GOOD

 

No one knows why Good was good. Such a thing never happened in his family, nor should it have, but sometimes nature likes to play tricks. Well, wasn't it a trick to be born to a mother for whom goodness was a temporary eclipse, a high after swallowing a few sips of wine or methylated spirits? A mother who, out of goodness, gave her body to anyone who lifted a finger. And there couldn't have been anyone good among them who, out of goodness alone, would have conceived Good. Good, created from drunken lust, from a sudden howl of desire, could have been the son of anyone, and perhaps that's why he was who he was.

His mother wanted to kill Good as soon as he stirred in her womb. First, she had no money, then no time, and finally neither. Good didn't want to torment his mother any longer, so one day he decided to leave her body. If it weren't for the umbilical cord, he probably would have succeeded. And so he hung there in a rather uncomfortable position for several days. When his mother sobered up for a moment, she tore him away and threw him on the floor. Dobry was nowhere to be found, neither warm nor soft, but he didn't complain, didn't cry. He silently thanked his mother for giving him life and that, thanks to her, he would be able to do good. But he couldn't walk yet, so he just lay quietly under the table and wondered what good he could do. His mother thought Dobry was a freeloader and carried him to the garbage in a plastic bag.

Dobry survived. Some other good person found him in a garbage dump, and that's how Dobry ended up in the orphanage. Everyone immediately loved Dobry for his honesty and kindness. His classmates gladly accepted sandwiches and sweets from him, let him tie their shoes and carry their school bags. His classmates adored Dobry because he swept the entire hallway for them, was eager to wash dishes, and was very polite. Everyone loved Dobry, and Dobry loved everyone. But his best love was his good guardian, Jacek. He petted him, kissed him, and gave him gifts. One night in the guardians' room, Mr. Jacek wanted to show Dobry how much he loved him. Dobry agreed to everything because he didn't want to upset his guardian; he wouldn't survive that. The next day, Dobry was bleeding. When the principal asked what was wrong with him, Dobry told the truth. Dobry always told the truth because he knew no lies. He recounted everything in detail, and the principal slapped him across the face and said a word that hurt him deeply: liar. Good didn't know it was wrong to say such things about Mr. Jacek, because Mr. Jacek was a good friend of the principal. Now he knew. He loved the principal, Mr. Jacek, and didn't want to hurt them. Sometimes he just wondered what it was like. Good God created a good world, the principal, Mr. Jacek, and everything good, so why did Good God feel sadness, pain, and fear? Why did he feel guilty, why did he bleed, if what Mr. Jacek does is good? He couldn't understand it, but if it was so, then it must have been Good God's will. After all, Good God couldn't allow anyone to do evil to him, who had done only good his entire life.

Good God often spoke to God. No, he didn't recite memorized prayers. Good spoke to God in ordinary language, asking questions, sharing his sorrows, doubts, and few joys. God was silent. Good knew that God was certainly listening, but he didn't have time; after all, he had so many people with various issues; Good's affairs weren't the most important thing, after all.

When Dobry turned eighteen, he had to leave the orphanage. He was sad; after all, the good children, the director, and especially the good guardian, Mr. Jacek, had done so much good for him. Dobry was now completely alone, but he already knew what to do next. The good Lord spoke. From on high, he thundered in a bass voice: Go. Dobry understood. He went out into the world to do good.

He moved into the Central Station, where good people took care of him. Dobry had to learn everything from scratch: how and where to go to sleep, what to cover himself with on particularly frosty nights, where to go for free meals, how to extend a hand convincingly and what kind of expression to wear. Dobry learned quickly, and after just a few days, he felt at the station as much as he did at the Children's Home, or even better. He was fed, well-rested, and his pockets were full of money. His sincere, kind face attracted money. Money attracted friends. He now had plenty of them; at every turn, someone smiled kindly at him, someone greeted him joyfully, someone patted him. His good friends asked Dobry for support, and he gave them everything. Then Dobry invited him to their home. There, they tied his hand and inserted a syringe filled with a brown liquid. Dobry had never felt so good. He was perfect good, floating above the earth. He saw God in his friends' eyes. They talked long into the night. Dobry asked questions, and Dobry God answered. Good joked that now that he knew what it meant to be God, the old man could rest. Good would gladly replace him in everything.

