Swimming in the Dark - Tomasz Jedrowski Page 0,20

and you smiled.

‘Why did you stop coming to the river?’

I turned my head away. No words came to me. Finally I looked up and saw you looking at me with tenderness.

‘Don’t be scared.’

The way you said this – softly, perfectly calm – pierced right through me. The flames crackled. I nodded; that’s all I could do. You smiled, dissolving the tension, your teeth flashing in the light of the fire. We sat there for a while, in our private silence, worlds shifting in me.

‘I’m going to the lake district tomorrow,’ you said. ‘I’ve never been, and I always wanted to go. And I thought this was the moment, before returning to the city, before real work begins. There are some great places out there. Lakes, rivers. I have a tent and all.’ You paused, and our eyes met again for a moment. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you. Do you want to come with me?’

Chapter 3

I remember the bus leaving with the others, and you and I staying behind. It was an overcast day. Rucksacks on our backs, hands around the straps, we walked up the country road, hoping to hitch a ride. I was nervous and we talked little, but somehow the silence between us was a pact. I felt like a small bird set loose, scared and exhilarated by the void before me.

The first car that stopped took us east. The driver, a middle-aged man, eyed us from time to time but asked no questions. We drove silently along country avenues lined with tall chestnut trees, past fields bordered by poppies. I had no idea where we were. We had no map and there were few road signs, but even if there had been more the names of the places would have meant nothing to me. While I took it in, this nameless expanse, you slept with your face against the window.

At some point in the afternoon the driver let us out at a country junction. You tore a coupon from your hitch-hiker’s booklet and passed it to him.

‘Hope you send it in and win a hairdryer or something!’ you cried, and swung the doors shut. He nodded and sped off into the horizon.

A strong humid wind blew into us. The sky was filled with black clouds, and the air felt electric. Then, as if someone had pushed a button, rain started to fall. There was no maybe, no in-between. It poured without any inhibition, drops heavy like paint, a million of them, and us caught in the middle of the road with our bags and no umbrella.

‘Quick!’ you cried. ‘Over there by the tree!’

I followed you, sprinting across a field, our clothes already darkened from the rain. We reached an oak and sat down by its trunk, protected under its roof of leaves. The rain continued to hammer the land, and the world smelled of water and earth. Then lightning struck before our eyes – a devil-fork of neon-white on the dark horizon. Thunder followed. We watched the spectacle in silence and awe, pushing our wet hair out of our faces, arms clasped around our knees. For a long time we sat like that, staring into the sky, until the rain became softer.

‘Don’t you wish sometimes you were somewhere else?’ The question came to me out of nowhere.

You turned towards me. ‘You mean the West, don’t you?’

I nodded, surprised by my candour. I’d never talked to anyone about this other than Karolina.

‘No,’ you said flatly. ‘Why?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve always been curious. It seems like everything is better there. More beautiful. More free. Don’t you think?’ I looked at you hopefully.

You shook your head and stared at some distant point on the horizon. ‘I should have known you’re one of them.’

‘Them what?’ I said, nervous suddenly, wondering whether I had made a big mistake.

You turned to me briskly. ‘Dreamers,’ you said, your mouth widening into a teasing smile.

I let the word ring out, relieved and warmed by your smile so close to my face. ‘What’s wrong with dreaming about freedom?’ I said.

‘Freedom?’ you huffed, and smiled, as if you’d had the same conversation many times before. ‘Having oranges and bananas every month of the year – is that freedom to you?’ Your smile was gone.

‘There is freedom in having what you want,’ I said carefully, ‘in choosing for yourself.’

Your eyes narrowed. ‘And do you think that doesn’t come with a price? You think those people in the West don’t spend their lives working like machines, earning just