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Robert doesn’t feel like his body belongs to him.
The cool air of the night is trembling with the harsh sound of police sirens, and he remembers vaguely how that sound used to excite him when he was a kid. He would run to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the blinking blue light, and imagining the brave policeman running after criminals. He dreamed to become one of those brave, and he did, and his life seemed so easy, so on track, a fulfillment of his childhood dreams.
Now, he doesn’t feel that excitement, but he doesn’t really feel anything. It's as if Robert's mind dissociates from his body, and his drenched gala uniform weighs so much he feels like it’s going to drag him to the ground, crush his bones, make him disappear. He's numb, his mind dull and body stiff, and he sways on his feet a little, losing balance as a chilly wind pierces through his wet clothes; he closes his eyes and begs God to let Arek be safe. Maybe he doesn’t deserve salvation for what he has done, but he would give it away for Arek anyway.
Robert would give everything for him, and as he watches the cars finally reaching him, his colleagues and strangers jumping out and raising their guns, he realizes that’s exactly what he’s doing. And he’s fine with that. It’s good to finally know who he is, what he wants, and what - who - he is ready to live for. Die for, probably.
He doesn't put up a fight when they approach him, their steps slow, almost uncertain, as if he’s a wild animal that can go feral at any moment. Robert doesn’t move, only raises his hands when they shout at him to do so. He allows the officers to grab him, and as they twist his arms behind his back, he braces himself for a feeling of cool handcuffs clasping around his wrists; it doesn’t come, though, instead they hold him tightly and drag him into the back of a car, his limbs heavy and not uncooperative. Then, he must blank out for a moment, the world reduced to smudges in his vision and sharp sounds of clinking metal and distant raised voices. Someone grabs him sharply when the car stops, and his teeth clutter at the hit of a chilly night air, the cold seeping into his bones and threatening to reach his soul. And then, a wave of heat when they enter the building, and he's dragged through the corridors and pushed into a small room, the door shutting closed, and the silence rings in his ears like an accusation.
His pulse is pounding in his ears, and the fog seems to be lifting a little, some of his senses starting to come back, and he shudders despite the heat of the room, his still damp uniform weighing on him like his guilty conscience.
The door opens, and Robert raises his head to see a policeman he's vaguely familiar with, a young man with round face and auburn hair, but he can't remember his name at all. The guy has a pile of clothes in his hands, and he drops it on the table awkwardly, avoiding Robert's gaze. He’s in such a rush to leave that he bumps against a hanger standing by the wall while tugging at the doorknob forcefully, a quiet hiss of pain leaving his mouth, followed by a hard thud of the door against the frame.
Robert fixes his gaze on the pile of clothes, and he doesn't think any of them belongs ti him. Still, his body starts kicking back into senses, the damp coldness of his uniform becoming almost unbearable all of a sudden, and he wants to get out of these things as soon as possible. He tugs at the buttons with his stiff fingers and cringes when the fabric of his pants clings to his thighs.
They do belong to him, he realizes after a moment, but he can't recall the last time he wore them. They do smell like home, and are neatly ironed, and Robert's heart thuds in his chest painfully as his thought drifts to his mother.
Will he ever see her again? Will she ever know what happened to him, whatever is that going to be?
The door clicks open again behind him, footsteps slow and determined, ones that Robert knows all too well. Once he was dreading at so many points of his life.
But, now, he just feels numb. There’s nothing that scares him anymore, except for Arek being in danger, but he doesn’t allow himself to think about him now, pushing the thought away. He can’t show any weakness now, he needs to face his father with calm and dignity, and all self-preservation he can muster.
He turns around and leans against the table, and he isn't sure what to do with his arms, so he loosely crosses them around his chest, making sure he doesn’t look neither defensive nor defenseless.
His father looks at him with his face twisted in an ugly grimace that used to make everything in Robert shudder, and to make him desperate to do something that would make it morph into an approving smile. It feels absolutely pathetic now that his father held so much power over him. And he still does, but not in a way that would make Robert crave his love again.
