COMPLETELY DIFFERENT part 2

 

"I can imagine how you must have felt when you found out you'd never walk again," Kamil said softly and with compassion in his voice.

"Truth be told, I was completely devastated. For days I couldn't get over my depression. Everything seemed pointless and unnecessary..." Piotr grew sad, remembering those difficult days.

"What about Aga? How did she react then?

" "Very well. It was only thanks to her that I finally overcame my depression. I didn't leave the house back then because I was ashamed of my disability, and Agnieszka was the only person who visited me.

Weronika came to see me once. Only to tell me she was breaking up with me and that I understood that, because I couldn't expect her to be involved with a disabled person. That's what she said – a disabled person! It hit me hard! I told her to piss off.

I was in my first year of college then. A twenty-year-old boy condemned to a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I took a leave of absence because I had absolutely no motivation to continue my studies.

Aga didn't say a word about what happened in Zakopane. She treated me completely normally, as if I simply had an injury that temporarily prevented me from walking. She never called me crippled or disabled. She kept my spirits up as much as she could and patiently endured my bad moods and harsh comments. I will be forever grateful to her for that.

She was the one who encouraged me to return to my old, abandoned hobby of writing. I've already told you that I used to write quite a lot and keep it to myself – I "produced" two novels and dozens of short stories that no one read except Aga. She thought my writing was brilliant. She said I had great talent and couldn't let it go to waste. She encouraged me to present my "works" publicly.

So I started writing various pieces again, mostly short stories. I practically spent all day reading books, listening to music, and above all, writing. I could produce up to forty A4 pages in a single day, and often, when I was inspired, I'd sit at the computer until three in the morning, busily typing away. Sometimes I'd also use amphetamines, which a friend from the neighborhood would bring me. They always gave me incredible creative inspiration, and I didn't worry about becoming addicted.

I never complained of a lack of imagination—quite the opposite. Probably because I'd always read a lot and watched movies avidly, sometimes even five in a single day.

I wanted to test myself in every genre of literature. I wrote everything: horror, fantasy, romance, erotica, humorous stories, crime novels, westerns, melodramas, social stories, adventure stories, and thrillers. I set myself the goal of playing on readers' emotions with my work, evoking some kind of emotion—to make them laugh, scare, move, sadden, surprise, and inspire reflection. When I succeeded, and when even one person wrote that reading my work had brought them at least a single tear or a single smile—I was happy and satisfied with my work.

I wrote five novels and nearly two thousand short stories. Of course, these were works of varying quality, and in my opinion, at least half could easily be thrown in the trash, but there were times when I wrote pieces I thought were truly good, and I gave them to Adze to read. She was my only, but excellent, experienced, and objective reviewer. She raved about my writing. I'm telling you, man, she looked at me almost like I was some Nobel Prize winner!

I posted my stories online. Everywhere I could – on every literary portal, online magazine, and discussion forum. I was thrilled like a child with every positive comment, and over time, they outnumbered the negative ones. Some were even enchanted by my work and predicted a great career, so at their urging, and of course, my invaluable advisor and motivator, Agnieszka, I started trying to get my novels and short stories published. I sent manuscripts to many publishers, but so far, to no avail. A debut isn't easy. Publishers prefer to publish prose by established authors. I think it gets easier later, once you've done that. I don't aspire to be some great writer; I just want to publish a book or a collection of short stories, to leave something behind after I die: my thoughts, feelings, fantasies. I'd like to become, in a way, immortal. After all, you live as long as your memory lives. But maybe someday...

If I don't manage to do that soon, I plan to spend something on my own. I've already saved up money for it.

I was also – and still am – crazy about music. My parents set me up with a permanent internet connection, and I was downloading music in MP3 format non-stop, twenty-four hours a day. Mostly old, classic rock songs. I have over a hundred thousand songs on several hard drives and several hundred CDs, totaling about five hundred gigabytes. I only listened to most of them once, and often only a fragment if I didn't like what I'd downloaded. But I could listen to classics like "Brothers in Arms," ​​"Stairway to Heaven," "When the Music's Over," and "The End," which I would literally die for, until I was bored. After I found out about my illness, I was in a hurry. I wanted to hear all the most beautiful songs in the history of music, the best riffs, the most moving ballads before… before… You know…" Piotrek sniffled, even though he didn't have a cold.

