The doctor paced nervously back and forth in the living room, rubbing his restless hand with all his might across the chin that crowned his mercilessly troubled face. Both parents sat in opposite corners of the living room, impatiently awaiting any verdict, but the words "I don't understand" seemed to be the only ones the doctor ever uttered.
Genowefa nervously intertwined her fingers and, with an impatient gaze full of hope for a speedy rescue, bored ever more holes into the doctor's face. She also looked anxiously at her husband, praying that his desire to heal her son would prevail over his vulgar pride. There seemed to be no chance of that, however. The father was unmoved. He sat there now, waiting for the doctor's first coherent word, just so he could say "goodbye" as quickly as possible.
Time passed deathly slowly…
The silence, filled with the constant "I don't understand," lasted and lasted… and the parents' impatience grew. It grew until it slowly began to transform into a kind of hypnosis, during which its victims completely forget their purpose in being there, and the only feeling that overwhelms them is a powerful awareness of waiting. But for what? What for? If these questions had been asked then, they would have remained unanswered. Therefore, the doctor's sudden sentence: "Your son clearly doesn't want to wake up," sounded like a harsh bolt of lightning striking the quiet cottage somewhere far away, which meant everything to its inhabitants.
"Excuse me, what did you say?"
The mother was already beginning to anticipate the worst, so she cast her imploring gaze at her husband and silently begged him to let him speak.
"I said your son puts himself into this state.
" "What do you mean?" "He's
asleep. Right?
" "Yes, there's no denying it."
"Exactly, but it's not a coma, lethargy, or anything like that. I mean, it's not a medical condition; it's normal sleep." The only problem is that your son doesn't want to wake up. He's chosen to sleep. He sleeps consciously; it's his own decision.
"Yes, it's strange indeed. I've never, but perhaps you, Gienia, have ever encountered something similar, where someone wants to sleep and does it. Truly, doctor, it's a strange case, but isn't it contagious?" As he spoke the last words, Wojciech began to yawn ostentatiously. "
Please, stop mocking me." The husband's stony gaze cut off his wife's further words.
"Yes, I see you don't see the problem. Frankly, neither do I…
" "Well, that's excellent, because it's actually getting late."
The wife was dying of shame, but she didn't know how to salvage the situation, so she just hid her flushed face in her hands. At the last moment, her instinct as a good housewife came to the rescue:
"How much do we owe, doctor?"
"Let's not talk about it for now, only after the next visit..."
"There won't be any next visit. What do you even think you're doing? Go treat the sick, not the healthy.
" "But you're on your own..."
"Not on your own, but we won't settle accounts anyway.
" "What do you mean? Wait a minute."
"What am I paying you for, that you told me what I could have told you? I'm the one who deserves payment. Now get out."
"Why did you do that? What are we going to do now?"
"Don't worry, darling, if he fell asleep on his own, he'll wake up on his own."
But Anatol was sleeping. What's more, his sleep seemed less and less to be merely his own whim. He was feverish, sweating profusely, his skin was starting to turn yellow in places, his eyes were constantly moist, and small lines appeared on his cheeks—troughs where tears ran down the sheets. He ate nothing. The meager bits of food were practically forced into his mouth. He didn't even get up to need help. He didn't move, didn't make a sound (only at night, when they slept in the next room, they sometimes managed to hear soft moans), and his breathing was almost imperceptible. Things were getting worse, and not for a moment did his condition offer any hope of improvement. His mother was losing her mind and blaming everything on his father, who was slowly beginning to feel the burden of guilt growing more and more often. One night he said, "
Listen, why doesn't he want to get up? If he's like that quack doctor said, then Anatol must have a reason for doing so." "
I stopped believing long ago that his will had anything to do with it.
" "Genius, we have to hold on to that thought; it's the only chance."
"There was another chance, but you blew it.
" "Me? You saw for yourself he was an idiot. Anyway, it doesn't matter. Listen to me, we have to make him wake up."
"But how?"
