Inside, we were hit by the warm air, the looks of the patrons. Men, young and old, eyed us with barely concealed curiosity. Like last time, we sat near the bar and ordered two beers. They were playing Donna Summer’s latest song, “Bad Girls.” I tapped along with my fingers.

“Funny you would ask me to meet you here,” said Karolina, smiling. “I thought you didn’t like this place.”

I laughed. “I changed my mind. That’s allowed, right?”

“Encouraged,” she said, enjoying herself.

The beers arrived, and we toasted. Karolina started telling me about the last few weeks, about her dates with Karol. They were in love.

“I am so glad for you,” I said, and meant it. “So glad.”

We ordered another round, toasted again.

“What about you?” she asked. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”

I took a long sip and began to tell her about you and me and Hania. The uncensored truth, for the first time. She gasped throughout but didn’t seem too surprised. Until I told her about the passport.

“So you’re . . . ?” Her eyes began to shimmer.

“Yes. Next week.”

“That’s great,” she said, her voice breaking with emotion. She looked at her beer. “And can’t you . . . wait?”

“I think it’s time for me,” I said. “And now that you’re the one in love, I’m not going to ask you to come with me.”

She looked up. Tears freed themselves from her eyes, drawing black paths of mascara down her cheeks. She cried noiselessly, and I took her into my arms. When she was done, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror behind the bar and wiped the traces of mascara with the back of her hand. “Look at me,” she said, breaking out into a smile. “I’m a mess.”

“Yes, you are,” I said. “And I will miss you. Maybe you’ll come and join me one day?”

“Maybe,” she said, smiling, wiping away the rest of her tears.

The day before my plane departed, I went to a bookshop to find an English language manual. Walking into the shop, I saw you—your arm around her waist, looking at the table of books by the entrance. You were wearing a new leather jacket, brown, with a beautiful fur collar. And there was a moustache above your upper lip. I froze. It was Hania who looked up and saw me and smiled, and I had no choice but to walk over and say hello, my body numb. The air was impenetrable between us. She kissed me on the cheek; you and I shook hands solemnly. I could feel her looking from you to me with a quiet sort of concentration. Then she excused herself, said she was going to pay for the books. And there we stood, the two of us. You watched her go, avoiding my gaze. Finally you put your index and middle fingers toward your lips.