In the morning, Good felt bad. He threw up on his friends, who were still asleep. His stomach and head ached. The world seemed black, God had vanished. Good even thought he was offended by yesterday's jokes. Good promised himself he would never let a syringe stick in his hand again.

Good started earning money again. Whenever it began to weigh on his pockets, he gave it away. With each passing day, he had more and more friends at the station. Among them, he was particularly close to a certain slim, long-haired girl with blue eyes, whom they called Chuda. Chuda told Good that if he wanted, he could be with him. Good agreed, though he didn't know what that meant. Chuda explained that from now on, he would give her all his money, and in return, she would sleep with him. Good agreed. These were fair terms. Good lay down next to Chuda and was almost falling asleep when he saw Chuda take off her clothes. He told her to get dressed because it was cold. Chuda laughed and said, "Silly."

Dobry fell in love with Chuda and was happy. He needed no one but her now. She was his mother, his lover, and his God, his provider, his comforter, and his respite.

Dobry was worried that Chuda was looking worse and worse with each passing day. Her skin was white, shivers ran through her body, and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. Dobry wanted to take her to the doctor, but she wouldn't. She said the only medicine she needed was Hera. Hera was what she injected into her legs every morning, because her arms were covered in scabs and no longer had visible veins. Dobry took over for Chuda and administered the injections himself. Then she would cuddle him and tell him how much she loved him. She told him about a large wooden house in the countryside with a garden. They were going to live there as soon as they earned enough money. They would plant roses in front of the house and make love, have children, and when those children grew up and were big, they would have children again. They would be very old and one day they would die, in their sleep, quietly and peacefully. Dobry believed Chuda and knew that if she said so, it meant so.

The day it happened, Dobry made a lot of money. Since morning, he'd been saving up a złoty for a ticket to Częstochowa. People looked into his kind eyes and couldn't refuse. Someone with that kind of look couldn't lie. That's why, by evening, Dobry had over two hundred złoty in his pockets. He'd go to Chuda and imagine the joy he'd bring her. Chuda was nowhere to be seen. He asked friends, but no one had seen her. Then he heard an announcement: The passenger train from Grodzisk Mazowiecki will be delayed for about an hour. All trains stopping at the Warszawa-Śródmieście station will be diverted to Central Station.

Dobry consoled himself that Chuda had had an easy death. She simply fell asleep on the tracks; it can happen to anyone, he told everyone. Chuda wanted to live; after all, she had someone to live for. That night, Dobry injected himself with heroin. He hadn't had time to pull out the syringe when Chuda appeared. "A train ran over me," she said. "Don't say anything. The important thing is that you're okay," Dobry consoled her. They slept together again, covered with a single blanket. On a very cold night, Dobry gave her his share. He was afraid Chuda might get sick.

The next day Dobry decided to have a serious talk with God. "Dear God," he said, kneeling on the tracks, waiting for his train.

"I want to be with Chuda. She needs me, and I need her. We are made for each other. Through You. Help me, Dear God, that after death I may be where Chuda is. If you can, arrange this quickly and painlessly."

God replied.

"Man, get off the tracks! You have no right to decide your own death. It's none of your business. You will die when your time comes. Not a second sooner. Do you understand?

Yes, God, I understand, but I won't listen to you. This once."

Dobry had his train, but the good Lord wouldn't let him die. Dobry had lost both legs. Dobry harbored a grudge against God, but he didn't tell him. From the day of the accident, he stopped talking to him, mentally calling him an old son of a bitch he wanted nothing to do with. The only thought that gave him strength was the thought of death. In the hospital, he tried to slit his wrists, then took sleeping pills twice. Each time, God saved him. Dobry had had enough. One Sunday, he wheeled himself into a church, a solemn ceremony was underway – children were receiving their First Holy Communion. Dobry stood in the middle and started screaming.

"Why are you doing this to me? Why are you deciding for me? Why are you interfering in everything? Get the fuck away from me! Why the fuck are you making me live? Get the fuck away, do you hear me?"

He didn't get to say everything. Someone pushed him outside. An ambulance arrived. His arms were twisted and tied behind him. The ambulance drove away with a screech of tires.

The next day, a short note appeared in the morning newspaper: "Yesterday around 11 a.m., a tragic accident occurred on Kilińskiego Street. For unknown reasons, the ambulance driver veered off the road and hit a tree. A nineteen-year-old patient died at the scene. The prosecutor's office is investigating the details of the incident."