He doesn’t tell Kasia the good news. He can’t. He wants to – but he can’t. He sits in front of the screen. The work on the site is almost complete. This is true, although he has only worked there for two days, so far. There is no talk yet of more work. But I am confident.
He laughs, very quietly – there are people sitting to his left and right. It is true; he is confident. He has reason to be. He has one million, six hundred and thirty-two thousand, and five hundred euro in the bank. Or, he soon will.
Jerzy and Filip had worked until the late afternoon. They didn’t want to walk off the site and perhaps lose their jobs. Nor did they want to tell the foreman that they had won the lotto and were now millionaires.
It wasn’t funny.
–We’re trapped, said Jerzy.
–Does it matter if we lose these jobs? Filip asked.
–Of course, said Jerzy. –I want this job. It took me such a long time to find it.
Filip nodded – he understood.
–Come, he said.
He had an idea. It was after four o’clock.
They found the foreman in his office.
–We go, said Filip, in English. –But we come back. Tomorrow. Okay?
–What’s the story? said the foreman.
–Election, said Filip. –In Poland. We vote at the Embassy.
–Oh, said the foreman. –Fair enough. Lech WaÅ‚Ä™sa and all that. See yis tomorrow, lads.
–Did he mention Lech WaÅ‚Ä™sa? Jerzy asked Filip as they left the site, still wearing their hard hats.
–Yes.
–Why?
–His daughter is married to one of Lech WaÅ‚Ä™sa’s sons, said Filip.
–Our foreman’s daughter?
–Yes.
–You are joking.
–Yes.
They walked to the Lotto headquarters on Abbey Street and stood outside it.
–It is an ordinary building, said Filip.
–What did you expect? Jerzy asked him.
–Eurodisney, said Filip.
–Or Stalin’s Syringe, said Jerzy.
He was referring to the Palace of Culture and Science in Warsaw.
–Yes, said Filip. –Something like that.
They went in and walked up to the reception desk.
–We are men from Poland, said Filip, –and we have won your Lotto.
Jerzy didn’t understand him but he enjoyed the look on the receptionist’s face as she looked at the two dust-covered men who wore yellow hard hats.
He sits now in front of the screen and wishes that he could tell Kasia. But he can’t. If he tells her about his sudden luck he will then have to confess his lack of luck in the months before, and his failure to find a job and support his family. He will not do this. Besides, his pockets are still empty.
The Lotto people were very pleasant. They shook Jerzy and Filip’s hands as Jerzy and Filip were brought from one office to another one, and photographs were taken, with hard hats on, without hard hats on. They spoke clearly to Filip, who then translated for Jerzy. There was coffee, there was champagne. There were more photographs. There was advice. A man and a woman from a bank opened two savings account for them, one each, and two current accounts, one each. They were nice people – she was very beautiful, especially when she put on Filip’s hard hat. Jerzy and Filip signed the forms. And Filip spoke to Jerzy.
–We must wait two days, he said.
–Why?
–I’m not sure, said Filip. –We will be given bankcards and then we can start withdrawing money.
–Do they know we are broke? Jerzy asked him.
–No.
–Will you tell them?
Filip said nothing but Jerzy knew the answer. He too would have been ashamed to tell these well-dressed, pleasant people that he was homeless, that he slept in a park and cleaned himself in a bus station toilet.
So, here he is. About to finish his letter to his wife. I miss you too. I miss you too. I miss you too. And then he will return once more to Phoenix Park, to the tent that he had hoped he would never see again. It is funny – but it isn’t funny. But it is. It isn’t. Two more nights, he must endure. It is ridiculous. But sometimes pride demands such things. He will endure it. In two days time he will have his bankcard.
At least it is a pleasant evening.
He does not know where Filip is. He went away after they had eaten their Bible soup.
His feet hurt. His back too.
He will buy a boat. A small fishing boat. It’s a nice thought. The bottom of the boat slides easily across the sand. He imagines writing this to Kasia. With me is a friend from near home, Filip, and two Irish men. We push the boat right onto the water. Really, you should see us. When will you come?
© Roddy Doyle 2008
Roddy’s story continues next month in Metro Éireann
