Yet another week has slid by. “The world I know,” sings Lead-Singer-For-Collective-Soul, and I’m thinking about the world I know (surprise, surprise) and the world I want. Lipnica is still on my mind. What’s new. I’m taking two pictures to work tomorrow to decorate my cube a little — two pictures of Lipnica, of course. One of them is just of a bridge after a heavy rain and snow run-off — a fairly “normal” bridge there: two trees chopped down, extended over the Lipniczanka with some boards across the top to make it a semi-flat surface. Something I saw so many times without even thinking about it. And now — I look at it and a flood of memories (not all of them even related) washes over me.
I’m tired of being here.
I’ve been thinking about Benia a lot lately. I don’t think I ever wrote in detail about what happened between us when I was in Lipnica. In short, we became friends. Not something that happens every day, I think.
It all began the second Friday night at Żurek. (In a way, it’s too bad this didn’t happen that first night. Then again — I wouldn’t have had that perfect night with Kamil and Janusz, listening to Lightning Hopkins.) We really didn’t talk while inside, but as everyone was leaving I started talking to her — just for a moment, I thought. But as she waited for her group to decide what it wanted to do, we sat down on the steps at Quattro and started talking, not just chatting emptily. As she struggled with her English, I told her, “You can speak Polish — I understand.” And that was how most of the rest of the evening/morning’s conversation went. She told me there that everyone thinks she’s always happy and it’s difficult because when she’s actually sad, no one really think it’s something serious.
But the really touching part of the conversation came just after that — about guys. “I meet a guy,” she said,’ “And everything seems to be going well and then he says, ‘Benia, idziemy do łóżka.’” I sat there feeling somewhat personally indicted. “Everyone wants that. Every guy in the bar tonight would love to get you in bed,” I thought to myself. I didn’t say such a thing, though. Instead, I simply told her that most guys are like that, and that most guys who try to touch her within a week or so of meeting her would likely end up saying, “Benia, idziemy do łóżka.”
By this time everyone had moved to the area in front of the gmina, so Benia and I walked over that way, but we stood alone, under the single light at the centrum bus stop. A friend of hers — I can’t remember — kept coming over and hassling her, and she kept tell him just to leave. “Chcę rozmawiać z Garem,” she said patiently but firmly — indicating a bit more strength that might be evidenced by her generally smiling face.
Finally, we decided she should just walk back, and I volunteered to walk her back — to Murawanice. We left centrum sometime around three in the morning, and I got in bed about two hours later. But it was well worth it. In some ways, it was the best part of my whole time there. As we walked along, she said — in Polish — “I can’t believe this! Four years ago, when you first walked into our classroom, I would never believe that four years later we would be walking along like this, talking like good, old friends.” And we were talking like old friends — I really felt more comfortable with her than I had with someone in a long time. It’s not that I was telling her secrets or anything. It was just a comfortable, pleasant conversation.
She wasn’t at Quattro Saturday night, so Sunday, while Kinga and I were out for a bike ride (the bike ride during which she said, “You think like a woman!” because I said that it wasn’t fair that her dad goes to play volleyball — basically have a day off — while it was business-as-usual for her mom), I decided I would stop by Benia’s to see if she was going to be at Quattro and if not, to say goodbye. I approached her house and, I heard from inside, “Benia, masz gość.” It was her sister, Kamila, and I got to the door just as it Benia came to see who it was. I went up to her room with her — I think Kamila offered to stay in the room with us, which Benia waved off, I think (of course, I could be mistaken about the whole exchange). We sat and talked for a little while; she made me promise to send her some of my poetry, which I forgot to do when I wrote to her last week; we talked about music (she has the Kaya-Bregovic CD and we talked about which songs we like); a friendly, safe chat. Kinga came up and she and Benia talked for a while, including Benia’s admission, “I hate English.” I immediately thought of her letter. She explained, somewhat unnecessarily, “I’m just no good at foreign languages in general.”
Now that I’m back, I find myself wondering what would happen between us if I were there. No, I’m not thinking romance — just deep friendship. I think we could be great friends. I think we have a lot of similarities — wanting to trust people but not being quite able to justify it all the time; like people in general; wanting to help people, somehow.
So I guess it’s time for an update on my “I have to go back to Lipnica” thoughts. They’ve calmed a bit, but only slightly. They were intense while Chhavi was gone. I’m listening to A Few Small Repairs and that album always makes me want to go back; if I’d listened to it a week ago, it would have been deadly.