PATIENCE

 

Motto:“ A groan of tedium escapes me, starling the fearful. Is this a test? It has to be. Otherwise I can't go on. Draining patience, drain vitality, this paranoid paralyzed, vampire act's a little old. But I'm still right here giving blood and keeping faith. And I'm still right here. But I'm still right here giving blood and keeping faith. And I'm still right here. I'm gonna wait it out If there were no rewards to reap, no loving embrace to see me through this tedius path I've certainly walked away by now. I'm gonna wait it out. And I still may. I must keep reminding myself on this... I'm gonna wait it out.

TOOL "The patient"

*********

It was a beautiful morning. The crisp air tickled his nostrils. Here and there on Warsaw's roads, puddles were still visible—remnants of the morning storm. The streets were empty, not a car, not a single pedestrian. Only a boy in a navy blue hoodie and gray pants was walking along the sidewalk of one of the streets in Mokotów. He wasn't in a hurry, looking straight ahead. After a moment, he stopped and took a cigarette from his pants pocket. He was about to light it when something caught his eye. Someone lay curled up on the lawn by the road. At first, the boy thought it was a drunk, but he walked closer. "Someone" turned out to be a girl with unusually lush black hair matted with blood, a ripped pant leg, and a scratched leg. A girl who was almost completely soaked. The boy had long since forgotten about the cigarette, which he had probably dropped somewhere. He watched the girl with a mixture of fear, curiosity, terror, and dismay. His large blue eyes widened even more. He crouched down beside her and brushed her hair away from her face. She flinched, hissed in pain, and then opened her eyes. She stared at him for a moment, then began to rave, waving her arms:

"Please... no... I have nothing left... Please don't do this..."

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," the boy whispered as gently as he could. The girl touched her bleeding forehead, examined the red blood stains, and closed her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, the blue-eyed boy took her in his arms and headed toward the apartment buildings on Jagiellońska Street.

The first thing I remember is a terrible headache. Then fear, when I opened my eyes... "Where am I?" I asked myself. I was lying on some old, uncomfortable bed in a small, ugly room. The furniture was rather sparse: a wardrobe, a chair, a small table, a television on the floor. Paint was peeling from the faded walls. No trace of the luxury I'd grown so accustomed to. I threw off the blanket covering me and tried to get up. I couldn't even sit up. I felt faint, as if I'd been hit on the head. I touched my forehead. Indeed, I had been hit on the head. Someone had also bandaged my wound. But who? What had happened to me?

When I saw him staring at me with those blue eyes, I thought he was asking himself the same question.

"I hope you're feeling better," he said. "I don't know if you remember, but I found you on the lawn by the road...

" "Lawn... yes! I remember, soft grass. And a smell, a stench, actually... of beer, alcohol. And their touch. The grip of strong hands." "

My name is Adam, and yours?" the boy asked. He stared at me for a moment, until impatience crossed his face.

I came back to reality.

"Monika. Sorry, I was lost in thought. Thank you for helping," I replied. Suddenly, something disturbing occurred to me:

"Did you call the police or the ambulance?" I asked timidly.

"No, you know, my phone's been turned off. Are you in pain? Should I call someone? If you want, I'll go to the neighbors."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"Don't call anyone, okay? Don't call anyone."

He stared at me again. He looked at me with more curiosity than surprise. I thought he'd ask, "Why?" but he went to the TV, turned it on, handed me a discarded blanket, and sat down next to me on the couch. Polsat was showing some comedy series. I laughed, staring at the screen.

"Do you live alone?" I asked Adam during a commercial.

"Yes." His voice seemed to quiver. "What's bothering you?

" "No, I'm just asking out of curiosity.

" "And you? " "

What about me?"

"Where do you live?"

"Actually... I ran away from home.

" "Then you can live with me for a while," he suggested. He didn't ask why, why I ran away. I nodded and smiled in approval.

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. Adam jumped up quickly. I thought he was going to invite the guy into the apartment, but he was talking to him through the door. I caught snatches of words, and fear gripped me.

"Adam, come with us today... What are you doing? You have to go, or Gruby will kill you!"

"No, not today.

" "And when? Today is the day most cars can be robbed, it's shopping day. People carry cash on them... And you can snag some good stuff..."

"I'll think about it, now get lost."

I didn't understand much of it, but... A shiver ran down my spine. It was strange, but only then did I notice I was wearing only underwear and an oversized shirt. I felt truly uneasy, and in an instant it all came back. The night before. The terror, the fear, the pain, the blood...

"I have to run!" flashed through my mind. It seemed to me that Adam had been among them that night; I tried to get up. I failed again.

