Helena smiled at David.
"It's beautiful!" How did Santa know I wanted a teddy bear!? Hania's voice was filled with delight.
"Santa knows everything, honey."
"Do you know what I think?" Hania asked in a whisper.
"What's that, honey?" Helena asked. "
I think Daddy told him how I prayed to him."
Helena's face grew sad. Her beautiful, kind face...
David felt uneasy, so he focused all his attention on "Silent Night" filtering through the radio. "
Perhaps, honey," she replied in a different voice. "So why don't you go play with your new presents, honey, and we'll unwrap ours?"
Hania nodded and groped her way to the sofa, clutching tightly the teddy bear and the new doll, which she had immediately named "New Cinderella" after unwrapping. "
Maybe I'll start," Helena cleared her throat awkwardly, looking at him from under her long lashes. "
Sure," he smiled, nodding encouragingly. "Unwrap first."
The scent of her perfume seemed to surround him from all sides. He savored it and savored it.
She was unwrapping the gift, and he looked at her small hands, her concentrated expression, and the wayward pom-pom falling across her forehead. She seemed so vulnerable, so lonely, and so beautiful in her red evening gown. He longed to hug her, but instead hid his hands under the table.
"Oh my God!" she exclaimed with delight, looking into his eyes. "What a beautiful shawl!" "
Do you like it?" He felt his face flush red. "I couldn't decide on a color, but you like red, so I chose this one. And that woman from the store said that..."
He stopped as she brushed her lips against his cheek. The scent of cherry perfume intensified.
"Thank you," she smiled broadly, draping the shawl over her shoulders.
"You're welcome," he replied stiffly.
"Are you blushing, David?" she joked, pushing his gift toward him. "Your turn."
David felt his head burn. Unable to contain his embarrassment, he grabbed the gift too quickly and began to unwrap it hastily. Inside was a Nora Jones CD.
"Thank you," he whispered in a choked voice. "Thank you, Helena."
"I know you like it. I can still hear it wailing through the wall." She laughed, watching his growing confusion. "Is something wrong? Have you got this one yet? I thought it was the newest..."
"No, the gift is wonderful, thank you...
" "But?
" "But... I haven't felt happy in so long..." he paused, biting his lip. "I haven't felt happy in so long... It's like I'm suffocating with an overload of emotions I can't name... Do you understand?"
Helena nodded and tightened her fingers around his hand.
"Dawid, you can name them, but there's one problem... You're afraid of them."
David pulled his hand from her gentle grip and glanced away.
"Maybe... Does it matter?"
"I don't know." You tell me - Helena leaned back against the back of the chair.
She took a sip of wine. In the background, a singer sang "Little Jesus" with an angelic voice, and Dawid immediately thought Helena had that voice too. When she spoke, when she whispered, when she sang while frying pancakes...
He glanced at Hania, playing with her toys. The girl was singing loudly along with the radio, hugging New Cinderella and her teddy bear to her chest.
"Please, Helena... It's not what you think, you don't understand anything."
"Forgive me, but if anyone understands you, it's me," she said, peering into her glass. "Will you pour me another glass?"
He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing. He reached across the table for the bottle and poured her half a glass.
"You're not the only one suffering, Dawid. You're not the only one afraid. You're not the only one who has been befallen by the evil of this world, and you're not the only one who must sooner or later face the memories and their former lives."
"Stop, you don't know what you're saying..." he whispered, feeling anger rising.
He didn't want to be angry. Not now, not here, and God... Not at her!
He looked out the window. White always soothed him. He wanted it to soothe him this time too. Space. White. WHITE.
"Maybe you just think I don't know," Helena continued, her voice sounding increasingly alien. "It's a shame you haven't trusted me enough yet to talk about your past. You're afraid of me. You're afraid of how I'll react if you tell me your secret... And most of all, you're afraid of yourself, David. You don't even know how much you're hurting me by treating me like a stranger. And I'm not a stranger, David. I'm not like everyone you've ever met, and I'm so sorry you haven't realized that yet..."
"Stop, please," he whispered helplessly.
He felt something inside him break. Memories, like intruders, one by one, began to break into his mind and heart. How could he deceive himself so? How could he think he had become nothing more than David, the grocery store worker? God! He was a ruined wreck, feeding on the illusion of a reality he himself had created. Helena was right. He couldn't run away from the past and from who he was forever. And yet he was nothing more than...
A MURDERER.
"God..." He leaned his elbows on the table and dug his fingers into his hair. "God... God... God..."
Helena stopped speaking. She sat staring into her glass of wine.
"You don't understand anything, Helena... I didn't tell you anything about myself because..." he broke off, taking a deep breath to control the tremor in his voice. "Jesus..."
He began nervously running his fingers through his hair. His breathing became faster and faster, more uneven.
"David. I know."
He didn't look at her.
He was drowning.
"Dawid, look at me. David."
He looked at her with a vacant gaze. Her face lost its expression, blurred.
"I know you were in prison. I know what you did your time for...
" Her whisper was louder than a scream.
"Calm down, please," she whispered gently.
That scream again.
"I know you regret it. I know you feel lost, that it took you so long to regain your balance after returning from prison, but...
" "You don't know anything... Jesus, you don't know anything," he rasped, looking at her with the eyes of a hunted animal. "Do you know why it took me so long to regain my balance? Do you know?"
Helena remained silent.
Sadness was etched in her eyes.
"You have her eyes..." he whispered in a choked voice, observing her confusion closely. "You have Joanna's eyes... My wife's eyes... Her..."
He felt a familiar, hated force reaching for his throat with invisible hands. He choked.
"God... I loved her so much." His voice caught in his throat, and a violent shiver shook his body.
Helena stared at him with an unreadable gaze.
