On St. Valentine's Day

"Almost half the country is already buried under massive snowdrifts, and road services seem helpless in the face of the continuing heavy snowfall. Today's news for drivers is…"

The announcer's calm voice boomed from the speakers, filling the entire car with its baritone. Rafał drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He tilted his head, trying to see what was happening ahead. It wasn't easy. The wipers barely kept up with the windshield, which was constantly being attacked by new, large snowflakes. He'd been standing practically still for several minutes now, and he was starting to get impatient. It was already dark; it was almost seven in the evening. The column of helpless cars stretched for two kilometers. Everything around was covered in snow. Thank goodness for the heater, he thought, glancing at the illuminated temperature controls. The soft orange light from the dashboard illuminated his drawn face. He nervously glanced at the dial, the speedometer needle still pointing to zero. He sighed heavily and took out a cigarette. He flicked on the lighter, waiting for it to heat up. Cigarette in his mouth, he glanced around. Snow, damned snow everywhere. The area resembled a snowy desert. Fortunately, the car's interior was filled with a pleasant warmth. The sound of the lighter, ready for use, snapped him out of his thoughts. Rafał took a deep drag. When a moment later, the car in front of him pulled away, the man hopefully put it in gear. The wheels spun for a moment, but after just two seconds, the car slowly moved forward. He managed to cover about twenty meters this way, and the car in front of him stopped. "And that's it," he told himself, trying to empty the ash into the illuminated ashtray. He already knew that no matter how hard he tried, he wouldn't make it home in time for dinner.

A few dozen cars away, a red station wagon was lined up. A man, already slightly graying, was behind the wheel. Beside him, a woman in her late forties. The man tapped the steering wheel with the wedding ring he wore.

"Stop it, damn it," his wife snapped.

"Don't take it out on me, it's not my fault it's snowing."

The conversation ended. The woman turned on the radio. She searched for a station, pressing the button nervously. She caught the news.

"Leave it, maybe they'll tell you what's going on." The man didn't look at her as he spoke.

However, the woman, completely ignoring him, continued searching. Only when she found a station playing music did she end her search. The driver sighed heavily at the nastiness, but didn't comment. They had been arguing for almost an hour, and he was tired of it. He turned back, reaching for his coat lying on the backseat. He fumbled for his pockets for a moment before finally sitting down, leaning back in his seat. The woman glanced out of the corner of her eye. She saw the hip flask in her husband's hand. He uncorked it and took a sip.

"Fine, the police will stop us," she scoffed aloud.

"We're not even going," he smiled as if he'd made a clever joke.

Ignoring her remark, he took another sip. He held out his hip flask to her with an encouraging gesture. However, the woman turned her head in disgust.

"You're guzzling vodka like it was water, what's wrong with you?" she said teasingly.

"Come on, it's Valentine's Day, smile," he tried to be ironic.

The woman exhaled loudly, implying that he had unsettled her. He knew that whistling sound; she always did that, like a snake, thinking, a damn warning signal, and grimaced. He wasn't going to give her an excuse. Who knows how long we'll have to sit in this damn car. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. She was pretty. She had well-defined features, light hair, and sensual lips, but he didn't notice that anymore. After twenty years of marriage, he couldn't look at her like a woman. He knew her inside and out. Sometimes he even thought he hated her. He wasn't sure what he felt anymore, most likely nothing, he thought, and took another long swig of vodka. A pleasant warmth spread through his body. He decided not to speak. Just to get there and get out of that damn car.

Rafał had already smoked three cigarettes. In that time, he'd only moved another twenty meters. Or so he thought. He wasn't sure he'd even moved an inch. He was changing the station on the radio when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a red neon sign in the distance: MOTEL 24H. The sign pierced the thickly falling snow. He began to wonder if it wouldn't be wise to pull into the motel. The monotonous sound of the windshield wipers was driving him crazy. Everything was starting to irritate him. Dinner was gone anyway, and maybe everything would be back to normal by morning. He mulled it over in his mind for a moment until he made a decision. He had to wait another half hour to reach the cross street leading to the motel. Screw it, he thought, turning. He pulled away, eager to savor the speed. After two hours stuck in traffic, he wanted to feel like he was finally moving. But the car swerved dangerously on the snowy road. He slowed immediately. He saw a receding column of cars in the rearview mirror. They'll be stuck like this until morning, he thought, stopping just outside the motel.

