Heaven Tastes Like Peaches

"Shouldn't we celebrate?" he suggested. "There should be a beer in the fridge that I bought this morning."

Sławek seemed undecided.

"Hey, you deserve it," Konrad insisted and took out two cans.

"But ... it's still early ..."

"Not at all. It's already after six. We can drink safely and no one will get stuck. What, you don't drink until after eight o'clock?" He sneered.

"I don't drink at all."

Konrad tried not to show his surprise. A boy his age not touching alcohol is a real rarity. He himself didn't know any.

"Beliefs or lack of opportunity?"

"I don't know," Sławek admitted with disarming frankness. "I think it's the second."

"If you don't know, it's definitely the latter. Grab it," he tossed him the can. "But you know, I'm ashamed to admit, I didn't expect that Henryk would do so well," he said, sitting down on the threshold and leaning against the door frame. Next to it, he left a place for Sławek. "I thought it would take him a while."

"And I still can't believe that something like this has been sold."

Konrad surreptitiously looked at him. Someone might think that Sławek is talking about false modesty. However, he had already met this boy and he knew well that he just did not believe in himself.

"Nom," he agreed. "I certainly wouldn't buy something like that. Not because your sculptures are ugly, because they are… alluring. But if my father saw something like that in his home, he would have cut off my head. But maybe others have more freedom to decide what to put themselves in."

He was half-joking. His tone and the text itself were supposed to make Sławek, clearly tense, relax a little. The boy probably understood his intentions, because he smiled half-mouth but somehow without conviction.

"Your father ... What's he like?" Domejczuk asked, not looking at him just at the open can of beer.

Surprised by the question, Konrad stared at his.

"I don't know," he said finally. "He is a businessman for whom money and appearances matter. He is cheating on my mother but won't let her go because divorce would be bad. I think he has a calculator instead of a heart."

"He may not be perfect, but at least he is" Sławek muttered.

"And yours?" Skalski knew he shouldn't ask, and yet he couldn't help himself.

"He died in an accident. I remember him. He never had time for me, always busy. But at least he was."

Skalski wanted to say that sometimes it is better not to have him at all than to have someone like his old man, but he restrained himself. Sławek really missed his father and would not understand him. He doesn't know what it means when a father looks at mother with hatred and contempt as if she were a bug or dirt on his shoes.

But it was precisely because his father was like that that Konrad decided to help Sławek. Today was a time to celebrate, not to think about unpleasant things.

"You know, it's nice here," Konrad stretched, careful not to spill his beer. "But really. You only read about such places in old books. You know, such an idyllic angelic village. The only thing missing is a manor house or palace and a lime tree."

"We have a palace. Or rather we had. During World War II, a bomb hit it and burned almost all of it. They stole the rest. Only fragments remain."

"Really?" Konrad felt strangely excited.

"If you like, I can show it to you one day."

"Cool!"

"Do you like such antiquities?"

"I suppose so," Konrad admitted thoughtfully. "Whenever I'm on a trip, I go sightseeing. Such places have a special atmosphere. It's a bit like touching history. No, the very lives of those long gone. Architecture and art are proof that someone existed. I may not know the name of the builder, but looking at the walls he put up, I know that this man existed. It is similar with art. When you look at a painting or a sculpture, you see the existence of two people - the artist and the model. Of course, if the art shows a person. That's why I envy them a bit, artists. They have a talent that makes them immortal. Maybe they just say that, but for me these are facts. In addition, with their own hands they make something that touches human hearts ..."

In the crowds of words, he looked at Domejczuk for the first time and suddenly his thought broke. Sławek looked at him with large eyes in which the rays of the afternoon sun flickered. His mouth was parted and damp with beer. Bright hair waved in the gentle breeze, revealing and covering his slim, long neck.

"Er…" Konrad stammered. "What was I saying?"

"I've never heard anyone say that about art" Sławek's voice was enthusiastic. "It was really beautiful."

"E… really?" Konrad felt strangely confused.

"Yes. And you know what? Thanks for the beer, but I'll go work."

"Really?" Skalski was honestly surprised.

"Yes. I have the impression that I will do well, that's why… Make yourself at home. I don't know when I'm finished, so see you." He put his beer down and disappeared through the hall door. After a second, Konrad heard him shut up in the studio.

"Ooooh ... ok" Skalski replied in the direction in which he disappeared. What happened that Sławek crashed out like a hurricane? Was that something he said?

"When you look at a painting or sculpture, you see the existence of two people - the artist and the model. Of course, if the play shows a person. That's why I envy them a bit, artists. They have a talent that makes them immortal. Maybe they just say that, but for me these are facts. In addition, with their own hands they make something that touches human hearts ... "

However, some of these words touched something about Sławek, making him feel like he was going to work. Konrad smiled with embarrassment and satisfaction. It doesn't matter if he said some idiotic embarrassing words, as long as the effect was good. And he was. Feeling his heart growing with satisfaction and pride, Skalski drank his beer with his spirit.

***

The bed buckled and Konrad sensed movement in his sleep. He did not move, realizing that it was Sławek who had finished his work and was going to sleep. The awareness of that fact woke him suddenly and he opened his eyes.

The night was late, but it was clear, so he could see the silhouette of his colleague wrapped in a separate blanket. Sławek was lying on the same side as Konrad, so Skalski could see his back, neck and the back of his head lying calmly on the pillow. Their outline in the silvery light looked like a beautiful, alluring landscape. A lock of pale hair slipped down to reveal a long, slender neck with pulsating artery.

Konrad looked at the clear, flowing line leading from Sławek's ear through his chin, neck, back to his shoulder, felt the heat radiating from his body, and suddenly felt a dry throat. He swallowed hard, and the sound of gulping like thunder echoed through his ears. Sławek's calm breathing stopped for a moment as if the boy froze at the sound and Konrad felt a stronger heartbeat.

Is Sławek aware that he is being watched?

Konrad's heart beat again with a force that surprised him. What will he do if a colleague turns to him and asks what is going on? Should he still pretend to be asleep?

Domejczuk, however, did not move. Had he fallen asleep after all? If he slept, then ...

Skalski moved slightly towards him. He smelled a delicate scent of olive, cheap soap and found that he had never appreciated this beautiful aroma, so natural, so simple and yet sensual. He reached out and touched the pale strand of Slawek's hair. They were soft and delicate, so pleasant that you would like to have them always in your hands. He moved a centimeter closer and froze.

What is he actually doing?