Trip

The train's wheels laboriously tapped out. Images passed by the window. Anne pressed her back against the soft seat and drew her legs up. She couldn't stop the tears. They rolled down her cheeks, practically carving trenches. Neither constantly dabbing them with a handkerchief, nor closing her eyes, nor even gritting her teeth and straining all her senses to stop them helped. Despite the impressive landscape outside the window, the woman saw only images from the past, still vivid and heartbreaking.

Suddenly, the compartment door opened, revealing a handsome young man. Anne glanced in his direction. The new passenger smiled broadly, greeted her with a typical "Good morning," then threw his bag on the rack and took off his jacket. Anne watched his movements involuntarily. As he sat down opposite her, she regretted how awful she looked. She wore no makeup, and her puffy eyes and red nose didn't add to her charm. The man was truly handsome: tall, dark hair, serene eyes, and beautiful hands. She couldn't tear her gaze away from him. Something drew her in. But the man, as if unaware of her, opened a book he'd pulled from his backpack and immersed himself in it.

This reminded her that she also had something to read. She opened "Life of Pi" and focused on the letters. But not much was making sense to her. The words seemed lost, and the characters refused to take shape.

Suddenly, the man across the street jumped up and looked out the window. She jumped, completely unconsciously following his gaze.

"Did you see it?" he asked her, his eyes twinkling.

"No. What was there?" she replied, unsure of what he meant.

"A deer." It ran through the fluffy snow, lost and alone. She glanced back, and upon seeing our large, black creation, fled, startled, into the forest.

A faint smile appeared on her face. He was talking about something he'd only seen for a split second, yet it seemed he knew the stray animal's entire life story.

"A smile! Finally!" he said.

She didn't respond. She had no desire to make new friends. The man must have sensed this, because he sat back down and became lost in thought. She felt his gaze piercing her, almost through her, reaching beyond the confines of her body. It was strange and slightly irritating, and she had a terrible urge to tell him to go to hell. What was he thinking? She looked up, but when she met his wide, staring eyes, she couldn't help it. Her lips curved into an upward curve. She felt an incredible warmth flowing from her companion's gaze. Just being with him brought relief to her shattered heart, so perhaps talking would soothe it even more?

"I see you're in a bad mood," the man finally said. "Maybe I can make you laugh somehow. I can't stand to see a woman cry in front of me."

"I'm sorry. My mood really leaves a lot to be desired. Life isn't a fairy tale, unfortunately," she replied, a little nervously.

"Did anyone ever tell you it was a fairy tale?

" "No, but I didn't know..." At that moment, she lost her breath, and tears rolled freely down her cheeks.

"Don't finish. Tell me, do you believe in reincarnation?"

The question completely surprised her. She had problems, ordinary, earthly ones, and couldn't cope with them, and he was asking her for some philosophical reasoning.

He seemed to understand her dismay.

"I know it sounded strange," he smiled mischievously, "but I basically ask this question to everyone I meet. The transmigration of souls and the afterlife are very controversial topics. Many people are interested in this issue. Hence my question. However, we can come down to earth.

" "Are you a psychologist?

" "An amateur. I only know what I've seen, read, understood, and experienced."

"I've heard that hypnosis can be used to go back in time and cure addictions, but I don't believe you can remember your past life, if such a thing even exists.

" "Oh, unbelieving souls!" he laughed. "But seriously, I see you know a thing or two. Have you heard that hypnosis can heal the soul?

" "I'll ask. You know what you're talking about, that's it. Make me forget...

" "You can't forget, you have to draw conclusions. Move on and enjoy small joys.

" "You know what, you're a philosopher. I was like that once too. I had a completely different philosophy of life, but everything still fell apart like a house of cards.

" "I'm not saying that fate hasn't dealt you a cruel blow, but I know you can't give up. A long time ago, I also thought it was best to lock myself away and do nothing, but since I realized I could help someone, I'm no longer alone; I reach out to everyone and do my best.

" "Then help me." "She said it completely instinctively.

If she'd thought about it longer, she certainly wouldn't have dared to say such words. She never asked anyone for anything. She was self-sufficient, perfect. She couldn't reach out, ask, beg. It seemed beneath her own high standard of dignity. But it had happened, and she knew she wouldn't back down. She had nothing to lose. A stranger might help her or not, but he probably couldn't harm her.

"Why not," he replied after a moment. "I can do that if you tell me everything that hurt you so painfully. Are you willing to go to therapy?

