The Polish Program (LSD, #2)

5. The Boss

The Boss

Last night was a short night. It took us until 3:00 PM to pack all of Scarlett's clothes, cutlery and other caprices into cartons, canvas and cases. The pile of garbage bags, filled with the content of her walk-in closet, made me fear the worst for the two shallow wardrobes in the tiny flat in Jungleland. The late hour and the short time available forced us to an efficiency that left no time for Scarlett's nostalgic moments, like when she found a photo of happier times or a dress that made her so beautiful ten kilos ago. There was no time for tears. There wasn't even time to decide what to take and what to throw away. We just packed everything and labelled each bag with brief instructions for the movers: «kitchen» or «bedroom» or «spare room», repeated so often that they became the first words I learnt in Polish.

While we were working, we agreed not to use Mister Kowalski's name anymore. When «something happened to him», people might remember a strange couple, mentioning his name. Spies hate attention. We decided to call him «the Boss» and use codes like «educate him» instead of «torture him», «bring some stationery to his attention» instead of «sticking a pen in his eye» and «play the ball, not the man» instead of «screwing his testicles off». Every job seems lighter when you're having fun.

I hit the mattress of my bed in Pension Chopin at 03:45 and shower the sleep out of my eyes at 06:50. The life of a spy is not at all like James Bond makes us believe in his films. At 08:05, I enter Scarlett's old flat. Four boys of the hood already carry bags and cases outside and load them into a minivan, to move them to Jungleland, where others take care of the transport upstairs. With everything under control, Scarlett and I leave to deliver the packages. At 12:15, when we've finished, we return to Oak Tower 18b, to see if we can find anything of Scarlett's stuff there.

"Everything is here. It's unbelievable.", Scarlett wonders when we enter.

The boys are painting the ceiling and the walls of the two bedrooms. They already painted the living room in a pastel blue, and the white walls of the kitchen are already dry. Two of them are filling the cupboards with plates and the refrigerator with beer. Anja comes out of the bathroom with a bucket of soap: "At least, you can take a shower. Nothing makes you feel as good as a clean face."

"Nothing makes you feel as good as a full stomach. How about using the kitchen to prepare us some lunch?", Tomasz says with a nasal voice, thanks to the stuffing that fills up his nostrils.

Lunch for ten boys, Anja, Scarlett and myself... And Barbara and Lukasz, who came out of curiosity and are now hanging up photos and fixing loose door frames with a drill.

"Lunch is teamwork. If two or three of you can show me where I can find the nearest supermarket, butcher, baker and greengrocer... And help me carry the bags...", I say.

An hour later, the smell of steak with pepper sauce, baked potatoes and fresh coffee wins it from the sharp odour of paint.

"It smells like home.", Scarlett smiles.

Barbara stands up and says: "Did you hear that, boys? The Misses feels at home here."

Beer bottles cling a toast to a new start.

Scarlett takes advantage of the moment, showing her skills as an organized woman who used to run an office in the centre: "There's one thing I would like to discuss before I feel at home here: why do some of you use the staircase and the hall as a public bathroom?"

"That's a protest against the state, for not doing anything for us.", Tomasz says.

"Well, it's a stupid way of protest. The state never comes here. They don't give a shit about us. Do you like to live in a pigsty? This is our house, our home. Being poor is no excuse to be filthy. Someone told me that poor people can live at least as good as rich people, as long as they work together. We have a few hours of afternoon left, and also a lot of soap. I want to make a deal: if we clean our building together, and if we all explain to the other neighbours that we like to keep it clean, that pissing contests are no longer tolerated inside our house, I invite all my new neighbours next Saturday for a big barbecue: burgers and beer, on the square outside."