Sławek was standing in the kitchen. At the first moment when Konrad saw him, he had the impression that his face had an expression similar to the expression he had seen in a doggy - they both looked depressed, tired and resigned.
Something squeezed Skalski's heart painfully. The dog was only a dog, but Sławek was a boy his age who, just like him, should enjoy life, go on dates with girls and drink beer with his friends. Meanwhile, it seemed that Sławek was completely alone, not only without his family, but also without his friends.
There was something wrong with that. Unfair. As blue as the summer sky, the eyes shouldn't look so sad. The corners of shapely, delicate lips should rise in a smile, not down in despondency. His lean shoulders should be straight and his head raised. Sławek should be an affirmation of life and joy, not loneliness and suffering.
Konrad took a deep breath.
"Hi!" He greeted happily. He did not know if his enthusiasm and serenity were a good approach to Sławek at the moment, but he had no other idea than to pour a little bit of good emotions into him but just passing his own on him. He did not want so much to see in his face that unpleasant despondency that stung also him painfully. "I bought a pizza. Will we eat her for breakfast?"
Slawek's expression changed. Skalski was not sure if it had happened so naturally, because the smile usually responded with a smile, whether the boy was just trying to be polite or he did not want to show his pain to strangers.
"Pizza for breakfast?" He asked and his smile widened. He was becoming more natural.
"Why not?" Konrad did not stop smiling radiantly. He felt his procedure was working. Sławek's reaction seemed sincere. Skalski's heart skipped as if something really good had happened to him.
"All right," he agreed. "I'll bring an oven."
Konrad frowned. What does it mean "I'll bring an oven"?
Domejczuk left and disappeared into another room. He was back in a moment, carrying a large green tin box with a glass door. He set them on the table with a clatter.
Skalski looked at this thing with suspicion. This is an oven? No kidding. It was just a cuboid made of green-painted metal, a door in which the glass looked as if it was about to fall out and a socket protruding a good five centimeters. He was about to say something about it, but he bit his tongue. Not all people lived like he and his family. Not everyone could afford induction cookers and beautiful ovens bought from the top shelf together with other household appliances.
"It may not look solid" Sławek seemed embarrassed "but it works."
Does he ... justify himself to me?
This thought sowed panic in Konrad's heart. Could he let his friend know by his expression that there is such a difference between their worlds? He wanted to get out of this situation somehow, but felt hellishly embarrassed by his tactlessness.
"If it works, turn it on" he said and reached for the shopping bag. His hands, however, were extremely clumsy.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sławek taking a cable from one of the cabinets and connecting it to the stove on one side, and to a wall socket on the other. The inside of the oven glowed with light. It really seemed to work.
"I saw in the morning that you were working on your pieta" Konrad handed Domejczuk a box with a large pizza. The frost on the packaging dissolved completely while soaking the paper.
"I didn't work" Sławek unpacked the pizza without even looking at him and threw it on the tray he had prepared moments earlier.
"No?"
Konrad was sincerely surprised. After all, before he left, he saw Sławek looking at the sculpture and then sitting by it with a chisel. He even saw him shake something out of her.
"I couldn't. I know I should, but… I couldn't."
The oven door slammed shut with a loud clang. It's as if they were expressing Sławek's frustration.
"I don't understand," Skalski admitted confusedly. "You have enormous talent and you have already done as much so why can you say you can't?"
"Because I can't!"
Konrad froze in surprise. He did not know Sławek for long, but he got the impression that he was a very nice and calm boy, a gentle artist and dreamer - after all, he saw his beautiful, unique sculptures. Meanwhile, Sławek exploded as if he was carrying tons of frustration that suddenly had to find an outlet for himself. What was this boy like after all?
"I'm sorry," Domejczuk said softly before Skalski could react. With his eyes fixed on the floor, he continued, "When I created Mary's face, I knew what it should look like." I had it before my eyes. But Jesus ..."
"Is it because it's, you know, God?"
Sławek shrugged helplessly.
"I do not know. Probably not. Maybe a little," he admitted hesitantly. "I want this face to be beautiful. Special. But I can't see her. I don't know, maybe I'm not experienced enough to do something so big. I'm just a rural amateur sculptor ..."
"Not true!" The scream escaped from Konrad's lips. The passion with which he exclaimed these words surprised him and Sławek, who looked at him with wide eyes. "It means…"
What was he supposed to say? What exactly was he trying to say when he protested so vehemently? He did not know. His head was confused, and Domejczuk waited for him to finish his thought. That it would encourage him to continue his hard work.
"I wanted to say," Konrad grunted, "that I've seen a few sculptures in my life. I have also been to Henryk's gallery a few times and I know how respected he is. If Henryk says that someone has talent, that's how it is."
A blush covered Sławek's cheeks, giving his face a unique charm. Skalski cleared his throat again.
"Thank you for believing in me" said Sławek softly. "You don't know me at all, and yet ..."
"I don't know you," Konrad admitted, "but I've seen your work. I really think they're good. Now you probably have a creative block. I've heard that some artists think that when they work under a lot of stress, they fail. Maybe you should take it easy?"
"How, when your father ...?" Sławek's voice grew nervous, then lowered again. "I'm sorry i did not want…"
"I know what my father is like" Konrad felt a stubbornness in his heart that he had not expected. But he remembered his mother and her tears. Father's Lies. Fights. His mistresses. "After what he did to you, you have the right to speak the worst of him."
"But it was my grandfather who borrowed the money himself and was unable to return it. It was his decision ..."
"And what exactly did he borrow them for? Forgive me, but you don't live in luxury and I doubt these are gambling debts," Konrad Skalski concluded with a smile.
Sławek, however, was not amused.
"Those were debts," he finished, looking away.
Skalski wanted to ask: "really?", But in the silhouette of his friend, in his stooped shoulders and the way he avoids his eyes, there was something that prevented him from continuing the topic. Sławek looked like he was struggling with some shame or painful memories.