" "Yes. I have nothing to lose.

" "Okay. What's your name?

" "Ania. " "

Me?" "Hubert." Go ahead. Who hurt you? Your husband, your lover, your boss..."

"I see you've already written the script of my life," she snorted angrily. "You assumed the lonely, crying woman on the train had been betrayed and abandoned by her husband. Isn't that cliché?

" "I'm sorry." I thought of statistics.

"So, statistically speaking, men always cheat?

" "Yes," he replied quietly. "OK, enough with the statistics. Talk about yourself.

" "Do you know why I'm crying? Out of anger. Out of my own selfishness and stupidity. I wasn't the one who was wronged, I was the one who wronged her, or rather, I wanted to do it. I was trying to break up my family for reasons known only to me. Do you understand? A relationship with a married man and an attempt to win him over to my side. The goal was to destroy my rival, bring her down, and have power.

" "Start from the beginning. You're not telling everything.

" "I'm a journalist. I worked for a fairly popular weekly magazine and I was great. I'm not ashamed to admit it. My articles were making money. Professionally, it was great, but of course, something was missing. A man." True, there were people who were interested in me, but I considered them all wimps. None of them suited me. At a company picnic about six months ago, I met Janusz, the husband of my editorial colleague. I don't know if something clicked or if I simply decided to conquer him. Another, rather high bar, but I really enjoy such challenges. Now I know I saw it as a way to deepen my rival's skills. She was weaker, or so I thought, or simply because of her children, husband, and household responsibilities, she didn't have enough time to produce anything good. Her writing was good enough to stay in the editorial office, but she was far from brilliant. In short, it wasn't such a difficult goal. Slowly, step by step, I became friends with her to be closer to her husband. After that, it all went smoothly. I had a great time. Janusz was enchanted by me. Maybe because I was completely different. That's always exciting. Parties, trips, luxury hotels – they can make anyone's head spin. Of course, he fell head over heels in love, and I was incredibly happy. When Małgorzata found out, she came to me and begged me to break up with Janusz. I was supposed to think about her children, her family, and all that perfect nonsense. Honestly, I didn't care much. The guy was handsome and fit into my life quite well. Plus, he wanted me, not the good, honest, and average Małgorzata. I laughed at her and kicked her out of my apartment. The next day, I gave Janusz an ultimatum. And I think that's when I made my mistake.

"Did he go back to his wife?"

"Oh no! He chose me, but it drove Gośka to the brink of despair, and something inside her snapped. You wouldn't believe it. I gave her wings. She wrote a brilliant article. About me. She revealed my true colors. She dug up all the dirt, ripped off the mask of a brilliant careerist, and threw me from the top to the bottom. I won't tell you what my boss's reaction was. It doesn't take a genius to guess. He fired me. He said he needed a good, well-coordinated team, not a selfish, cruel journalist who was probably cutting her teeth for his job. Janusz didn't want to be with someone like me either. He was looking for warmth, not the ice that is my heart. Everyone turned their backs on me. I packed my things almost immediately and boarded that train. I'm going to Szczecin, to see my sister, whom I haven't seen in about five years. I hope she'll keep me safe until I get back on my feet.

" "You didn't tell her anything? You didn't call her?"

"No. I was afraid she'd hang up. I think when I showed up at the door, she wouldn't be able to throw me out.

" "Tell me one thing. If you had a choice again, would you do the same?

" "You're baiting me. I know what's right and wrong. But I think this whole story has taught me something. He who lives by the sword dies by the sword. I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

" "Why?

" "I believe that hurting others can backfire on you. That's why I won't do it again. I've decided, right here and right now. I can promise that to myself and to you. And I keep my own promises. And one more thing. I'll run a mile from married men.

" "So it's not that bad. You've realized your mistake. Bravo! From what you've told me, I see you've seen your image and you don't like it at all. You're going to change for yourself. And I'll tell you one more thing. You're not fundamentally bad, since you have a shred of conscience left. You'll be people.

" "Is that what you think?"

"I'm sure of it. And do you know that people like that are the best therapists? I know something about that.

" "Really? What do you mean?

" "Conversations. Just like I did with you. Listen and show you how to look inside yourself, how to find the right path. It was easy with you; you figured it out yourself during the conversation, but sometimes it's harder.

" "So you've done therapy?

" "And don't you feel better?" A smile spread across Hubert's face.

"Honestly, much better.

" "You see.

