#simowiet

[noa-de-cajou]

Yavana belongs to @thal-ent

October 24th, 2013

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

I wake up in a cold sweat.

It’s not the nightmares. Just the memories. Which is worse, somehow.

The room is too quiet. Too big. I’m used to the bunk beds, to sleep on the top one because I'm too tall and knock my head on the frame all the time, but to knock it on the ceiling anyway. It got me giggles from Jacek and Tobiasz below, from Lucjan snuggled up next to me, from the twins in the other bed.

Now the mattress is too large for one person and there's too much space between me and the ceiling. I’ve always dreamt of having a space to myself, just to myself, yet now I just want to be crammed up in that tiny room again. Like I'm a baby who never grew up.

But I keep growing. No matter how much I pull on the sleeves of those pajamas, they don't even reach my wrists. I’m already taller than Mr Sadowski even though I'm not even half his age, he keeps joking about it to try and make me crack a smile. It never works. Maybe if I just don't react, it'll make him stop.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

A scream startles me awake again. A baby’s. Celestyn’s. Just like it startled me back to my senses last month.

It didn’t matter then, that I might be in danger. The only thing that mattered was protecting my brothers. I couldn’t let him kill them too.

And look where it got me.

I’m exaggerating. It could have been worse.

Could it really have been worse?

… I’m not gonna be able to fall back asleep again. Might as well get up.

I’m careful to not make the floorboards creak too loud. The apartment didn’t have floorboards, just tiles. Made it easier to be quiet. Not wake him up when he was passed out drunk in front of the TV.

With the Sadowskis, it's different. It’s late, I just don’t want to wake them up. They probably won't even be mad if I do. Mrs Sadowski will probably even ask me if everything's okay, if I need anything, if I want to maybe call my older brother even if it's the middle of the night, and it will irritate me and I'll refuse dryly and she'll just nod and go back to sleep.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

I make my way downstairs. I’ll just fix up a snack and watch some dumb nightly TV show and try not to think about how Kamil bawled and clung to my arm when his own foster parents came to get him.

The kitchen lights are on. Shit.

I contemplate going back to my room. But I remember the emptiness and the silence and it makes me nauseous. So I step into the kitchen and rehearse the lines I already know by heart.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

It’s Yavana. Just my luck.

I've been avoiding her. I just can’t bear to talk to her in class, it makes it too real. I can't bear to see her at dinner every evening with her sister, either. It reminds me too much of what I was robbed of.

Guess I can’t avoid her anymore.

She jumps a little when I enter. I don't blame her. I’ve learned to move quietly, after all.

“Oh… Hi, Simowiet. Can't sleep?”

I just nod. My jaw is clenched shut as the words try to tattoo themselves on my tongue.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me. I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to –

“I was about to make tea. Do you want some?”

...

There’s no pity in those eyes. Her smile doesn't hide any either.

She just looks… tired.

I gulp. It's a little harder to, suddenly. My eyes burn a little. I lower my head so she doesn't see me crying, even if I'm not crying yet.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

But I do want tea.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

She smiles again and turns back to the kettle.

“Okay. I have apple cinnamon, berries and lemon here. Which one do you want?”

“Apple cinnamon.”

“Alright. Coming right up.”

“Thanks.”

I sit down at the kitchen table, she boils the water. And when it’s done, she sits too and we drink our tea in silence.

It’s the first time in a month that silence hasn't felt heavy at all.

I don’t want to talk. I don’t want pity. I don’t want you to help me.

And neither do you.

[me-thal]

(all mentioned) Jakub belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author , Bazyli and Simowiet to @noa-de-cajou and Irena (Rena) to @yanasae . Small tw for talk of hospital, rehab, coma, car accident and a whole LOT of self doubting from the golden boy

So. Rehab is a bitch.

You never expect it, before getting in a years long coma, just how much of a pain it is. Seriously, my high school coach was nicer on my body, and he made us run in the rain and the snow alike. Now that I think of it, maybe he was a bit nuts, I should ask Vana about it.

She visits me often. Explained a lot about her current life, how she's working at our old chuch, how she helps Rena with school stuff. Talked to me about her boyfriends. Plural. It surprised me a bit, and I would lie if I said I didn't fear the worst at first.

But then she showed me that picture of them all together, and their bright smiles. Something cute about Yavana is how she smiles with her teeth when she's really smiling. And there, her smile was the brightest in a long time.

Her boyfriends seem nice. There's an annoyance in her voice when she tells me something stupid the cute one did, Bazyli I think, and how stupid that is of him. But her eyes also shine, as much as when she talks about how the handsome one's theater plays are going and how fun they are. I promised her I would love to meet them, if they'd meet me.

