Weronika spent Sunday afternoons in the park, sitting on her favorite bench, tucked away, reading Paulo Coelho's books. It was the only place she could find a bit of peace and solitude. This Sunday, however, a premonition told her to sit in the busiest spot, by the path that cut through the park right in the middle.
She read the same book again, this time without much interest. She couldn't concentrate. She looked more at the feet of passersby than at the pages. At one point, she recognized a familiar, rhythmic gait. She lifted her head. She couldn't be mistaken.
"Tomek?" she called out as a tall blond man with a backpack slung over his shoulder passed her. "Tomek!" she repeated when he didn't react the first time. He turned at the sound of his name and smiled at the sight of Weronika, radiant as always.
"It's been so long since I've seen you..." he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "How long has it been?" "About... Hmm..."
"Two years," Weronika finished. She counted each day since their last meeting. "Two years and five months..." She blushed.
Tomek looked at her with mild surprise. He remembered her blue eyes very well, her long auburn hair, perpetually unbound and falling limply over her shoulders and breasts. She hadn't changed at all. Only her smile seemed a little more subtle, more mature, as if devoid of that childlike joy and energy. The calmness she exuded seemed a bit alien to him, but without further thought, he concluded that with age, some people gain inner peace.
"What are you doing now?" she asked, setting her book aside. "I heard you're constantly changing jobs...
" "That's true," he smiled. He noticed that Weronika still thought about him and kept up with his biography. "I worked for a while at a local television station, but its quality, its overall capabilities, were poor and didn't allow me to spread my wings in the near future... "
"You were too ambitious for such a place," she interjected.
"Exactly," he agreed, somewhat surprised by the accuracy of her remark. "So I decided to keep looking. Then I came across an advertisement for a national competition for the best report. I entered and, to my luck, took second place. A guy thought I should take first place and offered me a job at a national magazine...
" "It was what you always dreamed of," she interjected again. "A big company, with the opportunity to prove yourself, traveling around the country, sometimes abroad. New people, new acquaintances... You're in your element." She smiled, still meeting his dumbfounded gaze.
"You know me too well," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "Are you following me?" he joked.
"As if," she replied, her expression serious.
Tomek didn't know what to say. He was utterly astonished by her interest in him. They had known each other since childhood, spending good times and bad together. They knew each other inside and out, yet she still managed to surprise him. Or perhaps he only thought he knew her so well because he had always been more focused on the future than on his surroundings. He hadn't even known that Weronika had such beautiful, pure, and profound eyes...
"And now I'll tell you something no one else knows," he began unexpectedly after a short silence. Weronika looked at him expectantly. "I'm writing a book.
" "What will it be about?" she asked enthusiastically.
"About this city. About its strength and power, which always compels me to return here." About its magnetic beauty…
"I thought you'd write about our hometown sooner…"
"No, no," Tomek interrupted her this time. "Our town is beautiful, unique, yes, but so far, the most wonderful moments of my life have been spent here, studying here, among these people, walking these streets, passing these shop windows… I feel at home here. I know every corner. Besides, you know what I mean." He looked at her, expecting confirmation, but only met her lowered head and her gaze, fixed somewhere between the gray pavement. "Right?" he repeated louder, to break her reverie.
"Yes," she woke as if from a dream, and a smile quickly appeared on her lips. "I know exactly what you mean. It's just that I haven't had enough time to become so familiar with this city. But if I left and wanted to return, I would return here.
" "You know," he continued, "this city even has something of our small town about it." There's a street I always walk down when I get home, just to reminisce about old times. Even the air feels so familiar then... Come on, I'll take you there!" Tomek stood up from the bench and looked at a slightly flustered Weronika. He was a bit surprised by the sudden disappearance of her enthusiasm at the memory of her hometown. "Are you coming?" he repeated the question, completely taken aback.
Weronika, reluctantly, slowly gathered her books into her bag. She rose from the bench, slung her bag over her shoulder, adjusted her denim skirt, and, smiling uncertainly, nodded at the suggestion of a walk.
They walked side by side along the gray, concrete park path. They paid no attention to the people they passed. They paid no attention to the hustle and bustle, the noise, and the crush of traffic. They paid no attention to anything that might in any way interrupt their recollection of the most wonderful moments they had once shared together, long ago.
At some point, the park alley turned into an ordinary cobblestone sidewalk and their eyes were met with a small but stylish, beautifully renovated and restored Market Square.
"We need to cross to the other side and turn slightly west. One cross street and we'll be there," Tomek informed them.
