Couch Dream"

 

I lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling. I have no idea how long it lasted. Jakub was moving around the room as if searching for something. I didn't care. Nothing mattered to me anymore. I felt thousands of light-years away from him. When did this happen? When did this strangeness set in? I try to recall that moment. I don't know. I lie there, mindlessly observing the cracks in the ceiling that look like spider webs. I hear Jakub shuffling his shoes. He's still wandering around the room. What is he looking for?

I can't cuddle with him anymore. I don't have the courage.

We've been married for five years, and in the last few months we've grown so distant that we can no longer show each other any tenderness. We live next door. We're basically just roommates in our apartment. I remember how happy we were to finally have our own place, how hard we tried to furnish our little nest. We poured so much heart into feeling comfortable here, like home. There were disagreements, but we learned to compromise. I handled the kitchen and living room, and he decorated the bedroom. We live in the attic of a beautiful old tenement house in the city center. The apartment is small. Upstairs, there's a small bedroom with a bathroom, which we decorated in a Mediterranean style. It's full of warm pastel colors, very bright and cheerful. Downstairs, there's an open kitchen and living room. In the center of the living room stands a beautiful oak table with a set of four chairs. Under the kitchen island sits our beloved sofa and coffee table. The windowsill is filled with flowers. Mostly cacti in various shapes. From large, slender ones with thin spines, to small, bulbous ones that bloom at the top, from dark green to gray-silver.

We're still paying off the mortgage. We took it out when we decided we wanted to be together, live together, and live together.

We met in college. After two years of dating, we decided we were made for each other. My parents weren't thrilled with the idea of ​​me becoming independent during my studies. However, we stood our ground. They liked Jakub, but they felt we should wait a while longer. In their opinion, the decision to live together was too serious a move, not one to be taken lightly. Well, everyone is the architect of their own destiny and writes its own scripts.

Kuba worked while still a student. He was very talented. He also received a pension from his father, who died of cancer when Jakub was three. His father's death left a mark. Jakub, raised by a single mother who never married again, always felt the absence of a father. He lacked a male role model. He longed for his father his entire life, though he didn't even remember him clearly. Therefore, choosing psychology wasn't entirely accidental.

In addition to his salary, he received a scholarship throughout his studies. I earned part-time. A pittance, but still. We planned a wedding against all odds.

We believed we could manage it. We went to Szczawnica for our honeymoon. It's beautiful there in winter. We spent our honeymoon in a charming highlander cottage. We walked, rode in sleighs, and often hiked to the Slovak side, warming ourselves with local rum. Our time passed peacefully and pleasantly. We enjoyed communing with nature, far from the hustle and bustle of the big city. We returned, and shortly afterward, we took out a loan for our sweet little apartment. Everything was going well. We were proud that we had achieved so much on our own. And now I stare blindly at that damn ceiling and wonder what happened to us... I was so in love, I could see us growing old together, surrounded by a loving family, children, grandchildren... This strangeness that suddenly appeared is so incomprehensible... Where did we go wrong?

I wanted so badly to be the mother of his children. And yet we keep drifting further and further apart.

I'm lying idly on the sofa, the one we spotted in the Netherlands at a flea market. It was during a three-week vacation four years ago. We cycled almost the entire length of that small country. Oh, how I loved those trips. I felt freer than ever. The wind and warm sun caressed our faces. It was wonderful. It was our happiest vacation ever. We traveled dozens of kilometers every day, hungry for new experiences. We spotted so many beautiful objects during that time. We couldn't pass them up; we felt they were perfect for the cottage we were furnishing. We even rented a special car to bring this magnificent furniture back to Poland. We bought a beautiful wooden sideboard that only needed a little freshening up, a rotten-green sofa, massive and incredibly dignified, and two armchairs that complemented the sofa. In addition, a few knick-knacks, like a silver sugar bowl, a bedside lamp with a mosaic shade, a tea set, and many other trinkets that adorn our home. I've always loved surrounding myself with beautiful objects, within my means, of course. Even as a child, I had an artistic flair for interior design. I even considered studying architecture, but fate took a different turn. We graduated with a degree in psychology. Jakub majored in painting, which, as it later turned out, became his way of life; it was the passion he wanted to make a living from. Psychology took a back seat. He painted, I wrote. I submitted my pieces to various newspapers as a freelancer. Sometimes they accepted, sometimes they didn't. Year by year, we got better and better. I believed that one day I would be able to sit in my beloved house, at the desk I'd inherited from my aunt, and simply write. Write whatever came to mind, create stories, new worlds, new narratives. I had so many ideas.

Unfortunately, our lives fell into terrible chaos. I lost all desire to do anything. Jakub began to walk his own path. I fell into a kind of stagnation, shutting myself off from the world. I stopped writing, stopped seeing anyone, and seemed to stop being there. Sometimes my friends would visit me, trying to cheer me up. But not really, these girly chats were effective. I hid many things from them, not wanting to ruin the image of our wonderful marriage.

We had a little dog. Jakub bought him for my birthday six months ago. He was my dream Shar-Pei, a charcoal gray. I adore him. From the first moment he felt I was his owner. He wouldn't leave my side. I named him Muchacho, which means boy in Spanish. We had to take him to the vet often; these dogs require exceptional care. Now I felt he was the closest thing to me in the world. Lying on the green couch, I held Muchacho to my chest and thought about how terribly lonely I would be without him. I lay there and begged God for it to finally end... I so desperately wanted a happy family: a loving husband and at least two children. We don't have children because Jakub kept saying there would be time for that, there was no point in rushing. I'm 28 years old and I want a child now, not someday. A little creature, a part of me, who would love me unconditionally and whom I would love no matter what. We don't have children, and I don't know if we ever will. What will become of us? Maybe we'll just break up soon... I don't even know if I love him anymore... I think it's over, I think there's nothing left for us. He'll probably leave, or I'll leave. After all, none of us will endure this for long; eventually, someone will break and say, "Adios!" And what will become of our beloved apartment, full of memories and emotions, shared journeys, experiences... Full of us? Every corner, every detail, a piece of our lives, left behind in the objects, in the atmosphere, in the smell, in everything that makes up this beloved and now so hated home.

I lie there, staring at the ceiling. Jakub says he's leaving, that he'll be back late, so I don't have to wait for dinner. I don't even move, I don't react, I feel numb... I'm like a shell, a package, with a huge void inside. I stare at the ceiling and beg for someone to fill this void. I wonder where he's going again, why he doesn't ask if I want to go with him...? Maybe he's seeing a woman, maybe he actually has someone. It only just occurred to me now. Maybe he's preparing for her before every outing, maybe these supposed meetings related to his work are just a pretext, a fabrication, a deception! To comfort my heart, I recall the words of Desiderata: "Go placidly amid the noise and haste—and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without renouncing yourself, be on good terms with others. Speak your truth calmly and clearly, also listening to what others say, even the dull and ignorant; they too have their story..." So I surrender to the silence, slowly falling asleep on my beloved green couch, with my beloved Muchacho. Another day is ending. What will tomorrow be like...? I believe I'll wake up in the morning, and all this will be but a bad dream...