THE SAINT ANN'S REVIEW

CURTAIN VELVET
Paul Linczak     

Dis was 2004. It was July Turzday, so of course was no school. I was on job at dis rich guy’s house—I finish it his basement for him. Dare I cut it my tumb wit carpenter knife. I forgot to put it First Aid kit in my van, so I had to wrap tumb wit shirt and go home. I was blidding lot, but it was be easy: just get it de bandage and dat’s it. But when I come home I see it bicycle in de yard. Den I knew I gonna mitt one a Mattew’s friends.

Mattew is my son. When I was young man I taut I gonna have it four sons—Mattew, Mark, Luke, and John. But God gave me him only.

I opened front door and saw him in my chair wit his pants around his feet and his hand holding camera, and dare was naked girl on her knees wit his członek in her mout.

Of course, dey jumped it up. Mattew dropped camera and was rushing to put his pants back on.

“What do you tink you are doing?” I yell on dem. Den I point at de girl, who try to cover her shame, and I say, “GET OUTTA MY HOUSE! YOU ARE BANISH!”

Mattew said to let girl get dressed, and dat was it. I could not even hear it one word from him. I slapped his face again and again. “You idiot!” I say on him. “Dis what you do in my house? Bring it little whores?” He covered his face and fell onto couch, trying to hide it himself. I kept hitting and hitting, his arms, his dupa, his head. De girl run outside in her underwear. I said, “Shame on you! Shame on you!”

Den I stopped. Mattew face was full of blood. I was scared. And den I realize dat it was from cut on my tumb. I dropped it shirt. Blood was everywhere. 

***

Dat night I talked to my wife, Agata. She work in hospital. She wanted to go to Mattew’s room, where I ground him, and spank him wit wooden spoon. But I said no. De memory of his face wit my blood already was kinda bodder me. So we decided no dinner for him.

Agata wanted to know who was dat girl. I didn’t know. I never saw her before in my life. What dey was gonna do wit dare video? Again, I did not know. Where did dey get such an idea? We no had it computer in home, and Mattew was only sixteen!

Agata walked back and fort. What is happen to our boy? she said. Used to be Mattew liked it church. Allaways he was singing wit everyone. Allaways was he on his knees to pray. I remember once he locked it himself in his room, and when he came out he was holding tape he made it of music—All For Jesus, he was calling it. He had keyboard we gave it to him. I do not like his music, but his heart was in right place. My little boy: I taut he gonna be pritcher. If he is falling now, I said to Agata, is only God’s way of giving opening to salvation. Den I get her to sit and bringed it her toast wit honey and play for her tape of tunder and rain.

***

 Next day at work it was bodder me. My fahder, rest his soul, never had to worry about such tings. Me and my brudders never even tink to be so bad. Was simpler times den, in Poland after war. We wore it button shirt, nice pants every day. We was calling fahder ‘sir.’ Dare was no like dey having now—you take off your cloze for movie and dey giving you award. Straszny! I don’t know how my fahder was be managing like dis. Now I had to be fahder. So when Mattew sit at dinner table, I tell to him what Agata and I decided.

“We are taking you out of dat high school. You will go to Christian academy from now on.”

Mattew put it down his fork. He was mad, ashamed, full of pain. He said we could not do it, he had it friends dare.

“Dat is what I am afraid of,” I said. “You will make new friends. Good, Christian ones. When I came to America do you tink I had it friends here? I didn’t even have it my brudders wit me! Still, I came.”

Den he said he was sorry for what he did and he promised to do anyting. He would never have it girlfriend. He would go to school and come straight home.

            “My word is final,” I said. “You are going to Christian academy. Is easy drive.”

            He said it was too expensive and we are crazy.

            “We will pay,” I said. “Even if I have to work until my hands fall off! Dat is sacrifice we will make it to keep your brain from rotting inside your head.”

He look it on me. But we could not hold it our eyes for long. Dare was great shame betwin us—his because of what he did, and mine because I could not find words to say. My fahder never was talking about such tings private wit me. When I was young I was having many girlfriends. Even so, I did not know a woman until I was married—don’t tell me I don’t know what is it to have it lust in de heart. Still, Mattew should be stronger den evil. So I was ashame of him more den I was ashame for myself. And boat shame I could not speak about.

Finally, Mattew said he was not hungry, and he left it on de table his food.