The woman in the red station wagon noticed the neon sign. At first, she ignored the red lettering. Only after a moment did it dawn on her that they could pull off the road. They wouldn't make it home today anyway. In these conditions, it wasn't possible. The thought of finally stretching out in bed and taking a bath made her eyes sparkle.

"Pull over to the motel, I have a headache," she said dryly to her husband, not looking at him.

"You're joking, right?" he seemed surprised.

"No, I'm not joking. I want to go to the motel."

The man placed the flask in the glove compartment and was about to open his mouth to say something. Then she turned to him and gave him a look so cold that he closed his mouth without a word.

"If you think I'm going to go any further with you while you're enjoying that filth, you're mistaken."

Her words were harsh, hanging in the air, and then an ominous silence fell. He looked at her. Damn her, he thought. Nasty, mouthy bitch, he vented in his mind, assigning her all sorts of epithets. On the other hand, he thought, I'll finally be able to get out of this damn car and go to the bar. The thought brought a faint smile to his face. He didn't say a word. When, after a long time, they drew level with the crossroads leading to the motel, in complete silence, he turned without a word.

Rafał got out of the car, locking it. Pushed by the wind, he ran toward the door. Inside, he brushed off the snow that had already clung to him. A young girl was sitting behind the counter. As he approached her, she lazily set down her nail file.

"Do you have any rooms available?

" "Yes," she replied, bored.

"For one night, please."

She slid a book on the counter to him and tossed a pen on it. He signed in, while she grabbed the key from the wall.

"Room number five, first floor."

He took it and set off. On the way, he spotted a bar. Not a bad idea, he smiled to himself and ran upstairs. He took a warm shower. In his room, he went to the window and peered out, pulling back the curtain. Only then did he see the enormous traffic jam he'd escaped from. Satisfied that he'd made the right decision, he went downstairs. At the bar, he ordered mulled wine and took a seat near the fireplace. Quite cozy, he thought, glancing at the trapped flames. Just behind him, snow swirled outside the window.

He already had his second glass of mulled wine on the table. He took out a cigarette and lit it. He looked around the room. The room wasn't very large. There were only a few tables inside, not counting a few chairs at the bar. Two tables next to it sat a family: a husband, wife, and two children. Right by the fireplace, a young couple, the boy not yet twenty, were absorbed in themselves. He inhaled as the door opened and two new guests entered. When they stopped at the reception desk, he could get a better look at them. The man in the black coat seemed quite distinguished. His shoes gleamed despite the snowstorm outside. A woman stood next to him; he judged them to be a married couple. He noticed her hair. She had beautiful blond hair that fell to her shoulders. It gleamed in the dim reception lighting. When she turned to say something to the man standing next to her, he noticed she was angry. But he immediately noted that she was beautiful despite it. Yes, they're definitely married, he thought, noticing the heated exchange between them. After a moment, they headed upstairs. Rafał thought the man was tipsy. He returned to his mulled wine.

A few minutes passed when the same man came down the stairs, only without his coat. He was wearing a suit. He walked over to the bar and ordered a drink. He sat down at the next table. He took a rather large sip, and his face twisted into a smile as he set the glass down on the table. Rafał looked, and the glass was half empty. Quite a trigger, he thought. After about fifteen minutes, when a third drink appeared on the table next to the man, a woman joined him. She sat down opposite him without a word, took out a cigarette, and inhaled. She looked contemptuously at the empty glasses beside her husband.

"You're not wasting your time," she scoffed.

He refused to be provoked. He looked at her dispassionately, then took a sip, looking into her eyes. Like a little boy trying to do something against someone's will. Rafał took another look at the woman. Where did such girls come from? He wondered, and averted his gaze, not wanting to be pushy. Meanwhile, the woman walked over to the bar and returned with a glass of wine. He glanced at her involuntarily. He couldn't help himself. She was wearing a black dress with a slit. He could see the black tights, and when the dress shifted slightly, the slit exposing part of her thigh, he noticed her shapely legs. She was a bit older than him, but that was starting to arouse him even more. He looked out the window for a change. But nothing was visible; only the still-attacking snow was falling outside. Soft music played from the speakers on the bar. Rafał ordered a beer for a change. He felt warmed up already. Besides, pleasant warmth was seeping from the fireplace; he no longer needed mulled wine. Glancing at the woman from time to time, he began to daydream. If I were this guy, I wouldn't be sitting here with her. He smiled at the thought of taking her to his room. He would love to slide his hands under her sparkling dress.