Less than a year and a half ago, at the beginning of March, Aga married Wojtek. It turned out she hadn't kept her promise to her mother and slept with her boyfriend. She got pregnant, which was probably the main reason she quickly married him. She asked me to be her best man, but I refused. I also announced I wouldn't be at the wedding. I declined because I felt like my heart would break when I saw another man walking my beloved, the one I'd dreamed of for years, down the aisle, and whom I couldn't have. I knew that now, paralyzed and confined to a wheelchair, I had to accept the fact that she would never be mine. After all, what girl would want a man who couldn't even climb the stairs on his own? A man should be a woman's support, and I was often the one who needed help, even with simple, mundane tasks like getting on a train. And I so, so desperately wanted to be with her. I thought, "Now she'll have a husband, so the matter is definitely decided against me."

Aga didn't insist, although I could see in her sad eyes that she was sorry. I think she understood why I refused. She knew me so well that she probably knew exactly how I felt about her and how sorry I was that things had turned out so badly.

However, I couldn't resist and took a taxi to the church half an hour before the wedding. She was thrilled when she saw me sitting in a wheelchair in the side aisle. I couldn't do that to my best friend and not be with her on such an important day. She was very moved when I congratulated her, and I noticed she surreptitiously wiped away a tear. I didn't cry. I somehow managed to hold back my tears.

As promised, I wasn't at the wedding. I couldn't stand the pitying looks of people dancing and having a great time while I could only watch from the sidelines. I hate pity and pity. I don't need it. Hell, I just couldn't walk, right? Besides, I was a normal person.

Two months after the wedding, Aga had a miscarriage. She was completely devastated, just like I was when I had the accident. Now I was the one comforting her and pulling her out of her misery. I was there every day, although sometimes, when she didn't see me through the window, I had to trudge up the landing on crutches, narrowly avoiding falling, and then ask for a wheelchair. My legs are paralyzed, but luckily I have strong arms. I dragged my immobile limping legs up the stairs, struggling mightily. Luckily, she lived on the ground floor. I didn't want anyone helping me up. I could manage on my own.

After losing his child, Wojtek changed dramatically. He fell in with the wrong crowd, drank heavily, and lost respect for Agnieszka. He yelled at her and started fights over nothing, and sometimes even hit her. What an idiot! Fate gave him a wonderful girl he absolutely didn't deserve, and he couldn't appreciate it! It turned out she wasted the best years of her life with him. And because she was with him and not me, I was unhappy too.

He became a monster she couldn't stand anymore, and that's why she filed for divorce. That's why she no longer wears her wedding ring. The case is now pending, and she'll probably be divorced in a few months. This would be wonderful news for me if I weren't paralyzed. It was all because of that damn accident! If it weren't for him, everything would be different.

*****

A few days later, Kamil felt like confessing. Within a few hours, he had read, or rather, "devoured," a dozen of Piotrek's stories and was deeply impressed:

"These stories of yours are brilliant! Simply brilliant. I have to tell you something, my friend. You know I drank a lot, went to prostitutes, beat my wife and children. I told you about it. I was a bad person. I'm a believer, and that's why I understand that leukemia is a punishment for my sins, although I disagree, because I think it's too harsh. But why, if God is so good, as the priests say in church"—Kamil raised his voice—"does God want to take you from this world? A young, talented, sensitive, good man, before whom the world and a career are open. Why? Fuck, why?! He slammed his fist on the table. "You're a brilliant writer. Your stories just... bring me to my knees and break my heart.

" "Don't exaggerate. I'm just a beginner, an experimental writer...

" "Nonsense! You know perfectly well that what you write is very good!"

"Maybe it's not so bad." Piotr smiled modestly. "But what does it matter now? You know what, man? I have a feeling we'll have to say goodbye soon. Forever. My time is running out."

"Don't talk like that at all! You can't talk like that! You'll get through this!" Kamil shouted.

"No, I won't!" I can see in the eyes of the doctor and my parents that I won't last much longer. Aga tries to hide it from me, but when she thinks I'm not looking, she's incredibly sad too." Piotrek turned his head and leaned toward the window.

"You can't give up!" his friend encouraged him.

"I'm not giving up. I'm fighting to the end, but I'm a realist, and that's why I doubt I'll ever recover. I pretend to my parents that I don't know my chances of getting a transplant and that I'm dying before their eyes. I tell them I hope for a recovery, even though I don't believe it myself. They also pretend everything is fine in front of me, so as not to rob me of hope until the very end." And so our game of pretending continues – they're fooling me, and I'm fooling them, because we don't want to hurt each other. I have to pretend I'm tough and fight until the final bell rings, even though I'm already on the floor. Especially in front of my mom. The show must go on! You see how my mom comes here every day. Whenever she can, she takes off work and leaves her ward to be with me, even for a moment. I didn't tell you this, but I once had an older brother. He died in an accident when he ran out in front of a car after a ball. I don't remember him because I was only two years old at the time. Now, when my mom loses her last child, she'll completely break down. You have no idea how much I feel for her." He covered his eyes with his hand for a moment, but then regained his composure.