I left it mine, too, even dough I am liking mitloaf.

***

 Next day I went to store video. I wanted to rent it Ben-Hur. I wanted to give it to Mattew so he could know how important is religion, and so I could tell little bit about my life in Poland.

In 1960s, was not easy to be Christian in Poland. We was having Catolic church because de Communists knew it was be very unpopular to ban it. But many udder tings dey ban it—really only you could say you are Catolic and dat’s it.

But I was not Catolic. I was tailor in little shop in Warszawa, and one day customer gave to me pamphlet telling me how to be saved. Next time dat customer came in, I ask him about it. Den he took me to sickret mitting in someone’s home. Dare was maybe tirty pipple. Evangelicals! Dey talked about how to be free! Of course, you had to talk very carefully. You never could tell who was spy. Dey even looking on me kinda suspicious. But I became friends wit dem. I liked it to be part of dat group, to fill dare was hope for future.

When I saw it Ben-Hur first time, de way dey showing belivers mitting in sickret, and having hope even dough de rulers was trying to get rid of dem, I became very proud. I don’t know how dis movie came to be dare. I was wit group of Christians. We watched it witout sound on wall of cafeteria cellar.

Of course, in Poland in 2004 if you want it movie you go get it. Just like where I was living in Ohio. We had it Mustafa Video.

I did not go dare much. He is having too many movies wit killing and, you know, sexy stuff. It was be so long since I been dare dat I even forgot about curtain velvet.

I saw it when I picked it up Ben-Hur, because he was putting religious movies in back of store. I did not have to look or ask—everybody knows what is behind de curtain velvet: porno movies.

I saw Mattew again wit dat girl on him. I saw kids watching dare video, dare eyes becoming like jellyfish. I saw in my mind women dancing like strippers, and boys playing wit demselfs like monkeys, and tongues hanging out. What is becoming of deez boys and girls? How dey are learning to trit itch udder?

I prayed for correct English, and den I say to cashier: “Where is manager?” Dis poor cashier was very fat hairy young man. He picked it up de phone.

Mustafa came out. He was like man on yacht, wit coffee in his hand and shirt unbuttoned so I was seeing his hairy chest. Also, he wore it sandals. He was kinda Arabian, wit short black hair combed back like he is Mr. Cool Guy, you know. But he was not dat young—maybe in his forties. He look on me wit dis smile like I was be selling him cookies. His teet was perfect. He ask what he can do it for me.

I said to him, “Do you tink is OK to have it porno movies in store like dat?” I pointed to curtain velvet. “Why you are having dat here?”

He look it surprised, den he said beliv it or not, pipple rent dem.

 I said, “But you are having dis in store wit children’s movies! How do you know is no kids going back dare? Aren’t you ashame to have dis wit children in your store?”

He said dare was allaways someone watching, even on security camera.

“Even so,” I said, “you are making so dat kids can see it, so dat dey will want to know what is behind curtain.”

He ask if I want him to take it doze films out from behind curtain and put where everyone can see. I said no! I wanted him to get rid of doze movies! Dey should not be in store like dat, next to children’s movies.

He say he appreciate my concern, but he is having udder customers who like it doze movies. He say is free country.

I said, “Don’t tell me about free country. I come from communist country. I know what is it to live dare. Beliv me, when we were mitting underground, risking our lives, it was not to watch movies wit pipple naked! We wanted to give it someting hopeful and good to our children. Dat was whole reason for coming to America! Not dis…pornos!”

He ask me where I come from, and I told him. He said he was born in Egypt.

“Den you know,” I said, “how important is friddom. We should not use it to rot brains of our children. Is same reason you cannot sell cigarettes to tinagers. You can say is free country, you should be free to sell cigarettes to whomsoever you like it. But no! You cannot harm young pipple. Dat is more important.”

He drank it his coffee. Den he say he is businessman. Friddom is dat he has right to sell and customer has right to buy. Dat’s it.

And I became so angry on him. I slapped it de coffee from his hand. It spilled all over videos dare. Den I point finger at him and say, “Are you listen to me? You should be ashame! Ashame! You are part of problem! You are spreading sickness wit deez movies! I will show you! You will be one who is ashame!”

He yell on me to liv store.

I dropped it Ben-Hur. Den I turn to walk out. In doorway I yell back on him so he know I was meaning business, “You will be ashame!”

