Raey Kubiak

“You need to think about the big picture. Your problem is that you remain a villager, just like you were born.”
“I want my money,” he answered.
“Come on, let’s not fool ourselves, alright?”
“What are you talking about? If you don’t bring me the mon—”
“What will you do? What are you capable of doing? In essence, you gave me money for your own publicity. Isn’t that right? You did your duty too and everyone found out and appreciates you. Maybe you actually paid for my services?”
“I’ll ruin your name so badly no one will come near you.”
“Good luck, brother. This is not a movie. We are condemned to be small. You don’t have the time to do something like that, nor the luxury. You’ve got kids to feed, a wife, a family. You think you’ll find time to chase me? And even if you do, what do you think you’ll achieve?”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Until we meet again, my friend. I love you, I don’t intend to betray you. I just don’t know when I’ll be able to prove it.”

That night he lay in his wife’s arms. He tried not to seem worried, but after sixteen years of marriage, it was very difficult.
“Don’t tell me you’re still thinking about the money,” she said. “He already blew it on slot machines, you know that.”
“That’s not it,” he answered.
“Then what?”

He took his eyes off the TV and looked at the ceiling.
“I saw this woman yesterday at the traffic light. So worn out, like the whole world had been dragged across her face. She had the look of someone who came into this world without a ‘why’.”

She took the remote in her hands and turned off the TV. She stroked his hair.
“You’re getting sentimental again, these days? When will you learn?”

“She was motionless, as if she had no present. I thought she was about to stretch out her hand, but she looked at me and I panicked. I imagined her reading my thoughts and asking me ‘why’, but she was looking between the windows, across the street. An abandoned travel agency in the Arab downtown. Boarded-up windows, broken glass, the door without a handle. Miserable. It had a yellowed poster with ‘90s destinations. Maybe she was looking at that beach and dreaming in the rain. Rain all afternoon. Chaos. Did you notice?”

“I was at Sylvia’s and she drove me crazy with her nonsense.”

“For some reason I imagined the last customer.”
“Whose?”
“The travel agency’s. The last person who went in there for a holiday. Maybe some old man who didn’t really understand the internet. Then I wondered whether the owner or the agent knew that this would be the last booking.”

“Universal Travels. It had a sign on top covered in pigeon droppings by the thousands. Who knows, maybe the old man actually made it to the place on the poster.”