"Easy, lie down." He stood over me. I felt like he was about to do something bad. "Would you like something to eat, something to drink? What? Should I get you something from the kitchen?"

I just shook my head.

"Anyway, I'll go get a snack."

As soon as he was out of sight, I wrapped myself in a blanket, closed my eyes, and fell asleep.

She was beautiful when he looked at her like that. He looked at her face, wrapped in her long hair. He watched her sleep. Didn't he wonder why she'd run away? He wondered, of course he had. But he was afraid to ask. He knew it wouldn't be pleasant for Monika either. Besides, did it really matter? Now she was here, in his apartment. Now he wasn't alone. He sat on the empty edge of the bed and looked at Monika. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind. He stared at her until it grew dark. He stared until his eyes closed. He

dreamed he was walking somewhere with Monika. They were holding hands. It was night. Suddenly, some guys with sticks appeared from around the corner. Wait a minute... he knew them... "Please! Leave her alone!" They were beating them, kicking them. Monika was covered in blood...

He woke up drenched in sweat. He looked around. Monika wasn't there! He was terrified, but after a moment, he saw the girl lying on the floor. "Strange," he thought. He knelt down beside her. Despite the darkness, he noticed bruises on her face and a large scab on her forehead. That dream... Suddenly, Monika opened her eyes.

"What are you doing, leave me!" she screamed, making him shiver.

"Easy... I wonder why you're sleeping on the floor."

The girl sat up carefully. This time she succeeded.

"You're like them!" she sobbed. "Do you want to do this? Please. Come on!

" "But what are they? Monika, I don't know what you mean.

" "I heard that conversation. I already know what you do." Tears streamed down her cheeks. "They were dreaming, you understand." It all came back. They... first hit me in the head, took all my money, my documents. And then... they wanted... one of them took out a knife and ordered me to undress... I ran away, but he slit my pant leg.

"Monika..." he didn't know what to say, to do. He gently wiped the tears from her cheek, but she quickly turned her head away. "I had no idea. Don't think I could do something like that."

"Adam... I'm alone here, all alone in this terrible city. Help me," she whispered softly. She felt so helpless. He wrapped his arms around her and held her until she fell asleep.

"I'm gonna wait it out," I repeated to myself the lyrics of the song "The Patient" by Tool, the band whose concert I'd come to Warsaw to see. "I'll get through this," I told myself before opening my eyes. "There's someone I can count on." Adam, however, wasn't in the apartment. On the bedside table was a note: "I'm out. I'll be there around five. Make yourself at home. Adam," he wrote crookedly and unclearly. I glanced at my watch. It was one o'clock. Well, I'd slept well. "I wonder where he went? And who is he really?"

I got up without a problem. I was relieved to find that my head wasn't hurting so much anymore. I was very hungry. I looked around Adam's apartment. It was very small: one room, a makeshift bathroom, and a kitchen... I made my way to the fridge; there was only some sausage in there, but I didn't care. Once I'd eaten, I took a shower. The water seemed to cleanse not only my body but also my soul.

He moved blindly, his heart beating dizzyingly, his head pounding with excruciating pain. He finally reached his chest. He grabbed the railing and began climbing the stairs. He took each step with difficulty. All he could think about was getting to his apartment as quickly as possible. After a while, he reached the first floor, halfway there. However, he let go of the railing and fell.

"Get up, Adam," he heard a familiar voice. It was his downstairs neighbor, Mrs. Jaskólska.

"Get up, I'll help you up," the terrified old woman suggested. She had never seen him in such a state. His entire face was bruised, and blood was running from his mouth and nose. He reeked of alcohol and cigarettes.

"It's okay, I'll manage," she understood from his mumbling. Holding on to the railing, he reached the next floor. When the old woman heard Adam opening the door, she returned to her apartment. She was surprised by the sound of a woman's voice coming from upstairs. After a while, she decided she was probably having auditory hallucinations in her old age. But Adam's mother came to mind. She returned to her work, wondering what would have happened if Mrs. Dzięciołowska had lived.

I screamed in horror when I saw him.

"Quiet," he hissed, "help me get to the bathroom." I took his arm and helped him take the few steps. "Is this what he does? Is this how he lives?" I wondered. Adam leaned against the sink and began examining his face in the mirror. I grabbed a towel and tried to wipe the blood from his nose.

"Careful, woman," he shouted nastily.

"Who did this to you?" I asked.

"None of your business! Did I ask you why you ran away from home? Why you were wandering around Warsaw at night? No wonder someone was interested in you.

This was too much. I thought that in a moment he'd say it was my own fault that someone had tried to rape me. I ran out of Adam's apartment without thinking about what to do next. On the stairs, however, I heard shouts: "Do you think he crawled into the apartment? Maybe he's lying somewhere in the bushes.

