Coming Home

This City

Present

I pause to lick my parched lips. I've said so much already and probably consumed half of our time, but I'm not even in the middle of my story yet. Though the people in the classroom seem to be enjoying my presentation, it's really unfair if I don't give the others a chance to present. And they should present, because one: they've prepared for this, and two: some might think of me a narcissist if I keep talking about my life.

"So basically, Wiktor did return. He brought along some food and some basic supplies, but he stayed for only a short time. The rest of the story was how dad and I struggled for 6 years. And I don't think I should finish, because this would probably take us two days," I conclude. I hear some of my classmates groan, and I don't know if that means they're disappointed because I won't finish my story or they just want me to keep going until the bell rings. 

I look at the red wall clock positioned on top of the whiteboard, which is behind me, and see that we only have few remaining minutes left before this project is over. "Oh crap, I'm sorry about this," I tell the class.

One of the administrators, a tall old lady with short cropped silver hair, speaks up. "No, it is not a problem for us Mr. Czerwinski. In fact, we learned a lot," she says warmly. Then all the administrators clap, followed by my classmates. What makes me really happy is that they're very sincere with the praise that they are giving me. They're not mad that I consumed the whole period. 

I bow down awkwardly and say, "Thank you." But their loud applause drowns out my words. As I return to my seat, the bell suddenly rings and some of my classmates breathe a sigh of relief. They're all saved by my story and the bell, I think to myself.

Lucia proceeds to the front of the classroom and beams at all of us. I can't help smiling too. Now that my presentation is over, I've got nothing to worry about anymore. And considering the fact that everyone loved what I did, I might as well buy something for a little celebration. A rocky road ice cream cake would do. Dad really loves that. 

I turn to Georgina as Lucia is speaking. I know it's rude, but I just can't wait to hear what Georgina thinks of my story. "So, how was it?" I ask her in a low voice. She gives me a two thumbs up, and then replies with, "It was inspiring and awful. Inspiring because you and your dad endured hardships for 6 years, and awful because of Wiktor." 

I'm about to reply when someone clears their throat. "Uh oh." Georgina points behind me, so I turn back and see Lucia staring at me expectantly, her hands on her hips. "I'm sorry about that. I was just really excited to hear my friend's reaction," I tell her. She nods stiffly at me. I mentally pat myself on the back and think to myself, Way to ruin the moment, Stef. 

"Let me repeat the question," Lucia says, her cheerful side taking over again. "Is it ok if you summarize your struggle in the past 6 years and how the two of you managed to succeed?" 

"Oh that. Well, dad hunted for a job on his own. Wiktor started to avoid us after his second and last visit. Everytime we would call him, someone else would answer the phone and tell us that he's very busy or away," I tell her. But despite Wiktor abandoning us for good, dad never held any grudge against him. Sure, dad got disappointed when we first arrived in this country, but that was it. Nothing else. And I admire him for that because I, for one, find it hard to control my emotions. 

A boy sitting in the front row raises his hand. Lucia beckons him to stand up. So the boy does, and turns to me. "But I don't get it," he says, "surely there are Polish community centers in here. Why didn't you ask help from them?"

"There aren't any Polish community centers near here, Gunther. And even if there are, I'm sure they wouldn't be able to help us much either. Let's face it, some people would tell you that they are very much concerned with your life but deep inside, they'd rather put theirs first than yours," I reply to him. And I must confess that I sometimes act that way to my friends. It's mean, but no one can avoid that. Don't be in denial because I'm pretty sure you've experienced that at one point in your life.