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A pity party


They do not have this problem

The green spaces around Buckingham are a mixture of ghost gardens and muddy land, and even more depressing are other parks with wet benches that people dare not even touch and walk past as if they are poisonous.

This time of the year, people do not even go to parks because they do not want to come into contact with anything that makes them sick.

The parks and you seem to have many in common. You just passed most of them to get to another restaurant, another café…

And then you come in and ask if they need someone and people look at you like you are a ghost, and then you leave your resume and some of these people reply:

 – Yes, that’s right, we will call you back soon…

It’s not easy to find a job when you are a wife…

– What are you talking about?

– Well… I am just a wife, just a woman.

– Come on, you are not in your 20s anymore. You are in the 21st century! You are in Great Britain! You will find a job.

– Oh…It’s not easy to find a job in London…

– Oh, come on.

– It’s not easy to find a job when you are just a wife all your life. 

– Oh, come on.

– It’s not easy to find a job when you are depressed. 

– That’s better.

So get rid of your depression. Look at them. They do not have this problem… So you have to get rid of this sickness.

It’s not a sickness, it’s me, those who I am, and I am… well, I used to be a wife…

– But how dare you be a wife and an ex-wife at the same time? So decide who you are – a borderline creature.

– Yes, I will get rid of this sickness.  I will get rid of who I really am… – So who are you, a sick woman? – Well, someone who feels something sad inside and someone who walks and who speaks… a few languages perfectly – Belarusian, Polish and Russian. I used to be a wife and that was enough to live my former life…

– So come on! Just smile! The more you smile, the better for you, because you do not want to go back to Grodno, do you?

– No.

– You see.

– And do  not want to stay here either.

– Oh, come on. You know what? You are the only one who feels like you are being treated like a ghost because nobody cares that you are a widower. The only person who cares is you.


Two women

Her thin fingers help Crystal’s eyes and mind read the article. Or maybe that’s what she’s thinking. Well, she does not know what to think. She does not feel like thinking, Well, 4 p.m. in the winter on the weekends can be depressing in this part of the world. I mean Eastern Europe. But Crystal does not seem depressed, not even sad; she’s indifferent, not just to what she’s reading, but she keeps reading. She thinks she knows this name. I mean the author of the article. Oh yes, she met her seven or maybe eight years ago. In fact, it was more than a meeting or just an encounter; the author or authoress somehow created her presence. Crystal used to be quite an energetic, charismatic, and robust person, but now her skinny body looks more like a mixture of sticks and cloth than a living body. Sometimes she does not seem to be alive at all. When she staggers down the street or the corridors at work, she resembles wallpaper in the form of a still life.

Not only was the authoress the reason for her downfall, but the authoress was also a terrible predator and an awful robber. The predator had taken away her pride in who she was. This horrible creature was stealing her lectures. Crystal herself had been pretty sure of what she was talking about in her field for more than 20 years, but not so open-minded and critical in her thinking. No wonder the new translation theorists all seemed Greek to her. But Crystal had a lot of self-confidence and was not stupid. She hated all of these open-minded students. Clara was among them. But that was eight years ago. Now Crystal comes across as a different person.

Clara was rather shy compared to her professor but was very open to discussion with open-minded people; she loved discussing all the stuff she had learned with sparks in her eyes during all winter nights. She could not believe that she did not pass her exam on the theory of translation. Of course, it was not fair. But it was eight years ago. Now that she is a different person, she seems to be more of a predator than a mouse.


An accountant

Matylda was in a hurry. In five minutes, she would miss her last train home, which meant that she would have to spend money on a cab. The subway is full of rats at this time of night. She did not expect ten or a maximum of eleven-year-old boys to be having fun with the ball at this hour and coming towards her as they did in the playground. When she realized they were not ghosts, she felt something hard on her forehead. Five minutes after the chance encounter, she would be unconscious on the emergency word. It was a phone that brought her back to consciousness at 9.25 a.m. – It’s all right? You did not say you would be late.After telling her the sad story of being hit with a ball at 1.30 am by youths playing football at the station, she received many wishes to regain consciousness soon.

The people from the gallery where she works are very friendly creatures, but sometimes she thinks they look at her with pity. Actually, it’s not about her English. No matter what these people think, the money they pay is quite nice. When she comes back to Poland, she will have more money to start her own business—she is not sure what kind of business—but she is sure she will come back to Poland. It would be a great loss for her town if she could not use what she has learned in one of the biggest galleries in New York. Of course, it’s not about exhibitions, but about the people who visit them—what they do, who they are…

She has a pretty boring life compared to the gallery visitors. It’s all about counting money. But she is good at this. Her grandmother counted the money; her mother did it, and her daughter will do it too. What a pity for all writers that there is such a future generation.


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