5

ZOSIA

The End"

Anatol read it and slowly began to calm down. Finally, the real Zosia returned: passionate, romantic, poetic, sensitive, beautiful, sad, suffering. A lonely part of God. And she would be with him until the end, even though she forgot, because it wasn't her fault. She loves me. I love her. That's the most important thing; if that's the case, we might never see each other again and nothing will happen. I no longer suffer senselessly with the suffering of a rejected lover, but we both suffer with a fully justified suffering that unites us despite these disgusting kilometers. This is the mutual suffering of lovers separated by a fateful fate. This is the most noble and powerful suffering at once. Yes, for such suffering I can go on living. But he hesitated a little longer before opening his eyes for good. His eyelids had already grown over with a heavy film of impotence, his body had sunk into a blissful oblivion of basic functions, his consciousness… His consciousness was still pondering the difference between different kinds of suffering. But the decision seemed already made, and the return to life inevitable. Forget, don't remember, stop remembering, forget, forget, forget, forget, forget, forget. No! Go away! That's right, I won't forget! Never! I'll remember and think about it every minute of my life! On purpose! Let them see! Let them look at the face of someone destroyed by love and let them cry. Let them cry! Yes, let them cry! They'll never experience what I experienced. Never. Not even a poor substitute. What can they possibly experience in their messed-up lives? Little brats! All they can do is pity me. Shitty peasants! Rabble! They'll never understand me. I can't forget, and neither will she. Ha, of course she won't forget, even if she tried with all her might—she just can't. She'll carry me in her heart until she's out of breath, and she'll suffer. Until finally he can't take it anymore and either kill himself or come here... and put an end to our suffering. Then the time will come for joy. But not the joy of the rabble, of this riffraff, but God's joy, an eternal state of bliss untainted by the need to exist...

He jumped out of bed with an exceptionally violent movement and observed with some surprise that his body had lost none of its fitness in all this time and was still subject to his commands.

"Is there any breakfast?" he asked, entering his parents' room, who had been surprised just as they were reading a letter found in their son's room.

"Son, finally..."

"What are you doing with this letter? Give it back. Who gave you permission? For what reason? Jeez, you can't be trusted at all...!!!!!..."

The door slams. And Anatol is locked in his own room again. What bastards. What fucking bastards.

A rather unfortunate start to his new life, but actually a helpful one, as it brought a significant dose of renewed energy. With this energy, Anatol began going for walks in the park. He now wandered alone along the paths he had previously explored with Zosia. Quiet, hunched, his gaze fixed on the path—absentminded. And his entire head was filled with Zosia. Indeed, he looked as if he were drunk, yet at the same time, he seemed remarkably sober. He saw nothing. No people—they weren't worthy of his gaze, but they saw him. They watched him more and more closely. He was already known in the park and given a wide berth, not only to avoid another collision, which made no impression on him, but primarily because of his otherness, which must have aroused fear and anxiety. But he didn't notice them, just as he didn't notice anything else. He only glanced up occasionally when he saw Zosia climbing the stairs, pushing a stroller, throwing a stick to the dog, or simply sitting on a bench. Yes, then he would look, smile, and move joyfully toward her. But it always turned out to be a different woman, one who had her movements, her face, her voice, or even a small piece of clothing. Truth be told, they all looked a bit like Zosia. All except for the ones whose hideousness was too obvious.

So Anatol began a new life in Radom. School started, he had to go to classes—of course, he had a class he hated with all his might—and engage in ordinary, disgustingly boring activities, which, however, no longer bothered him because he knew how to defend himself against them with his own suffering. Normality no longer killed him; it was he who killed normality with his suffering.

He had become completely isolated.

Nothing concerned him.

He was the master, and in other people's eyes he saw only a carefully concealed but profound admiration for him. Everyone seemed to be telling him: Don't worry, she'll come back to you. And then he thought: Yes, I know that perfectly well. And he smiled indulgently.

He lived and waited. And suffered.

Zosia…

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the man who had just bumped into Anatol during his daily hard labor walk smoothed over the situation. Of course, he received no reaction; he could only watch the retreating back of the hunched figure, which seemed utterly at odds with anything the stranger could think of. And yet he continued to think, for something began to dawn on him and disturb his consciousness. Without thinking at all about what he was doing, he began to follow this ghostly figure, his thoughts sinking deeper and deeper into the distant past of Szczecin…

Anatol felt a hand on his shoulder… Zosia…? And who else could it be…

"Zosia..." A disgusting male mug appeared before his eyes. Horrible. But what was disturbing about it all was that Anatol couldn't look away from that mug, because it caused his mind to wander naturally into the past, where perhaps he had seen that mug before. It was a much more distant past than the one Zosia remembered, much more distant. Szczecin. A long time ago... Elementary school... carefree... mischief... happiness... trips...

"Andrzej?

" "Tolek!!!!!, what a meeting.

" "What... what are you... doing here, in Radom?"

