CONNECTIONS

FRAGMENT

One in the morning, from Monday to Tuesday. The city was as empty as they’d expected. They drove to the job in silence. They had already practiced everything, discussed it, sketched it all out beforehand. Over the past few days, they had developed a method for drawing the letters precisely. Each letter was supposed to be a meter tall. In some abandoned warehouses by the Żerański Canal, they practiced outlining and painting them. Pau tested different color versions; Ma and All measured the key points of the inscription. Pau decided she needed thirty of them so the slogan would come out neat and tidy, and all the words and letters would be perfectly placed. They took four copies of the plan, marked with points and distances, just in case. Most of them they already knew by heart anyway. Jan calculated that if they worked efficiently but without rushing—rushing could lead to mistakes—marking and measuring the points would take them seven quarters of an hour. During that time, Pau would use those first markers to start outlining the letters with a marker pen. As soon as the outline of the first letter was done, Jan would begin filling it with a tar-black substance that seeped deeply into the plaster. Pau had prepared twenty-five liters of it beforehand. She brewed the mixture in a huge pot, blending several types of paint and muttering to herself like a witch. From time to time, she’d brush her hair back with a dirty hand or rub her nose, leaving black streaks on her face, something like war paint. She spoke half to herself, half to her goo, saying she wanted it to stay on the wall for eternity. Even if they painted over the inscription, she wanted it to slowly bleed through the new, hostile layer. And if they covered it with many coats, may it sink deep into the plaster and the bricks beneath—so that at least the wall would always be able to read it. Or the archaeologists, who might get their hands on it in a few hundred years. She whispered and stirred.
 

     Everything was going according to plan. Ma and All measured; Pau sketched; Jan filled in the letters with that black substance, which really did seem blacker than most paints he knew—like ink soaking into paper, it bit into the plaster, carrying out its intended mission. Pau finished each letter, refining the edges with her well-trained hand. Jan glanced at his watch—an hour had passed. They were maybe ten minutes behind schedule. Not bad at all. He scanned the area. So far, three passersby had gone along the path at the base of the embankment, but each one seemed lost in their own world, looking at their feet or the problems they were stewing over, shoulders hunched, drifting through some distant realm like Nordic trolls. He watched each person vanish from sight, waiting to see if anyone would glance upward. Meanwhile, the other three worked in total silence. They knew that in about a quarter of an hour, a police patrol might appear—it regularly passed this way because of the nearby Polish Security Printing Works, where banknotes and IDs are printed. We’d better use this quarter wisely, Jan said to himself. In a moment, All and Ma will finish measuring and start painting. Then everything will speed up.
 

     The patrol showed up half an hour later, just when they’d started hoping it wouldn’t come at all. They heard muffled voices and footsteps. Jan leaned out slightly and spotted two reflective vests emerging from Kościelna Street. As planned, they quickly shoved the paint can and brushes into the bushes and, helping one another, scrambled onto the wall and jumped to the other side. The idea was that the cops wouldn’t notice the half-finished inscription, even though it was barely two meters from the sidewalk. And even if they did spot it, what could they do in the middle of the night? They had talked it over beforehand. Maybe they’d file some report in the morning. They wouldn’t call for backup over incomplete graffiti, however big it was. The first assumption proved right. The officers didn’t see the writing, even though it was so close. But they did pause on the embankment, shielding their cigarettes from the breeze as they lit up. Since they stopped, they struck up a slow conversation, barely audible on the other, safer side of the wall. They spoke in hushed voices—Pau, Ma, All, and Jan could only make out a few words. They felt excitement and glee like mischievous kids pulling off a prank. When one of the cops spoke a bit louder and said, “cavity search,” Ma’s eyes went wide, and she began stifling a laugh. She covered her mouth with her hand. Jan tapped his temple. Then he mimed crude gestures with two fingers, tilting his head like an idiot. Moments later, all three—Ma, Pau, and All—were trying hard to muffle their laughter. They pressed their hands over their mouths so hard that their knuckles turned white. Jan silently mocked them, thrusting his joined hands forward as though cuffed, squinting and pouting his lips to show them how much fun they’d all have in the slammer soon. Tears ran down the girls’ cheeks. Thankfully, the cops moved on. Once their footsteps had fully faded, Ma and Pau were gasping for air like fish out of water, loudly now. Jan whispered:

     – Just don’t go pissing yourselves, okay?
 

     That was the last straw. All three burst out laughing with abandon. Luckily, the uniforms were too far away to track the source of the cackling—maybe they thought it was a party at one of the nearby row houses, or some stoned kids hanging out by the fountains in the darkness. Frankly, they couldn’t have cared less. Typical cops.

