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I quickly crossed the room and sat at the very edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible.
I perched on the edge, trying to take up as little space as I could, my eyes darting to the television. The screen flickered with neon ads before switching to some dull soap opera I’d never watch in my normal life. But my head wasn’t in it. My main task was figuring out how to make it clear to this big guy that I wasn’t his wife. And to do it in a way the cameras wouldn’t catch on.
Marek leaned back against the headboard, hands behind his head. He looked so relaxed, like this whole damn experiment was just another evening at home for him. His gaze kept drifting my way, and I felt like I was under a microscope. The overly tight nightgown clung to my skin, highlighting everything I desperately wanted to hide.
‘What the hell do I even say to him? Hey, Marek, I’m actually not Apolonia, but Mike, a 23-year-old guy who has no idea how the fuck he ended up in your bedroom?’ I thought bitterly. ‘Yeah, right. He’d probably think I’ve completely lost it. Or worse—assume it’s some weird joke my “female version” would make.’
I struggled to keep my frustration in check. The cameras—those damn cameras—were watching my every move. Even now, while I was just sitting here silently, they’d probably already filed me under “depressed housewife.” What a joke. This fucking “Town.”
– You’re awfully quiet tonight, Polya, – Marek said suddenly, his eyes still on the screen. His voice was calm, but there was a strange undertone, as if he was trying to figure something out. – Normally, you’d at least comment on what I’m watching. You know, complain that I put on garbage.
‘Well, aren’t you a mind reader,’ I thought sarcastically. Somehow, a chuckle escaped me before I replied:
– Garbage is putting it lightly, – I muttered, looking at the TV, and then froze. Too sharp. Apolonia, according to the file, wouldn’t say something like that.
I felt Marek shift slightly, his head lifting as his eyes sharpened, like a wolf catching the scent of prey.
– What’s with you all of a sudden? – he asked, turning his attention from the screen to me. There was a note of confusion in his voice, and his gaze pierced through me. – You don’t usually talk like that… so bluntly.
‘Shit,’ flashed through my mind as panic set in. I scrambled to think of a way out, but my brain offered no brilliant strategies. Just a swirl of anger and fear.
– Well, it’s just… – I began, feigning nonchalance, though my voice came out too high. I coughed to steady it. – It’s… you know, just weird. Everything feels off. This… whole life, or whatever.
Marek frowned. He sat up straighter, setting the remote aside, and leaned toward me. His gaze hardened.
– What do you mean “off”? Polya, what kind of nonsense are you talking? – His emphasis on “nonsense” was so sharp, I noticed his brow twitch.
The air in the room felt heavier, like the walls were closing in. My throat went dry, and my heart pounded furiously. Cameras. Those damn cameras. I needed to speak carefully, say something that wouldn’t give me away. But how?
– Listen, Marek, – I began, trying to inject some confidence into my voice, though my palms were already slick with sweat. – Don’t you ever feel like… like all of this is kind of… a show? You know, like in a movie, where everything seems real, but it’s actually fake?
I realized I was spewing nonsense, and judging by the look on Marek’s face, he noticed too. He squinted, his jaw tightening, his fists clenching.
– A show? A movie? What the hell are you talking about? Polya, do you hear yourself? – His voice dropped, almost a growl, and irritation flashed in his eyes. – Are you okay or what?
I looked up, realizing this was spiraling out of control. I needed to backtrack, but my mouth, as usual, was quicker than my brain.
– Look, don’t you think it’s weird? I mean… come on, don’t you see how different we are? Like, I’m me, and you’re you. You’re this… big guy, and I’m… a cleaning lady! Seriously, does that seem normal to you?
I heard my voice rise, and I hated myself even more for it. Every instinct screamed at me to shut up, but I couldn’t stop.
Marek stood abruptly, his towering figure rising so fast I flinched back. His stare was heavy, like a concrete weight pressing on me.
– What kind of bullshit are you spouting, Apolonia?! – he barked, his voice filling the room. – Are you trying to tell me you’re not my wife? That I’m not your husband? That this is all… what, a play? – His eyes burned, and I felt my throat tighten with fear.
I stumbled to my feet, retreating until my back hit the wall, clutching the edge of the nightgown in my hands. Thoughts raced wildly through my head: ‘What have I done?!’