Heaven Tastes Like Peaches

The anger disappeared from Konrad's heart immediately. His father was evil, but Sławek was sensitive, good and beautiful. Perhaps that was why, by nature, he could not blame anyone for his wrongs or be an enemy to anyone.

"My mother was very sick" Sławek said suddenly in a very serious tone. "The refunded drugs didn't work. The only hope was expensive, not reimbursed. My grandfather wasn't a stupid man, but he couldn't handle things anymore. The banks terrified him. He was in a few, but he could not get a loan even against land. Then he turned to your father. If your father hadn't lent him this money, my mother wouldn't even have hope. The treatment didn't help, but my grandfather did everything he could to save my mother, so he didn't regret being in debt. And he never blamed your father. He was even grateful to him."

"How do you know? I thought you didn't talk about it."

"We didn't talk," he admitted, "but I knew my grandfather and I saw how he behaved. He was worried but he wasn't angry or mad. He never said a bad word about your father."

"He probably wasn't talking badly about anyone."

"He said" Sławek smiled. "He cursed at the government, at the village head, at a few friends, even at banks. At your father - never. Your father scared me a lot then, but he also motivated me. And you showed up."

Konrad snorted with laughter.

"You're right about that one," he admitted. "If he hadn't come for the money back then, and if he hadn't acted like a pig, we would never have met."

He smiled broadly, very broadly. Had they not met, Konrad would have lost the most beautiful experiences of his life and the chance to experience this beautiful, first love.

"I think I have to thank him," he added quietly and touched the corner of Sławek's mouth with his hand, where the remnants of peach juice had dried up.

"Me too" said Sławek even more quietly.

Their lips came closer to each other naturally, as if they were searching for each other instinctively. They touched and entwined, and once again each of them felt like in heaven.

Like in the sweet, sunny, peach-colored heaven of love.

__________________________

Epilogue

It was not the custom of Prince Yussuf ibn Muhmud to take part in events such as the opening of an exhibition or gallery, even when the curator was one of his father's wives or one of his aunts. This time, however, he had several reasons for it, though he might have reduced them all to one - curiosity.

"These sculptures are cute in their own way," he said to the accompanying secretary. "Why don't we get some? I wonder if Eva is hiding somewhere. Would be a great gift for my mother, don't you think?"

"I will never understand why her majesty collects the images of her patron."

"Contrary to my father, I guess," the prince smiled. "It forces him, his, a Muslim, to religious tolerance."

"Her heightens is very teasing."

"But that's what my father likes. Although I think that the duchess would like Eva made by Sławek more. His grandfather's works are very good, but Sławek is much better than him. His pieta… something wonderful!"

They were both noticeable - both the prince and his secretary. In tailor-made suits with exotic features, they drew the eyes of the gallery guests more than the theme of the exhibition - the works of Sławoj Domejczuk. The prince noticed with a laugh that the works to which he devoted more attention also received more from the ladies who were visiting here. In this way, the tastes of the individual were shaped by the tastes of the masses.

"That pieta..." continued Yussuf in a low voice, "absolutely dazzling. I was already captivated by the photo, and yet it was so unfinished. The final work, however, is..."

In fact, he lacked the words to describe his impressions of this extraordinary work of eighteen-year-old Domejczuk. Usually eloquent, he had to admit to himself that in the reception of this sculpture he completely lost words in all the languages ​​he spoke. This was what a true work of art was all about.

"The boy does have great talent," admitted Amir. "The road to great fame opens up for him."

"He shouldn't rush," he commented. "He is still almost a child and discovered first love. What could be more important in his life now than she was?"

"Your Majesty is in a romantic mood today," smiled Amir, lowering his head respectfully.

"The story of these two boys, so simple and at the same time so unusual due to the appearance of a fairy-tale element in it does not arouse in you a certain romantic nostalgia? After all, you have seen the face of Christ dying."

"I saw," the secretary admitted, and he looked at the boys himself. "But I don't have to look for romanticism in foreign stories when I'm living in a fairy tale myself."

Yussuf smiled broadly and openly. He turned his eyes to one of the sculptures so that it would be a cover for his good mood. The trip to Poland, although completely private, was one of his greatest successes. Not only did he fulfill the last request of a dying teacher, he not only turned the life of a poor young boy into a carefree fairy tale, but also once again heard the words that for him himself they were like the most beautiful, embodied fairy tale.

"I've seen enough today," he said softly but firmly. For some reason, he suddenly felt intimidated as he added, "Let's go back to the hotel."

"As Your Majesty orders..."

The End