“But I thought it was Hania’s party,” I said.

“Goodness,” Karolina said with a sigh, rolling her eyes, “doesn’t he tell you anything? Maksio and Hania are siblings.”

I was taken aback, without quite knowing why. “That makes sense, I suppose.”

“Yes, it does,” she said, looking at Maksio, who was now kissing the blonde. “The same sense of entitlement. Did you see how she dragged Janusz away from us?”

I shrugged, trying to keep my mind at bay. “They’re friends. Why shouldn’t she dance with him?”

A slow song was playing now, a dark, profound voice singing in English, lamenting something bygone. And the dancing couples turned and swayed in their own orbits, their own planetary paths. I couldn’t see you on the crowded dance floor. I wished it could be us out there.

“So how are you?” asked Karolina, seeing me look for you.

I shrugged, feeling my head spin again. “Good, I guess. I’m seeing Mielewicz next week. I think he’s read my proposal.”

“And?”

“I don’t know . . . He hasn’t said anything yet. But I enjoyed writing it, more than I thought I would. I’d love to do it.”

“What if it doesn’t work out?” She looked worried for a moment, and I wondered how real this concern was and how much of it bitterness concealed. Bitterness about her own situation.

“Somehow I think it could turn out all right, you know?” I said.

“Wow, you’ve become awfully optimistic lately,” she replied with only a trace of irony.

The dancing couples before us moved, parted to the sides like a curtain—revealing you. You and Hania. Entwined in your own secret constellation. Her eyes were closed, her cheek resting on your shoulder, your fingers wrapped around her gleaming sequined waist . . .

I couldn’t think straight—my mind was like an erring line. But my body reacted all by itself, fossilizing my insides.

“Looks like they get on well,” said Karolina, watching you darkly. You and Hania swayed to the waves of the song.

“I don’t think she’s his type.” I held on tightly to the banister of my own words.

“Ludzio, with this house, you’re everyone’s type.” She said this without taking her eyes off you and Hania. She said it almost absentmindedly. Then the other couples moved in their rotations and hid you from our sight again. And I looked back at Karolina. Her words remained in the air, heavy, unwilling to go away, like a fog.

“You’re exaggerating,” I said. “Since when are you such a bloody pragmatist?”