"You have all these dark thoughts because you keep listening to that depressing music. You constantly play Jam or The Doors, and you make yourself sad. Change the music, and you'll instantly see the world more cheerfully."

"I choose music to suit my mood, not the other way around."

*****

One night, Kamil suddenly jumped out of bed, awakened by music. He looked at Piotrek and saw his friend lying with his eyes closed, his Walkman in his ears. He was listening to Dżem, tears streaming down his cheeks. Kamil fell back onto his pillow and silently watched Piotr. He didn't want to embarrass his friend. At one point, Piotrek began to sing very quietly along with Rysiek Riedel. He hummed such a sad song that Kamil felt tears welling up in his own eyes.

"Will you accept me, my God, when the time comes to leave?

Will you give me your hand?

Or will you be afraid, afraid...

People are screaming outside the window, a thrown stone shattered the glass.

Do you know how I feel when I hold death in my arms?

When the sentence is written in the doctor's glassy eyes.

When I fly, I fly like that painted bird."

Kamil felt an immense sadness and fear gripping his throat with cold, long fingers. He realized that death was swiftly approaching their hospital room, to take Piotrek first, and then him. He turned to the wall, covered himself with the blanket, and sobbed quietly into his pillow. He thought of his young wife and two small children: how he met her, how they first made love, the day they were married, and the sunny May morning when their first son was born. He recalled beautiful, unforgettable moments of his life, and grief gripped his heart with immense force. He ignored the fact that his pillow was soaked with tears.

Piotr turned off his Walkman, and only then did he hear his friend's sobs. He turned his back to him and covered himself with the blanket. He didn't want Kamil to notice that he had witnessed his tears. He, the tough guy who always kept Piotrek's spirits up and scolded him for his pessimistic comments, broke down and cried like a baby. He certainly wouldn't want anyone to see him in such a situation.

Piotrek lay there for a long time with open, wet eyes, thinking about the cruel disease that had afflicted them both. It was dawn when he finally fell asleep.

*****

"No, come on! Turn off those sad things, or at least turn it down! You're listening to Dżem again." The music coming from his Walkman headphones was putting Kamil in a bad mood. "What song is that?

" "'The Day the Sky Cracked'," Piotr replied quietly.

"A very optimistic title," Kamil commented sarcastically. "What does it remind you of?

" "The day I found out I had leukemia. September 25, 1997," Piotr replied without hesitation.

"I have the same associations... Turn off the Walkman, and I'll teach you something.

" "What?"

"Play the guitar," Kamil picked up the instrument and strummed a few chords.

"I'd love to, but it's probably too difficult for me.

" "Playing well certainly isn't easy. I'll only teach you one song. If you practice a lot, you'll memorize it and play it like a machine. You'll impress Agnieszka," Kamil winked knowingly.

*****

Just a week later, Piotr had the opportunity to show off his new skill to his girlfriend. Through persistent, constant repetition, he had mastered one song well, but couldn't play anything else. When she came to visit, he was alone in the room because Kamil was undergoing specialist tests.

"You know I can play the guitar?" he asked cheerfully.

"What about you? You never could!" He sensed the disbelief in her voice.

"But I can. Kamil taught me. Can I play something for you?"

"Sure! What will it be?

" "You'll have to guess for yourself." Remember that this is a song especially for you – Piotr took out his guitar from under the bed and without further ado started playing and singing an atmospheric, beautiful song.

"The sun has set, it's evening in the sky.

I'm taking you home now.

But before you start thinking about what happened,

please, let's meet in the morning.

For so many years, I've been looking into your eyes.

You know you won't surprise me with anything.

There's no reason to be jealous

. Sometimes I wish I had no mercy."

As soon as he finished, Agnieszka began to applaud.

"You did great. You surprised me." She leaned over him and spontaneously kissed him on the cheek.

Piotr was very happy that he had managed to move the girl. However, he quickly grew sad, and the conversation fell apart.

"What's the matter, Piotruś?" she asked, concerned.

"No, nothing...

" "Tell me... I can see. Won't you tell me?" she smiled sadly. "You don't have to keep secrets from me, you know that."

