25

01:01:00

She came back in good mood. She brought him presents: goat cheese, some wooden figurines, a casket of wine. She remembered about him and she wanted him to have something from the outside. She was also nice to him, as she felt better. She said to him all the good nights, good mornings and polite words, which she didn’t bother in the past. She felt some sort of sadness that she had the right for the exploration of the world and he didn’t have such right.

In March she received a letter. It wasn’t the kind of letter she expected to receive. His mother, the owner of the flat, was dead. Apparently, she had been sick before they met for the first time, but she was secretive about it. It was her private matter. She knew she was about to die and she didn’t have much time left. She died in Norway and there she was buried. She had herself cremated. For some reason, in the final letter to her, she highlighted that from then on there was no obligation to pay the rent at all.

He behaved silently strange. He received a different letter. A longer one and probably kinder. She sensed that through the thickness of the envelope. Yet, he wasn’t entirely himself. The news must have hit him hard, as probably it wasn’t something he had expected either. Now he was orphaned.

There weren’t any sounds coming from the room. He hibernated and there was maybe one night in a couple of weeks’ time when she heard him sobbing in his bed. She didn’t say anything comforting. She didn’t know what it felt like to lose somebody close. She saw him through the keyhole in his bed, bored, motionless, quiet. On the other hand, she was hormonal and little things irritated her. The fact that she could barely fit any of her clothes didn’t make matters any better.

From then on she sensed that he had lost touch with the outside world in every possible way. His mother was dead. His father, if he ever cared about him, stopped coming to the flat. There was no evidence of other family members: aunts, uncles, and cousins were as distant as non-existent. There were also no friends and acquaintances, even though she distinctly remembered his internet social profile and a big number of friends he was supposed to have. No one paid any visit to him. No one seemed to care that he was still alive. She had a feeling that the only people aware of his life were her and her not yet born child.

She had a sense that they both hibernated for weeks. He barely moved at all. He seemed to lie on his bed and think. Meditation was contagious and she also fell into this day-dreaming state of affairs. Her ankles were swollen, her stretchmarks were bigger, her mood deteriorated, and even though she ignored those kicks, they were more and more frequent.

One day he stood up and came back to his hyper-intensive computer life. Just out of the blue he was refreshed and relieved. He invested time in housing work, as an electrician, plumber, and cleaner started fixing, redoing and renovating what was yet untouched. He was a good guy. Ridiculous in his naivety, as he could just as well drown in alcoholism and drugs. Or sell the flat and gamble all the money. And openly ask her to leave, as her tenant’s right to live in the place was curtailed by the coming of spring.

And finally, he bought some baby clothes. He should have seen her reaction as she was watching little trousers, T-shirts, and pajamas with a mix of fear and disgust. She wasn’t melting at the sight of small-size clothes. She could just as well cry when seeing little people with dwarfism.

‘You shouldn’t have,’, he said, having in mind that he really shouldn’t do what he did.

‘No problem.’, he seemed to be proud of himself.

Then he ordered a stroller, some plastic stuff in IKEA for little kids including a bathtub, and a bed with the mattress. Now she was terrified. Ignoring kicks was one thing, another one was being forced to look at equipment that was waiting for the approach of the kicking legs owner.

‘I didn’t ask you for anything.’, she was damn serious.

‘I’m this kind of guy,’ he answered.

She didn’t talk to him for a week. His presents were lying on the side of the corridor, unpacked, as the last thing she wanted from life was to unwrap the baby bed and his toiletries. She started to panic and developed a habit of looking at different direction just to forget about the goods lying aside.