Cross

The scorching summer of 1968, or rather, the end of a scorching spring, as it was mid-June. For third-grader Andrzej, the minutes ticked by mercilessly. Two weeks until summer break, and time seemed to stand still. Why go to school when grades had already been awarded and classes were all repetition? The boredom was unbearable. He'd never had any problems with learning, but he was fascinated by new, unfamiliar things. Perhaps that's why his favorite summer reading was always textbooks for the next grade. He liked to know in advance what awaited him after the summer break. The repetitions gave him a headache. Why go back to the old school when so many interesting, new things could be learned in that time? Apparently, the teachers had come to the same conclusion. They decided to treat their students to a pre-summer trip – Zakopane, Krakow, Wieliczka. It promised to be interesting. He'd never been to the mountains before, and even more excited, he counted down the hours until departure. He was a bit dissatisfied that fourth-graders were going with them. They'll be talking like they've got it all figured out. A year older, yet they pretend to be adults. But whatever – the most important thing is that he's going. He was afraid his mother wouldn't agree to the trip, but when she found out Jurek and Ala were going, she finally waved it off. Great! He'd finally see Wawel, the Barbican, and the Cloth Hall with his own eyes. Since the beginning of third grade, he'd been interested in history and wanted to confront his imagination after reading books with the sight of these places in person. Would they look the same as he saw them while reading? I wonder. Friday finally arrived. He woke up repeatedly during the night. He dreamed of kings, knights, tournaments, magnificent feasts. After each awakening, he'd glance nervously out the window to see if it was dawn. Anything to avoid oversleeping. The moment the alarm went off, he was already up. Washing up took him no more than a minute; two minutes later, he was dressed and standing at the door, ready to rush to school.

"And you, what?" "You're crazy, you've eaten too much," his mother laughed.

"You have to eat breakfast. There's no telling when they'll give you dinner. "

He nervously swallowed bites of scrambled eggs, looking anxiously at his watch. "What's this about Mom? They'll go without him again.

" "I packed sandwiches in your bag. And don't buy ice cream, you'll get sick again.

Absolutely. Of course I'll buy some," he thought. "I'd almost forgotten what they taste like. I'll buy myself a "Bambino," and we'll see if I get sick or not." Suddenly, he looked surprised.

"And where are you going, Mom?

" "To walk you to school.

" "But why? I'm a big boy now.

" "Big, not big, but I want to see you leave."

He scowled. "She'll walk with him like some little baby." Before school, however, his spirits returned when he saw that other parents had the same idea.

Mrs. Zosia, their teacher, was spreading smiles left and right. She was clearly enjoying the trip, too. Finally, the bus arrived. As he'd expected, the fourth-graders stormed the best seats by the windows. There was only one left, next to Ala. Well, let them laugh at him sitting with a woman. The most important thing was that he could admire the view outside the window. The engine roared. He waved goodbye to his mother, and they set off. The bus was buzzing like a beehive.

"Children! Calm down, the driver can't drive in this noise," Mrs. Zosia tried to shout over the din, with little success.

"Darlings! Quiet down a bit, and I'll tell you our trip plan. "

It finally worked.

"Today we're going to Wieliczka. We'll visit the mine there, and then we'll go to Krakow, where we'll stay overnight at the Student Dormitory. On Saturday, we'll explore Krakow and stay overnight at the same place." And on Sunday morning, we'd be off to Zakopane, where we'd take the cable car to Kasprowy Wierch.

Hooray! He'd never been on a cable car before, but it would be fun. Just as the minutes had dragged on forever, now it was hard to tell when they'd finally reached Wieliczka. He was curious what the mine looked like. After all, his dad worked in a mine. It was iron, not salt, but that didn't seem to make much of a difference. He remembered his dad telling him how he had to crawl through the passages on all fours. Would they have to crawl on all fours, too? It would be hilarious. Mrs. Zosia took care of all the formalities, and they began to follow the guide down the winding wooden stairs. They went down and down, spinning in circles, with no end in sight. What he saw at the bottom made him dizzy.

"Wow, Julcia! It's like church!"

The walls, illuminated by multicolored lamps, shimmered like crystal or diamond, rising toward the high vault. And he thought they'd have to crawl on all fours. It was a good thing he hadn't told Ali that. But she would have laughed at him. He listened raptly to the guide, gazing in awe at the various forms of the salt blocks. Some were so intricate, delicate that perhaps a goldsmith couldn't have concocted anything more beautiful. Suddenly, he longed to have something of his own from this place. A small salt cross with a string at the souvenir stand caught his eye. It playfully sparkled in his eyes with reflected light. It didn't matter that he'd be throwing away three servings of ice cream. But he'd have a piece of Wieliczka. Without regret, he'd given up most of his money and was already clutching a gleaming salt crystal.

He began to wonder how long it would take them to climb all those stairs. The guide, however, said they'd take the elevator. They boarded a bus and headed for Krakow. Comments about what they had just seen could be heard from all around.

"Andrzej! Andrzej! Jurek's calling you. He wants to see that cross you bought," Ala screamed in his ear, tugging at his arm. Reluctantly, he pulled away from the window, pushed past his friend, and headed to the back of the bus to Jeżyk.

"Show me that cross. Apparently it's nice."

He pulled his treasure from around his neck and placed it in Jurek's hand.

What happened next would remain etched in his mind for a long time. It would torment him at night, waking up screaming and drenched in sweat. Eventually, his mind would erase those experiences from his mind as if they had never happened. Maybe it was the only way to save himself from going mad. Today, the memories returned. I don't know why or what for. Maybe he was finally mature enough to face them.

Suddenly, he felt the floor slipping away from under his feet. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the wall of the bus, where he had just been sitting, twist as if it were being opened with a giant can opener. Then, a tangled carousel of human bodies. He slammed painfully against the seats, the roof, the doors. They couldn't withstand the impact. They opened, and he flew through them like someone shot from a slingshot. He just had time to notice the bus wheels flying past him, landing in the thorny undergrowth. For a moment he lay motionless.

"Mommy!" It tore from his chest.

"Mommy! I'm scared!"

No. He hadn't felt pain then. It would come later. Slowly, he began to hear voices, screams, calls. He rose to his knees and cautiously looked around. The bus, or rather what was left of it, lay twenty meters below, at the foot of the escarpment. He rose to his feet and, like a sleepwalker, began to descend toward him. People were running down from above. They were talking, shouting. But he, hypnotized, stared at the wreckage, moving meter by meter toward it. From inside came screams and cries. People running down the mountain were trying to pull his friends out.

Suddenly, something caught his eye, something strangely familiar. A cross gleamed in the grass beside him. He mechanically reached down to pick it up and picked it up. Along with the cross, he lifted his hand, clutching its strap. A hand, nothing more. That was the last thing he remembered. The sky swirled above him, darkened, and he fell into emptiness.

He woke up in a white room—as it turned out, the Military Medical Clinic in Krakow. Surprisingly, nothing happened to him. Just bruises and scratches. He still made it to the funeral. Seven coffins—the driver, Mrs. Zosia, Mrs. Halinka, Krzyś, Ania, Jurek, and Ala. Behind them in the procession was the entire city. He walked beside Ala and Jurek's coffins. He clutched his salty treasure in his hand. Flashes of thought flashed through his mind: what would have happened if he had chosen the ice cream?

Before lowering the coffins into the graves, he placed his salt cross, sparkling in the sun, on the lid of Jurkowa.