I dont know why I'm so nervous about that, tho. It's not like Yavana would stop being my best friend if they dont like me, she told me as much after assuring me they'd love me. But as much as Yavana deserves all the love she can get, I'm not sure I like... I dont know. "Loosing" isn't the right word. But It's the closest one. I dont want to loose my best friend to people I dont know.

It's true that apparently Bazyli is a friend of Simowiet. I was so surprised when he came, so tall and looking like an old man. I think he almost cried, when I said hello to him the first time, things do change a lot in eight years, uh. But he also seems way happier than when we were seventern, and he also managed to sneak in food, which is a blessing because you do NOT want to eat only hospital food for months like I do.

That's probably the worst part, to be honest, the food. That and hearing all about the family, when mom and dad visit. They think I dont notice they never mention anyone I knew at school in front of me, God forbid they mention Yavana. Dad never liked her. It's worse, now, apparently.

I really hope I can get out soon. At least the staff is nice, they talk to me like we're old friends and in a way I guess we are. The nurses helped me get back to my bed more than once, when the cane didn't help anymore, but now it's getting better !

I'm still hurting in my hip and the bottom of my spine, maybe it'll stay this way forever, apparently. That's what I get for getting hit by a car, apparently, chronic pains !

It could have been worse.

I read it on Yavana's face when I have to ask her to slow down. It never happened before, having her be the more leagues before me.

Can I ever stand by her again, now ?

She told me she arranged a day for her boyfriends to come at the hospital. Just the park in front of it, they'd rather not go in and cramp my already small room.

Will Jakub be as nice and carefree with me as she describes him to be ?

Is Bazyli really that much of a "weirdo in a good sense" for Vana to love ?

Will I live up to their expectations ?

Wouldn't I just intrude on them ?

Did they even know my name.

[soupedepates]

The Bazya gang (mentioned) and Hanko belong to @noa-de-cajou

I woke up at 6 just to find Idalia in the kitchen

"Morning, Zuza, I made you coffee and breakfast!"

"Since when are you awake?"

"I don't know, perhaps 4 or 5? Couldn't stay asleep when there's so much to do. But look! I've almost managed to do gingerbread!"

***

I've put presents under the tree

Dmitry isn't awake yet

I can hear the twins playing video games together and swearing at each others

Bogdan is just out of his room

"Merry Christmas Bodya"

"Why are you up so early, mama? Have you slept at least?"

He comes to hug me

He hugs me can you believe that

It didn't happen for years

***

I've put presents for the whole gang

Milosz

Bronya and the baby

Simowiet

Of course Bazyli that silly goose

They're expected by 7pm so quite late

And there are some for Hanko

Art furnitures

But he is legally my son so it's goes without saying

***

Dmitry is now awake and the twins have gotten out of the room they share

Idalia has left the kitchen to be here in the moment

Hanko has come down too but he stays in the background

My mother is with him with arms full of gifts

***

By 10am Fryderyk knocks on the door

Idalia gives him the stink eye

But I've been clear

The first to break out a fight spends the day outside and I don't want to see them until midnight

It's rather dissuasive

The kids are going crazy over the presents

Even the twins

They're only 17

They're children still

Hanko joined the celebration and he is crying tears of joy

He has come to hug me and still hasn't let go

We both need it

And Dima gifted me a pasta necklace so I guess there is improvement

Fryderyk has brought flowers

Even for Idalia

And Idalia gave him a leather wristband because "I can't afford to buy him a nice watch so he gets the band and fuck it"

I think it's a really nice gesture between them

***

Of course my mother has something to say about the meal

That it is excellent

Idalia almost cries over that

She is in the bathroom to ground herself

Hanko seemed to like the expensive champagne Fryderyk bought for the occasion

Czcibor talks about the clinic

That it's not paradise but clearly?

He expected worse

"Some nurses are dickheads though."

"Czcibor watch your language" we say in unison with Fryderyk

Agatka laughs

Bogdan is reading

Fryderyk told me beforehand about his current hyperfixation so I bought a ton of books for him on that topic

And I couldn't be happier to see him indulge in it

***

"Do you want a bit more of cirrhosis?"

"Agatka, can't you refer to the foie gras normally?"

"Am I wrong though, dad?"

There are fights you can't win

This one is rather silly

I won't meddle

Idalia and my mother are talking over a glass of wine

They seem to have a pleasant conversation

***

"Oh, Zuza, before I forget!" my mother almost yells "Bodya, sugar, can you bring me the red package?"

"Sure, baba"

Why are Fryderyk

My mother

And Idalia

Smiling in connivence?

