aga13

The days weren't passing so quickly anymore. On the contrary, each one seemed to drag on impossibly, dragging slowly, revealing its grayness and nothingness in all its glory. Aga didn't know what to do. They said love worked miracles. Yes. Love worked miracles... They said it now, when he was already at rock bottom. There was no friendly person who would say it at the right moment, at the right moment, to pull him out of this mess. Back then, no one loved him. And now they were showering him with advice. Rehab in a hospital... That wasn't for him either. She knew him, she'd gotten to know him over the few months they'd spent together. She knew he'd either escape from the hospital or not be able to get there at all. At best, he'd be in the hospital for a week, and then he'd be back. Not to her, not to Karinka, he'd go back to drugs. Because they ruled his life, determined the rhythm of his day, directed his steps. Drug cravings are a great blackmailer. And a negotiator. Ruthless. But he'll win anything. No ifs, buts...

She loved him. She wanted to give him everything. She remembered his delight over little Karinka, her first smile, the pride with which he'd pushed the stroller along the park paths... Almost as if he'd forgotten. Or maybe he hadn't remembered then? He'd fed on love and happiness, not death... It seemed to her that she'd figured out, had figured out how to let him forget. How to free him from the greedy hands of drugs. She decided to give him what was most precious to her, she decided to give herself to him. She wanted to get pregnant, give him a child, create a real home... Dreams? Maybe. But she wasn't thinking about that right now; the most important thing was to tell him the wonderful news as quickly as possible. Tell him he was going to be a father. Buy him tiny shoes, show him. Place his hand on his protruding belly, let him feel the baby kick. She knew that time was of the essence with him. She knew days could be decisive, she knew he was already on the brink of morality. His own morality. She was afraid she wouldn't make it, that he would leave, that the first person who truly loved her would leave. She had a plan, but something kept stopping her from carrying it out. She didn't know if she was capable of sacrificing her youth, sacrificing herself for him. She didn't know if he would return to her; she was afraid he wouldn't, that she would be left alone with a tiny child, like her mother once had. Yes... He, too, had thought it was true, unrepeatable love... And then he left her... And then she left her... Aga was aware that she couldn't raise a child on her own, that she wasn't yet mature enough, and she certainly didn't want her child to have to endure what she had experienced as a child. It was all overwhelming, becoming unbearable. She didn't know what to do, how to proceed, what might be for the best... She had created a vicious cycle for herself, and now she was living in it. Before, everything had been so beautiful and colorful, and now only gray remained. Reality... That's how it always is. At first, it was beautiful and colorful, and then only regret and longing remained. We all long. More or less, we all dream, more or less, but only the most persistent achieve their dreams, those who know how to face adversity. She didn't know if she could. Maybe once, when she had to fight, when she fought for her own survival. But now? Now she wanted to fight too, but she didn't know if she still could...

She left the house, wanting to think it all over calmly, wanting to piece together what remained of their relationship, of their home, which they had so painstakingly built over the past few months...