***

I do not like it to be angry. I never blow it horn. I’m never yelling on dogs dat are coming into my yard and living poops. God gives us life, and I will rejoice and be glad in it.

But dis was different.

Dare was someting in my bones dat could not stand it what was happening.

No, on dat day, I felt very good to be angry. Never since coming to America did I open my mout like dat.

I taut about how to make Mustafa fill shame. Best way, I realize, was to show him dat he is alone, dat community did not want his dirty movies. If we come togedder and make it noise, we could make it change.

When I tell Agata, she was terrify. She is kinda like woman from time of kings, in doze movies where dey are wearing big skirts and passing out. She fan her face wit her hand. How could you get into argument like dat? What do you mean you will go to newspaper? She was asking all dis questions like police was coming.

Agata did not remember Poland. Her parents ran it little shoe factory in Szczecin, but dey closed it up during war and went to London, den came on boat to America. She never grew up wit fear dat someone is allaways watching and listening. I didn’t know where her fear comes from.

But I remember Poland very well.

One day in 1966 police officers came into tailor shop. I was alone. My knees was shekking. Den comes in old man in dark brown suit. Bald and kinda tall, wit glasses wit tick black frames. He was having simple tie and shoes, and he smile on me. I knew who it was: Gomułka, First Secretary of de Party! I sin his picture in newspapers.

He say, “Comrade, I am going to very important mitting, and I tore it sliv on door handle. Can you fix it for me?”

 “Yes, comrade,” I say, even dough I was never communist. I taked it niddle and tred and scissors and I start to work, and he was standing so still, holding arm for me.

Of course, I was nervous. I start to tink maybe dis was big chance for me. I could stab him betwin his legs! Or in his troat. Dis was before I became Christian, I was having such tauts. Funny ting was, I did not even care about politics. I just knew I had it chance in front of me. Of course, his guards would kill me right dare. But if I kill de First Secretary, maybe it was be new revolution starting. I was be hero in all of Poland! Now! I said to myself. Do it now!

I taut about what it would be like to stab him. How hard for scissors to cut flesh, how blood was be everywhere, on my hand even, and how terrible sound would come from his mout. Like rusty door opening. Even dough I had not read Bible yet, I had it wyczucie—I don’t know how to say in English, kinda dip sense—dat it was not wrong only to kill in dat moment, it was sin.

But sometimes sin is like hole in road dat you must drive over, and I taut I gonna have to close my eyes and just do it.

Suddenly, he say, “De iggle is most used symbol of nations. We are all having dis symbol.”

Den he look on his sliv, say, “Tank you, comrade,” and he left very quickly from shop. I stood still, listening to my heart. I taut I gonna make it in my pants. Shop was empty. He left no money for de work.

Can you imagine: such a quick moment, and I could have changed it history! I was be in all books about Poland. But I simply could not lift it my hand against dat one man. I could not kill, and I could not die.

After dat, I wore it sunglasses and combed my hair like Jems Din—his picture make it de girls crazy—and I told girls dat I am personal tailor of Gomułka. Oy, dat was big mistake! I was nineteen years old! Later, dare was riots, pipple begging for bread, and den communists trone Gomułka out; it was over for him. I knew what was be happening after dat—once you are put on black list, dat’s it, dey gonna erase you from history.

Soon friend said to me, “Don’t go to shop tomorrow. You told too many stories. Dey are watching you.”

I became panic. What could I say? I am good citizen! I only met Gomułka once! Was only for few minutes, and I even taut about killing him!

But who gonna beliv dis?

Next day when I turn on strit where was shop, I saw man standing next to black car, waiting. He did not see me. My heart was jumping. I went back home. After dat, I became convinced dat I would be picked it up in black car and sent to prison. All because I fixed it sliv one day.

Dat was when I decided to liv Poland and all my family and friends. I went to Catolic priest who was making false papers. After dat I took it plane. I arrive in Clivland in 1971.  

Oh, America, wit your air conditioning and supermarkets and flag everywhere. I did not tink I would end it up here.

***

After church on Sunday I talk wit Pastor Hite. He is good man. I like him. I tell him dat I want to say someting against filty movies in Mustafa Video. Pastor was nodding and say is big problem. Den he look on me and ask it how to help.