"I don't want to make you sad, but I feel... I feel it's coming soon. Do you understand? I have a feeling these are my last days in this world. I'm going to die soon, you know? I have no hope left." They won't have time to find anyone from whom I could have a bone marrow transplant." Tears welled up in the boy's eyes, but he wiped them away and composed himself.

"Piotruś." Aga hugged him tightly and kissed him. "Don't say that. You always have to have hope," she tried to bolster his spirits, but her eyes were also wet.

"You know as well as I do that there's no hope left... And do you know what kills me the most?

" "What?

" "That... I don't know how to tell you this. I'm ashamed. That... that I'll die without ever being with a woman." He bowed his head and turned toward the window so she couldn't see his eyes getting wet.

"What about you, Piotruś? You've had a few girlfriends, haven't you?

" "But I haven't slept with any of them. Not one of them." He wiped the corners of his eyes with his fingers and looked at the girl.

He unconsciously clenched his fists, then said in a quiet, slightly hoarse voice:

"Let's drop the subject. It's not important... I didn't want to tell you that." – He rubbed the corners of his eyes again. – Forget about it.

– Why… – Aga spoke only after a moment, her face completely changed. – Why didn't you ever tell me about this? If you had told me then, in Zakopane, everything would have been different. Completely different…

If someone had looked out the window some time later, they would have seen a young, beautiful girl leaving the hospital, furtively wiping away her tears. But no one was looking.

*****

The next day, Agnieszka didn't arrive at Piotr's until 5:55 PM, even though she knew full well that visits ended five minutes later. She also knew her friend would be alone, as Kamil had another scheduled test. She handed the nurse on duty in the hallway a large Jacobs coffee and, with a disarming smile, asked that no one enter Piotr's room or disturb him during her visit, as she needed to talk to him about something very important in peace.

"Okay, and who will be leaving the patient's office? It's five to six.

" "I don't know, maybe ten, fifteen after six... It's not about those few minutes, is it?

" "Fine, just hurry up."

Aga entered Piotr's room with a charming, sincere smile. The boy was lying in front of the door, very happy to see her, having been waiting for her for an hour and thinking she wouldn't come back. Right from the doorstep, she signaled him with a finger to her lips that he shouldn't say anything. She was wearing a miniskirt and a low-cut T-shirt, and she wore low-heeled shoes on her bare legs.

She approached the boy and leaned over to kiss him on the lips. Then he noticed she wasn't wearing a bra and was aroused by the sight of her bare breasts. She sat on the bed and began kissing him passionately, and Piotr returned the kisses, surprised and stunned by the situation. His astonishment was even greater when, a moment later, Aga took off her T-shirt and threw it on the floor. He wanted to say something, but she placed her index finger to his lips, signaling silence, and then shut his mouth with a kiss. With her long, loose hair, exposed breasts, and a delicate smile, she looked utterly sensual.

She leaned over Piotr, and he kissed and fondled her round, beautiful breasts long and hungrily. Aga was now almost as aroused as the boy. She stood up, ripping Piotr's mouth from her breast, quickly kicked off her shoes and thong, leaving her in only her miniskirt. Then she threw the duvet onto the floor and pulled down Piotr's pajama bottoms. She spread his thighs, lay between them, and took his penis into her mouth. Piotr, watching the girl orally caress him, felt a hot wave of pleasure spread through his entire body. After a few minutes, when he had an incredible erection, Aga pulled the miniskirt up to his waist. She hovered over him and, guiding his penis with her hand, slowly lowered herself, impaling herself on it. Piotr thought he would go crazy with pleasure and happiness. After so many years of dreams and expectations, he was finally inside his beloved girl. From boy, he had become a man.

Aga rode him at full speed, like a professional horsewoman. Gradually, she increased her pace, and Piotr, almost beside himself with joy, watched the girl's wildly jiggling breasts, then his own manhood, rhythmically thrusting in and out of her. He began stroking and fondling her breasts, biting his lips with pleasure. It didn't take long for him to reach the peak of ecstasy and spurt his hot semen into Aga. The girl kissed the boy, who was smiling from ear to ear, with her hot, wet lips. She was happy for him.

Then she pulled down her skirt, put on her shirt, and put on her shoes. She stuffed the thong into her purse and kissed Piotr on the lips again. Gesturing her hips, she walked to the door and turned toward him. She pulled up her shirt, briefly exposing her breasts, smiled as beautifully as she could, and blew him a sweet kiss. Before Piotr could react, she disappeared through the door, like a nymph from an erotic dream.

