Was that it?! That was all she could think. She stood with her back to the kitchen, in the corner, wedged between the refrigerator and the wall, her dress hiked up, her panties bare, her bra on one breast. The pain she felt made her dizzy. And he continued to struggle after her, panting faster and faster, ignoring the pained expression on Veronica's face. After a moment, he arched his back, holding his breath, and she felt a warmth spreading inside her. But it wasn't pleasant; that warmth filled her with disgust. At that moment, she was afraid to even think freely. Afraid of feeling that terrible pain. She had never felt so fed up with anything, and she couldn't remember ever wanting anything more than to turn back time. She closed her eyes and felt two tears prick at her eyelids, streaming down her flushed cheeks. He wasn't in a hurry; he was breathing heavily now, his head resting on her shoulder. He hadn't kissed her at all. She didn't remember kissing her today. For a moment, she remembered the first time they'd kissed. It was when they'd gone for a walk on the Sopot pier, the reddish glow of the setting sun reflected in his eyes. It was such a delicate kiss. One might think—banal, the pier, the sunset—but Weronika felt special, and nothing was banal to her. It felt like every second lasted an eternity.
Slowly, the music from the next room and the shouts of the partying began to reach them. He seemed to be coming to his senses too, feeling uneasy. He slowly pulled out of her and pulled on his pants. And she was afraid to turn around. She stood there with her head bowed, and she began to feel like she'd lost everything. Above all, her self-respect, her faith in love, that such a thing even existed, and that she would find it someday. She didn't even think about him, ashamed to even turn and look him in the eye; she felt that what had connected them before was one big lie. She began to wonder what she could have done to avoid it all, but she stopped when she realized that nothing would ever come back. Was there still a chance she'd meet someone she loved, someone she could trust? Besides, what would her relationship be like now, what would she tell him that she'd lost her virginity in a dark kitchen at two in the morning, at a friend's party with a guy she'd known for a month? Would anyone ever respect her after such a confession? She hoped it would pass, that one day things would start to look different. It probably would, but knowing herself, she also knew she would always remember this moment. For the rest of her life. It would always hurt, and she would always wish she could undo it. She heard the door open, the music suddenly began to boom. He didn't even wait for her, because why would he? He got what he wanted, what he had to strive for all month, but it was worth it. The long weekends, the evenings, the walks, the long nights—now there would be something to remember, something to tell friends.
"He was somewhere when you were gone," she heard.
He spoke in a whisper, and then the muffled giggles of his friends echoed. She felt an invisible knot tighten around her throat and she began to sob, feeling herself slowly losing control. Her hands began to shake, tears streamed down her cheeks, and the sobbing grew louder. She knew she couldn't stay there. She turned around, found her panties under the table, and put them on. She listened intently. There was no one behind the door; they must have gone somewhere else to hear the details in peace. She slowly opened the door and prayed that no one would notice her. She just had to cross the hallway unnoticed and escape the house via the veranda. The hallway was empty. She opened the glass porch door and was about to run down the steps when she saw someone sitting downstairs. At that moment, he turned around. It was Marcin. He only smiled sadly at her. Now she remembered that look. She remembered how he always looked at her that way, even an hour ago, when she was still cheerful and laughing, staggering toward her kitchen. He looked at her just as he did now and went outside. They had never spoken, even though they saw each other often. He probably knew perfectly well what had happened. He turned his head away from her and reached for a beer. She ran past him down the wooden porch steps, around the house, and found herself on the street.
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