The house in which we stayed" *

## ** "* ### and when Elżbieta returned to a family home after the death of her mother, the first he did, it opened all the windows. Not because it was stuffy. She wanted to check if the house was still breathing. She was forty-seven years old, two divorce and an adult daughter who lived abroad. Over the years she told himself that he would only come back for a moment - sort out things, sell the house, close the chapter. This was what was most likely. The house stood at the end of the street, a bit removed from others. Father built him with his own hands, brick on brick. He died early. The mother was. Elżbieta escaped. Now she came back and suddenly it turned out that nothing is so easy. ### II The first weeks were logistic. Documents, bills, binders. Elżbieta organized mother's life, as if it were a young story. It was not until the night when she sat in the kitchen with the same table where she was eating breakfast as a child, something started to break. Only John was left from the neighbors. He lived opposite. They were once close - too close. She was nineteen when she left without saying goodbye. He stayed. Always. The first time met with a coach, at the trash. "You came back," he said, as if this was the statement of the weather. "She replied automatically. Jan nodded. He did not ask for how long. He did not ask for anything more. ### III Home began to spoil. First, a liquid faucet. Then the stove. Elżbieta called a specialist, but Jan and so came with the French key. "Father would not leave this way," he murmured, kneeling at pipes. She looked at his hands. Older. Cracked. Familiar. They began drinking tea after repair. Then dinners. The conversations were cautious, as if they were both afraid to move something that can be fell. Jan never married. He had short relationships, a work in a workshop, a life that took place without violent phrases. Elżbieta had everything opposite - changes in cities, people, plans. "I could not stay," she said one evening. "And I could not leave," he replied. And it was all. ### IV Winter Elżbieta fell ill. Nothing serious, but enough to not have strength from bed for a few days. Jan came every day. He cooked soups, watched medicines, sat in silence. "You do not have to," she said. "I know," he replied. For the first time, she felt that someone was beside not because he promised something, just because he stayed. The daughter called in January. She asked when her mother would come back "to himself". Elżbieta could not answer. "I think I'm," she finally said. ### v spring decided not to sell a house. She began renovation. Slowly. No plan for five years forward. She found a job in the library. Small, quiet, sufficient. Jan helped, but he did not move. Everyone had its space. Sometimes they slept together. Sometimes separately. No declaration, without dramas. It was not great love. It was presence. Something stable, developed for years of absence. ### VI One evening Elizabeth found an old letter in the drawer. From John. He never sent him. He wrote in him that he would wait for how much you need. She sat on the stairs and she was crying for a long time. Not from grief. With relief. That not everything in life is forefront. When Jan returned from work, she gave him a letter. "I stayed," she said. He looked at her carefully. "I know," he replied. ### VII was not a wedding. There were not big words. There were shared breakfasts, quarrels about trinkets, silence that did not hurt. Elżbieta sometimes thought about how many years she lost. But she was also more and more often thinking that she had to leave to go back. The house breathed. She too. ---