Part 7 (1/2)
They take a step towards the chairs.
Jarczyk: No! I beg you, no! You can't leave me alone with him! You mustn't go. Please don't go, don't leave me alone. Please, please, please.
Kaim turns to face her.
Kaim: Don't be angry, Mum. We have to do it for Dad.
Jarczyk faints. Clearly alarmed, Rudzki runs up to her and kneels down.
Rudzki (to the others): OK, that's all for today, we'll finish this tomorrow morning. It's a bad thing we're stopping, but there's no alternative. Please go to your rooms, please don't talk or read any books. We'll meet up at breakfast tomorrow at nine.
Kwiatkowska and Kaim stare at each other as if shaken out of a trance. They let go of each other's hand and leave the frame. Rudzki lays Jarczyk on her side and goes up to the camera. The entire time Telak is on his knees in the background, staring into s.p.a.ce.
The screen went fuzzy. The therapist and the prosecutor sat side by side in silence. After quite a while Szacki got up, went over to the camera and took out the tape.
”That's dreadful,” he said, staring at the black plastic box. ”Weren't you afraid he'd commit suicide?”
”I admit it occurred to me. But I wasn't afraid.”
”How come?”
”I'll tell you something. It's a well-known story - it happened in Leipzig some time ago. h.e.l.linger arranged a woman, and during the constellation it emerged that she was frigid, incapable of love. Her children were afraid of her and wanted to go to their father, whom she had rejected. h.e.l.linger said: 'Here is a cold heart.' Soon after the woman left the room. The other partic.i.p.ants in the therapy were afraid she might kill herself, but h.e.l.linger didn't go after her.”
”And then what?”
”She hanged herself a few days later, and left a letter saying that she couldn't go on living.”
”Pretty effective therapy,” muttered Szacki.
”You think you're joking, but in fact you're right. How can we be so sure a premature death is always a loss? That it's always the worst solution? That you have to be saved from it at any price? Perhaps something emerges from life that is greater than it. We all have a need in our souls for the end to come once life is fulfilled. In some people it appears earlier. Do you understand that?”
”I do, but I don't accept it.”
”So you must be an omnipotent person if you want to stand in the way of death. I feel humble towards it. If you deprive someone of the right to die, you're actually showing that person a lack of respect. Standing in the way of death is an unreasonable belief in one's own greatness.”
The therapist was standing next to Szacki by the French windows. An ambulance was driving down Grojecka Street towards the City Centre with its siren on. The piercing noise was growing more and more insistent. Rudzki closed the window and total silence reigned in the apartment.
”You see, the root of it all is love,” he said. ”Kasia killed herself to relieve Telak, to take part of his guilt with her. But you say we must stand in the way of death at any cost. How can we not respect such a beautiful act of love and self-sacrifice? We should accept this child's gift. Otherwise after death she will feel rejected. Love simply exists. There's no way of exerting an influence on it. It's helpless. And it's so deep that it hurts. A deep bond and pain go hand in hand.”
”That sounds very nice,” replied Szacki. ”But maybe that's all. It's hard for me to believe someone would commit suicide because his father ran away from home. A person is responsible for his own actions.”
”It's impossible not to be entangled - so says h.e.l.linger.”
”It's possible to be free, and so say I.”
Rudzki started laughing, but his laughter changed into a coughing fit. He escaped to the bathroom, and when he came back, wiping his wet face with a towel, he said: ”But is it possible to be free from eating? In the system no one is free.”
II.
Szacki had a terrible headache. He got into the car, let Pink Floyd play 'Hey You' very quietly, and swallowed some ibuprofen. He opened the window and tried to organize his thoughts. Now he realized why none of the people taking part in the therapy had mentioned the therapist during their interviews - because the therapist was really just an observer, standing in a safe spot, outside the storm of emotions raging under the cross-vaulting in the cla.s.sroom on azienkowska Street.
What had happened on the night of Sat.u.r.day to Sunday? He could imagine each scene perfectly. The cla.s.sroom plunged in darkness, yellow light coming from the sodium lamps outside, and shadows moving in columns across the walls whenever a car went down the street. Henryk Telak trying his best to make as little noise as possible as he creeps out of the building. He thinks no one can see him, but that's not true.
