Grześki

In the end I agreed to go to the doctor. I was to go with my father.

And at that moment my father appears. In his hand he has a box of Grześki. Whole, unopened, still in its cellophane. I don’t know how many are inside. Say twenty.

“Want some?” he asks, and shows me the box.

“I do.”

And then my father, instead of giving me the box, starts to unwrap it. He takes off the cellophane. He takes out one Grzesiek bar and hands it to me.

I look at him. Instead of taking the one, I take the whole thing from him.

“What are you doing?” he asks, bewildered, and starts trying to pull it away from me.

I’m cleverer. I don’t let him. I turn and head for the door. Father after me. On the way I jump into my Crocs, because they’re right there. I didn’t manage to grab a jacket. I run outside. Father after me. I run down the stairs. Father after me. We chase each other around the driveway for a while.

“Give back the Grześki.”

“But you gave them to me!”

“Not the whole box!”

He runs after me. I turn and dodge him.

“Not true! You showed me the whole thing! Like this.” I hold the box out in front of me.

He tries to grab it. I pull my hand back. He catches air. I hide the box behind me. He blinks nervously, but speaks calmly:

“Grzesiek, it’s obvious I meant one...”

He reaches from the left. I turn. From the right. I raise my hand up and behind me, lean my head towards him and say:

“You should have said so then!”

“Give the Grześki back!”

In the end I get bored. I stop.

“Fine, take them. But who gives and takes it back will be dragged through hell and back. You gave me the whole box.”

I look: the police have pulled up at the gate. The lights are spinning, no siren. It’s late already. It’s certainly fully dark.

“Did you call the police?”

“I didn’t.”

The policemen get out and start shouting something over the fence. To be let in, probably.

“Then I’m running,” I say.

I don’t think long. I head for the Stage.

The Stage is an extra wooden building we put up not long ago. It stands at the far end of the plot. There’s no light there. You can hide behind it; there’s a bit of space, a few trees and a compost heap.

On the way I take the pipe out of my pocket and set it down by the aquarium. The aquarium is left over from a beetle I once kept. It’s stood empty for a long time, on a wooden leg I made myself. Just in case, I need to be clean. You never know.

I lie in wait around the corner.

I watch my father walk to the fence and open it for the policemen. They come in. They talk with my father for a moment. Then one of them heads my way.

I don’t have much choice. I can run in circles around the Stage, but there are more of them. Or jump the fence.

The easiest place to jump is by the compost heap. Then you’re on the neighbour’s land. I’ve got a grudge against him, because he cut down a chunk of forest. He said it was for a house, but it’s forest land, so he couldn’t build there anyway. The whole plot stands fenced and empty. Plenty of trees left all the same.

I take a leap and hop, I’m on the other side.

I know exactly what to do to become invisible. I run to the farthest tree on the far side of his plot. The snow is deep and fluffy. Nobody walks on it, because nobody comes here. The light falls from the direction of my plot, so the trees cast shadows. I hide in a shadow like that and wait for things to develop.

After a moment I see the light of a torch. They’ve started looking for me. They’ve worked out I’m not on the plot. One walks up to the fence and sees the tracks. There’s no hiding them. He calls the other one.

I suspect I’ll be safe here, because nobody gave them permission to enter this plot.

It’s otherwise. First one of them jumps over. He holds the mesh for the second. The second jumps over.

Things heat up. I look around nervously, what now. There’s nowhere to run. I decide I’ll wait, dug in behind this tree. Maybe they’ll give up. I’ve practised this before. I’m perfectly prepared for it.

And then, on the other side of the fence, my wife appears. On the far side of the neighbour’s plot. She must have gone out through the gate, past the police car, and all the way round the plot, and there’s no path there. There’s snow. She says calmly:

“Grzesiek, what are you planning?”

“Bring me the keys to the Citroën.”

“What are you talking about?”

The Citroën is my operational car. I call it the silver arrow. It has platinum pistons. Its pistons are made of platinum, which is why I put the best petrol in it, ninety-eight, and take very good care of it. Treasures are everywhere.

“Or drive it over. The keys are inside, on the seat.”

“Give yourself up.”

“I’ll get away from them.”

The policemen keep coming closer with their searchlights. They don’t know where I am yet. I’m hidden in the dark. I feel like a black panther.

“Right, I have to hide. Don’t say anything.”

I press myself against the tree. I become one with it. I don’t blend into the background — I become the background. I’m completely invisible.

They reach me by the tracks.

The torch lands on me. One policeman says to the other:

“Careful, he’s got something in his hand! Could be a knife!”

In my hand I’m holding my glasses.

They creep towards me slowly, from two sides at once. I have no way out except the one they’ve just suggested to me. When they’re very close, I emerge from behind the tree and jab at them with the glasses.

They turn and run.

I use that and run the opposite way.