If he could have quickly gotten up and stood at the window, he would have seen Aga leaving the hospital with her head down, sobbing. But before he could manage to climb into the wheelchair and wheel herself to the window, the girl was gone. She vanished like a dream that comes from nowhere and ends without anyone knowing why.

*****

For the next two days, Aga didn't visit him because she had to resit her university exams. It was because of him that she had switched to part-time study, because it allowed her to visit him more often. Constantly thinking about Piotr and his illness, she couldn't concentrate on her studies, and on the first attempt, she failed a single exam in the summer session.

Piotr knew that Agnieszka would surely visit him, as always, on Monday at 5 p.m. So, with a heavy heart, he climbed out of bed and into the wheelchair and went out to the hall to the telephone. He inserted his card and dialed the number.

"Hi, Aga," he said quietly, so no one could overhear.

"Hi, Piotruś!" The girl was overjoyed to hear his voice.

"Listen, honey. I'd like to thank you so much for... You know what. For Friday. You were wonderful, the most wonderful person in the world! It was the happiest day of my life, and I'm not exaggerating at all!

" "Don't thank me, you're welcome," she laughed cheerfully. "What you don't do for your loved ones... And yet I had so much fun doing it too." She laughed again cheerfully. He loved her laugh so much, and he knew that after what she was about to say, the girl would cry.

"There's something for it. I've become a man, and you're the one who made me a man, just like I dreamed of years ago. But now I have something to say, and I know you won't like it. But I have to say it, even though my heart aches. And please, honey, don't interrupt me before I finish."

I know I don't have more than a month left to live. I already look terrible. I weigh less than fifty kilos, and I'll probably weigh thirty soon. That's why I have a big, heartfelt request for you. Please respect it. I know it will be very hard for you to fulfill it. It will be very hard for me too. But do it for my sake. I want you to remember me as I am right now. In poor shape, but not dying. Not as a skeleton covered in skin, stripped of muscle and fat, resembling a living corpse. In my will, I will stipulate that the coffin be closed during the funeral mass, so that everyone will remember me from the time when I looked human.

I would also like to remember you as I saw you on Friday – beautiful, sexy, smiling, joyful, with eyes that smiled at me. Not sad, crying, looking at me with regret and sympathy. Surely you would be like that soon, because you won't be able to pretend until the very end that everything is fine, watching me fade and die.

That's why I'm begging you... Please... Don't visit me anymore. You know very well that I'd like to spend every moment I have left with you, but don't visit me anymore.

He heard the girl's loud, heart-rending sobs in the receiver. Tears welled up in his eyes, too.

"I know how you feel. It's hard for me too... But it'll be better for us this way. It really will be better this way. I'll call you every day, I swear. Don't cry. Damn it, please don't cry. This is how it has to be.

Be at the reading of the will and make sure that no one opens the coffin at the funeral mass; the lid has to be closed. And have the organist play "Only Moments Are Beautiful in Life," even though it's not a church hymn.

Aga's sobbing intensified. He wiped his tears with the back of his hand and continued, trying to hide his sadness and emotion.

"I can't say goodbye to you. These words won't come out of my throat. Because I don't want to say goodbye to you at all." So let me tell you, as Morrison once sang:

"This is the end.

Beautiful friend.

This is the end.

My only friend, the end.

No safety or surprise, the end.

I'll never look into your eyes...again.

This is... the... end..."

Aga howled in despair, unable to utter a single word. Piotrek took a deep breath and hung up the phone. He wheeled his wheelchair to the bathroom to cry alone. He didn't want anyone to see him like this – completely broken. The show must go on. The show must go on.

*****

Five weeks later, Aga sat in her room, weeping, ungluing the letter Piotrek had left her. She had just returned from the funeral. The words of the notary, reading his boyfriend's will, were still in her mouth:

"I hereby give all my books, computer with all its contents, CDs and hard drives with music, programs and data, printouts and manuscripts to Agnieszka Gwarczak, as well as the copyrights to my stories and novels in both paper and electronic formats, at her disposal at her discretion. I ask Agnieszka Gwarczak to publish my collection of stories for the money I have left. The address of the publishing house that has initially agreed to publication at my expense, and a list of the stories I have selected for publication, are attached. The stories recorded on the CD and the money in the amount of three thousand złoty are with the notary, Mr. Sylwester Gwizdała, and must be handed over to Agnieszka Gwarczak. Please give my Walkman and all my cassette tapes to Kamil Stasiak. All my other belongings become the property of my parents, Barbara and Andrzej Karwowski. The notary is also obliged to give Agnieszka Gwarczak a letter from me, which she should read in private.

