Everything started but never finished

"Sometimes it's great bad luck to be a corpse."

Night came and I was finishing reading a book. Of course, it wasn't as if I was solely turning the pages in the book. There were a few other things going on during that day, but they were not unusual or noteworthy. Two doctors came to see how I was doing (again) and asked me some questions. I didn't answer all of them honestly. My condition worsened, but I didn't tell anyone about it. My father as a child always beat me whenever I showed my weaknesses. I thought this headache and chest pain would eventually go away. It didn't. So I looked at the clock - it was 10.34 p.m. I should have gone to bed by now. At the same moment Zbyszko entered the room. He looked like someone who was terribly ill and tired of life - both of these things agreed. He cheerfully sat down on my bed and took the book I had just finished reading from my hands.
- I'm glad you like my present. - he beamed.
- Tell me better how you feel.
- Honestly? It's bad. I feel like I could melt at any moment, I don't want to die. I know I sound like a little desperate child right now, but it's the truth. People want what they can't have, and I'm only human after all, right? - tears came to his eyes.
- We are more like a human wreck than a human being ourselves. You know perfectly well that we are going to die, fate cannot be fooled. 'Sometimes it's great bad luck to be a dead man.' Your heart is weak Zbyszko, you realise this better than anyone else, but it is filled with love to the brim. You love this world so much that from your heart this love begins to flow out and this organ bursts. - This is how I tried to alleviate the pain I felt whenever I saw Zbyszko languishing before my eyes.
- You always know how to comfort it, your hair doesn't make it either, that's why it falls out.
- It's all because of this chemotherapy. I wish I could just give up. - I confessed.
Zbyszko became more serious, he no longer looked like the cheerful boy who likes to joke around. You could see the regret in his eyes, he was also angry. It wasn't the first time I had said such things to him, I wanted to live for him, but at the same time I wanted to give myself up to Death and experience eternal peace, which I didn't even deserve.
- Don't even say that. I promise you that tomorrow we will do something special. It will be, perhaps, our last time playing together. The doctors are already counting when two hospital places will finally become vacant after a couple of years. - He was telling the truth. The doctors didn't want us here anymore, not because we were some terrible nuisance. They just got attached to us, and the vision that we wouldn't be here soon, we wouldn't be waiting for yeast every day. In the back of my mind I had a vision of Mrs Eberle carrying away the cardboard boxes containing all the books bought with my parents' money, who, despite leaving me alone, sent me money every month to buy new things.
- And what have you come up with again! If you want to rob a nearby ice cream parlour again then I'll thank you. You almost had your heart stopped once already! - I raised my hands in the air.
- Nothing of the sort. I want us to get tattoos. - He straightened up.
I turned pale as a wall. We were about five kilometres from the nearest parlour that performs such services. We would have to travel six stops by tram or four stops by bus. Anything could have happened in that time. Me and Zbyszko were completely forbidden to leave the hospital premises. He could have had his heart broken at any time, and I should not even have thought of leaving my room at all. However, I have always wanted a tattoo. With some kind of quote. That's for sure. Nevertheless, I decided to pretend to be a good girl and tease Zbyszko a bit.
- No way. I don't agree to such a thing. It could even cost us our lives. - I snorted.
- Whoever, but I know perfectly well how much you want a tattoo and how much you want to die, by the way. Who said that if we leave the hospital right away we'll die? - Zbyszko knew how to hit a sensitive spot.
- Even if you could persuade me, you know that I'm a minor and they can't give me a tattoo without written parental consent. - I was saddened.
- I am an adult and I will write you a fake permission from your mother and even forge her signature. - he grinned.
- That's illegal after all. - I pointed out.
- Oh, come on, come on. There's no fun without risk. Don't be asked, Ma Adamino. Let's do it, then until the bugs eat us, our tattoos will remain. Our bodies will remember each other. Of all those beautiful moments, of how Humour fell in love with Mercy. In the end, 'Someone will remember us
I say
even in another time.' - he blushed.

That is what I loved Zbyszko for. He was the other half of my soul. When he intruded into my life as a fourteen-year-old boy I never thought he would become so close to me. He was not just a friend. He was me, and I was him. When we were younger we read articles about Wisława Szymborska together and we agreed that this Nobel Prize was well deserved. Zbyszko was able to listen to me. All these memories flew through my head whenever I felt I was losing him. Sometimes when I tried to go to sleep tears would come to my eyes because I regretted that I could not personally thank Ms Wisława for what she had done for so many young people and for bringing two strayed, sick and unhappy souls together into one coherent whole, giving them a new start, showing them that no one will walk alone through life, sometimes short, but still life.
- First you referred to Wislawa Szymborska and then to Safona? You are a man of culture. - I giggled.
- Well, of course, after all I love Safona, and as for that first reference it's all just because some girl keeps telling me about one author. - he rolled his eyes, pretending not to care at all what I like.
- Watch yourself or I'll lock you in another life in a room without any books. What would you do then? - I smiled mockingly as I saw Zbyszko pretend to have a nervous breakdown. He loved fiction as much as I did.
- First I would demolish this room, 'and then, as fashionable heroes do, I will shoot myself in the head' - he folded his fingers into a pistol and put it to his head.
- You don't quote Słowacki to me here, later you will have to help me finish the story with references to the works of Ms Szymborska, you better learn that.
After these words, I started laughing and jumped out of bed, unbuckling myself from the equipment and ran towards the door. I did not have to wait long until I heard Zbyszek's loud voice.
- Where are you going in such a hurry, my dear? - he stopped next to me.
- What do you mean, where? To get a tattoo. This studio doesn't close until one in the morning. Shall we go? - I looked into his dark brown eyes.
- With pleasure. It's time for an adventure. - At the same moment he opened the door for me and let me go ahead.