I had it big vision of tousands of pipple protesting in front of Mustafa, wit news cameras putting us on TV. Maybe even we was be getting Congressman to speak.

Pastor said let’s have it mitting first.

So few days later we have it mitting in church basement. Pastor was dare, and so was Bobick, who was police chief and is dicken for us. Pastor from First Baptist was dare, and so was pastor from Metodist church. We talked about many tings, even tings I did not tink about. Pastor from Metodist church said to be ready because pipple gonna say we are against Muslims. I said I don’t know Mustafa is Muslim. He is from Egypt and he owns store, dat’s all I know. Den First Baptist pastor ask if maybe we should have it someone wit us wit brown skin, you know, to make it easier. I said I am complaining, OK, and is because of my son. I don’t care about American skin problems. Dey say dey understand. So den we decide it to write letter to Mustafa to ask him to remove filty movies from his store because he is dangering kids. We agree to give letter to Mount Zion Gazeta. After dat, we will get many more pipple to sign it letter to Mustafa. And den ball is rolling, like dey say.

I felt very proud. All de pastors was saying I am having courage. Me! Courage!

When I get home from dat mitting, Agata is in kitchen pounding pork chop. I felt so happy den dat I try to give her hug. But she spin round and point hammer at me. She say she knows where I was. “Why can’t you kip your mout shut?” she yell on me. “Do you know what will happen if you put it your name and your face where everyone can see it? Dey gonna send letters here, and phone calls. We gonna have reporters knocking on door! Is dat what you want? No peace even in your own home?”

I said, “What you talking about? We are not in phone book. Nobody gonna know where we live.”

“Dey gonna know,” Agata said. “Beliv me. You watch: dey gonna come knocking on our door. All because you have to use your big mout.”

I said, “Woman, you don’t tell me when to use my mout. God give me words to say, and I will say dem!”

“Oh, God give you words,” she say, mocking me. “Maybe you should see what your wife tinks before you use dem.”

I heard it door slam. It was Mattew in his room.

“You see?” Agata said, pointing. “Already you are causing disturbance! Are you tinking what will be like for him, if pipple starts talking about what you are doing?”

“He is whole reason for dis!” I said. “Him and his friends! Why else I put my name in Gazeta?”

She turn it back to pork chop and starts pounding. De cabinets was rattling. Even refrigerator was shekking.

Allaways she was making me to fill guilty—about cutting grass, about dishes unwash, about garbage take it out—and I did not like it. I wanted to live in a home, not a prison, and not a circus dat my son makes. Like I dreamed about it sitting next to River Wisła when I was not free. Like we dreamed about it togedder first time we met, at friend’s wedding near Clivland in 1976, smiling at itch udder when parents give new couple salty bread and plate and glass dat dey break it. We could hear it everybody singing: Good healt, good cheer, may you live a hundred years… Who was dat girl dat sat next to me dat night, talking about how beautiful is polka music? And me, was I boy yet or man?

I look on back of Agata for minute as she pound it.

Den I go to living room and watch it old episode of Matlock.

***

Our letter was publish in Gazeta. It was only small ting in small newspaper, but still I felt proud to see it my name dare. Agata maybe was tinking about my pride, because she did not say anyting, even dough she was angry. I didn’t know if Mattew saw it. He was in his room allaways, playing keyboard, and I did not want to bring him dis letter. Someday I taut he gonna see it wisdom of how I am protecting him and udders children.

Den reporter call to de house. He say he is having interview wit Mustafa, and want to have it interview wit doze dat wrote letter. It was be for news story in Gazeta. Pastor gave it my phone number to him. It was good ting Agata was doing laundry. I did not want to have it argument, so I only told her dat I am going to church, and dat’s it.

So I go to church basement. Already dare was Bobick and Pastor Hite. We was be de only ones for dis interview. Reporter was middle-age white man wit kinda floofy gray hair. He wore it glasses and check shirt. He was skinny. He ask why we are trying to have it censorship. And Pastor say is no censorship. Den dey argue back and fort like dis—is censorship, no is no censorship, yes is censorship, no is no censorship. Pastor ask Bobick to get it dictionary, and he go to office, but when he come back he say is phone call for me: Agata.

Now I am in trouble, I taut.

But she yell on me dat Mattew was missing.

I said, “What you mean he is missing?”

