Maria walked slowly up the dirty stairs. With each passing moment, the handles of the bags dug deeper into her hands. With each step, her breathing became heavier. Only two more floors. She instinctively read the signs on her neighbors' doors. The Sadowskis. The Jabłońskis. The Wojaks. Sometimes she dreamed of those signs. Those names. Those doors.
She entered the apartment. The children joyfully threw themselves into the stuffed bags. Potatoes. Beets. Flour. This wasn't what they were looking for. Monika's little hands finally found a chocolate dessert. The children's eyes burst into laughter. They didn't ask why only one. They quickly settled down at the long kitchen counter. Hubert, the eldest, quickly opened the treat. Piotrek fidgeted impatiently. First Monika, because he was the youngest. Then Piotrek. Maria watched him as he handed the dessert to Hubert. She saw the regret in his little eyes. Hubert scooped only a little onto his spoon and immediately handed the box to Monika. For a moment, Maria felt a tremendous weight. Hubert was 12 years old and understood everything. This understanding terrified her. The now empty box finally landed in Monika's hands. She meticulously licked away the last remnants of joy.
Maria often dreamed of a refrigerator full of chocolate desserts. Children would approach her, and she would carelessly hand them out. Please, please. Eat, children. Maria was ashamed of these dreams. She had never told anyone about them.
She was forty-two years old. She worked at a large processing plant. She stood by the conveyor belt. She sorted. It was her first and only job. She used to work on a farm. Her husband, Józef, is unemployed. He worked as a welder at the Great Factory. Things were good back then. The Great Factory produced standards. Sometimes Important People would come. Józek was even a Leader. And then, for reasons Maria couldn't understand, the Great Factory ceased to exist. Józek still got up at five, but instead of going to work, he paced around the apartment. Now he rarely walks. He mostly lies on the couch and watches TV. Or sleeps. He used to drink beer. But back then, he was still on benefits. He never gave Maria all his money. He always kept something. Just for himself.
Tonight, Maria put the kids to bed early. On Fridays, she always watches "Beautiful Series." First, she'll take a bath, then settle down in front of the TV. It's her time. Józek knows this. In the bathroom, Maria turns on the water and stands naked in front of the mirror. The mirror is small, so she sees only a small part of herself. Her face, her cleavage, her breasts. She's always dreamed of a large mirror. The kind people have in Elegant Homes. From floor to ceiling. Despite the roar of the water, she can hear the children giggling. She knows they enjoy the evenings. Their shared room becomes a real joy then. They jump from mattress to mattress. They toss pillows, swap duvets. Maria walks to the mirror to see a larger part of herself. She's slim. She touches her flat stomach. She glances at her hips. Her pale body seems oblivious to having given birth to three children. For a moment, Maria is surprised. Pleasantly surprised. Her body mocks all the expensive lotions and nourishing creams. It copes perfectly without their help. Maria climbs into the bathtub. Warm water floods her body pleasantly. Yes. That's enough for her. A bath once a week. A quick shower every day. Maria knows she has to think this way. She has to believe the lies she's been told. They're not lies. She really doesn't like expensive cosmetics. She doesn't like sitting in the tub. She has to quickly think of something else, something pleasant. But nothing comes to mind. Suddenly, a wave of anxiety washes over her. Her period. She should be on her period by now. She starts counting nervously. Seven, eight, nine. No, no. She has to look at the calendar in the kitchen. She steps out of the tub, dripping wet. She grabs a towel and wraps it around herself carelessly. She walks into the kitchen, leaving dark footprints on the hallway carpet. The cold kitchen floor. Which one? No. Something's wrong here. She must have made a mistake. She feels herself trembling. Maryśka, it's starting! It's Józek's voice. Wait a minute! He shouts back, and the towel slides to the floor. Maria wraps her arms around herself and looks at the calendar. One, two, three... thirty-eight. She counts again. Slowly, calm down, she speaks quietly.
Children. She always wanted two children. As a young girl, she was very shy. Her first boyfriend was Józek. They met when she was twenty-three. They lived in the same village. They were religious. After two years of dating, they married. And then Maria became a woman. She was sure her belly would soon grow and she would give birth to her first child. But it didn't grow. Not after the first time, not after the tenth time. She went to the doctor. Everything was fine, all she was told was, "Just keep trying, and it should work." So they tried.
They got an apartment in the Big City. They moved. After five years, Maria became pregnant. She was overjoyed. Józek was happy too. They had jobs and a two-room apartment. The only thing missing was a child.
Hubert was born. Józek lost his job. It wasn't so bad, because he was receiving benefits. When Hubert was three, Maria became pregnant again. She was surprised. She thought Hubert was a gift from God, the fruit of answered prayers. And then suddenly, she was pregnant. She wasn't asking God for a child anymore. Fortunately, in the basement, there was a stroller and bags stuffed with baby clothes. Józek lost his benefits. Piotrek was born. When Maria returned to work from maternity leave, Very Bad Things began to happen at the Large Processing Plant. A Modern Machine was purchased. There were whispers of layoffs. Four of Maria's friends lost their jobs. Maria couldn't sleep at night. And when she finally fell asleep, she dreamed of the Large Processing Plant and more Modern Machines.
