Where Foxes Hunt with Wolves - K.A. Merikan Page 0,13
resort by the sea, and when Dad was still alive, the house had always been bursting with guests. Dad’s huntsmen friends spent every weekend here in the summer, grilling outside, and in winter, people had actually used their sauna.
Everything was deserted now.
Radek could hear the echo of his voice in the corridor, and even though every single room was cleaned diligently, most weren’t in use.
He took hold of the jug and went to the home-cinema room, eager to lie down on soft pillows without the need to climb the stairs to reach his bedroom. It was an informal space meant for lounging while the flat screen that took up half of the wall on one end showed each pore on the skin of movie characters, each droplet of sweat on football players.
But as Radek stepped inside, eager to help himself to the candy stashed in a side cabinet for occasions like this one, Mom’s punishing gaze met his from the middle of the sprawling beige sofa.
He stopped mid-stride, his foot hovering over the floor as he wondered whether there was still a way to make a U-turn.
“Hey, Mom,” he said, because her hard gaze told him there would be no way out.
She’d dressed as if she were going out, even though she hardly ever left the property anymore. But Mom believed that limited social activity was not an excuse to be a slob, so she’d donned discreet gold jewelry and had Mrs. Irena style her brown hair into tidy waves that brushed her gray turtleneck.
Her eyes were sharp behind metal-rimmed glasses—or maybe it was the makeup that made them seem so—and her lips, which were already gravitating lower due to aging, seemed to have fallen more than usual.
“I can sense your stink from here. Have you fallen into a tub of spirit?”
Radek counted to ten in his mind. So much for hellos. “Don’t know how, ‘cause I actually showered. But maybe you’ve developed a sixth sense.”
“You weren’t picking up your phone,” she said, pulling a woolen shawl around her narrow shoulders, but while frail in the body, she had a strong will. “What is that on your wrists? Are you not wearing the string?”
The string. Mom wasn’t superstitious in general. Unlike other people in Dybukowo, she didn’t celebrate Kupala Night, didn’t hang a stuffed magpie outside one of their windows, nor did she go drown Marzaniok in the river to bring about spring.
But the string? She’d been obsessed with it since Radek could remember. According to the superstition, you tied a red string around your child’s wrist to avoid it being abducted by demons. Or monsters. Or something. Radek had worn one all his life, and it had worked so far, so he considered it his little good luck charm and continued the tradition.
He rolled his eyes and pulled away the handcuff which served no other purpose than to remind him of last night. “I’m wearing the string, mom. Jeez.”
She huffed. “I called in the evening, and one of your drinking buddies picked up your phone. Told me you’d gone off into the woods to find the wolves that murdered your father. Have you completely lost your mind?”
Radek sucked in his lip as heat flushed his cheeks. Okay, in hindsight, that hadn’t been smart at all. “Um… It was a joke. I didn’t actually—”
“Your father’s death is a joke?!” Her eyes became razors, slashing him from afar every time she blinked.
“That’s not what I said! Why can’t you be nice for once, huh? I’m here now! What does it matter what I did yesterday?”
“You’re hardly ever here, and when you actually grace this house with your presence, you spend all the time away. I hardly see you anymore. I’m ill and can’t take care of everything the way I used to,” she said, raising her slender, veiny hand in anger.
Radek spread his arms, willing away the pulsing headache. She was like sandpaper rubbing against raw wounds. “There’s nothing to take care of! Mr. Golonko owns half the farm, and we have a manager. Money flows into your account every month like clockwork, and you have Mrs. Irena to help you at home. I’m twenty-two. Of course I won’t be at home with my mother all the time!”
She shook her head, turning toward the window, and her chin trembled as she stiffened. “My son doesn’t even love me. You don’t ever want to spend time with me. I’m just a liability to you! You probably have some girlfriend back in Cracow