I get the present on my knees

I unwrap it

It's a large shawl

Embroidered

By hand

And the fabric feels really expensive

And everything is really fine and nice and

"We had some difficulties to work together" Fryderyk explains while looking at Idalia "but we thought you might like it. Your mother and your girlfriend did the greater part of the job, I just found the materials and the patterns."

"You'll make me cry"

I am so moved

So gleeful

So

Ah shit I'm crying

For once

It's happy tears

[noa-de-cajou]

Idalia and Zuza belong to @soupedepates and Louis (mentioned) to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Aïcha dumped me.

I kinda felt it coming, to be honest. As soon as she asked me to meet up after class. We sat down in our usual café, and she told me she didn’t feel like this was gonna work out, that we were probably better off as friends, the usual breakup speech.

We lasted, what, two months? A month and a half? Longer than most of my previous relationships. We’re both aiming for an history degree and we bonded on a shared project about political relationships between muslims and christians. The only arguments we’ve ever had were about which period we were going to make that damned presentation on.

I’m sort of relieved, as usual. Maybe I'm a bit of an asshole for that, but the more it went on, the more awkward it got. At least she didn’t throw a fit, she didn’t storm out. We actually hung out after agreeing to stay friends and talked about french presidents and showed each other memes and it felt nice.

But now she went home, and I feel weird for some reason. I should be glad that I didn’t get any drink thrown at me for my lack of tears or that she didn't block me, but some of the stuff she said just won't leave my head.

I take out my phone. 5pm. Milosz is still in class. I don't want to go home yet if it's just to sit in an empty living room feeling bad about myself.

He doesn't even know I was dating someone. No one knows. Mid-september to mid-november and I didn’t tell anyone. I'm not like the rest of them, I don't like talking about my dating issues. They can ramble about their relationships all they want, but I’d rather keep mine private. I don’t owe them to anyone. I’ve seen what can happen to people who are careless enough to make everyone know about it.

The screaming and the broken arm and the hospital and the tears and the

Yeah. Anyway.

I’d much rather sit and listen to Bazyli’s misadventures with Kaspar, seeing Milosz pine or Bronya being all touchy-feely with Louis.

Or maybe you're ashamed.

…

I feel worse.

I open the family group chat. Andrzej is spamming it with deepfried memes again. There’s talks about Kamil’s upcoming birthday. Tobiasz sends pictures of him with his girlfriend, it's probably the universe giving me the middle finger. But apart from that, nothing of note. Nothing for me to fix or help with.

I need to be needed somewhere. Anywhere.

There has to be somewhere I'm needed…

Suddenly I remember Milosz saying something about forgetting his sweater at Zuza’s last time he came to help rearrange furniture. Every time I need an airhead, I can always count on him.

I text Zuza to ask if I can come by to pick it up. She replies quickly, “no problem”, and the weight on my chest eases a little.

I take the bus to the apartment complex, dial the code, ring the bell. Familiar gestures, almost automatic, comforting.

The door opens.

It’s not Zuza.

It’s her girlfriend, only wearing jeans and a sports bra, she's barefoot, how, it's cold as fuck today, her ginger hair going all over the place, and a beer in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Streetlamp.”

Wow, another joke about my height, how creative.

“I have a name, Idalia.”

“I forgot it.”

“It’s-”

“I know your name, kid. Learn how to take a joke, will ya?”

I don’t like Idalia.

I don't like how she walks around Zuza’s apartment like she owns the place. I don’t like how she lays flat on the couch with her feet hanging. I don't like how she leaves her empty cans everywhere (and not just cans of alcohol, coke, lemonade, protein shakes??). I don't like her son, but nobody does. I don’t like her attitude towards me, like I'm some brat, even though I'm an adult and she’s only seven years older than me. I don’t like how loud she is. Anyways, I don't like Idalia.

“So, watcha here for?”

“Picking up Milosz’ sweater. He forgot it.”

“Oh yeah, that. Zuza washed it. It's on the chair.”

“Thanks.”

I go and pick up the sweater. It would be too short and large on me but it’s the perfect size for Milosz. It’s old, stained, falling apart a little. At least it smells clean, blessed be Zuza.

I can feel Idalia’s stare on me and it makes me uncomfortable. It's time for a painful attempt at small talk.

“It’s weirdly quiet today. Where's Dmitry?”

“Eh, he's at Tekla’s this week. You don't know how good it feels to be able to take a piss without a mini you attached at your leg.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She raises an eyebrow, I groan as I fold the sweater.

“I have six brothers. The youngest is in middle school. Took care of them a bunch.”