After each paycheck, Maria meticulously divided the money into piles: rent here. Gas and electricity here. Water here. Food there. She was completely alone. Józek lived in his own world. The world of TV, remote, and couch. He barely left the house. They hadn't spoken in ages. What was there to talk about? That Hubert needed to buy shoes again? That preschool prices had gone up? That Maria would get her salary later this month?
Sometimes, when she lay in bed next to Józek, he would put his hand on her hip and stroke her for a moment. It was the only tenderness she deserved. And then Józek would lift her shirt and thrust into her. Everything happened so quickly that Maria didn't even have time to plan tomorrow's dinner. Józek would roll over and fall asleep, and she would think of all those beautiful women. From the Beautiful Series. From magazine covers. From the big ads around town.
She discovered she was pregnant again. She cried. God was mocking her vilely. "I don't want children anymore!" she screamed in her mind. "Why did you do this to me?! I prayed for a job for Józek! I prayed for a large processing plant! Maybe now you'll tell me how I'll live?! Maybe you'll drop some money from heaven?! And Maria was offended by God.
She went to the doctor. Eight weeks, she heard. Doctor... or... because I... I'd like to... I mean... I don't want to... The doctor looked at her and whispered a Very Large Amount. Maria couldn't afford it. Tough luck, she thought. It'll work out somehow. There'll be enough love for a third child. Money's worse.
And so, six years ago, Monika was born.
Maria sat naked on a kitchen chair. Maryśka! Józek again. Already! She shouted back. She'd completely lost all interest in watching Beautiful Series. She had to think of something. She wouldn't go to the doctor. Tomorrow she'd buy the Local Newspaper and call him. Or not. Better ask Teresa, her colleague. She'd recently told her about a friend who had gotten rid of the problem effectively and cheaply. She slowly rose from the chair and shuffled to the bathroom. She threw on a robe and sat in the armchair in front of the television.
She inserted a coin into the phone. She dialed the number. Hello? The deep voice of an elderly woman. Good morning. I got Teresa's number. I have a problem... We'll fix it, sweetie, she heard in response. And then the conversation flowed smoothly. The woman gave her a Very Affordable Price. They arranged to meet the next day. (Oh, sweetie, as soon as possible, as soon as possible, or I won't be able to help later.) Address. Time. Goodbye.
Now Maria had to organize everything quickly. She'd get two days of care at work. At home, she'd say she was going for a procedure. Józek certainly wouldn't ask any questions. Everything was planned. Maria smiled to herself. For the first time in several days,
she found the address without any problems. A large, gray house. She stopped before the narrow gate. She pressed the intercom button. A dull buzz. She pushed the gate open. A cobblestone path led to the back of the house. She walked hesitantly. A brown door. No bell. She knocked. A woman opened the door. Good morning, said Maria. Good morning, sweetie. Maria recognized the voice immediately. They walked down a long corridor. In semi-darkness. Maria began to feel scared. Calm, sweetie, don't be afraid, said the woman, reading her thoughts. A little pain and it's over.
They entered a bright room resembling a gynecologist's office. "So let's get to work," said the woman. "Undress and jump in." Maria slowly unbuttoned her skirt. Meanwhile, the woman pulled out a needle, a syringe, and an ampoule of fluid. "It's anesthesia," she said, seeing Maria's questioning look. "We don't have an anesthesiologist," she added jokingly.
As Maria lay half-naked in the chair, the woman approached, pulled up the sleeve of her blouse, carefully inserted the needle, and administered the substance. "Don't be afraid, sweetie. I've been a nurse my whole life, and for the last ten years, a midwife. But times are tough." You needed some retraining… Her light tone amused Maria. She felt a moment of relaxation and peace. This must be the medicine, she thought. The woman then placed a small screen at Maria's chest level. It's best not to see too much, sweetie… Maria saw only the green curtain and the white ceiling. If it hurts too much, clench it between your teeth, the woman said, and handed Maria a thick white towel. It smelled of starch.
The clang of metal tools. Something cold pressed against her thigh. A large metal object penetrated her. Excruciating pain. Calm, calm, the woman muttered. Maria screamed. Sweetie, a towel in her teeth, heard the nervous warning. The pain intensified. Maria began to cry. Sob. Terrifying pain. She fainted, but the pain immediately brought her back to consciousness. Something was tearing her apart, burning. I can't do this... Okay, okay... the woman muttered. Maria fainted again. When she opened her eyes, the woman was pacing around the room. "Oh, there you are," she said, looking at Maria. "It's all over. You should be fine. Lie down for a while. I gave you a very strong painkiller. I'll give you another injection soon... The bleeding will last for several days. However, if it gets worse or you develop a fever, you must see a doctor. Of course, you've never met me before..."
