Wieslaw Mysliwski - Stone Upon Stone

“They must be out in the fields!” shouted Kwiatkowski from the wagon. “Maybe Michał went with! Come on, let’s have a smoke!”

“Which fields, do you know?”

“Across the river, or the old manor fields. They’ve got rye both places. Too bad I’m not headed that way or I’d give you a ride. Best of all would be to wait till they get back in the evening, then they’ll tell you.”

Where was I supposed to go, across the river or to the manor fields? The manor was closer so I went there. As luck would have it, that was where they were mowing. Their rye looked good, it was just a little bit laid down on one side. Edek was mowing, Helka was gathering.

“God bring you happiness!”

“God give you thanks! Oh, Szymuś, you’re back? Just in time for the harvest. Your rye’s on the far side of Przykopa’s place, the farmers’ circle sowed it for you. Though how are you going to bring it in on those sticks, you poor thing? We’ll give you a hand once we’re done with ours.”

But Michał wasn’t with them and they didn’t know where he might be. He’d visited them a month or two before. He wasn’t hungry, he just wanted a drink of whey. He helped them do their threshing. They didn’t make him, he did it of his own free will. He’s a strong one, he is, Edek could barely keep up with bringing him hay. They told him to come for dinner the next day but he didn’t show up. Maybe go ask the Pająks. Mrs. Pająk sometimes used to take him something to eat after he stuck a pitchfork in his foot last year. From the ankle down to here, it almost went right through. He was bleeding so bad they couldn’t stop it, till in the end Pająk poured spirit on it and dressed it. He’d been going around the sheaves in the farmyard sticking a pitchfork in them like he was looking for something. One time Mrs. Pająk swept your place out and cleaned up in there, and she washed all his clothes. Mrs. Błach met her when she was rinsing them down at the river. Apparently they were crawling with lice. She changed his bedding, and she gave him one of Pająk’s old shirts and a pair of pants. And Pająk went there every day and changed the dressing. There are some good people in this world.”

“I won’t bother you any more. I’ll go down to the road, see if someone’s passing in a wagon and they can give me a ride.”

“Come visit sometime.”

But no one came along. My right leg was hurting and I had to sit down, take a rest, I rubbed it a bit. It was only when I got close to the village that Kudła came by. Can I get a ride from you? Hop on. Even a short way helps. No, he hadn’t seen Michał or heard where he could be. He lives beyond the mill, it’s kind of outside the village, all he knows is when his old lady goes down the store and hears this and that. They do have a radio, but it broke and now it’s just been sitting there silent for a year or more. The Siudaks’ kid promised to come fix it, but he’s hard to get ahold of, and when you do meet him he scratches himself on the back of the head and all he’ll say is, yeah, I’ll try and call by sometime, I will. You had to go build your house so far away, if you were closer I might come sooner. Now it’s harvesttime, the missus doesn’t have the time to listen to what all they’re talking about. Besides, you won’t learn the truth, but it’s nice to at least have a bit of a gab.”

“Pull up here, by the shrine, I’ll swing by Florek Zawada’s.”

Florek and I had sat next to each other at school, then the whole time we were young men we’d gone out on the make together, gone to dances, we’d been in the fire brigade together, so I figured he’d probably know something. He’d visited me a couple of times in the hospital and he always brought something, cigarettes, a cake, another time some sausage and a bottle of vodka, and each time he’d say, what are you worried about, what are you worried about. Michał’s not gonna die. Concentrate on getting out of here. He was pleased to see me, we exchanged kisses and he clapped me on the back, commiserated about my walking sticks, told me who had my horse, who had my cows, he wanted to share a bottle with me. His Magda tried to get me to stay for dinner, though they’d both just gotten back from the fields when I arrived. But where Michał was they didn’t know. He’d been there the previous Sunday. They’d given him dinner, he ate it and stayed awhile, but he didn’t come again after that. They even wanted him to stop with them. They said, stay here, Michał, we have to go get the harvest in, you can mind the place for us. You don’t need to keep going from one house to another. Maybe you should try Żmuda the barber, he cuts people’s hair, shaves them, he knows more. Plus his window looks out onto the road, he can always see who’s coming along, which way they’re headed. Us, these days we’re in the fields all day long. I think he was supposed to cut Michał’s hair and give him a shave, the district ordered it. Someone was saying about it, you remember who it was, Magda?”

I went by Zmuda’s. So you’re back, Mr. Szymek? How are things? Are you always gonna have to be like that? No, it’s true, I had instructions from the district administration to cut your brother’s hair and give him a shave. Someone brought it up at a meeting, that it reflected badly on the village. It was embarrassing that someone should go without being looked after. But you understand yourself, Mr. Szymek, I’m not going to plonk him down in the chair by force. Getting your hair cut, having a shave, those are matters of free will, so to speak. If someone wants to, be my guest. Just like they ask for it to be shorter, longer, crew cut, down to the skin, sideburns straight down or angled, cut wet or dry, would you like aftershave. By all means. I don’t impose myself on anyone. If they bring him here and sit him down I’ll cut his hair and shave him like anyone else. Whenever he walked past I’d run out, Mr. Michał! Mr. Michał! But I never managed to get him to come in. Maybe now that you’re back. By all means. I’m here.”

Zdun came by. Hey there, Zdun, you haven’t seen my brother Michał anywhere have you? Let me see, your brother? Has he gone somewhere? Well, yeah. If he’s gone then he’ll come back. But what’s up with your legs there? You fall off a ladder?

I went to see Fularski. They don’t have any land, they gave everything to their sons-in-law, all that was left was the orchard and the beehives out among the trees. So they were probably home and they might know where Michał was. But they didn’t. He came by one time, but it was last year, Fularski was fumigating his bees. He came up and stood right by one of the hives. Step away or the bees’ll sting you! He didn’t move. The bees were crawling all over him and he didn’t do a thing. Either he didn’t feel anything, or they didn’t sting him. Because you should know that bees, they can tell a good person from a bad person. The bad person they’ll sting to pieces, the good one, they’ll crawl around all over him and not one of them will sting him. Go try Wrona or Maciejka maybe, they live closer to you and they’re more likely to know something, we’re right at the edge of the village.

Wrona said yeah, he’d met him a couple of times. He was walking through the village. But where was he going? He didn’t want to ask, because why would you ask someone where they were going. If someone’s walking then they’re going somewhere, they know best of all where, it’s not necessary for everyone else to find out.

My legs wouldn’t carry me any farther. The right one felt like it had a nail stuck in it, the pain was shooting all the way up to my armpit. I could barely put weight on it, so I mostly just dragged it along the ground. My hands were swollen from the sticks. I thought I’d go by Wojtek Kapustka’s. It was unlikely Michał was there, but theirs was the closest house. Oh, you’re back, they’d say, and I’d at least sit and rest up awhile, get a drink of water, because my throat was dry. But as if out of spite they weren’t yet back from the fields. The only person there was their boy, he was bringing in the cows. I asked him, you haven’t seen my brother Michał have you? Guy with a beard down to here? He looked at me like I was trying to strangle him and didn’t say a word. Was he a mute or something? He’d been able to speak when he was little. So what grade are you in these days, Iruś? Still not a word.