It used to be seven.

“Ah yeah, I get that.”

I know. I know your family, my older brother went to school with yours. I know we had similar lives. Similar dads. Similar moms.

Shit, pure shit, all of it.

“I don’t have to do that anymore, thank the fucking gods!”

I grit my teeth.

Do you know how fucking lucky you are to be able to see all your brothers at any time

No you don’t, of course not

We're the exact same so why are you so fucking

Lazy

Irresponsible

Careless

You uncaring bit-

“... You good, kid?”

I let out a heavy breath. I open my backpack and try to make the sweater fit.

“Yeah.”

Idalia takes a loud sip of her beer. It makes me want to shove it in her face.

“I think I saw your brother, recently. The oldest, I mean.”

“Lucjan?”

“Yeah. Nice dude.”

Lucjan did tell me that he met her. He’s still friend with one of her brothers, I think. The Adamski and the Lupsowiec were always the problem children. Forges bonds, I guess.

He was surprised when he met Idalia again. She wasn't a girl when he knew her, apparently. He says she looks happier now.

She’s fucking loud about it

I envy her

I couldn't voice anything if I tried

I don't know how to tell anyone what I want

Even less what I am

“You're doing that face again. What’s wrong, Streetlamp? Got dumped or something?”

I freeze. She blinks, goes back into sitting position.

“Wait, for real?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“How come Zuza didn’t know? She knows everything about the dating shit in your little crew.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

Precisely because she repeats everything to you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out. She said we were better off as friends and I think she’s right.”

That's not the only thing she said.

“You know, Simowiet, maybe you should do a little… self-reflection, or something. About yourself, I mean.”

I don't know what she means by that. I know I'm unlucky when it comes to dating. I've come to terms with it. It’s fine.

Maybe you just can’t love anyone properly.

I zip up my backpack. Idalia looks confused.

“Hold up, “she”?”

“Yeah, she. Her name’s Aïcha. Is there a problem?”

“No, but uh, I thought that you…”

“That I what?”

“Well… You know.”

No. I don’t know. That’s what irks me. That, and her eyes full of insinuations that I don't understand. She shrugs.

“Welp. Maybe you should stop trying to date girls.”

…

That's the most unsollicited piece of advice I've ever received and I live with Milosz.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I reply dryly, “But I don't think you're the person to tell me that.”

“Why? It’s serious between Zuza and me!”

I know.

I just can't figure out why.

You're mean

Violent

Childish

Needy

No better than both our fathers

And yet Zuza’s still with you and I don’t get it because I'm not like you I'm nothing like you I'm nothing like him and yet it's working out

Why is it working out for you

and

never

for

me

Even though you’re a shitty person

…

Maybe

I'm

shittier

“Hey, it’s hard, I get it. You can sit down and talk if you wanna.”

“I don't want to talk to you of all people.”

… I said it out loud. She's looking at me. Her face twists into a snarl.

“Oh yeah? Why not, kid ?”

Don’t you dare

Call me that

In that tone

You're not my parent

You can’t even raise one kid right

“Because you're a fucking-”

Failure

And yet

The door opens. Zuza is looking at us with a raised eyebrow. Idalia doesn't let her talk.

“Zuza, tell your kid that yelling at me ain’t gonna fix his life.”

My cheeks are burning. Zuza looks even more confused.

“Did you yell at her, Simowiet? Did she provoke you?”

Idalia looks outraged at the suggestion.

“No I didn’t!”

I take a sharp inhale, bite the inside of my cheek.

Keep your cool

Everything is fine

You're fine.

“I’m just tired. Sorry, Idalia.”

Apologizing to her makes me want to puke, especially with how smug she looks. Zuza isn’t reading the room at all, which is probably for the better.

“Alright. Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

“No, I was just leaving.”

I don't want your fucking pity

“Thanks for washing the sweater, and I'm sorry Milosz keeps forgetting stuff here.”

“It’s no problem. I’d rather have that than Bazya stealing my stuff, you know.”

“Right.”

Because Bazyli is the only thing that keeps this whole arrangement together at this point

Maybe even our friend group

We’re always the leeches

I’ve always been the leech.

The thoughts are getting meaner. I need to leave.

“I really should go.”

“Sure, I won’t keep you. You're always welcome here, Simowiet, you know that?”

As if.

“Thanks. Bye, Zuza, Idalia.”

“See ya, Streetlamp! My offer still stands~”

I close the door like it’s the lid of my fucking coffin. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I take the way home, a notification rings in my pocket, you're needed, it's a text from Milosz.

