You Can Stay, But ... We Only Have One Bed

"Despite your creative maturity, you are still very young" said Henryk Kowalski gently. "You work very instinctively and I suppose you are not very interested in trends in art."

Sławek Domejczuk didn't answer with words. He did not have to. His embarrassed expression was perfectly enough for his answer.

"Erotic art like yours," explained art dealer, "has always fascinated people. It is the same now. Most people are eager to look at it, but only a small percentage are able to admit it. Your sculptures are devoid of what is often smuggled into this kind of creativity, that is vulgarity. These two men entwined together make a natural, longing impression. Yes, they are erotic, but also aesthetic. Believe me, you really have nothing to be ashamed of."

Slawek shyly looked at Konrad. They were peers, so he should understand him better than Kowalski. Skalski should realize how delicate and embarrassing the erotic issue is for a teenager. Therefore, he should take his side and help him talk to the art dealer he brought to him.

Konrad sighed.

"I agree with Mr. Henryk," he announced.

Domejczuk blinked his eyes in surprise.

"Sławek, I understand that this is a new situation for you. Then let me take three of the sculptures and I'll just photograph the rest. I will start looking for buyers, and you will have time to get used to the idea of ​​selling. Here is my business card. So what, okay?"

Slawek was stunned, completely confused. He needed money, but these sculptures were too indecent to find a buyer, much less by a reputable art dealer. He really didn't know what to say.

"Come on, you risk nothing and you need money!" Konrad blurted.

"All right! I agree."

"That's great," Kowalski smiled with obvious relief. "As for the pieta... Finish it. Do it quickly. My buyer will be delighted with it."

***

Slawek watched the car driving away, full of mixed feelings. Together with Mr. Kowalski, a few sculptures left by his grandfather and three of his were disappearing. Art dealer handed him a thick stack of banknotes one hundred zlotys each, saying that this was just an advance and that he expected his work to be really high on the market.

Sławek Domejczuk bit his lower lip, feeling the flush on his face. To think that something like this would be worth so much! He was happy with the money he earned - it was always a step closer to paying the debt, but he had a hard time believing that his sculptures, carved out of curiosity and boredom, would appeal to anyone. Of course it was nice for him, but he couldn't comprehend everything that was happening around him now, especially the fact that, according to Kowalski, his naked lovers would sell better than the beautiful sacred sculptures of his grandfather. After all, he knew that there was a huge gulf of years of experience and talent between him and Sławoj. How could anyone prefer Sławek's works to his grandfather?

He turned towards the house and let himself be surprised by Konrad standing there. He completely forgot about the other guy!

"Why didn't you go with him?" Sławek asked with a hint of resentment. "It'll be evening soon. The last bus to town is leaving in half an hour."

"I'm not going home. We haven't arranged enough money yet. If you had sold your sculptures ..."

"No kidding! Nobody will buy it!"

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it's just pieces of wood. If they were so easy to sell, my grandfather would not have his entire sculpture studio full of them."

"Do not be offended, your grandfather's work is very good, but the market has changed. Do you really think there is a statue of a saint in every home?"

"No, of course not, but hopeless works like mine won't be put on the mantelpiece either."

"Not true! If Kowalski says your works are good, then they are. If he says they will sell, they will sell."

"Yes, probably to some fagots!"

"Hey, you sculpt on such subjects! How can you speak badly about someone who likes what you are doing?"

"Because ..." he blushed to his ears and suddenly lowered his tone. "Men are easier than women. Have you ever tried to carve a woman's breasts or ...?"

Konrad, who guessed which part of the female anatomy was meant and knew perfectly well how realistic Sławek liked to be, also turned red.

"No," he admitted. "And I certainly wouldn't be able to do that. But you don't have to be a fagot to appreciate a man's beauty. You know, David and this ..."

Yes, Dawid, but it was an ordinary, normal male act, and Sławek was sculpting two men clasped in an embrace. What made him do this? Did he decide it when he was unable to make two identical women's breasts for the hundredth time, or when, by accident, while browsing manga on the Internet, he saw a page where two guys were hugging and was surprised to not take his eyes off them? The line was really good, the anatomy was faithfully presented, but the most interesting thing was their expression.

Sławek wondered then if he would be able to transfer something so vivid, although it was only a drawing, onto the material of his work? It turned out that he did and that it gave him so much fun. He had never thought that anyone might see it, let alone that any of these sculptures would leave his room. Now that that had happened, he felt terribly ashamed and regretted it had happened.

Only he needed money so desperately!

So he was embarrassed, angry and depressed, and he really felt a bit of pride that someone appreciated his work. There were too many emotions for him to sort them all out at once.

So he took a deep breath and headed home.

He heard that Konrad was following him.

"Look, I don't know much about art myself, but I've been to a few museums in my life and your sculptures are really… unique. Beautiful."

"Beautiful, these are my grandfather's sculptures," Sławek Domejczuk replied bitterly. "He was a real artist who gave his whole life to art, and now nobody wants to buy his works."

"I'm sorry," Konrad Skalski said sincerely. "You were very close to him, weren't you?"

"Yes," he admitted quietly and entered the house. Skalski continued to follow him.

Immediately after entering the kitchen, Sławek turned to the guest.

"Thank you," he said in a gentler tone. "The money I made today, I wouldn't have had it if it weren't for you."

"Does that mean I can stay?" Konrad rejoiced.

Sławek was not used to people. They lived with their grandfather on the sidelines, and he did not make many friends after he moved to the country. It did not bother him. He wasn't very social somehow. Grandpa was enough for him. As long as he had him, he didn't feel lonely at all.

Only now his grandfather was gone and the thought of another night in an empty house was very depressing.

"But don't count on comfort. I don't have a guest room. Even the beds ..."

"Does that mean I'll have to sleep in the bed where someone died?" Konrad asked, paling.

Well, such a prospect cannot be pleasant to him. So maybe Slawek will give him his bed, and he will sleep in his grandfather's ...?

The boy shuddered. He loved Sławoj very much, but he could not bring himself to sleep in his bed so quickly after his death.

"We only have two beds ... You can sleep with me, but we'll be tight, or you can go back to town."

Konrad was looking at him, clearly considering all options.

"Agreed. We share the bed. After all, it was me who asked unannounced."