They look at each other in silence that actually seems loud, the air charged with emotions and unspoken words, and Robert wonders who’s going to lose this game, who’s going to speak first and what would that be. Maybe it should be him, maybe he should start begging for mercy, maybe he should try to explain. But, to be honest, the only thing he feels sorry for is how he has treated Halinka. And he regrets not talking to his mom more, and more genuinely. Maybe everything would be different, if he did.
His father is the first one to turn his gaze away, and he walks around Robert and the table, walking towards a small desk in the corner by the barred window. He opens one of the drawers and pulls out a brown, thick envelope. He drops it on the wooden surface before fishing out a pack of cigarettes from a pocket of his suit. He lights one up, and then glances at Robert briefly before tossing the pack and the lighter towards him.
Robert catches them, the lighter almost slipping from his fingers, and a moment later he inhales comforting nicotine, smoke filling his lungs and somehow helping him to clear up his mind.
They don't look at each other now, the only sounds filling the room being their deep inhales and exhales, a rhythm that could maybe be comforting in different circumstances.
But soon, the cigarettes burn out, and so, it seems, time they can allow themselves to just stand here in silence.
"Here." his father says, taking the envelope and sliding it across the table towards Robert, "There’s everything you need.” The words sound like he has difficulty speaking, “An unmarked car will take you to Gdynia. You're going to get on the ship and go, and help me Lord, I don't want to see you ever again." His voice is harsh, and yet lacking emotions, like he doesn’t know what he actually feels, "I've done this for your mother, and only for her, because it would kill her if you went to prison. I-" he inhales sharply, his fingers curling on the edge of the desk, and it's probably killing him now that he has chosen to let Robert go. Would he rather see him dead?
If there's some part of Robert that wishes for his father to soften even a little bit, he doesn't acknowledge it. They look at each other one more time, and then two officers enter, and they lead Robert out of the room, through dim corridors, all the way outside and into the back of an unmarked van. The officer leading him is not violent, but he pushes rather harshly on Robert’s shoulder, causing him to trip. Ha lands on his hands and knees, a hiss of pain leaving his mouth as the door shut behind him.
“Are you okay?”
Robert freezes in that awkward position, staring at the grey, dirty floor of the van, and thinking that he must have misheard. That the last remains of adrenaline finally left his body and he’s hallucinating. That everything that has happened during the last weeks, yesterday, today - that it finally drove him absolutely insane.
The van shudders as the engine starts with a cough, and they’re on a move, the tires squeaking on the wet asphalt. And yet, Robert can’t force himself to even flinch, paralysed with a sudden, overwhelming fear, that it’s all a dream, and that he actually will never see Arek again, and it’s just a cruel trick his brain is playing on him.
“Are you hurt?” the voice is barely heard now, its quiet tone almost disappearing amidst rough sputtering of the engine.
And that’s so him, that’s so real, that Robert’s head jerks up, his heart tightening in his chest to the point of pain.
The only source of the light is coming from a barred window separating the back of the van from the front, and it’s not doing much, since it’s still some deep hour of the night, and an occasional flash of a yellow streetlam is definitely not enough. But, yet, somehow, it is.
Arek’s face is pale like a dim moon on the darkest night sky, and Robert feels his heart swelling so impossibly he almost isn’t able to breathe.
He doesn’t bother with standing up, and he just moves like he is now, until his chest presses against Arek’s legs; he reaches up, grabbing Arek’s face with quiet desperation. The moment his fingers touch the cool, smooth skin, it feels like something breaks inside him. His brain is hazy, and he can’t really understand how this is all happening, his mind unable to create thoughts, his mouth unable to form words.
But still, he notices that Arek’s clothes are dry and a bit too big for him, and it takes him one more moment to realize that they’re his own. Slowly, things start to make some kind of sense, and Robert feels drained of any strength.