My last wish is that The coffin was closed on the day of the funeral, and the funeral mass was to feature the song "In Life There Are Only Moments Beautiful" by Dżem.

I thank everyone I loved for their love and sacrifice. I'm sorry you've experienced so much sadness because of me. Take care and think of me sometimes. Don't cry. I'd rather you laugh and remember the good days. I'm always with you in spirit and live in your memories.

Aga pulled a few sheets of paper from the envelope, written in Piotr's even, neat handwriting. She began to read:

"I've always wanted to tell you this, but I never had the courage to do it. I know how cliché it sounds, but it's the truth. I've loved you since we met, and I always will. Yes, you're absolutely right. I'm a damn fool for never telling you before. I always had some reason not to. First, because you always had another boyfriend; later, because you didn't let me know if you felt anything deeper for me; then I also decided not to because you said you were getting engaged to Wojtek. When I had the accident and became paralyzed, I thought to myself that you were 99.9 percent sure you wouldn't want me now, and after your wedding, I was sure of it. That's why I thought there was no point in confessing my love to you, and on top of that, I was afraid of your reaction. I was afraid you'd reject me, breaking my heart, and then Not only will I not win you, but I will also lose my best friend.

When I found out I had leukemia, and you filed for divorce shortly after, I decided I wouldn't be with you, even if you wanted me to, because I'd rather you lose a friend than a boyfriend. I committed a terrible sin, one of the worst – the sin of omission. Yes, I'm a hopeless coward who, fearing rejection, couldn't fight for his love. Only I know how many nights I stayed up thinking and dreaming about you. I would give anything to be with you.

Why was I so hopelessly shy around you? When I didn't care about a girl, I behaved completely differently, just like I did with Dorota and Weronika. Maybe that's why I was like that, because – even when I lived in Poznań – I always got rejected by the girls I cared about. The first time I got lucky and spent a few months with a girl I loved (though obviously not as much as I loved you), she dumped me for another guy like a broken toy. She told me she'd recently met a great guy and wanted to be with him, not me. She'd had a nice time with me, but it wouldn't have amounted to anything. I thought otherwise. She hurt me deeply, and I swore to myself then that I would never trust another woman or confess my love to her. Consciously or subconsciously, I unfortunately kept that promise.

When we went away together to Tuczno, I noticed you were starting to treat me differently, and I thought I might finally break through. However, when Dorota suddenly left, mortally offended because I wouldn't sleep with her, that something that had brought us closer suddenly vanished. I so desperately wanted to talk to you privately then and explain everything, but there was no chance because you were never alone. I know it was Wojtek's fault, not yours—for a while, he did everything he could to make sure you saw me as infrequently as possible. Later, everything returned to normal, and I was just your friend again, though I still hoped for more. If you'd broken up with Wojtek back then, even if only for a short time, or if you'd given me some sign, some encouragement, I would have had the courage to have an honest conversation, and maybe then we could have been together. Of course, if you'd reciprocated my feelings back then.

Everything really went wrong in Zakopane. If I could have foreseen it, I never would have gone there, but instead, I picked up a girl specifically to go with you. Yes – I didn't tell you that, but that's exactly what happened.

When we were alone this morning and you started acting provocatively, I didn't know what to think. At first, I thought you were teasing me for fun, but that wasn't your style. Then I got the impression you wanted to make love to me, and I was already gathering the courage to return your caresses—and you know I was a virgin then—when you froze me by telling me you were getting engaged to Wojtek. Why did you say that? Why? It was so cruel to me. One moment I thought I could be closer to you than ever before; closer than Wojtek ever was; so maybe in the future I'd take his place; and the next, I'd find out you wanted to spend your life with someone else. If you hadn't said that then, everything might have been different. Completely different...

But enough of these explanations. You probably won't fully understand me anyway, because I don't always understand myself. If I've caused you any pain with what I've written, I apologize. I'm a sad, bitter man who only seems to come out of his depression lately when a certain cutie visits him, hence the tone. Everything that happened is entirely my fault. You're a very special woman. I'll never forget what you've done for me, and I'll always be grateful. I remember almost every moment spent with you, because they're my most beautiful memories. Just forgive me for my behavior and shyness, and then I'll be happy.