“Hey, I'm on the way back from uni, is it okay if I bring Louis over? 🥺”

Louis. Just Louis? Not Bronya or Bazyli? That's unusual. I start to type a reply.

“Want me to leave you two alone?”

No. That's gonna make him uncomfortable.

“Why not bring the whole gang while you’re at it?”

No. Scratch that. I don't want an answer to that.

“I got dumped I'm not in the mood for guests”

… He’s just gonna be worried if I say that. He doesn't have to know.

“If you only need me to be your fucking housewife you could just say so”

What the fuck. No. That's Milosz. He’s my friend. My best friend. Why am I being so mean?

I hear Idalia’s laugh, “yelling at me ain't gonna fix your life”, how ironic coming from her.

“I don’t know. I was just hoping I could get some quiet tonight. Or talk to you. I had a rough day”

… Rough day. I just got dumped, it's not the end of the world.

Stop being so fucking whiny, Simowiet, get it together.

I stare at the text. I start typing again, slowly.

“Sure, no problem.”

And sent. Maybe the period at the end was a little too dry? Oh, fuck it, what’s done is done. The reply arrives quickly anyway.

“Yay! I’ll make dinner for us then! Thanks Sim you're the best 💖”

I smile. A little. He's adorable as always. And his cooking is good.

And you’re a hypocrite.

I put the phone back in my pocket and start walking again. Towards home, I guess. My home that doesn’t feel much like mine anymore.

Aïcha’s face comes back to my mind. Her hand resting gently on mine. Compassionate.

"Maybe you should do some self-reflection, Simowiet. About yourself, I mean."

And

"I’m worried about you, you know."

There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.

It’s just not my day.

[me-thal]

Irena belongs to @yanasae , Simowiet and Bazyli to @noa-de-cajou and Jakub to @corneille-but-not-the-author (all mentionned)

"Yavana, darling !! Please, come in, come in !"

She tells me I dont have to call her mrs Sadowski. She's been telling me that for more than ten years, by now, and I can't say how scary it is so stop calling her that.

"Where's your sister ? Ah, I see, midterms are hell at her age, mmmh ?"

She didn't want to come. But I can't say that because it would hurt mrs Sadowski, I envy Irena's bluntness sometimes. But at least it's not a complete lie, she does have her midterms going and needs to study.

"And Simowiet ? Ah, I hope his brothers are doing okay, too."

I don't know if he likes that she still cares so much about him.

"What about... Nevermind, what about your boyfriend, how are things doing ?"

I know who she wanted to talk about, I know she saw my face. I can never hide how it makes me feel. And now I want to ask "which boyfriend", but mrs Sadowski is a good christian, like I should be, and a person can't love more than one person in that way.

Jakub is with his mom. Iekathrrina is so nice, they deserve some time together. Bazyli is with Kaspar. I shouldn't feel jealous. I was the one to push them together too, and tell Bazyli he deserves to be happy.

"Your dress is very pretty. I'm glad you're taking care of yourself more, love."

It feels weird, to hear her call me "love". I remember a warm voice calling me that, but I can't remember how that voice was really like.

I force a smile, like often here. I truly love the Sadowskis. They're not my family. They know that. They try to change that.

Mr Sadowski is smoking at the window, when the new year has already passed.

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself, Vana."

He reeks of alcohol. I drank too. I laugh as to not awnser.

"You should talk with your mother, sometimes."

I know he doesn't mean his wife. I know he knows I could never go to the grave where names I fear forgetting are.

"You know I'll forget. How's it really going ?"

He's right. So I tell him, my wine is tasting sour.

I think I cry.

I dont remember who put me in a bed that isn't mine anymore.

[noa-de-cajou]

Zuza and Idalia belong to @soupedepates

Louis belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Mom never told me who my father was. Apparently, she doesn't remember. I believed her. She tried to raise me alone, as best as she could, but she came from Poland with nothing but a base level in english, a vague understanding of french and a graphist degree. She was alone, she fell in love with Christian and they got married when I was three.

I couldn't do this alone, Misiu, do you understand?

Mom never told me Christian was beating her. I started talking really late, my first word was blue for the bruises he left on her cheeks and the next one was bitch because I just repeated what I heard from him. Mom tried to overwrite it by speaking to me in polish. It worked, for a time.

To nie twoja wina, she said.

It's not your fault.

The teachers never told me what was wrong with me, or why the letters would jumble and the words undo themselves in front of my eyes. I wasn’t putting in enough effort. I wasn’t academically smart. I listened. They knew better, after all, didn't they? I couldn’t even translate documents for Mom.

The other kids never told me why they’d call me names or mock my accent. I never understood why they liked to do that. And I could never defend myself with my words.

