The Way I Remember: Ian's Journal

Episode 4.5 - Parents

I'm five years of age, playing with my toys in our small and smelly apartment in Poland. I don't know the man that mom's brought home today. He whispers something in her ear and she smiles. I wonder what's so funny. She never smiles! Their faces get too close to each other and my mom decides to stop this foolishness and gets up to show him the rest of the apartment. She shows him the bedroom first.

I'm hungry. Actually, I've been hungry for a while now, but I don't say anything in case mom gets emotional like she did the last time when I was complaining. She doesn't like it when I ask her for things and then she starts saying bad words. I don't know what is so fascinating about our bedroom, but they're spending quite some time in there, so I decide to climb up the stool to have a chance of reaching the tabletop. I do. And what I find is beyond my expectations. I was hoping for some fresh loaf of bread, but I discover something way better. A beautiful cake with chocolate topping still slightly dripping off the edges. That's what she was doing when she told me not to interrupt her while she was in the kitchen!

I wonder if it's for me. Maybe she wanted to surprise me and that's why she didn't want me to see it. I wish I knew how to read and figure out what those white decorative letters mean. But... we don't know any people... Surely it can't be for that guy in the other room... She barely knows him! And if it's for me then I'm certain that she wouldn't mind if I ate some of it now. I don't like when my belly makes those weird noises. It hurts.

Mom's always in a good mood when her guy friends are coming over. This time is no different.

"Call me," she whispers to him while they're saying goodbye to each other at the door.

"Mhm, sure," he doesn't sound sure. But she's pleased either way and after she closes the door and turns around to face me, her smile fades away.

"What's that on your face?" she asks. Her voice is shaky. She slowly passes me by carefully examining my face from a distance and eventually enters the kitchen. For a while, she doesn't say anything, but then she grabs the phone and dials a number. "I'm sorry Mrs. Kamińska, but unfortunately your order won't be ready today... yes, I'm really sorry for the trouble." She hangs up and goes to the bedroom again. She's been very tired lately. I think it might have something to do with me...

I'm five years of age, but later. When you're only five the time goes slower, so it feels like a lot more than just later. My mom is on the phone with her mom.

"Please, can I leave him with you? Just for a couple of months, to get started." You already had this conversation with grandma, remember mom? They took the cat last week. I don't think she's pleased with the answer, because she hangs up and starts crying. She must have really loved that cat. I'm sure they will take care of him just fine.

I'm still five years old, but more six than five. Mom got a new place for us, but everything here is so different. It's always sunny, and people use words I've never heard before. We're like on a whole another planet. Mom calls it America.

Our new apartment is even smaller than the one we had back in Poland, but at least it doesn't smell. I have my own bed now, and I've never realized before how much it affects the quality of sleep. That's the nicest change so far.

I'm six and all grown up. Mom has a new guy friend, David, who I guess called back as he promised because he keeps coming back from time to time. He likes telling stories my brain doesn't comprehend that well, perhaps because of the language barrier, but my mom is fascinated by them. She earns money by making sweets now. I'm surprised I'm not fat yet after all the cakes I've been having for breakfast lately. Sometimes she takes me to her bakery so that I am not home alone, but there are always so many people and I can't focus on doing my homework. I've been a freshman for only a month and I already have so much work. School is brutal. I don't understand most of it, but my teachers are pretty forgiving. For now. Even Mrs. Garcia who doesn't have the best reputation among kids sees my struggle and patiently waits for me to adapt.

I'm six and a half and I call David "dad", now, so I guess he's staying for longer. Sometimes he wants to play soccer with me after school. I'm not good at soccer. I'm not good at anything. He doesn't like it. He says I should be good at soccer and that he doesn't understand why the only activity I like is gymnastics. You don't have a team, you work alone, what's not to like? No one can blame you for messing up. But every time mom's with him her mood comes up so I go along and play with him every time he asks because I don't want to scare him away.

David works as a history teacher at my school, but I think someone forces him to do it since he always comes home annoyed. Much like mom used to when she worked in retail or as a waitress. I don't blame him, teenagers are even worse than kids my age. I overheard David and mom talking about him quitting his job and getting a new one at the museum. I think that'd be great. The less angry people in this world the better.

On Christmas Eve David tells mom he has a present for her. "It's a big one," he says. We get into his car and drive for a while. For the whole ride, mom can't stop trying to guess what it is, but when we finally arrive at the planned destination it turns out none of it was correct. He bought her a house as a present? What is he, rich?

"Let's move in together, what do you say?" he asks, and mom indeed has a lot to say as she jumps around from excitement. I don't think I've ever seen her so happy.

The house is enormous. Big enough to get lost inside. The bathroom has both a bathtub and a shower cabin. Like in the movies. Mom is the most thrilled about the kitchen. And no wonder she is, it's the size of our current living room. And it has a dishwasher! We're going to live like rich people.

"Wow, there are even more rooms above us? Do I get my own?" I shriek from anticipation in my poor English as I walk up to the stairs, but I quickly regret my question when I see the look on David's face.

"As a matter of fact, yes, you do, but you're going to have to behave from now on," he uttered. What does he mean? When have I not behaved? I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn't. I think when he said "Let's move in together," he really meant just mom and him and I'm just a necessary price that comes with it. I hope that by behaving he meant getting out of his way. That would be easy.

My room is huge! And not just because it's still empty. I think even when we get some furniture and the biggest bed in the world there'll still be plenty of space to do... whatever people do in their own rooms. I'll figure it out.

We move in a month later leaving the apartment life behind us. I have to get used to the silence but I think that's for the best. No more covering my ears when "grown-ups are talking", no more listening to "mind your business, Ian", and no more going to bed before 8:00.

The neighborhood seems to be nice. Perfect families with smiling parents everywhere you look. Each house competing in size and the amount of Christmas decorations still hanging up at the end of January. Just like you see on TV.

The house across ours stands out in its normality. It almost looks weird compared to the other ones. They also must have moved in not that long ago because they keep bringing more boxes inside. It's a small family, like ours. Mom, dad, and a boy. He might be my age.

I wonder if he has made any friends, yet. I haven't. But that's okay. Maybe when my English gets better I'll start saying "hi" to people. For now, I'm embarrassed that I'm six years old and don't know how to speak. But I'm not worried, it's all going to fit into place eventually, isn't it?