Swallows Have Arrived Page #3

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Yeah, that's bad.

- Do you want some beer?

- What do I want with your beer?

You'll be offering

me a biscuit next...

Stop showing off for God sake.

Hey, take it easy!

It was Eskimo who duped you.

Go and sort it out with him.

Who do you think you're talking to?

Eskimo's a fuckhead,

the whole town knows that.

Anyway, when did you lose him?

About two hours ago.

And how much money

did you give him?

Oh, what does it matter,

if I haven't got any more anyway?

And where does Eskimo get it from?

You see, Gera,

there you go again, showing off.

Where do people get it

from around here?

And what makes you think

we've got any?

Never mind!

Give me a swig of beer at least.

Here...

God, have mercy on us sinners!

Amen.

You see, Gera,

to open one bottle,

you have to have another.

Meaning?

Meaning you scratch my back,

and I'll scratch yours.

Meaning?

I'm asking you

how you would open a bottle,

if you didn't have another one?

With a knife.

Gerasim.

Have pity on me.

I'm dying.

But, you haven't got any money...

But if I had money, I wouldn't

be asking for pity, would I?

I'd be pitying

everyone else myself.

Pity you I can.

But help you, doubtful.

If I had known at the moment

that it would have helped,

I would have cried out loud

and fallen down on my knees.

But something stopped me.

Not self respect, but

some strange foreboding of luck.

Now what I had to do

was just not scare it off,

which my hysterics

could easily have done.

At the same time I had

to be emotionally convincing,

remembering Gerasim's big heart.

What was needed here

was not hysterics...

Listen, Gera.

You know I don't have any money.

And I know you

do have the medicine.

But you don't know

about tomorrow...

Listen...

You know, you don't know...

We've heard it all...

More importantly Galya has

also heard it all before,

she's heard about

tomorrow as well...

You are a master only

of the uncertain.

Look, you'll have the money

tomorrow, come round tomorrow...

Why did you go to Eskimo?

You should have popped in

to Haly-Galy's and had a good cry.

You know she wouldn't let you die.

It wouldn't be the first time,

would it?

Eskimo owes her twice

as much himself.

So, he's probably run

to his pals in the village.

Because now you can't get it

anywhere, except from those cowboys.

But, he might also

have been nicked.

Are you kidding?

You were just threatening

to carve Eskimo up.

You're not having me

on about Eskimo, are you?

I swear as if in front

of the junky god, Gera:

If the filth haven't taken him in,

I'll carve him up.

It was dangerous to drag

the pause out too long.

Gerasim, have you got anything

sacred inside you?

Ask Eskimo,

while you're carving him up...

I spent 15 years inside.

I'm sacred myself, understand?

That's why I'm asking you,

like a saint,

let me live to tomorrow,

so I can pay my debt to Galka.

My, you're a difficult one, Pik...

Me? Difficult?

I swear to you that tomorrow...

Oh, stop talking about tomorrow!

Tomorrow...

Tomorrow there'll be shame.

That's what will be tomorrow!

You think I'm sitting here because

you are talking about tomorrow?

I'm sitting here with you,

because you have shame.

Hell with you.

Come on.

I've got a bit.

We can split it.

Don't forget the beer.

Damn junkies

Listen, Gera.

- What are you going to say to Galka?

- I'll tell her I'm f***ing sacred.

Don't worry.

She's not in.

She's gone

to visit Cousin in the nick.

Cousin was an experienced thief.

Galka went to visit him in prison.

So she opened the stashes

for her housemates,

but not for the debtors.

Who's that you've brought?

Pik...

Bring us a hit, kitten, ah?

- Has he brought the money?

- Yes, yes.

Let him show it to us, then.

Bring us a hit, I said,

dealer-b*tch!

Gerasim cooked up

and I sat and shook out

of impatience and an overload

of psychological

and physical sensations.

There it is

the long-awaited moment;

There it is happiness;

There it is the end to my suffering,

the shelter for the strangers,

the refuge for the martyrs of

conscience, the moment of truth...

I babbled all sorts

of rubbish to myself,

which seemed at the time

to be precious poetry.

However, although my happiness

was full, like the moon,

a small blotch saddened its face.

The sharp pain below my stomach

was increasing while

the spirit was rising.

This base need was just

as acute and pressing

as my high aspiration.

Gera.

I need to go to the toilet.

That'll pass in a minute.

Oh, go on, then,

if you're not afraid of

that gnarling b*tch, Valka...

Constantine, give it up!

It's not you.

These words hit me strangely,

like an electric shock,

and I saw, as if for the first time,

the person who had spoken them.

- Gera, it's the filth!

- Calm down, Pik.

Don't open it straight away,

kitten, ask who it is.

Who the f*** are you to give

orders around here, you bastard?

Who's there?

Have you brought money?

Then go and steal some!

What?

What watch?

Shove it up your ares!

No, I told you...

He's not in, and he

can f*** off along with you...

She's not here, either.

That's it.

Clever girl, kitten.

Are you going to have a hit?

F*** you, you bastard!

So?

Picky-Wicky, sir.

Defend yourself.

I don't know how,

it was either Gerasim's smirk,

or something else,

but I instantly understood

that the person at the door

was none other than Eskimo.

That evening I met Eskimo.

He was dying.

His suffering

which looked exactly like that

from which I had so miraculously

been relieved that day,

didn't make me hurt.

Quite the opposite,

it underlined my own high

and made it more tangible,

deeper and profound.

Eskimo kept moaning

and looking at the watch

every fifteen seconds.

He said Mullah had promised

to bring him some medicine

and hadn't shown up for two hours.

Come on, Mullah, you dog!

What are you doing to me?

Pik!

And where did you say you shot up?

Despite my condition,

I still remembered

that I couldn't give Gerasim away.

Did I say?

Alright. Enjoy.

What difference

does it make to you where?

That's the point.

It makes no difference.

I just wanted

to hear you showing off.

Come on, Mullah, you bastard!

Calm down, brother.

Mullah will show up.

For God's sake!

Where the f*** have you been?

F*** you!

As if I owe him anything.

F***...

F***...

You're home.

You're home.

What home?

It's burning, Mullah, you bastard!

Bastard yourself!

It's the Dimedrol burning.

What Dimedrol?

Look, I've got a lump!

Take it out.

Take it out.

Take the lighter and shine it here.

You've been home.

Give me your other arm.

Good morning, Eskimo!

Put the light out.

Don't give us away!

Give me a light again!

So, how do you feel?

It's just water.

You dog!

Did you here that, Pik?

Just water.

Swear on your mother's name

that it was just water.

Shh! Quiet!

Lads, go home.

This is a kindergarten, after all.

There are little kids here,

morning and afternoon.

And maybe we're little kids, too.

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