" "I'll kill, I'll kill that cunt, that scum, fucking Dzięciołowski."

Without thinking, I turned back. I wasn't entirely sure who was shouting these insults, but it was clear they weren't friendly.

Adam seemed unconcerned by Monika's behavior. He washed the blood from his face. Then he cautiously moved toward the closet in the small room. From under a pile of clothes, he pulled out a clear bag containing white powder. He scattered it on the table. Suddenly, a girl burst into the apartment, panting. She slammed the door shut with even more force than she had when she left. Then she began to struggle with the latch. Adam looked at her blankly. A moment later, he heard someone banging on the door and yanking the handle.

"Dzięciołowski, you have to pay back the money by tomorrow or we'll kill you, you understand, you son of a bitch."

A moment later, the noise stopped. Monika was still standing in the middle of the apartment. She watched him sit on that flimsy bed, looked at the table, and at the powder scattered on it. She didn't know what to do. She thought it would probably be best to vanish into thin air.

"Easy, give me a moment, I'll be gone soon," she finally said.

"I'm sorry," Adam muttered. "Please stay. Don't go."

Monika didn't know what to think of this strange boy.

"Are you going to take that shot? Whatever it is..." she asked, pointing to the table.

"It helps you forget. Try it, maybe you'll forget what you ran away from, too.

" "But I don't want to forget!

" "What you ran away for?"

I don't know if you'll understand, but I'll try to explain. From the outside, I had nothing to escape from: a beautiful house, good grades, wealthy parents. But I was suffocating in this "perfect world," and the more I tried to understand the true face of reality, the more my parents isolated me from it. I couldn't decide anything for myself. My mother chose the clothes I wore, the music I listened to. It didn't even bother me, until it happened. Well, one day, while rummaging through the basement for my math notebook from the previous grade, I found a diary. The diary of my aunt Ewa, whom I never met because, as I learned from her notes, she committed suicide before I was born. Everything she wrote there shocked me deeply. It was terrible. She and her boyfriend were attacked during a trip to Krakow. He didn't survive. My aunt completely broke down. No one in my "perfect" family helped her; quite the opposite, in fact. My mother kept telling me to forget about it quickly and move on. But how can you move on after losing someone you love? My devout grandmother said it was a punishment for living far from God. You know, my aunt's boyfriend was an atheist. When I read all this, my whole world collapsed. I knew that telling my parents would only get worse. I had no one to confide in. My classmates talked about me behind my back, envied my life, which had become hell for me. Fortunately, around that time, my parents signed me up for private English lessons with a student who had taken a leave of absence and come to care for her sick mother. I liked Gosia from the very first lesson. She didn't make me memorize vocabulary like a teacher at school, but rather led conversations in English on various topics. In the end, I decided to tell her everything. Just the fact that she listened meant a lot. I would advise her to try talking to her parents gently, and above all, she was patient. "The Patient" – it was through her that I first heard that Tool song, and indeed all of their music. This song in particular spoke to me, and still does. It says you have to be patient. You have to keep believing that one day you'll find treasures along the way. Sounds a bit pathetic, doesn't it? But when I'm sad and feeling down, I sing this song quietly to myself, and I feel better.

Of course, the conversation with my parents didn't work out. They didn't have time for silly thoughts about the evils of the world. "But nothing bad has ever happened in our family! We have an alarm system; we're safe, my daughter."

Sure! Gosia kept saying that conflicts with parents were normal at my age, and besides, I could always confide in her. Meanwhile, my mother and grandmother, upon realizing what "satanic" and "demonic" music I was listening to, had a real chat with me. When they heard it was Gosia's music, I immediately stopped going to her lessons. My grandmother, as penance, made me go to church every day.

The first thought of running away came when I heard Tool was coming to Warsaw. Then my mother found my aunt's diary while sorting through my things... No one explained anything to me. I was treated like a little child meddling in other people's affairs. My parents started keeping an eye on me like I was in prison. My father would take me to and from school. It's not even worth talking about... I started coming up with a plan. One day, I managed to skip class and go to Krakow, where I bought a ticket to a Tool concert. A friend got me a fake sick note, and no one noticed. I also checked where my parents hid their money. On the day of the concert, my dad drove me to school as usual. I waited for him to leave, then went to the bus station. First, I went to Krakow, then by train to Warsaw. I explored the Old Town a bit, and when it started to get dark, I took a bus. I wanted to get to the Western Railway Station, you know, the Mera Hall, where the concert was supposed to be. Unfortunately, I didn't make it. I got on the wrong bus and got lost. Then I went down a dark alley and...