Because Barbara Jarczyk can see him. The woman who fainted a few hours earlier, unable to bear the emotions of Telak's wife. Supposing Rudzki's right, thought Szacki reluctantly. Suppose there is a field that allows you to feel other people's emotions during Family Constellation Therapy, and Jarczyk could feel Mrs Telak's emotions. Hatred, aversion, anger, the pain caused by her child's suicide; the fear that her other child would soon be gone too. Except that Jarczyk, unlike Telak's wife, was aware that Henryk was the ”culprit”. That it was because of him, or for him, that the daughter had committed suicide and the son had fallen ill. Who knows, maybe the idea has sprung up in Jarczyk's head that she can save her ”son” by killing Telak. She seizes the skewer and goes after him. Telak hears footsteps, turns round and sees Jarczyk. He's not afraid, he just feels silly that he's going to have to explain himself. Jarczyk strikes. ”For my child,” she says, but Telak can no longer hear her.
But in that case would Jarczyk have remembered to wipe off the fingerprints? Would she be able to lie so well? And would she have gone to discover the body herself, or rather wouldn't she have waited for someone else to find it?
Scene two: Telak is walking across the hall. He thinks no one can see him, but that's not true. Kaim is watching him, and for the second time that day he's feeling a sharp pain in his heart. The field is working. Kaim is thinking about his dead sister, and about how much life he's still got left. He wants to stop Telak. He wants to complete the therapy and save ”himself”. But Telak doesn't want to stay there. Kaim insists. Telak refuses and starts heading for the exit. Kaim blocks his way and strikes.
In this particular case, Szacki was sure Kaim would have quickly come to his senses, tidied up and wiped off the fingerprints. And he was capable of lying in a convincing way.
Scene three: Telak thinks no one can see him, but that's not true. Kwiatkowska, his dead daughter, is watching him from a corner of the room. Like a phantom. Maybe she's thinking about how much she has missed, how many years of life, how much happiness, how much travel, how many men, how many children. She has lost everything, purely to help a man who is now sneaking away. He doesn't care about her sacrifice, he's not concerned about her death. ”Why are you running away, Daddy?” she asks, emerging from the shadows. ”I'm not your dad, you lunatic,” replies Telak, and tries to get past her. ”How can you? When I've done so much for you,” says Kwiatkowska reproachfully. Grief and sorrow mix with rage inside her. ”What c.r.a.p! You didn't do it - go and get cured, woman,” says the p.i.s.sed-off Telak.
Kwiatkowka strikes.
The pill was starting to work. Szacki felt a little better, and kindly allowed Roger Waters to sing 'Bring the Boys Back Home' a touch louder. He called Kuzniecow and drove to the police station. He wanted to have a chat, and to take the opportunity to examine the victim's wallet. He didn't think it had any significance, but Telak was the key to this case. The better he got to know him, the more likely he was to understand the culprit's motive. Or the motive of the virtual culprit, controlled by the ego of a stranger.
My G.o.d, isn't it all a bit too screwed up? he thought, as he waited for the light to change, allowing him turn from Pruszkowska Street into wirko i Wigura Avenue.
III.
In the canteen at the City Centre police station on Wilcza Street Kuzniecow ordered a coffee and a chocolate cake, and Szacki ordered tomato juice. He'd already swallowed too much caffeine in all those mugs of coffee and tea at Rudzki's place. He told the policeman about yesterday's interviews and today's visit to the therapist.
”Twisted,” said Kuzniecow, unsuccessfully trying to slice off a bit of cake with his fork without letting whipped cream squirt out in all directions. ”So in a way Telak's wife and son are just as much suspects.”
”Not suspects. It's more that if they have a convincing motive, the people involved in the therapy could have been driven by that motive. I'll interview them tomorrow - we'll see.”
”If that turns out to be true, any second-rate lawyer will get them out of trouble. Just think - you see a person for the first time in your life, then a quarter of an hour later you pretend to be his son, and as a result you grab a skewer and stick it in his eye. In other words, you as yourself have absolutely no motive at all.”
Szacki shook his head. He'd already thought of that too. He asked if they'd managed to establish any facts at azienkowska Street.
”Not a thing. There are a couple of people left to question, but I don't think we'll get a result. They arrived on Friday, sat there locked in and didn't communicate with anyone. The girl who brought them food and did the was.h.i.+ng-up spoke to Rudzki twice. She never saw any of the patients. The priest who rented out the room had one meeting with Rudzki, and the conversation lasted five minutes. Rudzki is a member of the Christian Psychologists' a.s.sociation - he was recommended, so the priest had no doubts. Now he's sorry and he hopes we catch the criminal. Very nice fellow, I talked to him myself. Looks a bit of a w.a.n.ker, like all of them, but he's quite businesslike.”
”Is there anything missing from the church?”
”Not a bean.”
”Security guard?”