"Jesus, man, I live here, fuck. Come to the bench."

They sat on the bench and said nothing for a moment, just staring at those new facial features, which were once familiar to him, but now had faded so much, or had simply changed... Andrzej lit a cigarette and offered it to Tolek.

"No, what are you doing?"

"Still the same prude?"

"What prude…

" "Okay, okay, but what are you doing here?

" "Me? What do you mean? I live here."

"Fuck, impossible, you moved to Radom? To this shithole?

" "Shit's the same everywhere.

" "Yeah, my little poet, where do you live?"

"On Szewska Street, that's…" "

Fuck, Tolek, impossible, I live on Szewska Street too. Fuck, man, we're fucking neighbors."

Tolek couldn't answer because it had been a long time since he'd engaged in any kind of conversation and was a bit shocked at the amount of words being said.

"No shit, today I'll introduce you to my gang.

" "What gang?

" "Oh fuck, you'll see, we meet at Platan every day and drink, maybe some stuff… generally boring, but you know, it's actually fucking awesome."

He tapped Tolek on the shoulder when he saw his strange expression.

"Don't you fucking worry. I'll pick you up at 8:00 PM and we'll go together. They'll like you right away; you're definitely a talented guy. So, where exactly do you live?"

-67/8 – He was too taken aback by this flurry of events to object, or do anything other than answer. In reality, he didn't want to answer, he didn't want to talk to him at all, let him get the hell away from me, but what can you do when your only weapon stops working? Andrzej seemed completely oblivious to his suffering.

"Oh, cool, we'll probably fuck again today." He patted him on the shoulder again, which Tolek found an exceptionally disgusting gesture, and left him with his own thoughts. And they were racing. Anatole couldn't sit with them any longer; there were too many of them for him to understand anything. He stood up suddenly and abruptly, something he hadn't done in a long time, and just as suddenly he started toward the house, but no longer in pain, no longer leaning forward, no longer blind, but now seeing everything and everyone exceptionally clearly, and nothing had aroused his earlier disgust. It all seemed so normal to him. Only he was strange, out of place. What was I doing here, what was I doing here with him? What was I thinking? Anatol didn't know what he was thinking or what was happening to him. He just instinctively headed home, toward his room, toward his record collection, toward the oasis that would absorb the anxiety caused by today's conversation.

The Butthole Surfers.

They can make fun of everything that happened. And not just today. It immediately felt better, and even, for a split second, a fleeting smile appeared. No, that's impossible. Oh, that lyric from the beginning of the album again:

"-Daddy?!

-Yes, son?

-What does 'regret' mean?

-Well son, a funny thing about 'regret' is that it's better to regret something you have done than to regret something you haven't done.

And by the way, if you see your mom this weekend, be sure and tell her: SATAN SATAN SATAN..."

And now those heavy, mocking guitars. Perhaps it was those words, or maybe the guitars—who knows what had such an impact on Anatol that he decided to accept the challenge. Fine, I'll go there, at most just once, but I will, what do I have to lose after all?

Even though he was mortally afraid.

"Mom, I met Andrzej today..."

But the closer it got to 8 p.m., the more Tolek's spirits turned to fear. Panic-like fear, sapping all his strength and robbing him of the last shreds of his will, which had languished somewhere in his stomach. Even the music couldn't save him anymore, because he didn't have the strength to turn it on. He lay on his couch, struggling with himself, refusing to let anyone into the room. What had I done? What had I done? He finally managed to remember Zosia, whom he had inadvertently abandoned for about three hours. And what will become of me now? She would never do such a thing. I can't. I CAN'T!!!!!!!!!! Should I fraternize with the commoners? NOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The doorbell rang.

Jesus!!!!! Is it already now?? I have to go to bed soon. Sleep, sleep, sleep.

From the hallway came the sounds of surprised conversations between my parents and Andrzej, saying what a coincidence, that it must be fate, and how you've grown up, the last time we saw you was when you were twelve. Oh, it's so nice to see you. Yes, yes, I'll take care of Tolek, I'll introduce him to my friends, he'll never be bored again. I promise he'll have fun. I was also devastated after the move. After all, no one wants to live in Radom. Oh, it's fantastic that you two met, that we live on the same street. It's truly unthinkable. Now everything will be fine. But that plane tree is far away, and you'll be there for a long time. Oh, you'll come back together. That's good, but in the morning, because, you know, a friend lives nearby. Oh, and that I understand later. Well, if this is going to help him find friends. Oh, we're so glad you two met. And by the way, where is he? Oh, right,

SLEEPING IN THE ROOM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

No!!!!!!!!!! This must be some nightmare, this can't be real. I'm not going anywhere…

-Tolek, Andrzej has already arrived.

-Yes, of course, I'm coming. Bye Andrzej!

-Well, what's the matter with you?

-Nothing, I feel great.

-Well, get dressed and let's go.

-Well, bye parents, bye everyone. Bye world, goodbye to all the ideals, I'm going to the pigsty.