She didn't even blink when she spoke about the events of that night. She just stared strangely ahead.

"I don't want to forget it, Adam. I don't want to forget that life in a small town, in a beautiful house, because then none of it would make sense. If it weren't for this diary, lessons with Gosia, Tool's music, I'd be a completely different person. I'll even have nightmares about the attack, but thanks to them, I'm here with you now."

"Fuck, girl." Adam narrowed his eyes. "I can't explain things to myself like you can. And I can't understand how a person can be too comfortable. You know, as you can see, I've never lived in luxury, maybe it's not all that great.

" "Stop joking, okay?

" "Okay. I just never had problems like this. I always did what I wanted, even when I wasn't of age yet.

" "Then tell me what problems you had, what problems you have. I was honest with you."

"Damn, you want to know the honest truth? Three months ago, my mother died in a car accident. The kind that happens thousands of times. It happened at night, the driver was drunk, he didn't notice someone in the crosswalk. You probably think I'm a damn mama's boy. Three months and I can't get myself together, quite the opposite. But she was the only person in this fucking world I cared about, you know? She raised me alone; I don't know my father. She always had a kind word for me, even when I messed up. And now?

I dropped out of school, I don't have a job... I rob cars with the guys to make a living. And I smoke pot and do meth with them." "

Did you get it from them?

" "From the dealer. I owe him money. I was due tomorrow, but I didn't go with the guys, and there's no money

." "Why didn't you go?"

"Should I leave you alone?" "Damn, I wish I was as strong as you.

To be able to think calmly about all this, to accept it." I can't do that.

"Patience.

" "What?

" "You have to be patient. This will pass, all this pain, and one day you'll find your treasures and be happy." "

Teach me that. Teach me patience... Please..."

Monika scooped the white powder off the table, went to the bathroom, and flushed the drugs down the toilet. Adam laughed. He thought he might have already found his treasure one day on the dewy grass.

I really liked that blue-eyed boy when I lived with him for those few weeks. It's true that we argued quite often, but they were friendly. Most importantly, no one dictated to me what to do anymore.

We borrowed money to pay off Adam's debt from Mrs. Jaskólska, our downstairs neighbor. The old lady had weak hands and could barely manage around the house, so in exchange for the loan, we helped her. We cleaned, did laundry, and cooked. We often ate dinner at her place. Of course, she was curious who I was. She didn't fall for the lie that I was Adam's cousin. Finally, I told her, well... not the whole truth. I lied a bit so she wouldn't call the police. Adam couldn't find a job at all, and we felt silly living off Mrs. Jaskólska's dime. I don't know what possessed us to steal candy from the supermarket. It was all good fun until we were stopped by a very rude security guard. Because of those stupid candy bars... As you can imagine, the police got interested in me.

Adam slammed the door. "Damn it all," he thought angrily. He looked around the apartment for a moment, wondering what to do. His mind was reeling. He remembered, one after another, how he'd found Monika unconscious on the lawn, how he'd comforted her, how she'd told him about herself, how he'd told her about his mother, how she'd helped him pay off the debt... And now? Because of those stupid candy bars, she wasn't here with him. The police would surely notify her parents, and they would take her to their wonderful home. He sat down on the floor and buried his face in his hands. "Why didn't I tell her, why didn't I do anything, why didn't I kiss those sweet lips of hers? Why didn't I show her affection, why couldn't I overcome my fear? She would be surprised by my confession, she would start getting angry, screaming at me, wondering what I was saying... but at least she would know, and I wouldn't regret my inaction," he mused. Finally, he remembered Monika's words, words she repeated so often. He stood up, took an old duffel bag from the closet, and stuffed all his clothes into it.

"Be patient?" he snorted. "Well, let's see what I find along the way..."

He quickly left the apartment, the building unnoticed by anyone.

I didn't want to talk to my parents for anything in the world, let alone go home. The only alternative was the Institute. At first, I felt strange there. The girls were constantly talking about the things they'd done before they came here, swearing, lighting cigarettes in corners, and drinking vodka. Later, though, I got used to it and started smoking and drinking with them. It helped me not to think so much about Adam. I was furious with him for not coming to visit me (and it wasn't far at all), for not even trying to see me, and at the same time, I was afraid for him. Finally, the teachers allowed me to call Mrs. Jaskólska, and I learned that Adam had disappeared right after our stupid mishap. For a long time I wondered where he could have gone, for a long time I couldn't help but wonder why he did it. Now, when I think of him, I hope he's found happiness somewhere, found treasures. I wonder if he sometimes thinks of me too, and if in moments of sadness he tells himself...

"I'll get through this. I have to get through this."

...and if he's patient. I am. And I believe he is too.