But I never hit.

Because mom told me I was a good kid and good kids don’t hit people. Even when they're mean. Good kids don’t hurt people.

But she never told me why Christian was allowed to hurt us.

Bronya, Bazyli and Simowiet were the first to tell me it was okay to cry. They never hit me when I did. I felt good. I felt safe.

Bronya and Bazyli always told people what they thought, gave them a piece of their mind, they were always good with words. Even though they had been to the hospital for so long everybody else thought they were weird. And Simowiet always talked calmly, never yelled.

Never hit.

So I never hit either.

They were my very first friends.

Yet they took forever to tell me where Simowiet went after what happened to his stepmom. About what happened to Jacek after that.

Misiu, everyone here knew about the mister Adamski, you know, Mom said. Bad man, that one.

Yeah. Just like everyone knows about Christian. But I never know anything. And no one who knows things is doing anything.

No one told me anything, so I tried to get stronger on my own. No one told me I wasn't supposed to start this early. No one told me I wasn't supposed to stop eating. Bronya yelled at me for it when she learned.

No one told me how to defend myself. So when Christian hit me one too many times, I retaliated.

I hit.

It worked.

He bled.

Mom cried.

He never hit me again and neither did I.

But I knew I crossed a line. I knew I was just as bad. How could I do otherwise? No one ever told me how to help.

Hanko never told us that his parents were beating him either, but I knew. I guessed. He had the same bruises that I used to wear on my wrists.

Even so, I couldn't do anything when they pushed Bazyli down the stairs. Couldn't do anything to save them afterwards.

It's not your fault, their eyes said.

Bazyli told us to keep it a secret. So I did. I don’t mind that much. I understand why he doesn't want to say it. But it hurts to be lying to Bronya and Tonia.

Then we enter uni.

Bazyli never tells me why he looks more and more tired with each day or why he hides his neck.

Bronya never tells me why she looks at me the way she does. I think I might know. But I don’t dare to hope.

Simowiet never tells me about his problems, or his life, or his family, even though we live together.

Zuza never tells us about the pills in her cabinet. She never tells us about the arguments with Idalia either.

I can take a lot of things. I can take a punch or two. I can keep secrets. I can nod along. I can deal with being stupid. I can carry everyone on my back.

But I can't help if no one ever tells me anything.

Maybe no one ever wants me to help, but they need help. And they tell me that me being around is more than enough, but it isn't.

But I can't force anything out of anyone.

You’re a good kid, Misiu.

You’re a good guy, Milosz.

It's not your fault.

I get it. I get it, alright? It’s never my fault. It's never under my control.

But what’s the point of being good when everyone around you consider themselves bad?

So I smile and say nothing and I go to the gym and I run and I push and I grit my teeth and I hit and hit and hit and hit and hit and hit and hit

And I won't tell them about how I feel

Because

No one

Ever

Tells me

Anything –

“Your stance is wrong! You need to put your shoulder into it.”

It was just two sentences, thrown around at the gym, and then he was gone. I don’t think he remembers it at all.

But Louis tells me things.

Louis told me about the bet. Louis told me Bronya likes me. Louis told me that I look handsome. Louis told me that he didn't start working out for good reasons. Louis told me not every part of himself deserves to be known and I don’t agree. Louis told us he loved us.

He doesn't know how much it means to me.

All I ever wanted was just to feel

Like I'm worth sharing things to.

It feels possible now.

…

I didn’t know it could be that easy to breathe before.

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 11 : Drawing each other

For my birthday

Everyone tried to draw me

“Well, you draw us all the time, we can at least try to give back the favor you know”

Simowiet’s drawing is cute

Depicts me as a little jellyfish-like thing with full black hair and big eyes

A bit childish but every streak has technique

The drawing of someone who had to teach people younger than him to draw all the time

The drawing of someone who could have been a good artist if they had time to learn

“I’m sorry god it's so bad”

Milosz’s drawing is minimalistic

A small stick figure with a “v” smile and circles on the ears (headphones?)

I think it’s adorable but he looks so embarrassed

The drawing of someone whose art was always diminished or ignored

The drawing of someone who can’t fathom that anything they do is ever gonna be enough

“Don't sweat it dude I did this in like twenty minutes”

Bronya’s drawing is very accurate

My hair, my eyes, even the little beauty mark on my forehead

She got everything right and her style is pretty

The drawing expected of an aspiring tattoo artist

The drawing of someone who cares so much more about people than she’ll ever admit

“I’m sorry love I swear I tried”

Bazyli’s drawing of me is not a drawing of me

Just of my eyes

He loves my eyes for some reason

The drawing of someone who saw right into my soul and loved what they saw

The drawing of someone who’s not an artist but would paint a mural for me if I asked him to

“Thank you, I love it so much”

I love them all so much

I kept all of their gifts in the same notebook

I'm so lucky

To have them as friends

I was lucky

It was the only notebook they didn't throw away

Now all I have are drawings of me

And none of them.

