42. When The World Is Heavy #2
He smiles and steps inside. Before I can ask what he wants, he closes the door.
That gets my attention. Tata never closes bedroom doors unless someone is changing clothes or Mama is furious enough that the entire house needs containment.
He sits on the edge of my bed. I turn back to the mirror and pick up my blush.
“How's work?” he asks.
“It’s makeup. I’m good at makeup.”
"You like it?"
I glance at him through the mirror. He’s wearing the dark sweater Mama bought him last Christmas, sleeves pushed to his forearms. The lines around his eyes look deeper than I remember. Maybe I’m only noticing because he’s watching me so carefully.
“It’s temporary,” I say. “The money’s decent. The manager is annoying, but that’s legally required.”
“People are nice?”
“Some.”
He nods like I’ve given him a full report.
“And your internet work things?”
“Growing. Slowly.”
“That is good.”
“Yeah.”
Silence settles between us. I dip my brush into the blush, tap off the excess, and begin sweeping color across my cheeks. Tata stands. For a second, I think it's over. Then he comes behind me and rests one hand on my shoulder.
“You look like your babcia when you sit like this.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror.
“Terrifyingly beautiful?”
“Always ready for battle.”
“That too.”
His hand pats my shoulder once.
“She was strong even when the whole world sat on her back. Never let anyone see her knees bending.”
My throat tightens. I focus on the brush.
“You have her face,” he says. “And her spirit. You carry your brother's spirit too.”
My hand stops. Tata’s gaze lowers briefly before returning to mine.
“Kasia was always the softer child. She cried when bugs died. She would find a beetle on the windowsill and cry like someone in the family had passed.”
I look at him.
“But you—you always ran in believing you could save things,” he says. “Even after they were already gone. A bug. A bird. Once, an egg from the refrigerator.”
He laughs at the memory and shakes his head.
“You’d hold them in your hands and demand I fix them.”
A laugh escapes me, but it hurts.
“Maybe I should’ve been the doctor instead.”
“Kasia learned there are things she cannot save.”
“And I didn’t?”
His expression turns tender.
“I think you are still learning.”
Downstairs, Mama calls for someone to set the table. Kasia answers. A cupboard closes. Normal sounds from a normal family that has no idea I let a man crawl beneath my skin and then acted surprised when he tore his way back out. Tata’s thumb presses gently against my shoulder.
“You know we are here when you need us, right, kochanie?”
I nod.
“When the world is heavy.”
He keeps looking at me. I reach up and cover his hand with mine.
“I know, Tata.”
Finally, he bends and kisses the top of my head.
He leaves without asking anything else. The door closes behind him.
I stare at myself in the mirror and one tear slips free.
Only one. It travels through the blush I just applied, leaving a narrow line down my cheek.
I wipe it away, repair the damage, and go downstairs.
Dinner is already loud. Mama has made enough food to prepare us for a six-month famine.
Dominik is arguing with Tata about some new chocolate at the shop.
Aga is cutting Kacper’s food while he explains, at full volume, why dinosaurs would have been excellent construction workers.
Amelka throws her food from her highchair with the same joy she threw the blocks weeks ago.
Zosia is telling Kasia about a girl at school who stole her pencil and then denied it despite apparently being caught with the pencil in her hand.
“Some people are shameless,” I say as I sit.
Kasia smiles from across the table. She looks happier than she did when we first came home. Still missing Rafe, obviously, but now there’s anticipation beneath it. A countdown instead of an open wound. Halfway through dinner, she sets down her glass.
“The tour’s almost finished.”
Mama immediately brightens. “Rafe's coming home?”
“Soon. They have a few more shows, then press and meetings in Los Angeles.”
“Meetings,” I repeat, keeping my voice neutral.
Kasia nods. “Rafe says they’re planning something after. Some industry event. He was vague, which means it’s either genuinely complicated or he thinks he’s being mysterious.”
“Probably both,” I say.
“He said I should come. And…” She looks directly at me. “You’d be interested too, right?”
My stomach tightens.
“In an industry event?”
“You had such a good time on tour.”
There’s so much hope in her face that I understand immediately.
She thinks she's solved me. She thinks I’ve been miserable because Japan and Korea gave me a glimpse of the life I want.
Luxury hotels, backstage passes, beautiful clothes, content that performs better than anything I can create in Seattle.
She thinks ordinary life has become dull after standing beside stages and watching famous people move through the world.
She thinks inviting me back into it will wake me up.
She has no idea she’s inviting me directly back into the fire.
“You’d get great content,” she continues. “And there will be brands there. People you could meet. Rafe said he can get your name added once everything is confirmed.”
Mama looks delighted.
“You should go.”
“Obviously she should go,” Aga says. “She came back from Japan looking like someone had unplugged her from the wall.”
Kasia watches me, waiting for the first real excitement she’s seen in weeks. I swallow and put on the smile. The good one. Bright enough to make people stop asking questions.
“That’d be amazing,” I say. “Just let me know when, so I can arrange it with the temp job.”
Kasia’s face lights up.
“I knew you’d want to.”
Conversation moves on around me. Rafe coming home. Flights. Hotels. Whether Mama can send food with Kasia without airport security assuming she’s smuggling enough pierogi to feed a small country. I smile when I’m supposed to. Beneath the table, my hands tighten together in my lap.
Kiri will be there. Maybe Radhika too.
The worry begins as something small and cold in the center of my stomach.
Then it grows.