She didn't know how she'd reached the church. The large, intricate structure revealed its majesty at first glance, but a keener eye could easily spot the crumbling plaster, the unswept courtyard, the doorway, where time had left quite a mark. She went inside. The grayness of the pews was not at all inviting. She'd never been drawn to church before. It was a place she didn't need. She'd never been in a church before. Yes, because it was a church. The same one people talked about. This is where He lives. The greatest of the greatest. He who lifts us up when we fall... But where was he when so many young people collapsed against the wall. Where was he when she had to endure the hardships of the day? Where was he when she cried after her grandfather's death? He had never helped her before. She didn't know why she had come here. Simply impulse, chance, fate had made it so. Or perhaps she simply saw that this was her last chance, that only here could she find help for herself? Perhaps that was why she'd come here, because people said he lifted us up from the bottom? Did she believe? Probably not. Not anymore. Now that everyone had let her down, there was no chance for a shred of faith... She'd probably even forgotten what it was. And yet she'd come. She didn't know what to do with herself. Just as she'd once found herself cut down in the thick of her despair, today she found herself in church. Not to pray like the others. Not to recite the rosary, it wouldn't help anyway; she didn't believe in the miraculous power of "reciting." She came so she could cry in peace and find solace in her tears. She cried. And that was her prayer. Although she didn't know it, she expressed in her tears what hurt, what she feared. In those tears, the most beautiful of prayers flowed to God. And he didn't abandon her, because even though she didn't feel him near her, he was with her all the time, and he didn't abandon her now either. Ask and you will receive... She didn't know it, yet she asked. She asked in her helplessness in the face of a terrible world. She didn't expect anything, and yet when the tears ended, she felt relief and solace in her heart. It was her gift from God. She gave him tears. Tears of pain. Tears of today's reality. How many people cry every day from helplessness, how many people cry because they can't cope with everyday life? Enormous. Tears. The sheer number of tears of gray reality. But does anyone pay attention to tears? No, not today's tears. In these times, we can't afford to be weak. In these times, you should be strong. Strong and nothing more. What matters is what's on the outside, what people see, not what's inside, what hurts. The latter concerns only us. This is our life, after all... And it ends in tears... Always...

She didn't hear anyone approach her. He approached slowly and quietly, not wanting to disturb her. He knew she was facing a desperate young woman seeking solace in the church. He didn't want to disturb her. He wanted to help. But could she still be helped? Wasn't it simply too late? When the world is crumbling and your head is spinning, it's the person next to you who counts. And today, by complete coincidence, he stood there. And he decided to help her. Whoever she was. He would try. Aga felt a presence. She glanced back. Yes. Three pews away stood a priest. An ordinary clergyman. That was the only thing missing... Or maybe she truly longed to talk to someone else, someone so far removed from their world. Someone who knew how to live without drugs... He smiled at her. Simply, like a human being. He didn't preach, he didn't lecture, he just smiled. She smiled back. And he knew she had a problem. He read the pain in her eyes. In the 21st century, few people can look others in the eye, notice anything in them, hardly anyone smiles on the street. And yet we live side by side. Yes... But no one remembers that anymore. No one remembers that a neighbor is also a person. Not usually, we don't even know who our neighbor is. But maybe it's not worth changing? The world must move forward. And reality. Reality moves forward too—it's getting grayer and grayer. No one can stop it. Because it requires a fight. Effort. It's not for us... For us, money is what matters.

Aga didn't know what to do now. Approach him, wait for him to start a conversation? He approached her. He simply asked if she wanted to talk, ready to withdraw at any moment. Leave her alone. But she craved company. She longed for someone to advise her in this difficult moment. She nodded. He understood. He sat down next to her. He waited for her to begin her story. But she didn't. Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn't say a word. They remained silent. Sometimes silence can replace any word. In silence, it's important that there's someone nearby who understands, or at least wants to understand. And there is... It endures. The most important thing is that there are still people who can simply be there. Next to us. And silence. Brilliant silence.

"Can you sacrifice what's most important to you for someone you love? Not knowing we'll be together? That they won't leave?" She didn't say that.

She whispered this through her tears. She had been asking God the same question moments ago. But he, the priest next to her, saw God. She didn't. Maybe He exists. But she can't see Him yet. But she will learn. Maybe. Someday. For now, something more important mattered. Paul mattered. The cleric didn't know what to say. He sensed that much depended on his words. Far too much than he would like. After all, everyone avoids responsibility. It's tiring. Especially when it comes to responsibility for another person. He took her hand—simply—a gesture that came from the depths of his heart, wanting to show her that she wasn't alone, that there was someone who would offer her a hand. She pulled away… She didn't want to consider his motives now; perhaps she simply wasn't accustomed to someone giving something for free, expecting nothing in return. Where she grew up, even a touch cost money; that's how it is; in the 21st century, nothing is free, at least not for most of us. She left the church. She didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes—tears of humiliation and gratitude, gratitude that he hadn't given up, that he wanted to help her. That's a rarity these days. Do any of us even know what selflessness is?