The Unmade World by Steve Yarbrough

Author:Steve Yarbrough
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Unbridled Books
Published: 2017-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

SAFE SPACE - 2016

When Bogdan wakes after another poor night’s sleep, he looks at the clock. It stands on his bedside table, less than a meter away, but he still can’t quite decipher the glowing green numbers. In the last few years, he’s developed blepharitis. Lately, perhaps because he lies awake at night listening to the sounds coming from the room above his, it seems to be getting worse. This morning, it takes a couple of minutes for his vision to clear. Even after it does, his eyes keep burning.

He swings his legs out of bed, his bare feet recoiling when they touch the floor, which feels like a sheet of ice. He reaches for the radiator, wondering if the boiler is again on the blink, but the surface is hot. It must be really cold out. His sister will be pleased. Having little to fret over, she worries about the cancellations warmer temperatures bring. You can’t ski without snow.

He rises, flips on the overhead light, then pulls off the long underwear that he’s been sleeping in and steps into the small bathroom, where he turns on the shower. He lets the water run for a moment before entering the stall. Until recently, he got up each morning, washed his face, put his clothes on, and went to breakfast, saving the shower for the evening. He only changed his routine after Teresa hired the Ukrainian refugee.

Elena is blonde like Krysia, but her hair has a few gray streaks, and her face looks tense. It’s impossible to say how old she is. His best guess would be forty-five. Around the pension, she always seems to wear the same clothes: a pair of pleated jeans, a green sweater that needs depilling, black shoes of the type that are usually called “sensible.”

He has seen her wearing something different exactly twice. The first time was about a month ago, on a Saturday night when he was strolling down Krupowki, Zakopane’s steeply sloping main street, which is lined on both sides by shops, restaurants, hotels, and bars. She emerged from one of the latter. It was snowing, and she had on what he assumed was a fake sheepskin but no scarf or cap. The lampposts on Krupowki curl into the shape of a bass clef in honor of the composer Szymanowski, and when she reached out to steady herself against one of them, he thought she’d lost her footing. Then he realized she was drunk. He took a step in her direction, but she shook her head, as if to say, No, I don’t need or welcome your help, so he continued on his way to meet Roman for a beer. He didn’t mention what he’d seen.

The other time was last week when the boiler quit. He was down in the basement with two repairmen all afternoon and most of the evening, and once they finally got it working, they asked him to go into each room and make sure the release of hot water hadn’t caused any leaks.

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