Your face distorted, hardened again. “You still don’t understand, do you? We will need something again soon enough. Life is full of these times. And how will we cope then?”

I tried to assemble my thoughts, to resist. But nothing came.

“You’re the one who didn’t see a future in our country,” you said, your voice soothing. “Here it is.”

I followed your eyes, taking in that splendid room. Among the people dancing I saw Karolina, with her arms around a boy I’d never seen before, a glowing cigarette drooped from her fingers.

“You’ll get to know them,” you went on, encouraged by my silence. “You’ll see. I told Hania about your doctorate—she seemed impressed. We’re having dinner on Wednesday night at Mozaika. She said you should come.”

Again, I said nothing. The night was growing old, and behind the wide windows of the splendid room, darkness was giving way to another morning.

Chapter 6

The Wednesday after the party I went to see the professor. I was more nervous than I thought I’d be, my mind circling in hostile loops as I walked the New World Promenade. The air felt thin. I arrived at the office, knocked on the door. A subdued “Come in” resounded from inside. I affected a confident smile. The professor gave me a weary nod.

“Please sit down,” he said, his voice strangely lifeless. His face seemed grayer than it had a couple of weeks earlier, as if he’d aged since the last time I saw him. The silence between us was heavy and seemed to sit entirely on my chest.

“The board liked your proposal, Głowacki,” he finally said, in a strangely formal voice. I looked at him, uncertain. “They like it more than they want to admit, actually. Your writing is good, your ideas worth exploring. You know that.”

I didn’t know whether it was my turn to speak. A pained smile distorted his face.

“But, as you might imagine, there are other forces at play too.”

My gut contracted. I looked at the professor, trying to read his face. I felt completely powerless.

“There are other candidates,” he went on, sounding tired. “Their proposals aren’t as good as yours. But . . .” He took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. “Some of them have contacts.”

Another silence, another glance from him to me, as if he wanted me to release him from this chore. My mind in free fall.

“The final decision hasn’t been made yet, but if things continue as they are now, it doesn’t look good for you. I need you to know this.” He let out a sigh, looked at his desk, his papers, then back to me.

“Then why have you called me in? What do you want me to do?” My voice was small and angry, more than I wanted it to be.