Heaven Tastes Like Peaches

To be so close to someone dear, someone you love and who reciprocates your feelings ... Sławek would not give this moment to anyone and for anything in the world.

"Inheritance," he heard a word uttered by Konrad suddenly, softly but forcefully. "You got an inheritance."

"Truth…"

Eventually, more information began to come through to him. The Arab visitor was right to say that he had received too many at once.

"We'll check?"

"How much do you think it is?" Skalski became interested. His excitement was understandable. Domejczuk was beginning to feel the same. "If the guy was bothering to come this far..."

"Let's check."

Sławek couldn't wait. Only a month ago he had only land that he could not cultivate and a house that was degraded with old age. And the debt that his grandfather incurred for the treatment of his only daughter-in-law, mother Sławek. That is why those who said that the debt did not belong to Sławek were wrong. If he hadn't been a stupid kid at the time and had been aware of what was really going on with his mother, he would have done anything to get her money. So he was grateful to his grandfather and even to Mr. Skalski. Grandpa did not have much credit. If he had not borrowed money from a private source, he would have had no other alternative.

It took Sławek almost a month to think about it all and sort it out. From the very beginning he did not blame Mr. Skalski for wanting to recover his money, which was not small, but he was overwhelmed by the suddenness of his demand. Now he was sincerely grateful to him for the loan and even for the compulsion to repay him. Without him, he would not have met Konrad.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" a friend chased him. "I'm dying of curiosity."

"Right."

Domejczuk took papers out of his briefcase and immediately felt a headache. The header was in English and probably Arabic.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groaned.

"You do not know English?"

"I know, but it's plain, and this one here looks like some legal jargon. Is this some kind of a joke?" he repeated.

"Can I see?" Konrad held out his hand for the document. Sławek handed it to him and suddenly he saw that there was another one written in Polish underneath it. Skalski began to slowly translate and it turned out that they were basically the same.

"I think we also have a Polish translation," he announced, picking up the Polish version of the will. "Look, notarized by a sworn translator, it must be credible, huh?"

"Sure. What's in there? What did you get? Would it be enough to pay off the debt?"

"Come on?" Domejczuk sincerely doubted. "Why would a stranger leave me so much money?"

"Check it," Konrad urged impatiently.

They didn't read the whole thing. They scanned the document looking for the amount. When they found the relevant passage, they both fell silent.

Sławek's hands fell limp and the papers fell to the ground while spinning.

"I think it's a joke," moaned Konrad.

***

"Hi, Konrad, is your pieta ready for collection?" Kowalski's cheerful voice returned Skalski's a bit to reality. Just a little. The boy raised a card to his eyes with a trembling hand."

"Mr. Henryk, do you know anyone named Yussuf ibn Muhmud?"

"How do you know him?" Kowalski exclaimed. "He showed up at your place?"

"Well..."

"I wanted to introduce him to Sławek. I can't believe he acted so irresponsibly. The man in his position! About his status!"

"What status?"

"He didn't say who he is?"

"He said he bought pieta. But that is not the point. Is it someone credible?"

"Is he credible? His father is in the top 20 of the richest people in the world, related to the two ruling royal families and Yussuf is his firstborn son who finished his education at Oxford so yes, he's credible."

"So he's one of those fabulously wealthy Arab sheikhs?" Konrad asked, still incredulous.

"Yes," confirmed the art dealer "They were rich even before the oil boom, so their fortune is not only based on oil. I can't even imagine its height. And why do you ask?"

Skalski bit his lower lip and looked at Domejczuk. Sławek looked at him pale, almost gray.

"Mr. Henryk, do you know a good lawyer? Such that he knows English? This whole Yussuf brought Sławek the will of one of his teachers and we don't fully understand it. If we could take his advice..."

"Of course. I will make an appointment and let you know. Whatever happens, we won't leave Sławek without help, right?"

"Right. Thank you."

The boys sat opposite each other in silence. They were both too overwhelmed with the information they read in the will. They read its Polish translation twice, then the English version and were sure that they were saying the same thing, that there was no mistake. Despite everything, none of them could believe what they saw, so they decided that someone was making fun of Sławek. They had no idea why, but it just had to be some kind of joke.

"What if it's true?" Skalski asked. "Mr. Henryk has been working with this guy for a long time. He actually vouches for him."

"If it's not a joke, it's a mistake. I couldn't even count the zeros ..."

"I know," admitted Konrad. "I'm lost myself. But… it's possible, you know? This Yussuf is supposed to be really rich. But really. If your grandfather's friend worked for his family all his life and saved every penny, he could save it..."

"Come on! These things don't happen! What am I, the hero of some soap opera?"

"They say the most amazing stories are written by life itself."

"But that's it? In life! Where is it" he pointed to the papers "and where am I?"

Yes, it was unrealistic even for someone like Konrad, that is, for someone from a family with rich traditions and a lot of wealth from his father and mother, let alone an orphan living somewhere on the edge of a village at the end of the world.

But such things, while absolutely unreal, really did happen. And even more unreal. Money made people eccentric. When you have more of them than you can spend even on the most extreme whims, thirty or even fifty thousand zlotys spent on a sculpture of a young artist is like for someone else buying for five zlotys a cheap, plaster figurine.

Tadeusz Kicki, a friend of Mr. Sławoj, spent almost his entire life with such people.

"I think that Mr. Kicki really loved your grandfather" Konrad shared his thoughts with Sławek. "I think they both knew they could not be together, so they even lived on separate continents. You know to avoid temptation. Your grandfather got married, either out of reason or out of love. He decided to live a normal life. But Mr. Kicki could not forget about him. It is very beautiful. And sad."

"Yes, sad" admitted Sławek. "The world must have been cruel to people like us at that time."

"So it's good that we are living now" Skalski smiled. "You know, if I were a writer, I'd write a story about your grandfather. It would definitely touch people's hearts."

"And ours?" the young sculptor became interested. "You think she would touch anyone?"

"Er ... no. People are moved by tragedies, great struggles with adversities. Who would be interested in a story about two teenagers who just fell in love with each other? They would prefer one of us to have an affair with this Arab millionaire."

"Hmmmm ... Do you think I'd have a chance with him?" Domejczuk asked thoughtfully.