" "I guess you're right. Just talking to you was healing for me. You have a gift!

" "I think you have one too.

" "Interesting.

" "You know what? I have a few books on the subject at home. I'd be happy to lend them to you.

" "Where do you live?

" "In Szczecin. Write down: ulica Przyjaciół Żołnierza 20 by 5."

Ania hurriedly pulled out a piece of paper and wrote down the address. The whole story intrigued her deeply. Hubert was an incredibly interesting man. Maybe she really should consider psychotherapy. A change of job, life, and place of residence – very interesting. Especially since everything had happened so quickly. A voice snapped her out of her reverie.

"I hope you'll consider what I suggested.

" "Yes," she said confidently, knowing full well it was a sincere answer.

"I have to get off now. I have something to do in Dąbie."

Only then did she look out the window and see that they were slowly approaching Szczecin. Time had passed so quickly. She had to be grateful to her traveling companion. She felt like a completely new person.

"I promise I'll come back for the books.

" "I'm glad. You're welcome. Come. Take care and bye.

" "See you," she said to the departing man, who grabbed his things with astonishing speed and left the compartment.

She wanted to wave to him through the window, but the Szczecin Dąbie station was crowded, and she couldn't make out Hubert's silhouette. She didn't worry about that for long, though. It seemed she couldn't be sad about anything at that moment. Her mood had taken a 180-degree turn, and she was certain everything would work out.

She was afraid of meeting Monika, but she knew her sister's kind heart. "I won't be there long," she thought. "A few days, until I find somewhere to live. It's a shame I didn't ask Hubert if he knew anyone who might be renting an apartment."

The train slowly moved forward. She felt it roll onto the bridge, and she glanced out the window. When had she last seen the Oder? Probably five or six years ago. She'd been so absorbed in work that she hadn't had time to visit Monika, and even her hometown held little appeal. She must have believed the people of Warsaw that it was a remote province and forgotten her roots. Now, as she watched the houses of the Old Town, the Chrobry Embankment, and the waterfront, empty at this time of year, appear before her eyes, blanketed in white fluff, tears welled in her eyes. This time, she felt warmth flow into her heart. The last remnants of ice melted. She had forgotten that she loved this city, despite all its flaws. "I wonder what's changed?" The powerful machine slowly rolled onto the platform. She stood up. She stuffed a book into her bag and put on her coat. Equipped with her suitcase and handbag, she exited the compartment.

A short while later, she was standing on the platform and felt the cool wind from the Oder River on her cheeks. She inhaled deeply. "Yes, the smell of water. Nothing's changed." It seemed to her, however, that the platform had been renovated somehow. Everything was clean, the signs were good. "I guess it's not so bad here after all." Slowly, as if enjoying a new world, she walked toward the street. Suddenly, she heard a loud clamor above her head. A little embarrassed, she raised her head. "Seagulls!" she uttered, loud enough that some passersby turned their heads. "I didn't even know I missed them so much," she added silently. She went outside the station, hailed a taxi, and, waiting for the ride, took deep breaths of the Szczecin air. It seemed to her that with each breath her mind was opening more and more, her soul was becoming purer, and her heart was beating calmer.

Once in the car, she mentally composed a greeting to her sister. It really wasn't wise not to call. Another example of her irresponsible and self-centered behavior. To fall on someone's head, to demand care and a place to stay. And how? After several years of perfunctory phone calls and holiday greetings.

They arrived. Heartbroken, but also hoping for the best, she entered the building. A few moments later, she was standing in front of the otherwise familiar door. She rang the bell. She heard a dog barking and hurried footsteps. The lock creaked, and an average-looking, slightly disheveled woman appeared on the threshold. The silence seemed to last forever.

"Ania! Come in! We weren't expecting it. God! How long...

" "I'm sorry it came so suddenly, but...

" "It doesn't matter. Come in, come in."

Ania entered the hallway and a moment later nestled tightly in her sister's arms. Tears rolled down her cheeks, bittersweet tears of joy and relief. She felt her new life had begun.

It took several weeks to settle into Szczecin for good. Finding an apartment wasn't a major problem. She had some money saved, so she didn't have to worry about support. Finally, she decided to look for a job, and then Hubert came to mind. Conducting therapy would suit her perfectly, especially since she'd received an offer in a local newspaper to become a freelancer. It would give her some time to help others. In time, it might be her only way to support herself. She smiled at the thought. She felt a bit foolish that she hadn't visited the man who had helped her when she needed it earlier. Now she couldn't delay.

