to clean what they could of the wound, spooning water into his mouth and trying to rouse him enough to swallow it at regular intervals. Every now and again, I would hear Roman cry out, and inevitably I would hear Sara and Truda frantically hushing him.
We were lucky that our apartment building was small and that the closest adjoining apartment was Sara’s. We were also unlucky in that there were four other apartments on the floors beneath us. It wouldn’t take much for the sound to travel down.
Mateusz and I waited in the hallway outside the bathroom. We had closed the door to contain the noise, but the silence in the hallway was tense.
“You are going to have some explaining to do,” he said, after a while.
“I know,” I muttered.
“We need to get him help and then get him out of here. Then you and I and Truda are going to sit down to talk.”
“I know.”
“How do you even know—” he started to say, and then he broke off, drew in a deep breath.
“I had to do something,” I blurted. Mateusz closed his eyes, as if the words caused him physical pain. “I couldn’t do much, but an opportunity arose, and I took it, because once I knew what was happening, I had to do something. I could not have lived with myself if I hadn’t.”
“What was it you did?” he asked, his gaze pained. “Who is this man? How does he know where we live?”
“I...”
My eyes stung, and then tears began to roll down my cheeks. I could do nothing to stop them. Knowing that the time was coming when Truda and Mateusz would know the extent of my deception left me sick with anxiety.
The door opened, and Sara and Truda appeared, each drying their hands with a towel. Sara was pale and her gaze serious. I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand.
“How is he?” I croaked.
“The bullet is lodged deeply in his arm. I think it may have hit the bone so there’s nothing more I can do until the surgeon arrives. Roman has lost a lot of blood, and that is even more dangerous than it would have been because he is desperately dehydrated and so malnourished.” She drew in a deep breath and then looked at me. “Elz·bieta, you are going to stay with him and continue to encourage him to drink the salt and sugar mixture I have made. Spoon the water into his mouth, then massage his throat to encourage him to swallow. He needs to rehydrate. This is our priority.”
“Are you leaving?” I asked her anxiously. She shook her head, then looked at Mateusz and Truda.
“No. But your parents deserve an explanation. I take full responsibility for this, so it should be me who provides it.”
“Come,” Truda said and sighed. “I’ll make us some coffee.”
* * *
Roman lay limp in the bathtub. He was covered by a blanket, except for his right arm which rested upon it, the wound oozing through bandages. He was cleaner than I had ever seen him. His head was resting on a folded towel, his face tilted toward me, his eyes closed and his mouth slack.
“I’m so glad you’re alive,” I said as I sat on the floor beside the bath and took the spoon. “I missed our conversations.” I drew in a deep breath, then stared at his wan face as I whispered, “I missed you.”
Somewhere else in the apartment, the adults talked, and all I could do was wait for the ax to fall. I knew that upon hearing what Sara had to say, Truda and Mateusz would want to raise their voices—except that they couldn’t, in case they roused one of the neighbors. Even though shouting was off the table, I was soon to face a maelstrom of disappointment and anger, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
“You simply must wake up,” I murmured to Roman as I dripped the water into his mouth, then cupped his chin in my hand to tilt his head back. I did this time and time again, although I felt I was achieving little. Water always dribbled out the corners of his mouth, then ran down his beard to soak into the towel. Still, I had nothing else to do other than sit and listen to the muffled voices. At one stage, I heard the volume of Truda’s voice rise sharply, and my efforts to coax the unconscious boy in the bathtub