[noa-de-cajou]

The following text contains references to domestic abuse and child abuse

Marteau belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

I don’t know how mom heard about Bazyli and me

She couldn’t have gone through my phone it’s always on me and I never leave it in my room

I never told Marzi or Juli either

Maybe from church

Maybe from work

Maybe I was just careless

She was furious

You know how she locked me inside the flat

I don't need to tell you about it

You were there

Remember how you scratched dad’s hand

Don't look so proud, Marteau

But yeah I guess they all got worried

I remember when they knocked I was so scared

That was after dad did

This

To my face

Mom got angry because it was gonna leave scars and people were gonna ask questions

She didn’t think about how me disappearing was going to raise questions too

She didn’t think anyone would care

I’m glad they cared

But

Maybe they shouldn't have

Bazyli saw me from the threshold

He started yelling at dad

Dad wouldn’t let him in

Mom let go of my collar and came to help

They started to yell louder

I didn’t want them to fight

I didn't want anyone to get hurt

I got up and tried to calm them down and mom slapped me and it made it worse

Bazyli called mom a bitch

Mom called Bazyli a slut and a fag

They kept going

Hurling insults at each other

Milosz pulled dad to the side to calm him down and he was strong enough to

Simowiet got in front of me and pulled me up

But all I could look at was just

How mom and Bazyli kept getting louder and louder and mom pulled Bazyli by his shirt and he almost punched her

I know I shouldn’t have intervened that I should have stayed behind Simowiet

But Bazyli was going to get hurt

Mom is usually careful but he was taunting her she was getting riled up she got that look on her face that meant someone was going to take the fall and it was going to be him

So I got in between them

Everything was so loud and I was scared and I didn’t understand what was happening except that it was my fault and mom grabbed me and ordered me to go back inside and Bazyli grabbed me and said we should run and

And

And then

It happened so fast

I tried to catch him but it was too late

And it just

There was blood and Milosz and Simowiet screamed and then I don't remember

I know what you’re thinking

I know everything is my fault

I ruined it

But I swear l

I didn’t mean

I didn't mean to push him.

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 20 : A heated argument

Kaspar belongs to @corneille-but-not-the-author

_____

“For the last time, free trade is not a sustainable system on the long term!”

“Neither is pressing for social reforms or market regulations at all costs. Change takes time.”

“It takes time because it benefits the most powerful! It’s only going to deepen the gap between the richest and the poorest. Market regulation is a necessity.”

“It’s counterproductive, you mean. If you let money flow freely, it’s going to trickle down to the bottom eventually.”

“And when, pray tell?! When is it going to trickle down? The economic tendency says otherwise, Schutz. So tell me, if you're so smart-”

“Alright, that's enough, both of you.”

The student who spoke up, a third year member of the student administrative council, glares at the two first years debating with each other. One is long-haired, dressed smartly, shirt and tie and suit jacket, the other looks younger despite being the same age, face riddled with acnea, a large t-shirt thrown over his fishnet top.

“We've let you debate for a while, but you keep going off topic every time we allow you to speak. Next time, please keep it relevant. Understood?”

Kaspar Schutz exhales slowly, clearly holding back an acerb remark towards Bazyli Zielinska, who only lets out a small groan of frustration.

“I’m sorry. We got carried away,” the former simply says before sitting back down.

Bazyli, for one, doesn’t utter a single apology and falls back into his seat with a dissatisfied huff. Next to him, Milosz pouts.

“I told you to let it go…”

“Well I can't just let him spout bullshit every time he comes here!”

“He barely does anyway,” Simowiet sighs. “Can’t you just have mercy on the poor guy?”

“Mercy? It's not like he’s defenseless,” Bronya sneers. “I think it’s hilarious to watch, personally.”

Bazyli glances at Kaspar who’s whispering to his friend, not paying attention to them. They only started uni a month ago, and he can say it loudly and surtout fear, he cannot stand this man. His archaic opinions, his little air of superiority every time Bazyli raises his voice during their debates, like he just enjoys riling him up, all of it infuriates him. Sure, his arguments are often well-documented and he can hold his own, but again so can Bazyli.

“Baz, come on, breathe. It’s not that important,” Milosz attempts.

