Luke 10:37

It sometimes comes back to me on such dark rainy days – that night in Gdansk. That was the year of World’s Football Championship hosted by Poland and Ukraine. It was the night of an important match between the Polish team and some other, which I was watching at my friends’ flat. There was sushi and alcohol and a very lonely man who was drinking a lot and held my hand in his when we were smoking on the balcony. That was the year when I decided to let go of whom I was before he happened.

You never answered to any of my emails. I do not even know if you read them. Perhaps you changed your email address after sending me the letter you wrote several months after I left. It was only then you spoke your truth. But the damage had already been done. So let me tell you this story again as if you have never heard it before. The other stories I am not yet ready to tell.

The house where I was renting a room was in a surprisingly, for such a big city, serene and green area surrounded by private allotments, orchards and gardens. In fact, the place seemed more like a village somewhere in the mountains than a part of a big seaside metropolis.

It was around 1 a.m. and we were driving up the street along which there were orchards and country-like cottages, and it was when the taxi driver pulled over before the semaphore when something stumbled over the bonnet. I don't remember if I screamed. The first thing to be seen in the dim light of a street lamp was a hand covered in red and a soaked-through man to whom it belonged, leaning against the car. The taxi driver speeded up. On the windscreen where seconds ago rested the man’s hand there was still a red watery stain.?– ‘It’s blood’, I said quietly. ‘We should go back.’

The taxi driver kept going up the hill. –‘I’ll drop you off and go back to check on him.' He pulled over in front of the house. I paid and thanked him. The rain already cleaned the windscreen. I was looking after the car until it disappeared from my sight and then made up my mind. I left my bag at the house and took an umbrella. It was only a ten-minute walk from the place where we saw the stranger.?The street was empty. Orchards were exhaling into the night their sweet, intoxicating perfume. The raindrops on the leaves were glistening in the light of the street lamps. There wasn’t a single sound in the air. It was as if the whole world was watching.

And it felt as if I had failed some kind of a test.

A week later or so I told you about that night. I am not really sure why. We hardly ever talked about things that really mattered for it was always meant to be temporary. You knew and accepted it from the beginning, but still tried to create some sense of intimacy between us. I thought you were doing it solely for my sake, but I liked it and so maybe that is why I could share the story.

You would always listen engaging all your attention but I could not really tell the effect my words had on you. When I finished I burst into tears, which came as a surprise even to myself.?That was the only time you ever saw me in such an emotional state. That was the only time I ever opened before you.

Months later you reminded me of that when I least expected it.

But back then you just held me in your arms and explained to me why it was only logical to do what I had done. It did not diminish my sense of guilt, but I was grateful to have you on my side.

Much later you wrote I cared for that stranger more than I ever cared for you. ‘You never shed a tear for my feelings, but you did cry for that man.’ You were right. I failed to see the hurt that I caused with my own actions. You never see further than your own pain. I thought I could not hurt you because your arms were strong, and you always seemed so cool and calm. Because we never discussed feelings.

During our last night together when I was already half asleep I felt your hands moving along my face, hair and body. It felt like a touch of a blind person. It was only later that I understood you were trying to remember me.

You wanted to love, whereas I wanted to get over love once and for all.

When you came into my life he had already happened. I wanted to hide in somebody and you were happy to welcome me.

‘You seem to think that if you stopped running, your life would end. Getting attached is not a bad thing.’ You had a habit of saying such things out of a sudden and surprising me by putting into words emotions I could not describe.

How could I ever tell you I fall hard only for those who have the power to crush me?

What you wanted was simple happiness and by 'simple' I mean the type of happiness that I find impossibly difficult. You wanted a harbour, whereas I wanted an open sea.

Six years have passed since we went our separate ways and I'm still afraid that settling down will mean the end of the journey. I am weather-beaten and tired, but there's still this restlessness in me that once worried you. How lucky you are to be able to satiate your desire for companionship with the actual presence of another person. I feel alone no matter who is by my side.

Some days I have a feeling I will see you in the street; perhaps with your wife or maybe even with a child. I wonder what it would be like to see you again and whether we would dare to exchange a few words for the sake of those long gone days.

It is the same city where we spent nights when you made me forget my pain and it is again the year of the world football championship.

It is raining, my heart is broken and I want yet another beginning.