“I’m fine.” he mutters, sliding his hands down to grab Arek’s palms, entwining their fingers, “What happened? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m-” Arek shakes his head slowly, and Robert wishes so much that he could see his eyes, to confirm he’s not hiding anything, “I’m fine. They got me a couple of streets from the block, but they did not…” It sounds like he can’t understand anything either, and his tightens his grip on Robert’s hands to an almost painful extent, “I don’t know where they took me, exactly. They didn’t tell me anything, really. But they cleaned up my leg, told me I would be fine, and gave me these clothes.” Arek tilts his head to the side a little, before leaning forward, so close their foreheads are almost touching, and Robert can see his eyes, wide open and filled with such anxiety that Robert’s heart shatters.
“What’s going to happen now?” Arek asks in a small voice, breaking on the last syllables.
The thing is, that Robert has no idea, but there’s something he knows - he’s not going let anything bad happen to
“No one’s gonna hurt you again.” he swears, bringing one of his hands to Arek’s nape, making sure he looks him straight in the eyes, so he can see he’s truthful.
“How can you be so sure?”
The words are laying on his tongue, eager to be let out, and maybe Robert should swallow them, let them fade, keep them for a better moment. But who can guarantee that there would be a better moment?
No one can guarantee anything.
“Because I love you.” his heart almost leaps out of his chest, “And I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Arek stares at him, his eyes huge and round, his lips slightly parted, as if he didn’t expect that, and Robert can’t really breathe. But then, a few seconds later, Arek’s expression smoothens, something warm flickering in his expression, his mouth curling into a small,kind smile. Slowly, he brings his hands to Robert’s face, pressing against his cheeks gently, before he leans in and kisses him; it’s short and sweet, and innocent, and even though he doesn’t say it back, Robert knows.
They spend the ride huddled in the corner of the van, Arek’s head resting against Robert’s chest, their legs and arms tangled, their breaths mixing, hitching on every sharp turn of the car, on every brief stop. They don’t really talk, too anxious of what to come, and too overwhelmed with how their lives turned into a tight knot they seem to be unable to untangle, with its strands stretching into the unknown.
Robert must have fallen into a slumber, lulled into it by the sound of the engine and the feeling of Arek’s heartbeat against his.
“Wake up, princesses.” The officer’s voice is harsh as he opens the door to the back of the van, but he doesn’t make a move to touch them. He just lights up a cigarette, and watches with disdain as they untangle their limbs and climb out of the van, groggy and stiff from the uncomfortable travel.
Robert hops on the cracked asphalt and he awakens immediately, the scent of salt and oil hitting his nose with the first inhale, and as he blinks rapidly in the dim dusk light, he knows for sure where they are, and there’s a feeling of relief and odd melancholy flooding over him after realisation that his father hasn’t lied. He just didn’t expect that mercy would be granted to the both of them.
He touches his side, feeling the envelope safely tucked inside his jacket, and he knows what it contains, now, and his throat feels unbelievably tight. He searches for Arek’s hand and grabs it tightly, tugging him close and looking him in the eyes, and it almost breaks his heart once again.
“Do you think you can trust me once again?” he asks, and he hates that his voice falters a little at the end. He wants to be strong for both of them, he has to be, but somehow, his little hiccup seems to change something in Arek. There’s a shine of determination, and his shoulders uncurl from their tired shape, and he squeezes Robert’s hand back, his thumb pressing against Robert’s wrist, as if trying to reassure him, to calm him down.
“Till the end.”
The evening air is hot and dense, and Robert sighs with relief as he sinks into one of the chairs on the patio. He’s holding a cold beer in his hand, and with the other one he reaches for a bottle opener laying on the small table next to him. He gets rid of the cap and leans back in the chair, stretching his legs and back, and brings the bottle to his lips as he looks over the balustrade, at the sky lit up beautifully with the sunset colours. If he squints his eyes a little bit, he can even see the golden line of the sea in between other houses, and he smiles to himself, taking another sip.
“Blessed Friday evening, isn’t it?”
Robert smiles and looks towards the front door, watching Arek carefully closing the mosquito net and joining him on another chair, holding a beer himself.
“With you, always.” Robert says, and Arek laughs, with the same silvery laughter Robert heard for the first time over fifteen years ago.