Without hesitation, they set off in that direction. A few minutes later, they were on the other side of the Market Square, at the foot of a long, wide street, quiet and almost deserted. Apart from them, only an old woman, dressed in old rags, leaning on a worn wooden cane and holding, as it were, a heavy net in her other hand, was struggling upward, contorting and panting with exhaustion.
"She's invincible," Tomek said with a smile, looking at the older woman. "Every time I walk this way, she carries the same net and climbs upward. Sometimes it seems to me she's like Sisyphus. She lifts her stone only to do the same thing the next day."
Weronika saw in his eyes an admiration for the older woman she couldn't find in herself. She couldn't find the meaning of this woman's sacrifice, or the reason that would force her to suffer so much. Sisyphus had been condemned to eternal torment as punishment. And this woman?
"Do you see that nearest intersection?" Tomek asked. Weronika nodded. "It's right there..."
The girl tried to suppress the apprehension she harbored at the thought of what was about to unfold before her eyes. She suppressed the seeds of fear, believing that with Tomek around her, all evil would be safe from her...
The intersection was closer than Weronika had imagined as she stood at the street threshold. Before the bend, she took a deep breath and took Tomek's warm hand in her right hand. The boy flinched slightly when he felt her trembling hand, but said nothing except a curt, "We're here."
A patch of a gloomy district came into view, completely at odds with the rest of the city. The shabby tenement buildings, most of them falling into disrepair, lined the potholed, scarred roadway, resembling slums rather than residential buildings. Even the air seemed murkier, heavier, and oppressive. Weronika felt everything around her oppressing her, depriving her of air, that everything around her was screaming, squealing, howling… A man's head appeared in one of the windows of the gray tenement building, whose attic had sheltered pigeons. He looked curiously at Tomek and Weronika, who were completely removed from the streetscape. A moment later, the man disappeared into the apartment, shouting something neither Tomek nor Weronika could understand. They exchanged a wordless look and slowly took their next steps, carefully taking in every inch of the surroundings.
A few minutes later, the same man who had been watching them from the window stood in front of them. He was about forty years old. He was dressed in old, tattered, and worn-out sweatpants and a pulled-up sweater. On his feet were gray, lace-up shoes, which had previously been black, and were clearly riddled with holes. He had a mustache and greasy, dark hair with a few gray strands. He was dirty, but not sleazy. Nor did he give the impression of a calculating, surly alcoholic. He simply looked poor and tired…
"Good morning," he bowed, never taking his eyes off Tomek.
He also glanced at the completely surprised Weronika. Before Tomek could answer, the man asked,
"Are you that journalist, that famous journalist…
" Tomek could clearly feel the hope in his voice. He was a journalist, but was he the one the man was referring to?
"I'm a journalist," Tomek replied uncertainly. "But is that…
" "You see how it looks here?" He glanced around. "It used to be as beautiful here as in all the other districts…" He looked sadly at Weronika. "But everything changed overnight… The bills kept getting bigger, but the workload was still the same. I have a wife, two teenage children, and today they turned off the electricity in the entire building." He nodded at the tenement house he'd left. "We haven't had water for two days… Ma'am!" He looked at Weronika with horror. "Are you okay?"
Tomek snapped out of his concentration and only then felt sweat on his palm. Weronika's eyes were closed, she was trembling, and beads of sweat appeared all over her body. Tomek was saying something, asking questions, but no sound from outside reached her anymore. She became that little girl from years ago again. All she saw around her were the black, scratched, dusty walls of the small room. All she could hear were screams and cries from the next room. She knew the glass and her empty pocket had taken over again. Another pointless argument about what wasn't there and what was missing...
She stood there, defenseless, alone, lost in melancholy. She wanted to scream, but no sound came out. She wanted to shed a tear, but her eyes were dry. She felt a gust of cold air, filled with terror and suspended time. She wanted to escape, but there was nowhere to run. And yet her legs refused to obey her.
The old, dirty door swung open. The light blinded her, but she didn't even move. Lost in apathy, she waited for the huge, dark monster to approach and deliver the expected blow. She knew that the swelling anger would sooner or later find its release... A gnawing pain shot through her delicate body. One... Two... Three... She felt another arrow, poisoned by pain and suffering, tear through her body. She sank to the floor. She no longer felt anything…
"Weronika!" Tomek shouted, supporting the girl's head. He patted her cheek again. "Wake up, finally! Weronika!
" Tomek was terrified. He hadn't expected that any external stimulus could so powerfully bring the past to life…
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