In high spirits, they carefully clambered back over the wall. Jan showed them his watch and tried to give All a quick kick in the backside to restore order. All neatly dodged. Finally, they got back to work, swiftly falling into a rhythm, buoyed by the delight of having pulled it off.
 

     They were almost done. All stepped back a bit and began quietly sounding it out:

     – Be-fore you die, make sure you live. Beautiful.
 

     He smiled. The inscription made an impression, even in the faint light coming from distant houses and streetlamps. Pau was touching up the outlines. Ma and Jan were packing cans, brushes, papers, and gloves into a large black plastic bag. Then they heard footsteps around the corner—familiar voices. Damn! They were supposed to arrive in fifteen minutes, when the job would be finished, Jan thought, and threw the bag over the wall. He clasped his hands to boost Ma up—she was closest to him. All hissed at Pau, who was still finishing the letter Z. Jan’s long legs were just disappearing over the other side when Pau looked up and froze. The cops were right in front of her. Their green vests glowed. She managed to toss the brush into the bushes. She jumped over to All and tried to climb the wall with his help, just like Ma, but she didn’t make it in time. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw one of the officers had already spotted them. Lowering her gaze, she leaned back against the wall between the words “make” and “sure,” pulled All close, and started kissing him. The cops, passing by, tried to feign indifference but couldn’t help a side glance at the pair. The black letters stayed hidden from view. Once the pigs had passed, Pau pushed All away, bit her lip, and peered at the dark side of his face. She saw nothing. But she could still taste her friend. She dropped out of character as quickly as she’d assumed it. She whispered:

     – Hey, hey, come on. Coast is clear.
 

     They walked back charged with adrenaline, thrilled that they’d escaped, that they’d gotten out of trouble when it had been so close. They shouted over one another, each retelling the scene as though the others hadn’t been there too. Their sweeping gestures, at first glance, might have suggested an argument. The car rolled forward slowly—Jan drove with caution, carrying all that energy. They relived it again. And again. Pau repeated the same story yet another time:

– I took All by the arm. We acted like we were crazy in love. We just kept walking straight at those cops and passed them, joking around. All, you really ought to consider drama school. You didn’t even blink. Seriously, you did this sweeping bow, like you were some D’Artagnan or Don Quixote escorting his lady—like a D’Artagnan after a glass of wine! Totally epic!
 

     Pau tried to mimic All’s grand bow, deftly swinging her arm and trailing her fingertips in the air. Inside the car, it was tricky, but she was so convincing that even All started wondering if he’d really done that bow. Pau sealed off the tale with her laughter, and her delight spread to everyone.
 

     They arrived back while it was still dark. Buzzing with energy, they switched on some music. Ma began to dance with a cigarette. All joined in, and a moment later Pau did, too. Jan took out small glasses and poured some ice-cold tequila—he’d bought it and stashed it in the freezer for just this moment, not long after Pau had declared a no-drinking zone. The aluminum seal on the bottle top cracked. He poured the thick liquid. They raised their hands high and tilted their heads back.

     – So what’s next? The Louvre, MoMA, Tate? – Ma asked.
 

     They made toasts, danced, joked, and strutted around, feeling like half-gods or successful outlaws. Eventually, they peeled off their black silk clothes and paraded around in just their underwear. Pau thanked everyone, one by one. She was thrilled with the result. It came out exactly as she’d planned. Tomorrow, they’d go have a look and snap some photos.

     – Because who knows if someone won’t try to paint over it right away, – Jan cautioned. Of course, they all hoped the inscription would last for years.

     – I’ll rip the legs off the first asshole who tries to mess it up. I’ll hire some beefy dudes from the city to smash his face in. Whatever it costs, I’ll pay! Word’ll get around that it’s off-limits, – Pau declared firmly while they smoked joints during a break from dancing.
 

     It was a new moon. Dawn was nowhere in sight yet when Ma took All by the hand and disappeared with him into the house. Jan stroked Pau’s hair, and she closed her eyes. They kissed and hugged for a long time outside, innocent as high-schoolers on a first date. Eventually, Pau started rubbing Jan’s crotch. They got up and ambled inside, then went into their bedroom.
 

     Half an hour later, All, led by his still-throbbing member—having already brought Ma to ecstasy, quieted her mind, and lulled her to sleep—was now on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water. In the large Moroccan mirror leaning against the hallway wall, he saw Pau riding Jan, performing a slow dance on him. She moved her hips gently in all dimensions of space-time at once. She caught sight of his reflection, and for a moment they locked eyes. Time slowed. You could hear crickets. The scent of ripe grass floated in the air. Finally, Pau lowered her eyelids.