Looking at your cat eyes and movements, I'm sure you were a beautiful cat in your previous life. I have to tell you something – sooner or later, you'll be reborn as a sweet kitten. I didn't tell you this, but I had a prophetic dream, so wipe your tears, my love. Well, I'm sure that in one of our next lives, when we're both cats, we'll meet again. Whether you want it or not (I hope you do), it will be so, and we'll produce a whole bunch of tiny, adorable kittens.

That's why I'm not saying "Goodbye." I'm saying "See you later, my love!" I know we'll meet someday, on the other side of life.

I sincerely wish you happiness, my love. I know that a wonderful girl like you will one day find a wonderful guy who will love and respect you, but I also know that he certainly won't be half as good and wonderful as me, because being as good as me is simply impossible. Of course, I'm joking."

Aga smiled sadly through her tears.

"I also put a poem in the envelope, written especially for you. I know, I know—I'm no poet. I was much better at prose, and this is my first and last poem. It doesn't rhyme, because such a piece would be far beyond my poetic abilities, but I tried to put into it as much of the feelings I have for you as possible. You love poetry, so I secretly hope you'll never throw it away, keeping it as a last souvenir of me."

The girl pulled out a white sheet of beautiful handmade paper. At the top of the page was a large calligraphy: "A Poem for Aga."

And when the time comes to leave

And the time will surely come

Give me your hand, look me in the face

And don't say anything to me

Because I only know one thing

A look is like a thousand words

And a handshake is priceless

In my eyes you will see my whole world

And everything I lived

Leave this image in your memory

And I will always be with you

And there on the other side of life

I will still love you

And we will still be together

Even though we won't see each other

The rest will not change

And when loneliness overtakes you

On a warm summer evening

Go and stand by my grave

And soon we will be together

Close your eyes, fold your lips

As if for a hot kiss

You will feel the warm touch of my lips

You will feel my breath and scent

And please don't cry anymore

I love it when you laugh

I am still here

Even though my body is gone

And I will go with you everywhere

And I will defend you

So that nothing bad will happen to you

So that no one will hurt you

And when you feel really bad

Take out my last letter

The one you are reading right now

At the end of it I wrote something

That is the most honest truth

And even if you live for 100 years

And even though This world is strange

. I'll always be with you,

even when I'm gone."

Agnieszka put aside the tear-soaked paper and collapsed onto the couch, sobbing.

*****

On a warm summer evening, over a year after Piotr's death, Aga arrived at the cemetery. She had a poem with her, which she never parted with. She was pushing a stroller in front of her, and the words of a song rang in her ears, the same one that had been played at the funeral mass several months earlier:

"When I was little, I asked what life was, what life was, Mom,

you see, life is me and you, this bird, this tree and this flower," she would answer me!

Only moments are beautiful in life, only moments are beautiful in life!"

She remembered perfectly how everyone cried then, especially Piotr's mother and herself. There were many people, including the nurses caring for the boy and his friend from the hospital room, Kamil, who was also not ashamed of his tears.

She reached a black granite grave, next to which grew a large, dense arborvitae. She looked at the tombstone with the gold inscription "Piotr Karwowski 1976-1999" and a photo of a handsome, smiling, black-haired boy.

"Piotr, you still had such pretty hair back then," she thought.

In the lower right corner was a italicized quote from Piotrek's notes:

"I need space

To be free and create

To soar above everything

On the wings of imagination

To feel immortal."

She lit a large candle and placed it on the monument's slab. As she did every day, she prayed for the boy, then said aloud:

"I want to tell you something, although I don't know if you can hear me. What am I saying? You can't hear me..." She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. "I did as you asked. I published a collection of short stories at your expense, and you wouldn't believe it! It became a bestseller! I told you you had talent. Several magazines published very favorable reviews of your book, and what's more, it won first prize for "Debut of the Year" in the Świat Książki competition. I sent your stories and excerpts from your novel to a dozen or so publishers, of course mentioning to them your excellent debut and the award." I've already received a few replies – two publishers want to publish your novels, and one wants to publish another collection of short stories. Piotruś, you're famous! Kamil told me you wanted to become immortal through writing, and you succeeded! Your books will always remind me of you.

Do you know how I still listen to the CDs you gave me and read your stories? You've written so much in such a short time, and many of them are true gems. It's ridiculous, but sometimes I feel your presence. I feel like you're standing behind me, like you're about to say something. I often look at photos of us together and reminisce about old times. Sometimes I break down and cry. My friends tell me to give up on those photos because it'll help me forget. But I don't want to forget. I want to remember you as if we saw each other yesterday.