“This climate is turning you into a sap.” Are says softly, and Robert just smiles, reaching for his hand over the table and pressing a kiss to his knuckles, Arek’s skin rough from labor and yet absolutely perfect, like every inch of him.
“Or you turned me into an honest man.”
Arek laughs again, his eyes shining gently, and in the soft light of the Australian evening, he looks as beautiful as ever, and barely different despite all that time and worries. His hair still curls gently around his ears and above his nape, and there are only a couple of lines around his eyes, and fainter one around his mouth.
Robert, on the other hand, sometimes feels like he has aged the entire lifetime in just a couple of months after escaping Poland. The captain, who had clearly owed his father a big favour, put them in a decent but extremely small cabin, and told them to stay low until they reached Cape Town.
The next month and a half, Robert can’t really recall. Arek tells him he was delirious for weeks, shaking in fever and crying at nights, mumbling and whispering, as if mind and body finally gave up, finally breaking under the stress and turmoil he had endured. Arek was there for him every minute of every day, nursing him to health, and probably the very first thing Robert remembers from that journey is going down the plank in Cape Town on shaky legs, his senses overwhelmed with the new sensations he was experiencing at once.
They spent a couple of weeks in South Africa, trying to figure out what to do next, until they managed to score two places on a vessel going to Australia, deciding to take that one more leap of faith.
And now, they’re here. Content, and loving each other in all the ways Robert didn’t know they were possible.
They have jobs and a house, and they have each other, and it’s just enough, and it’s more than he ever dared to imagine he could have. But, at the same time, he can't help but feel nostalgic on some days, waves of nostalgia coursing through him, making his chest ache with sudden tightness.
Robert can't help but miss Poland sometimes. During hot summer nights, he misses the feel of autumn rain on his skin. On busy streets, he recalls Saturday markets his mom would take him to, elderly sellers chatting with him and allowing him to pick a fruit. Watching football on TV, he longs for watching matches in crowded, smoke filled pubs.
They talked about the possibility of going back a couple of times, first time in ‘89, when euphoria of a newfound freedom of their homeland made them drunk with hope and happiness. But then, their heads cleared out, and they realised what they have known already - that as important, as grand as it is, it doesn't change that much for them. That Poland being a part of the free world won't magically change Poles as a nation, won't transform their beliefs and stances instantly. That if they wanted to live as they do now, that would be probably so hard that it would stop being worth it. And on top of that, Robert being an ex-cop and a son of the prominent police officer would close some doors and open a can of questions in this new reality of a country that will be trying to separate from its past with a thick line.
Arek has settled into Australia better, almost instantly, and if he misses home, it's more longing for Polish landscape, for cobbled streets of old towns and his friends. But here, he smiles more than he used to, and sometimes Robert jokes that he’s truly Australian - his skin is toned, and his hair a couple of shades lighter. On weekdays he teaches German in a local school - he got a teacher certificate a couple of years after arriving here - and two Sundays a month he holds classes for kids of other Polish immigrants.
Robert had slight troubles with finding a job, especially since he had quite some issues to learn English at first, Arek being much more linguistically gifted than him. So he ended up where most of the men from Central and Eastern Europe did - in construction. He didn't see it as something degrading, though; it was actually the opposite. Physical work brought him comfort, something to do and something to focus on, and he ended up learning a lot. He was promoted a couple of times, and now he oversees the workers along with the architects and engineers, and it's also a job he enjoys, and for which his joints are grateful.
He’s brought back to the present when he feels Arek’s thumb pressing gently against the inside of his wrist, and Robert raises his head to see Arek watching him with a lovely, knowing smile.
“You went there again for a moment.” His eyes are kind as he raises his other hand and traces his fingers alongside Robert's brow “Are you alright?”
Robert sometimes doesn't believe he is. Some nights he wakes up from a dream so dark and vivid he can almost feel the cold on his skin. But Arek is always there, the heat of his body enough to chase the demons away.
In the end, hey've both made choices that brought them here, and despite all the hardships, they never doubted. And they're going to be alright.