"Helena... At first, I was so afraid to look at you, to talk to you... I wanted to bury my memories along with my soul, but I met you... And you wouldn't let me forget, because every time I looked at you, I saw her. God, and I didn't want to suffer anymore. I had to start living again, but then I thought appearances would be enough... Fictitious happiness, a fictitious life, and a fictitious me... You and Hania made me understand that happiness can't be built without people. Without warmth, without a smile, without closeness...
" "And without trust?" Irony echoed in her voice.
"Don't be cruel... I..." he broke off, unsure of what to say. But after a moment, he added in a hushed voice, "I'm sorry."
Helena's face twisted with pain, and tears filled her eyes.
"I am not who you think. I am not the David you know. I am a fiction." I'm the image you want to see and love.
Helena shook her head.
"Stop it, Dawid. I know the real David, and I loved him like that.
" "You stop it... Listen to me," he grabbed her hand. "Do you know how years spent in prison can change a person? Do you know what it's like to wake up every morning with a feeling of panic crushing your lungs and forcing you to breathe? Do you know what it's like to be afraid to trust people, afraid to open your heart to them? God, and constantly have that cursed knowledge that you could... lose them..."
He broke off, his voice failing him. He opened his mouth to take a breath, but instead, only a hollow groan emerged.
"I killed a man..." he sobbed helplessly, burying his face in his hands again. "Yes, you're right. I did, and I regret it. I regret it so much, but I regret Joanna even more... I didn't want to tell you because I was afraid that, like everyone else, you would turn your back on me. I was afraid that God had allowed me to meet you and then would try to take you away from me, by some damned divine trick... That's why... That's why I didn't say anything. That's why I played along. That's why..."
"Dawid, it's okay..." Her voice came to him like solace.
He took his hands away from his face and looked at her with tearful eyes.
He took her hand in his. They were so cold and small...
When he spoke again, his voice was devoid of emotion:
"I called the police, but I didn't wait for them to arrive... I followed him to the park... When I caught him, there was still blood on the knife... Her blood, Helena. He was high, young, and stupid, and I was possessed." Obsessed with lust, madness, pain, and hatred. Do you know what hatred tastes like? God, I've known it. I fed on it that afternoon and drank from its darkest source... I called on God, but he wasn't there, so I took that same knife from the kid and cursed the whole world. I hated. Jesus, I hated everyone back then..."
His voice caught in his throat for a moment.
A large tear rolled down Helena's cheek.
"My Joanna was a high school teacher. Some drugged-up kid caught us in broad daylight. Helena, in broad daylight! He stabbed her in the heart, and she died in my arms. I held her head, talked to her, rocked her in my arms, and the blood flowed steadily from her heart. I knelt in that damned puddle, screaming like a madman. I felt trapped. I didn't want to know what would happen when the police arrived. I ran after him. The park was almost empty... It was just him and me... A possessed animal and its torturer. I dealt blow after blow and cried like a child. I wanted him to feel pain, to whimper, to beg for mercy, and for the last thing his numb eyes would see to be my hatred. I wanted relief, but it never came, Helena.
He wiped his wet cheeks.
"Never."
Helena hid her face in her hands. Tears dripped from her chin, leaving wet stains on the holiday tablecloth.
"I'm sorry, Dawid... I didn't want it all to come back like this... I
'm sorry..." "You're welcome. I should be thanking you... You and Hania, because thanks to you, I understood so much and learned so much..."
She looked at him with her beautiful eyes. Brown, gentle, and kind eyes...
"I learned to love again," he added, his voice trembling.
Helena's eyes smiled through her tears. Wiping her cheeks, she rose from the table without a word. She went to the bookshelf and took down a book covered—like several others—with white paper. She also reached for a wrapped package and walked over to him, placing it on his lap.
"Open, this is the second gift from me..."
She watched his fingers timidly trace the shape of the gift.
"Open..."
He opened it and froze.
"Paper..." he whispered to himself, stroking the snow-white pages wrapped in clear foil.
"Yes..." she said with a faint smile. "I think if you want to return to life and completely expel your grief, you also have to return to writing. It was a part of you and still is. You can't lie to yourself that it isn't."
He looked at her, as if to make sure she was telling the truth. In answer to his silent question, she handed him the book. He removed the white paper cover.
"'Flame'... 'Dawid Pietraszuk'" he read aloud the title and author. "
I have more, all the ones with white covers are yours..."
He opened the first page and read the dedication in the middle of the page:
"To my beloved wife - the meaning of my life."
"Can you trust me now?" Helena smiled warmly. "You won't lose us by opening your heart to us. Just let us, and the grief will go away on its own..."
He gazed at her hungrily. He wanted this moment to last forever. He longed to drown in it with her. She stood before him in her beautiful dress, Santa hat, and Easter slippers, and he wanted nothing more than to hug her tightly.
And finally, he did.
David
straightened up over his typewriter and looked at the hamster cage on the windowsill. Dawid was racing like crazy in his new red spinning wheel, and Norah Jones was singing "Sunrise" in his ear.
He smiled, because all he needed for complete happiness was the title. He glanced quickly out the window, where Hania and Helena were rolling a large snowball, probably the head of a snowman.
He knew.
He looked at the paper again and typed quickly.
"What is happiness, David..." he whispered aloud.
He also wrote a dedication in the center of the new page. After a moment, he took the page from the typewriter and read it aloud, his voice full of emotion:
"For Helena and Hania, thanks to whom I have something to live for again. "
His gaze, filled with happiness, wandered out the window again. A laughing Hania sat in deep snow, and Helena wrestled with a giant ball.
He rose from his chair, grabbed his sweater, and ran out of the apartment to help her secure the snowman's head.
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