Entanglement by Zygmunt Miloszewski

repulsive and alien to me. I want everything to calm down. I want him to be gone, not the children.

    Telak: But I haven’t done anything… (His voice falters, he’s incapable of carrying on.)
    Jarczyk: I can feel coldness and emptiness. And hatred. It’s your fault my child is dead! (She breaks into heart-rending sobs.) Do you understand? My daughter is dead, and my son’s going to join her. You’ve murdered my child!
    Kwiatkowska: Daddy, I did it for you. Why can’t you understand that? Daddy! (She starts crying.)
    Telak sinks to his knees. The entire time he never looks at anyone.
    Telak (in a whisper): Leave me alone, it’s not my fault.
    Kaim (with an effort): Don’t worry, Dad, we’ll help you.
    Kaim goes up to his sister and grabs her hand.
    Kwiatkowska: Yes, Daddy, we’ll both help you.
    They take a step towards the chairs.
    Jarczyk: No! I beg you, no! You can’t leave me alone with him! You mustn’t go. Please don’t go, don’t leave me alone. Please, please, please.
    Kaim turns to face her.
    Kaim: Don’t be angry, Mum. We have to do it for Dad.
    Jarczyk faints. Clearly alarmed, Rudzki runs up to her and kneels down.
    Rudzki (to the others): OK, that’s all for today, we’ll finish this tomorrow morning. It’s a bad thing we’re stopping, but there’s no alternative. Please go to your rooms, please don’t talk or read any books. We’ll meet up at breakfast tomorrow at nine.
    Kwiatkowska and Kaim stare at each other as if shaken out of a trance. They let go of each other’s hand and leave the frame. Rudzki lays Jarczyk on her side and goes up to the camera. The entire time Telak is on his knees in the background, staring into space.
     
    The screen went fuzzy. The therapist and the prosecutor sat side by side in silence. After quite a while Szacki got up, went over to the camera and took out the tape.

    “That’s dreadful,” he said, staring at the black plastic box. “Weren’t you afraid he’d commit suicide?”
    “I admit it occurred to me. But I wasn’t afraid.”
    “How come?”
    “I’ll tell you something. It’s a well-known story - it happened in Leipzig some time ago. Hellinger arranged a woman, and during the constellation it emerged that she was frigid, incapable of love. Her children were afraid of her and wanted to go to their father, whom she had rejected. Hellinger said: ‘Here is a cold heart.’ Soon after the woman left the room. The other participants in the therapy were afraid she might kill herself, but Hellinger didn’t go after her.”
    “And then what?”
    “She hanged herself a few days later, and left a letter saying that she couldn’t go on living.”
    “Pretty effective therapy,” muttered Szacki.
    “You think you’re joking, but in fact you’re right. How can we be so sure a premature death is always a loss? That it’s always the worst solution? That you have to be saved from it at any price? Perhaps something emerges from life that is greater than it. We all have a need in our souls for the end to come once life is fulfilled. In some people it appears earlier. Do you understand that?”
    “I do, but I don’t accept it.”
    “So you must be an omnipotent person if you want to stand in the way of death. I feel humble towards it. If you deprive someone of the right to die, you’re actually showing that person a lack of respect. Standing in the way of death is an unreasonable belief in one’s own greatness.”
    The therapist was standing next to Szacki by the French windows. An ambulance was driving down Grójecka Street towards the City Centre with its siren on. The piercing noise was growing more and more insistent. Rudzki closed the window and total silence reigned in the apartment.

    “You see, the root of it all is love,” he said. “Kasia killed herself to relieve Telak, to take part of his guilt with her. But you say we must stand in the way of death at any cost. How can we not respect such a beautiful act of love and self-sacrifice?