The man was already quite drunk. He glanced around the room with a blurry gaze, stopping at a couple occupied with each other sitting by the fireplace. Rafał didn't immediately notice what was happening. The man said something to the couple nestled against him. The woman began to soothe him. An argument ensued. Rafał only realized it when the hushed, nervous voices reached him. He couldn't hear everything, only looking in that direction when the boy turned to the drunken man.

"...it's Valentine's Day after all," he smiled, holding his girlfriend's hand. "

Valentine's Day," the man spat out the word as if it burned him. "On February fourteenth, the Americans bombed Dresden; that was Valentine's Day too.

" "Please forgive my husband," the woman interrupted, "we've had a rough day, my husband is a bit drunk."

The girl said something to the boy, and he turned his back on the drunken man. The woman looked around the room, embarrassed, and finally her gaze met Rafał's. She smiled uncertainly.

"Everything's fine." Rafał didn't know if she was saying it to him or to herself. He only felt a pleasant warmth when she looked at him. At that moment, the entire incident lost its meaning. The woman hadn't looked at him in a long time, and he still felt a flush on his face. God, what's happening to me, he thought, I feel like a brat. I have to get out of here, and right now. Rafał finished his beer and stood up, heading for the stairs.

"Excuse me, sir," he heard behind him, but it took him a second to realize the words were directed at him. He stopped and turned around. He knew whose voice it was.

"Excuse me, but would you help me?" She pointed at her husband.

The man was lying on the table, fast asleep. Rafał was surprised he could fall asleep so quickly. The woman must have read it in his face and immediately left.

"Unfortunately, that's just how he is," she smiled sadly.

Rafał couldn't refuse. He couldn't refuse this woman anything. He walked up to the man and grabbed his arm. The woman immediately stood up and grabbed her husband's other arm. With some difficulty, they lifted him and headed for the stairs. The stairs were the hardest part. The man weighed at least ninety kilograms and was slightly taller than Rafał. As he led him, his hand constantly touched the woman's. Even the briefest contact electrified him. It made him feel less like the weight of the strange man on his body. Staggering at the door, they managed to open it. Rafał used his head to find a light switch on the wall and turned on the light. They went to the bed and laid the drunk man down as gently as possible. He didn't wake up for a moment. The woman stopped Rafał in the doorway.

"Please wait."

He stopped and looked at her. She seemed incredibly beautiful again. She stopped beside him and extended her hand.

"Thank you very much."

He shook her hand. Her skin was soft. He felt another pleasant shiver run through his body. She stopped very close to him. So close that he could smell her scent. She smelled delicious. He could almost feel her breath on him. She gazed at him silently with her green eyes. He didn't even remember what possessed him then, but without realizing it, he pulled her close and kissed her. He only came to when she pulled away from his embrace. He felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered, rushing to explain.

But there was no explanation. He felt himself losing his footing. He was afraid she would scream, hit him, or something of the sort. But she stood still, as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. Her eyes were wide with surprise. A mixture of shock, confusion, and a thousand other emotions flashed across her face.

"Really, please forgive me, I've never..." he stammered, "before..." he couldn't get the words out.

"Why..." the woman finally spoke.

Rafał looked at her, already flushed with shame.

"Why did you do that?

" "I really," he stammered, "don't know why, I mean, I know..." You're the most beautiful woman I've ever seen in my life.

With that, he turned and hurried out of the room. He practically ran down the hall to his room and closed the door behind him.

"You idiot!" He screamed at himself, wondering what I was thinking, a woman like that would never want anything to do with me. He was still burning with shame. After ten minutes, when his emotions had subsided, he heard a quiet knock on the door.

"It's open," he shouted.

The door opened, and a woman stood in the doorway. She entered, closing it behind her. Rafał stood motionless, almost at attention.

"I..." He was about to apologize and apologize again.

But the woman placed a finger to her lips, signaling him to be quiet. She reached for the light switch and turned off the light. In the semidarkness, he saw her shrug off her dress. It fell silently to the floor. He stared in disbelief at her, naked, dignified, and already completely at peace. She approached him. Her scent again made him dizzy. Her skin, so smooth. He touched her shoulder, ran his fingertips along her skin to her neck, gently grabbed her chin, and brought her lips to his. He kissed her.

"We have all night, that's all," she whispered.