Chapter 34
Poznań
Brady
It’s almost impossible to believe that a summer storm lead us to where we are.
There isn’t a cloud in the sky above Poznań and the afternoon sun feels warm on my face.
We follow a cobblestone street past vendors selling small wooden boxes painted with colorful flowers, silver jewelry encrusted with pieces of fossilized amber, and blue pottery with red and orange dots.
Poznań is smaller than any of the other cities we have been to this summer and not nearly as glamorous or cosmopolitan as Berlin or London, but it has a gritty charm that makes me feel like we are a part of it rather than tourists walking through it.
We wander our way to the old town square with rows of pastel colored canal-house styled buildings.
An elaborate fountain with a Greek god in the center sits on one corner of the square.
Children are playing at the edge of it, dipping their hands in the water and splashing each other.
They laugh and run around the base, letting out a sharp shriek every few steps.
I can’t help but smile at them and feel an ache in my heart missing my niece.
“These kids are about Gemma’s age,” I say, keeping my eyes on the fountain and the kids running around it.
“I’ve overheard you on the phone with Gemma. You know exactly how to connect with her and make her giggle. She loves when you sing that Motown song.” He nods. “My little sisters are older. Teens. They think I’m sooo uncool.” He rolls his eyes the way they must mock him.
“No, they don’t.” I slap his arm.
“Uh, yeah, they do. They love to tease me. ‘Hayes, don’t wear that. They’re grandpa jeans.’” He comedically raises his voice for the impersonation.
“I’m sure they adore you,” I tell him.
“They do,” he admits without containing his pride.
“But they aren’t wrong about the jeans,” I add, and look down at the baggy denim that fits him like a laundry bag. After all, it’s Poland, and that means pure honesty.
“Et tu?” He laughs and sits down at a bench on the side of the fountain where I join him. “Tell me more about Gemma. She’s five now, right?”
I’m touched he remembers.
“Gemma is so smart.” As soon as he asks, I’m able to conjure an image of her in my mind and it’s easy to share.
“She knows how to read whole words and some sentences and her math skills are beyond mine. She has this way of connecting to things and loving them so intensely. You can almost feel her vibrate.” I smile thinking about the day I brought her a stuffed whale from a toy store in Sag Harbor.
She was so ecstatic, it made me ecstatic.
“Oh, so she’s like you. You get that way.”
“I do?” I ask.
“Yeah, it was one of the first things that attracted me to you. I’d grown up learning to not get too excited about, well, anything because something good can be taken away from you at any moment.” He bends his head to look at the ground and I watch the sides of his mouth turn down.
I know Hayes is talking about his mom. She died when he was eleven and his sisters were only toddlers. All of his memories of her are golden and warm. She sounded great. Full of love and always hugging him. That’s what he remembers.
“I had to take care of my sisters and work part-time. School. Sports. I always tried to be rational and measured in my reactions. No stray movement. Cautious. But then I met you and you just had any feeling you damn well wanted. When you liked something, you really liked it. It blew me away. We had this tutoring session and you brought me your favorite cookies from that bakery over on South Street.”
“Oooh. I loved that place.” I rub my tongue against my teeth remembering the way the moist and chewy dough would get stuck in my teeth. “Chip-a-Dee-Do-Dah! Their cookies were the best in Connecticut.” My voice can’t contain my excitement.
“I remember how you ate that cookie.” Hayes nods his head thinking about it, then holds his hands to his mouth, miming me destroying a cookie like a Muppet. “A master class in how to enjoy something you love. I found it intoxicating.”
“I didn’t know that.” A dachshund walks over to the fountain and jumps on the ledge, then into the water and quickly out. The dog stops right in front of us and shakes. Small sprinkles cover our feet and we both laugh.
Reflections off the water dance across Hayes’ face and I remember one of the first thoughts I had about him.
“I liked that you were able to control your feelings and have this incredible focus. Something that I have never been any good at. I have so much anxiety over so many small things that I handle it by just following whatever shiny object catches my attention. You were able to be calm and centered no matter the situation and that made me feel calmer.”
“I’m glad I was able to make you feel calmer. But you’ve been totally focused on the work this summer.”
“You’re right. Being around you makes it easier for me to…” I listen to the water rippling up out of the fountain and back down to the shallow pool at the base as I think of the exact and honest thing to say. “You make it easier for me to take myself seriously.”
“Wow,” Hayes says, his face showing equal parts surprise and gratitude. “Thank you. That’s a big compliment.”
Bong. Bong. In the distance a church bell rings, followed by a melody of bells playing short staccato phrases that run up and down a major scale. “Where do you think that’s coming from?” I ask.
Hayes looks toward the sky. We are on a hillside, so we have a good view of the city. He points to a steeple that peeks out between a few taller buildings. “There’s only one way to find out,” Hayes says.
We get up from the bench and walk out of the park, letting the ringing bells guide our journey. And once we get there, I know the exact question I want to ask to get this honesty challenge heating up.