She said he was gone and did not tell her and she was worry and I need to look it for him. Her voice was shekking, she was crying. I became kinda scared.

“I come home,” I said. “We look it togedder.”

I taut maybe he run away to dis girlfriend house. Or some udder friend. Was be necessary to make it phone calls, try to find where dey are living. I go back to interview room and explain. Pastor and Bobick said dey would come wit me to look. I said no, is no big deal, but dey insist it. I felt very tankful for dat.

But when we went upstairs, we hear it piano music coming from sanctuary. At first, I didn’t care. Is church. Allaways dey having music. But den pastor said no one else was supposed to be dare, so who is playing piano? He said he wanted to check quickly, and he went. We followed. And you not gonna beliv it, but it was Mattew. He was playing piano at front of church. We stop dare by entry doors. Pastor ask if dat was him, and I said yes.

We stand dare for a minute. Of course, I was happy dat Mattew was not missing. My heart stop beating so fast. But I was trying to understand what was happening. Was he dare for yoot meeting? But Pastor just said we supposed to be alone. Was it some kinda lesson? If so, where was titcher? Pastor ask it what was dat he was playing. It was sad, slow music, like dey used to be playing at funerals. I said I heard it before, but I did not know.

“It’s Chopin,” said reporter. He was standing behind us now.

“Oh, dat’s a Chopin?” I said. “He is Polish!”

“Yes,” reporter say. “But you don’t know his music?”

I shrugged, but in dat moment I stopped listening to reporter. I realized my son was playing Polish funeral song in our church, and he knew it I was be dare. Maybe he even followed me when I left it de house. Dare was no yoot meeting, no lesson.

“Mattew!” I yelled, marching to him. “What are you doing?”

He look on me, and I could not understand it what was in his face. He was kinda surprise, but maybe also angry, maybe also happy. I taut about how strange is my son, playing piano in de church, making sex movies in my home. When he was little, I found him making pee pee on a dead bird in our backyard. I asked him what are you doing. He said he was trying to wake it up de bird. His mind was not allaways going where I could follow. I do not know how he became dis way. Now, seeing his face like dat, I was little bit embarrass. Pastor, Bobick, and reporter gonna tink I have it crazy son, and den dey gonna tink maybe I am crazy too.

Den he stopped playing and, very calmly, said to me to shut up. Only he used it bad word dat I will not use it. We all became quiet. Someting about dat word and de look on Mattew’s face gave me filling of darkness. I was looking at stranger, and I knew den dat dare was hatred in my soul. I could not explain it, to fill like dat about my son, to fill like dat and still love him.

I wanted to turn on doze men and say to dem to liv it my son alone, go away now, I will handle, but I could not say it, I could not even turn. Dare faces gonna say dey know dat I am bad fahder who could not even see it dis darkness in his son.

Mattew look on me and point at piano and ask it if I knew dat he knew how to play. I said yes I knew he was playing. Allaways I hear it his keyboard coming from his room. Den he said did I know he could play Chopin. I said no. He said, “Why not?”

I felt like I walked it into bomb dat blows up. I didn’t know what to say. I was busy, but I taut dat was what he was meaning, dat I was busy in de wrong way.

Den he said, “Aren’t you sorry?” I did not like it dis, de son tell de fahder what to do. Is not how my fahder raise me, and is not what Bible say. But it was right ting to do, to make it dis problem go away. So I said, “I am sorry. Sorry for putting letter in Gazeta.”

No, Mattew said. Dat was not it.

“I am sorry,” I said, “for making you to go to different school. OK?”

No, Mattew said. Dare was more. Go dipper, he said.

I was embarrass. But still I look on floor and said, “I am sorry for hitting you.”

Mattew said he could not hear me, so I said it again, and dare was ting inside me dat came apart den.

You are not finish, Mattew said. Go dipper.

I closed my eyes and felt like my insides was escaping out from me. I did not know what Mattew wanted me to say, and also I knew exactly what to say. “I am sorry,” I said it over and over again. I could not tell if I was saying out loud anymore. In my heart I was shouting I am sorry, I am sorry dat I failed, I failed, and I am sorry, I am sorry, I am sorry….

***

Paul Linczak’s writing has appeared in the Carolina Quarterly, Salt Hill, and Stone Canoe. He holds an M.A. from Syracuse University.