw did not eat, just drank a beer from his tall glass and watched them smugly. He spoke well Russian. He had lived in Moscow and Leningrad for a while. "Business affairs", he hinted with a smile. During the supper, he entertained them with his chic conversation and was very attentive.

  In the next stall was a disco bar. The acute sounds reached the restaurant, but muffled, so that you could easily talk in spite of them. After the supper came the dessert - ice cream - and, finally, coffee. The girls felt great, a little self-conscious because of the environment and the way they were being spoiled, but extremely proud that they had been chosen to work in such an exquisite establishment. Passing by their table, gentlemen, both young and old, pelted them with curious glances, often smiling to them and to Mr. Stanisław with appreciation.

  After dinner, they were invited back to the second floor. In the middle of the hall was located a sitting room furnished nicely with comfortable sofas covered in patterned cream-colored material. Mr. Stanislaw sat down among them and said that it was here where they would work, but only starting tomorrow. This first evening was only for their leisure. "What exactly will we do here?" - They all wondered. It had not yet dawned on them what all this was about. Mr. Stanislaw patiently explained that it was in this parlor, on the couches that they would wait tomorrow for customers to lead them to their rooms and they must be polite and nice to each one. The work would be light and pleasant and the salary they would receive each month would be paid in Polish zlotys.

  After a moment of astonishment, they burst, all four of them, that they had not agreed to work in a brothel, but in the restaurant and that they wanted to go back home immediately. Mr. Stanislaw shook his head in disbelief, surprised that Misha had not accurately informed them about the nature of the work.

  "Oh Misha, Misha, he always gets things mixed up.”

  But now, it was too late for any changes. A contract was a contract. They had to meet the conditions. It was the law. They protested that they did not sign any contract and that if he did not need any waitresses, to drive them to the place that needed some. Mr. Stanislaw again shook his refined head, as if marveling at their ingratitude, and finally said, using a tone often used in conversations with fractious children, that it was okay.

  “Well, now, let's have a good sleep. Tomorrow, we'll talk about it.”

  All them went to their rooms to sleep off this sweet dream of the classy lives and the big money they had been promised they would earn.

  Byniek had already heard similar stories in Chicago. From time to time, the scandal erupted in the newspaper, which labeled it as a “trade of human beings". It was common in Chinatown, though, where the Chinese gangs brought young girls from China to work in the silent brothels there. But this kind of institution here? In Poland? It was not only unthinkable. It was impossible.

  Then again, forcing tribute for protection, which, after all, he experienced himself, was unthinkable until not so long ago. It was completely the style of the Italian Mafia. Political changes in a country went hand in hand with the social changes, though of course, they were not always for the best.

  Well, maybe they just had to wait for the reforms in
the police force to come to life. Everything would calm down for sure. All that was needed was more time.

  Nadia paused to rest. One could see her story did not come easily. But it was also impossible for her to stop talking now. Presently, she no longer spoke to him, nor did she speak to herself. She spoke to space, as if throwing out the words. Her story was so terrible and unbelievable she wanted to get rid of it once and for all and try to forget about it, as if it was at all possible.

  The next chapter was the most difficult for the girls - the training. Training began unexpectedly the same night. Two thugs in leather jackets invaded the room where she slept. Through the thin walls, she could hear that such training was taking place in all four rooms. The girls were alternately beaten and raped several times. They were beaten with open hands or twisted towels, which probably did not leave too much trace on the skin. Their lips were sealed with duct tape to stifle screams and their hands tied to the beds. The first training took two days. The girls could not leave their windowless rooms during this time; their doors were locked from the outside. They were also not given anything to eat and had only tap water to drink. Every few hours, the same skinheads in leather jackets, which they even never took off, repeated the lessons. Apparently, they did not mind them at all. Two of them stood out with a special zeal. One was called Onuca and the second, Bula. For these two, animal cruelty caused quite a pleasure. If only they could, they would beat the girls to death, raping them at the same time.

  Seeing the terror in the eyes of Nadia as she was telling her story, Byniek proposed her to stop. There was no need to go on further. He already understood everything. But she did not hear him even. She talked continuously, with her monotonous voice and her pretty face looking as if it was carved in wood, motionless and dead. Only in her eyes could the helplessness, hatred and pain be seen all at once, and above all, the fear.

  After two days of such training, two of them broke down and agreed to the terms and conditions of the work. Nadia and her friend Vera sturdily endured four more days. After those four days of torture, they broke also, simply ceasing to be themselves.