She opened her notebook and easily found a piece of paper with the address written on it. A moment later, she was in a taxi, heading to the address. A few minutes later, she arrived.

With a delicate movement of her hand, she checked her hair, adjusted her scarf, and, heart beating rapidly, entered one of the rows of staircases. She ran up to the second floor and stood before the wooden door, marked with the number 5. She rang the bell. A curt "Pap" rang out, and a moment later an elderly woman appeared.

"Good morning. I'm an acquaintance of Hubert's. We talked once, and he promised to lend me a few books." She felt terribly awkward. It hadn't even occurred to her that she might meet anyone other than her acquaintance here.

"Come in."

She probably entered the tidy apartment and followed the woman.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee, tea?" the woman asked. "Please take off your coat and come into the living room."

She obediently followed all the instructions, and, sitting in a huge and incredibly comfortable armchair, said,

"No, thank you. Please don't bother yourself. Since Hubert's not here, perhaps I'll come back another time." I just don't have the phone number and couldn't call to arrange a more detailed appointment. I'm sorry. I don't want to bother you.

"But you're not bothering me," the woman smiled. "What books were they supposed to be? 'Psychology of Emotions', 'Hypnotic Healing'?"

"Yes, I think so," she said, feeling embarrassed. She didn't really know what to say

. "You'll choose what you need in a moment. Please follow me."

Ania obediently walked into the other room. The impressive bookcase took her breath away. The woman quickly pulled out various titles.

"I think that's enough," she said finally, handing the stunned girl five books.

"Of course. Thank you very much.

" "You're welcome. Let's go back to the living room now. I have to ask you something.

" "Okay. Of course," she replied obediently.

Once she was back in the enormous armchair, the woman asked with a slightly mischievous smile.

"When did you meet Hubert?

" "About six weeks ago.

" "Exactly? It's important."

She thought for a moment before managing to sort out all the dates.

"January 18th.

" "That's what I thought.

" "Is it some special date?

" "Very special. Please sit comfortably."

Curious, Ania shifted slightly in her seat and smiled encouragingly at the woman.

"On January 18th, exactly four years ago, Hubert died in a car accident.

" "But that's impossible! I met him." Ania thought the woman was making fun of her. Probably testing her honesty or something.

"Since then, on January 18th to be precise, he's been showing up on a train between Warsaw and Szczecin, trying to convince people to take up psychotherapy. It was his passion. He helped people and was excellent at it. He's looking for his successor. You're the third person. The previous two are already practicing therapy, but clearly not well enough.

" "Are you trying to convince me I spoke with a dead person?"

"Think what you want. I told you the truth, and you have all the rest in your hands. You can borrow as many books as you want. If he chose you, it means you have talent. Don't waste them.

" "But...

" "Don't say anything. Take the books I gave you and go home. Read them, think about them, and try them."

At that moment, the woman stood up. Ania felt she had to leave the apartment. An inner voice told her she had already overstayed her welcome from this unknown woman. At the threshold, she turned and asked,

"Can you tell me how he died?"

"Head-on collision with a drunk driver. He didn't stand a chance."

"Thank you." Ania smiled gently. "I'll become a therapist. I'll do it for him. And I'll come tell you how I'm doing.

" "You'll always be a welcome guest. My son had the ability to get to know people from the inside. I could always trust him. You can't be bad if you came here. And we'll see in a year if you're good enough."

The door closed behind Ania. She was stunned, but at the same time calm and determined. She had finally found her path in life and knew she would be good at it.

A year passed. Ania had become a valued and wonderful therapist. She surpassed those trained in this field. She could open any heart and straighten any path. Word of her abilities spread quickly. Consequently, she had no shortage of patients or work. She felt happy. One January evening, she was sitting engrossed in reading. It was the first free evening in a long time. Suddenly, she felt a cool breeze and a presence in the room. She was now particularly sensitive to all emotions. Her intuition was remarkably developed. She looked around. There was no one there. The ringing of the telephone made her jump. She grabbed the receiver.

"Thank you, Ania. Finally, I can end my wandering between worlds. You're better than me. Congratulations. I knew it. Goodbye.

" "But it's me who's thanking you..."

She wanted to say many more things, but a deafening silence fell on the receiver. "Thank you for believing I'm not evil," she added silently. She surreptitiously glanced at the calendar. It was January 18th.