“Dear Lord in heaven, you look awful! Were you trying to drown yourself or something? You’re soaked to the skin. Were you with some slut? You should have just stayed with her. Why did you have to come bothering me? I’ve thought and thought, the moment I closed up today I counted everything over and over, but I still have half a sack too much. And that bitch in accounting’s just waiting for a chance to kick me out and put her bastard boyfriend in my place. Whenever she visits the store she always finds something to complain about. There’s too many flies. You’ve got flypaper up, right? Sure, but the stuff they put on it is crap. Plus the store’s in the country, not the town, there have to be flies. Or the next time she says the floor’s not been swept. Sweep it yourself, bitch! Doesn’t say anything in the contract about sweeping. Or have people wipe their shoes before they come in, then no one’ll need to sweep the floor. Is it my fault her fella’s got the hots for me? He can have the hots for her as well, did I say he couldn’t? Though with a face like hers the devil himself wouldn’t be interested. He’s all, here Miss Kaśka, there Miss Kaśka. And when he laughs it sounds like someone stepped on a rat, the prick. Go to hell, Mr. Marzec, this is a store, not whatever you think it is. He forgets there are other people there. That old witch Mrs. Skrok pipes up, for goodness’ sake, Kaśka, all those men, you’ll end up in hell. I’ll see you there then. I’ll tell you where you can stick that hell of yours.” All of a sudden she grabbed me under the arms and tugged so hard I lurched toward her. “Come sit over here, that sack’s got sugar in it, it’ll get wet and lumpy. If you weren’t such a bad boy I’d buy you an umbrella. You could carry it around with you. Have you seen the priest’s umbrella? He follows behind a coffin, it’s pouring, everyone’s looking like scarecrows, but him, he’s dry as a bone. He even has the sacristan carry it for him. And you, you’re not just anyone either, you’re a government worker. Even Smotek’s got an umbrella. His son-in-law gave it to him. He wandered in here one time with the umbrella open. I say, it isn’t raining inside. I just need mustard, he says, it’s not worth folding it then having to open it again. Maybe you wanna take a nap?”
“I didn’t come here to sleep.”
“You can barely stay upright you’re so drunk. And sopping wet into the bargain.”
“I’m not sleepy.”
“Then let me at least dry your hair, the water’s dripping in your eyes.” She snatched a towel from a hook and started rubbing my hair so hard I thought she was dragging me down the road. But I had no wish to stop her, let her drag me, maybe she’d fall down a hole and then she’d stop of her own accord.
“Your hair’s like a horse’s mane,” she said. She wasn’t angry anymore, she was even being nice. “I’m not sure I’d like you as much if you didn’t have hair. I can’t stand bald men. I’d never sleep with a bald guy, whoever he was. One time Kuśmider wouldn’t leave me alone, he kept going on about how he’d come by. Come by where? To the store, Kaśka, to see you. Then go buy yourself a rug first. You can wear it in the winter instead of a cap. You won’t even have to take it off in church. Your hair’s all wet, but it’s so thick. If you keep chasing after the other girls and ignoring me, one of these days I’ll pull it all out. Though chase whoever you like, I could care less. Men are like cats, they’d die if they only had one place to go poking. They have to run around. But if one of them took you away from me forever, I think I’d kill her. Then you, then myself. With that butcher’s knife up there, see it? Imagine how people would talk in the village. Did you hear what that Kaśka went and did? Who’da thought. There she was selling sugar and soap and salt and candies, and she had it in her to kill? Then that piece of work in accounting could give the job to her son-of-a-bitch boyfriend, let him come work here. I mean, what is there to sell? Sugar, salt, soap, candies, matches. Over and over. Sometimes I’ve had it up to here. One time they delivered a barrel of herring. My hands, my apron, face, hair — I was covered in herring. On top of that people almost broke down the door buying them. Everyone was taking five pounds, ten pounds. Have you all gone nuts? Fighting over fish? I felt like knocking them over the head with those herring. It’d be nice if I got a delivery of chocolate one day, or raisins or almonds. In town people drink coffee, they could start drinking it here as well. Instead of just vodka the whole time. But instead of that the bastards have me doing inventory every other day. Couldn’t you have called by this morning, let me know you were coming? I’d have gotten the job out of the way. Now what am I supposed to do?”
“What do you think? Get undressed.”
“Oh, you.” She pressed my head against her belly. “You’re a bad one, but I don’t know what I’d do without you. Things might be worse or they might be better, but they wouldn’t be the same. I’d probably give up the store. Maybe I’d go become a nun. I’m telling you, life in a nunnery isn’t bad. They feed you, and all you have to do is pray. When I reached old age I’d be all set. Duda wanted to marry me. But what would that mean? Dirty dishes and dirty kids. He can hire a maid.”
She took off her apron. She was wearing a green dress with white dots, it looked nice on her. I thought she looked like a green tree covered in snowflakes that were falling from the sky. But she got all riled up again and started shaking the snowflakes off.
“They can kiss my you-know-what!” she exclaimed. “I’ll put a sign up to say I’m sick. They can come do the inventory next week.” She reached around and started unbuttoning her dress. But suddenly something seemed to stop her, because she frowned and her hands fell to her sides.
“Your eyes are closing, Szymuś,” she said. “This isn’t gonna be any kind of loving.”
She stood there for a moment helpless, looking at me as if in reproach, then she said uncertainly:
“So shall I take all my clothes off?” But she didn’t seem to expect a reply, because she sat down on a sack with a sigh: “Oh, you.”
She kicked her shoes off.
“I need to take them to the cobbler, have him put taps on. They’re getting worn down,” she said, and she pushed one of the shoes toward me with her foot as if to show me. She unfastened her stockings. She took the left one off, then got up, pulled the chair closer and hung the stocking over the armrest, and only then took the other one off. But with her dress she hesitated, she unfastened it at the back, but it was like she couldn’t decide whether to take it off or not. In the end she did, and she slipped off her blouse as well. Then she got mad again:
“God damn them! How long is it since the last inventory? No more than a month. And I’ve not taken so much as a zloty’s worth of anything. But the heater, I’ve been asking and asking and they don’t have anyone to repair it. I could’ve turned it on, you would have dried out a bit. How will you manage all wet like that?” She took off her brassiere, her breasts seemed to jump out toward me. She stood there with the brassiere in her hand, she gave me a kind of tender look and said:
“Szymuś, you’re so drunk you won’t be able to get it up.”
“I will, Kaśka, I will. When you touch it it’ll get up. The worst thing is, I don’t even feel like living.”
“What are you saying, Szymuś!” She stepped back like she’d been burned, and tossed the brassiere on a pile of sacks. “Did you hear that? He doesn’t want to go on living! Spit and cross yourself!” She dropped down onto her knees by me and held my head against her huge breasts. “Maybe you killed someone, Szymuś? What is it, tell me! You can tell me. I won’t breathe a word. Oh, my darling. Even if you’ve killed someone.” She started to cry.