"I don't know, like showing him that the world is beautiful or something, I don't know, we have to think about it…
They decided to stick to that idea, which allowed Genowefa to regain some hope and stop blaming her husband's behavior. But how to go about it? Wait a minute… we have to think everything through from the very beginning… I think the main reason is Zosia…" "
Listen, Wojtek, it's like this: Tolek was always a loner and somehow managed it, but after the move, he completely lost his footing. He created Zosia. He imagined her, went for walks with her, talked to her, wrote himself seductive letters from her—in short, he created a world where he finally felt safe. We came in with our boots on the ground and kicked Zosia out. He imagined her running away, and then she sent him that idiotic, evasive letter, and he just broke down."
"Gienia, I know he's your 'beloved son,' but don't try to defend him. What nonsense is this? You can't possibly hear what you're saying..." "
Listen to me completely; those aren't my words – I went to that doctor and told him everything..."
"Shut up! Don't say anything more to me. I knew from the start that you liked him, you always liked people who had fucking respectability... Jesus, I can't stay here with you anymore..."
And he slammed the door.
What was wrong with him? What had gotten into him? There's no shame in having a depressed son. Gienia didn't know what to do. She was only certain of two things: she didn't regret going to the doctor, and that Wojtek would get drunk at the bar and come back agreeing with her. But what should she do about Anatol? The doctor said the best solution would be to make Tolek clear that he was definitely abandoned by Zosia. Something along the lines of, "It wasn't worth your time, and all that juvenile nonsense." After consulting with the doctor, Genowefa had an idea: she went into Anatol's room and picked up his phone. She wanted to use her son's method, so she could talk to herself:
"Good evening, ma'am, this is Anatol's mother speaking. May I speak to Zosia? You know, Anatol is very ill, he practically doesn't leave bed, but all he talks about is her. I think her coming would do him good... Did she leave? What do you mean? And she didn't tell him anything?... Did she leave a message, right?... Is it over?... Am I with Kornel forever?... Are we living in Paris?... It's terrible, how could she do that? And my son lies here, tormenting himself, wondering if something happened to him... Of course, she hung up. Don't worry, Tolek, she doesn't deserve you."
Only now, already in the corridor, when the door to that terrible room that Anatol's room had become closed, did Genowefa unconsciously uncurl her clenched hands, which she had cut with her own nails. Throughout this entire scene, she was on the verge of sobbing spasms that wanted to overwhelm her every time she looked at her son, who had turned into a plant. A stinking plant. Well, it had worked; now she just had to wait for the results. If only they would come...
She hadn't slept all night. At first, her thoughts were constantly on her son, supporting him with her prayers, then the great loser Wojciech finally crawled in. And he apologized. He apologized and babbled. He babbled and admitted she was right. He admitted she was right and babbled. How ridiculous was he? A moment ago, so proud of himself that he couldn't bear the thought of his son's illness, and now...? A fawning mutt, whining for mercy from his mistress. Well, some people have to get drunk to do something that is beyond their simple souls.
The next day, Genowefa told Wojtek about the idea she and the doctor had come up with and that he was now waiting for some results. Her husband was very excited, praised the idea, surprised he hadn't thought of it himself, and said,
"This doctor is a smart man."
And with a reassuring gesture, he told Gienia to stay in bed while he went to check on things. The room looked and smelled the same as before, but there was something intangible in the air, some element of change. One could say that it wasn't in the smell itself, which was still repulsively stinking (the stench intensified with the thought that it was their son's), but in the prevailing mood, that a drop of normalcy had appeared. It was perceptible despite its tiny size, because it was the last thing anyone would expect. And yet. Yet it was there, inspiring hope in everyone who entered, and the ultimate proof of its presence was the letter lying on the floor, which her father was now bending down to pick up.
"It's over, Tolek.
Everything's over. Nothing is as it used to be.
Tolek...
I know you'll understand this, because there's so much of me in you, and that's why I know what's happening to you. I suffer terribly because you're lying there rotting... Yes, I know everything, and I know it's my fault, but you have to believe me, I couldn't have done it any other way. And don't believe anyone who says otherwise. I didn't do it of my own free will, but I became a slave to certain decisions for which I'm not even worthy of apologizing to you.
I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
and I will never stop...
but in the situation that has arisen, the only possible solution is amnesia...
...I have to forget all this so I can live, and I ask you, Tolek, to do the same.
Do you hear me?
Forget... please... stop remembering and forgive...
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