Maria was very weak. The woman came over and helped her stand. Maria howled in pain. A fire burned inside her. She took a step. Then another. And another. She could do it. She had to. She went to the couch to grab her purse. The woman's expectant gaze. Yes, yes. Maria paid the Very Affordable Price and left, happily gulping in the fresh air.
She should have been fine, but she wasn't. At home, she had developed a very high fever. Józek tottered helplessly around the couch where she lay. Maryśka... I'll call an ambulance... No, Józek! No! Please, don't call! It'll pass, you'll see... Tomorrow will be fine... Just don't call anyone... She looked at the carpet, where the children sat quietly. Their large eyes, full of incomprehension and fear. She looked and looked, but they were nothing but huge, frightened eyes. And then thick, rusty bars grew between her and the children. So thick, she couldn't even get her thin hand through them to touch her children. She sat in the filthy cell, terrified. The children's silhouettes faded, and she shivered on the concrete floor.
The morning sun's rays penetrated every corner of the room. She opened her eyes. Józek immediately rose from his chair. "Maryśka, how are you? Are you okay, Józek, okay... You fell asleep..." He touched her forehead. "You still have a fever. We have to go to the doctor." No, Józek! No! Maryśka, what are you doing? Are you crazy? And what was she supposed to tell him? That she wasn't crazy? That she simply didn't want to go to prison? That she didn't want to be tried and convicted? That abortion was a criminal offense? She finally said weakly: "Okay... We'll go..."
She hesitantly entered the office. Behind the desk sat a strangely familiar doctor. Oh, it's that one... Maria remembered. The same one she'd seen a few years ago... the one with the Very Large Amount... Can you hear me? The doctor's indifferent voice. I... she began, but the words rushed out too quickly, stuck in the crowd. I... she repeated weakly, and burst into tears. Out of helplessness, out of fear, standing just by the door. The doctor's mechanical gaze switched to his human version. Please calm down, he said softly. Maria wiped her tears with the back of her hand, suddenly frightened by her own courage. Where had she found the courage to stand before this man like a bare stump of emotion? Please sit down... A friendly, warm voice. Maria sat down and, looking at the toes of her shoes, recited: I had an abortion. The day before yesterday. I have very heavy bleeding. A high fever. I have three children. I can't go to prison. Please help me.
Mrs. Maria...ska? the doctor asked, reading her data from the chart on the desk. "Yes," she replied, and waited. Now her fate, the lives of her children, her future—everything was in his hands. He was God. He could imprison her. He could free her. Please prepare for the examination, she heard.
After a few minutes, as he put away the cold instruments, he said
, "You may get dressed. Please lie down on the couch. You must be taken to the hospital immediately.
" "Doctor..." whispered Maria pleadingly
, "Don't be afraid..."
He sat at the desk and began writing. A few minutes passed, and he wrote and wrote. She wasn't afraid; she felt he wouldn't betray her. Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number. "Nurse, please call an ambulance immediately." He hung up and turned to Maria
, "Don't be nervous. Everything will be alright.
" "Thank you..." she whispered.
God had shown himself merciful and gracious.
The man reached for the phone again. He was calling the hospital where she would soon be. He was talking to a doctor. He gave her his contact information, but Maria understood little of the rest of the conversation. He used words she didn't know. She only knew he'd invented a complicated medical history for her, with the mysterious "endometrium" playing a central role.
Two men entered and helped her sit on a wheelchair. The doctor approached her and repeated, "Everything will be fine..." She grabbed his hand and squeezed it tightly for half a second. He returned the hug.
At the hospital, they informed her that an infection had set in and that she would need another hysterectomy. She listened dispassionately. "It doesn't matter to me," she replied thoughtfully. "Do whatever you need to do, I just want to go home to my children." She smiled. Prison was now just a distant fear from the past.
When she woke up from the anesthesia, several doctors were standing over her. They had serious expressions, which made Maria laugh. "Is something wrong?" she asked, feeling she should. She didn't really care. She wanted to finally go home. There were some complications during the procedure… one of the doctors began and spoke for several minutes. Maria wasn't listening. She waited patiently for him to finish. Finally, the doctor took a deep breath and quickly uttered his final sentence.
"Unfortunately, you won't be able to have any more children.
" "And when can I go home?
" "I think the day after tomorrow.
" "Thank you."
The doctors left. Maria was happy.
On Thursday, she was discharged from the hospital at nine-thirty. Józek was supposed to pick her up at ten. She had some time, so she headed toward the bus stop to meet him. The world was beautiful. A warm breeze caressed her hair. "Unfortunately, you won't be able to have any more children." The doctor's words came back like soothing music. She had completely outsmarted God. She looked up into the clouds and cast a triumphant glance somewhere toward the divine dwelling.
Familiar figures appeared on the horizon. Children ran toward her, shouting joyfully, "Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!" The wind caught their cries and blew a warm breath of love over Mary.
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