aga

She earned every scrap of bread with her body. She was young, voluptuous, and well-built. Finding a sponsor was no problem. But who would be interested in a pregnant woman—no, who would be interested in a child, a mere seventeen-year-old pregnant child? A doctor who could teach her about contraception would be interested. Ironically, she would add that they, once again, didn't know how to protect themselves, and that they reproduce like rabbits. Poetry. Them. That's how she describes them. Poor, young. Them. No one wants to delve into who they are. They are. A wonderful addition to the cityscape. THEM...

She gave birth.

She gave birth to a beautiful, healthy, tiny daughter. She gave birth because the procedure cost over a thousand złoty; she couldn't afford such a luxury. Are you saying abortion is illegal? That she wouldn't have done it anyway? If she had the money... Every doctor wants to make a living, after all, they have to make a living, feed their family. Hit men. Innocent victims. And fear. A tiny creature. 1,000 złoty. And the problem was over. But she didn't even have a quarter of that. She didn't know if she wanted this child. It seemed innocent, yet unwanted, it wasn't supposed to be like this... dreams—a fatal thing...

It came from a man who abandoned her, left her alone. The little one was part of a man she hadn't visited. When, right after giving birth, they placed the child on her chest, she felt hatred; this small, screaming creature was of no use to her. Another useless person, another person, immediately erased. Them. It would strengthen their ranks. Because they are nothing. You can't live without love. That's why they're dead. Vegetating...

***

-Aga! It will be Aga.

Not Agnieszka, Agniesia, Agusia, she never called her that; she was Aga and would remain one forever. Oh, someone miscarried, someone lost a child. How sorry I am. The poor thing didn't live to see a happy family. What a shame... A child not needed – to be quickly given away. Perhaps someone willing? The mother doesn't want it, God abandoned it, there's no one left. No one wants it. Another useless person in this world. Welcome to the ranks. What a pity you weren't a child whose mother miscarried – you would have been loved for at least those two or three months. Surrounded by care and love. And that might make up for it. It might make up for the decades that await you in a world full of hatred. Hello Aga! And to start things off, you were given too much – three letters. It was an effort. A g a. Without a shred of tenderness. The young mother was unmoved by the baby's beautiful blue eyes or its tiny fingers; it was just another thing that came by chance, unwanted, unnecessary, useless. The kind best tucked away somewhere, forgotten as quickly as possible. And there are many such people in the world. That's normal.

They returned home. To a gray tenement building with a dirty, cramped attic. The little one received her own patch of floor covered with rags—that was all her caring mother provided. Be grateful for what you receive. Gratitude, indeed... I don't know the word. Not a day passed without the baby being left alone at home—the mother had to go out to earn money or simply have fun, and in this hierarchy, the daughter always landed somewhere at the bottom, considered unnecessary. The hardest part for the mother was coming to terms with breastfeeding. She couldn't afford the luxury of powdered milk. And the little monster, as she thought of it, demanded food constantly. The cries of the helpless, hungry child could often be heard in the tenement building. But who was going to help her? People who ignored their neighbors? A single mother raising six children on the first floor? Or perhaps an ailing war veteran living in a single tiny room on the left? People next to people.... One wolf to another.... No, wolves support each other in difficult times, form packs. No one is alone there. And people live for themselves. Not for others. And they are happy. Happy with their own happiness. Because next to them, a person dies. But that's a colorful element of life. Let it be. It fits... There must be something tragic, after all.

Yet Aga, as if in defiance, grew up healthy, smiling at the crows she saw on the roof. The window, old, with half the pane broken, was the first thing that fascinated Aga. She loved watching those strange black creatures cawing so funny. She loved the play of light reflections that formed on the glass. And the blue sky, pure, limitless, and free... Aga learned everything on her own, the wall helping her take her first steps. That wall was an unwavering support, always ready to help, not averse to being grabbed by it. So the first friend, the first friendly "creature" Aga smiled at was this inconspicuous wall made of a few boards. Things are friendlier than people. They don't bite. They don't mock. They simply exist, like unwavering friends. Only friends.