MEETING AFTER YEARS

 

It was a rather warm April morning. One of those days when, before you go outside, you wonder whether you should really wear a sweater. Adam was a cautious boy, so he strolled along the Bydgoszcz canal, clutching his spring jacket. As he walked, he glanced at the rushing stream every now and then. Ducks splashed in the water and (what surprised Adam most) took great pleasure in it. What could be so wonderful about splashing in the icy river? The birds clearly had a different opinion, because every now and then a contented quacking could be heard coming from their screeching beaks. The boy picked up a nearby stone and, without hesitation, threw it at the loudest duck. He missed, but a sudden 'Plum' scared all the birds away. The flutter of wings filled the entire sky.
"And yet...
" The voice, as if suspended in mid-air, took a moment to reach Adam's ears. The words were clearly addressed to him… He turned. He saw before him an elderly man, most likely the author of the statement. The man was around eighty. His chin was covered by a pointed, gray beard, strikingly reminiscent of some exotic bird's nest. Despite his great age and the deep wrinkles covering his grandfather's face, it radiated an indescribable, frantic youth. Sharp, expressive features seemed to contradict the folds of his aged hands.
"So it was true… It's really happening, you weren't lying, my dear, you were right…
" The boy looked at the old man in surprise. The man's eyes held a wildness and a strange excitement. "Something twisted," Adam thought. Older people often lived in their own worlds, and this one probably existed that way too. The boy slowly backed away, hoping to escape the strange man. But before he could make any other move, the old man raised a wrinkled hand and grabbed him firmly by the arm.
"Wait… I'll explain everything… I know you don't understand."
The chaotic sentences didn't convince the boy.
"What do you want from me!" he exclaimed in desperation.
"We… we've met before… I know you don't remember… Adam…"
The boy stopped struggling. He turned his blue-gray eyes to the strange man's face.
"How do you know my name? When did you see me?
" "About 75 years ago," his grandfather replied.
The grip on his arm loosened. Finally, the man removed his hand. Adam stared at him in surprise. He tried to figure out where this psycho had learned his name. Maybe he'd been following him for a long time? His city was full of all sorts of strange pedophiles who practically dreamed of a "bit" like him.
"I know it sounds strange, to say the least, but we've met in this place before, many years ago. I didn't believe you then, but now… now…"
The boy watched as the old man reached into the pocket of his dark coat. After a moment, he pulled out a sheet of squared paper and a pen.
"Write your name here... please..." the grandfather whispered.
"What for?" the boy almost shouted, exasperated.
"I want to prove to you that I'm telling the truth... that we've known each other much longer than you think."
Adam took the piece of paper and, for peace of mind, scribbled his name. Below, he added "and now leave me alone," hoping the man would be embarrassed by the words. He was about to hand it to the stranger when the man pulled his hand away. "
Wait a moment," he said. He reached into his pocket again, pulling out another piece of paper. This time with writing on it. Wordlessly, he handed it to Adam.
The boy grabbed it and glanced at it with a confident expression.
After a moment, he froze, and beads of sweat appeared on his face.
The pieces of paper were identical. The same handwriting, signature, and note.
He raised his hand and a moment later lowered it. The grandfather remained silent. The fire in his eyes seemed to fade.
He directed his empty, absent gaze at the boy's terrified face. Finally, he said…
"So it's endless… It really is endless."
Adam, still unable to recover, glanced nervously from side to side.
"We're trapped here forever," the grandfather whispered sadly.
"Ggggwhere are we trapped?" the terrified boy asked.
"In a time loop," the man replied, and at that moment he pulled back his coat pockets.
Hundreds, thousands of pages flew out.
They landed right at Adam's feet. He couldn't believe it. Half of them were written in his own handwriting. Each one had the same thing: a signature, a note… The rest of the pages contained a different name.
"Mmmmichał," the boy read aloud.
"It's me," the old man replied bitterly. You see, boy… I don't know if you fully understand… We meet here twice in our lives… In youth and in old age – each time one of us doesn't remember the previous meeting, because between them…
"He died," Adam finished. He lowered his head. He was still a little boy, but old enough not to believe in such fairy tales. What would his friends think?
What about history?!? A convincing argument occurred to him. If this were true, if the whole world is just our lives revolving around us, then when did Cleopatra live? When did Napoleon fight? How were the pyramids built?
"And how do you know they ever existed? Before your lifetime, the world might not have existed at all. Just an empty set. You can't verify history… in any way.
" "Are you suggesting that… that…" he turned his tearful eyes to his grandfather. Immediately afterward, he crouched down, grabbed the papers lying on the ground, and stuffed them into his green backpack. Still sobbing, he looked at the man one last time.
"I don't believe you... it would be pointless... life would have no purpose. I don't want to remember this... This is some kind of joke, a stupid joke... right?
" Grandpa didn't answer – he felt sorry for the boy... he knew the little one wouldn't stop thinking about it until the end of his days. He'd only believe it when they met again. Then the roles would be reversed...
Suddenly, the boy jumped back and started running. Straight ahead.
Wait!" the old man shouted. "I did exactly the same 75 years ago! We won't change the course of time this way! You want to escape this, but you won't stop thinking about it!"
Adam could no longer hear. He ran forward, trying to forget about his grandfather and the meeting. Nothing reached him except the rustling of papers in his backpack.

"See you in the next life..." The old man smiled bitterly and slowly, without any hope, walked away.