4

Iweta was already reaching the porch; as she climbed it, she tripped over a step and fell. She didn't think about the exhaustion; she felt it in her rapid breathing, in her sore throat, in her aching legs, but she didn't think about him. She stood up and tugged on the doorknob a few times. She remembered feeling this way before, wanting to do what she was about to do now. That was a long time ago, and she'd been alone then, too, and then she'd said it was her fault; but then there was still some chance of rescue, some glimmer of hope that maybe someday, with champagne and a sunset that didn't know it could burst… and then, too, she really wanted to see him again.

She ran around the porch and, picking up a piece of brick lying on the ground along the way, reached the window facing the living room. She broke the glass and got in without any trouble; she grabbed a large piece of glass from the carpet and went to the bathroom; She plugged the drain in the small bathtub and turned on both taps. The sound of water pounding violently against the floor of the tub brutally pierced the silence of the night.

A moment later, she was in the tub. She thought about how she'd done it last time; how the water had been just as cold, and how she'd held a shard of mirror instead of glass. She thought about how unexpectedly Mark's face had appeared above her, how he'd told her everything would be alright, and indeed it had been, only she'd never seen him again, until that day. She thought that if she hadn't lost him forever, he would save her again and disappear from her life again, and from one day to the next, she would believe she'd meet him again, and there would be sunsets, champagne, and beautiful lies again.

She didn't know when she'd first plunged the glass into her wrist; it was just that at some point, the water had turned red. Just like then. Afterward, she couldn't stop the hand that was scraping the remnants of her life away with the glass.

She screamed. She screamed as if someone were cutting her and forcing her into cold water, supposedly dulling the pain. She drowned out the sound of the door lock, and in her final moments of consciousness, when she was no longer screaming but only staring at the dirty ceiling and faded tiles, she saw a face looming over her. A glimmer of hope gave her another breath, and she caught sight of that face, which suddenly vanished with a screech she hadn't heard, but it wasn't the face of her beloved, so she knew there was no salvation for her, that this was the true end, not a happy ending.

***

He woke up in the hospital. A fat, cheerful-faced doctor stood over him, and an ugly nurse you wouldn't see in any American movie.

"You were lucky, man," the doctor said. "You were damn lucky .

" Then he spoke to the nurse for a while longer, and then they both left, promising to be back soon. Adam and Karolina entered the room, they didn't smile, they didn't hold hands, they just looked at Marek with sad eyes.

"We came to say goodbye," Adam said. "We're leaving and we probably won't see each other again." Marek looked at them as if he didn't know who they were. "Do you remember us?"

He nodded, trying to remember how he'd gotten here. Suddenly, everything washed over him like a bucket of cold water; as if just a moment ago, the entire day had been an incredibly vivid dream.

"Iweta?"

It was more of a gibberish, but everyone knew exactly what he meant. Karolina took a step forward and opened her mouth, unable to get the words out.

"She's dead," Adam said after her, then embraced her, but she pulled away and ran out of the room. "She committed suicide in our house. That's why we're leaving. I thought you should know.

" "Why?

" "I don't know. It's not your fault. You should know that too, but I also don't know why. I don't have a good answer to your question. I'm sorry."

He left. Marek stared at the spot where Adam had been standing a moment ago. A barely perceptible line crossed his face; a trace of something he'd known when he was little, but had long since forgotten where it came from. The doctor came in and, without even looking at him, said,

"We barely stitched you up. Apparently, someone cut you with a bottle; you were lucky there weren't any deep wounds on your stomach; the bottle must have crumbled on your chest." The doctor glared at him. "You were lucky."

The words didn't reach his consciousness, not in their entirety, only in fragments. A moment passed before they crystallized in his mind and began to swirl around, leaving him unable to think of anything else. "You were lucky," it hammered like a hammer, "you were lucky... I was?"

***

He wore a serious expression; a blonde with a short haircut in a thick winter coat strode proudly beside him. They walked down the main street of town, passed a pub on the corner, walked a little further, and then turned onto what seemed to be the narrowest street, lined with only two houses. They walked in silence to the very end, which was unnecessarily far from the main street, and no one could really say why. Now, in winter, everything looked different; perhaps that was why he'd only arrived now. The house at the end of the street was still pale blue, with a "for sale" sign and a phone number on the porch.

"You don't want to buy this, do you?" she said.

"It's the last thing I want to buy."

They didn't go inside, just stared at the house for a moment, then turned back. They went down to the beach and stood for a moment where the path emerged from the woods.

"Why are we here?

" "Because we bought a ticket, got on the train, and got off at the right station."

She laughed softly, but he remained stony-faced. She couldn't really remember the last time he'd laughed himself. It was probably when they'd first met, and maybe a few more times since, but he hadn't laughed once since they'd gotten back together.

"This place reminds me of someone. Do you believe in love twice?

" "Yes

." "And I think you're right. Otherwise, life would be so damn unfair." He looked into her eyes. "This place reminds me of someone I loved very much; the way you only love..." He hesitated, took a deep breath, and said, "the way you love for the first time."

He lowered his head. She watched him intently, trying to read his gaze, but he avoided hers. He walked along the beach and continued talking, and she listened intently.

"It started right here. It started beautifully, at sunset and to the sound of the sea. Then we returned to the city, took our savings, and set off into the world. Unfortunately, we were robbed on the train. It was a funny story, you know?" He looked at her with glassy eyes. "We had to find some work to keep going. We made money by walking from town to town, working wherever we could. Finally, we had our money and headed to Lviv. We worked there for a while, and then we visited Greece and Rome, and even Paris. We lived there for a while, but not for long, because there was still so much to experience..."

The girl hugged him tighter, looked at him, and said,

"You never told me about this before. I didn't know..."

But she was too confused to gather her thoughts. They walked for a while longer, then stopped near the sea, but carefully so as not to get their shoes wet.

"And what happened next?"

He picked up something that had just washed ashore in the cold sea; it was a piece of polished green glass, shaped like an arc.

"Then," he said, putting the piece of glass in his pocket, "Then someone interrupted us."