Do you remember our trip to Zakopane? Absolutely. That morning, I deliberately provoked this situation by getting rid of Wojtek and Weronika. I wanted to see if you really cared about me, because I saw the way you looked at me. I needed proof, because before that moment you hadn't made any move to show me how you felt about me.

But you completely disappointed me then. After the way you behaved, I thought you were an exhibitionist, getting off on parading naked in front of a girl and showing her your penis, but with no intention of sleeping with her. At least not with me. I tempted you so much, and you didn't! I thought I'd go crazy. Later you wrote to me that you wanted to return my affections, but I didn't know it at the time. I explained it to myself that unfortunately, you already had a girlfriend, Weronika. That you loved her, not me, that you wanted to be faithful to her, and that's why you were so embarrassed, and then you ran away.

I know, I know. It's all my fault. I handled it completely wrong. I told you about the engagement to spur you on, to let you know it was your last chance—it was now or never! But I said it in such a way—and at the completely wrong time, to boot—that instead of spurring you on, I discouraged and crushed you. I don't know why I spoke so foolishly. Do you know that if we'd slept together then, I would have broken up with Wojtek? Yes, I would have, because I knew you cared about me so much. Sometimes, one thoughtless, hasty word is enough to ruin everything, destroy everything!

Suddenly, a wind picked up, bringing in large, rain clouds. It started to get dark. Aga paid no attention to it, any more than to the tears streaming down her cheeks and dripping onto the stone slab.

"If we'd ended up in bed then, you wouldn't have had that accident and wouldn't have been paralyzed." And if it hadn't been for the accident, maybe you wouldn't have developed leukemia? Who knows? Doctors still don't know the exact causes of this disease. Everything would have been different, completely different!

And so – what was I supposed to do? Break up with Wojtek for someone who didn't know if he wanted me? You know what? You were a damn fool! And I was stupid too, very stupid! We were so close, yet we couldn't honestly talk about what was truly important to us.

You wrote in your last letter that you were waiting for some encouragement, a sign from me. After all, it should be the boyfriend's turn to take the initiative! I was the one waiting for some move on your part, but unfortunately, in vain. How was I supposed to know how you felt about me? I can't read minds, and I was also afraid of rejection and ridicule. And so we could have waited – me for you, and you for me – forever! How stupid were we! Like children!

What do you think? That I didn't love you? I loved you very much! Since our trip to Tuczno, although I didn't realize it at first. You and only you. Before, I thought I loved Wojtek, but it turned out it wasn't love. It was habit, friendship, affection—nothing more! He's no longer in my life, and I don't miss him at all.

Why didn't you ever tell me you loved me? I can't forgive you for that! But I love you anyway! Do you hear me? If you can hear me, give me a sign!

At that moment, lightning flashed across the sky, and a second later, a loud clap of thunder sounded. Aga looked up, as if expecting to see someone there.

It began to rain heavily, so she carefully wrapped her baby in a blanket and quickly walked toward the cemetery exit. She unlocked her Peugeot 206 and placed her son in the car seat. She stowed the folded stroller in the trunk and quickly jumped into the car, escaping the downpour. She turned on the radio, and as luck would have it, the same Kult song Piotr had played for her on his guitar in the hospital was playing. The words of the song flowed from the speakers:

"The sun has already set, it's evening in the sky

I'm taking you home now

But before you start thinking about what happened

Please, let's meet in the morning

I've been looking into your eyes for so many years

You know you won't surprise me with anything

There's no reason to be jealous

Sometimes I wish I had no mercy

For you,

this is what I want to talk about

Long and loud

For you ,

this is what I want to talk about

Long and loud

I feel important when I put my arm around you

We're not in heaven, we walk the earth

Everything that happened during this time

Is in you and in me, stayed in us

And sometimes when I wake up and I can be angry

But it doesn't change anything, and you

can sometimes feel the lack of my solidity

But understand, there is no freedom without love

For you

, this is what I want to talk about

Long and loud

For you,

this is what I want to talk about

Long and loud

A new day begins and the sun rises

Let's be careful not to fall apart

And we're discovering new things in each other now

It's not true that we know each other completely

Sometimes very little time is needed

To destroy everything and bury everything

You have to understand how dangerous appearances are

. After all, there is no love without humility."

She looked sideways at her son, who smiled at her with a broad, childlike smile. His father always smiled the same way. He had the same sincere, wise, blue eyes.

She wiped away her tears and thought to herself, "It's good that at least I have a wonderful son, our son. Little Piotruś will always remind me of you. You're gone, but I will love him. Very much. For the two of you."

END