It is. It is important. If the world were only filled with people like Kaspar, it’d be done in. And being angry at him is a good distraction from everything else.

That way he can't be distracted by the way his hands move when he speaks. By the determination in his eyes. The movement of his hair. The line of his jaw. The mouth he got on him, that goddamned mouth, the way his teeth show when he starts to get annoyed. The inflections in his voice. God, how he hates all of that and how distracting Kaspar Schutz is, how attractive he looks until he opens his mouth.

The anger is good. The anger makes Bazyli stops wondering about how those hands would feel on his waist and his eyes looking up to him and maybe his mouth on his and his teeth into his skin and his voice whispering in his ear or-

Kaspar notices him staring. He smirks. Bazyli’s eyes darken and he looks away.

Yeah. He can't stand Kaspar. He hates him.

A waste of a pretty face, that's all he is.

[noa-de-cajou]

I see Bazyli again

On my first month

Of uni

A lot of people but

I'd recognize him anywhere

The others are here too

They changed

Two years

And what strikes me first is

That he got

So much

Thinner

Thinner than when he was doing figure skating

(I hope he continued figure skating)

(Looks like his arm healed nicely)

(I'm glad)

Not like

Unhealthy thin but still worrying thin

The kind of thin you get when you stop caring about yourself but you still have to pretend you do

(I call this the Simowiet-type thin)

(Sorry, Simowiet)

(It's less visible on Bazyli because he’s much smaller)

I still remember how he felt in my arms

How full he made the world feel

A little too much, sometimes

What would I feel now if I hugged him again?

I’m scared that I'll only feel a ghost

There’s something missing from his eyes

And it's my fault

His smile isn’t fake

It’s not what you can call fake

It's just a little too wide sometimes

And a little too snarky

He still talks loud

It’s still cute

I guess I’ve never stopped

Wanting

Loving

Missing

Him

Even though I should stop

It’d be selfish, after what I did to him

Would he be angry?

He wouldn't

And that's

Exactly

The problem

He never cared what happened to him

He didn't care what would happen to him

If he could try and find me

When I see where that got him I wonder

Was I worth it?

I don’t think I was worth it

I don't think…

…

People move around

Time for class

I blink

And just like that

He's gone again

I don't know where

Meanwhile, I'm still there

And there I stay

Unmoving

Put my headphones back on

Turn the volume up

Only in my darkest moments can I see the light

Oh

Okay, that is kind of funny

I think I'm prone to getting blinded when it's bright

Bronya’s the one who made me listen to this the first time

She doesn't look it but she's a sucker for love songs

Well this december, I'll remember

This one was different tho, that's what she said

It was a song she associated with Bazyli

Because Bazyli was born on december 3rd

So she annoys him with it

Want you to see it when I do, ooo

Because he doesn’t like his birthday

God knows I do

I’m happy they're still friends at least –

“Hey, Nati, I forgot my jacket at the meeting yesterday, did you pick it up by any chance?”

His

His voice

Over the music

I freeze

He’s right behind me

Talking to a girl

Natalia I think?

She's a second year

“Oh yeah! I put it in the student association’s local. You can go check if it’s still there.”

“Great, thanks… Thought I’d lost it, haha.”

I could turn around

I could say it

I'm here

I'm back

But I don’t

I want him to be happy without me

I want him to be happier than he was back then even

I don’t want to look at him in the eyes again and realize I broke him

I want to see him

I want to talk to him

But I also don’t want to

He walks away and the music reaches my brain again

I’m alright if you're alright

I look at his back

He has new earrings, green

The color of his eyes

The eyes I can't even look at

I’m okay if you're okay

I change the music

Two

Birds

On a wire

God

What is it with this playlist

He gets into the building, alone

One tries to fly

Away

And the other

And from far away I get a glimpse of his face

Of how tired he looks

Watches him close

From that wire

“Hum, kid? You good?”

I jump

Natalia saw me

I nod

And I run away

I run away

Like I always do.

He says he wants

To as well

But he

Is a

Liar

This December – Ricky Montgomery

Two Birds – Regina Spektor

[noa-de-cajou]

Day 4 : Hospital visits / Tell Me I'm Fine

Bronya visited on monday.

“So. What did they say?”

“Broken arm, a sprained ankle and a mild concussion. They wanna keep me here for a few more days.”

“Fuck. Those bastards really did a number on you, huh.”

Bronya hates hospitals. She already spent enough time here after she lost her leg.

“... How’re you feeling?”

“Fine. Could be worse, really.”

Milosz visited on tuesday.

“Hey, I brought you some food! Your arm isn’t gonna heal well with the bland shit they serve here.”

“You're a fucking angel, Milosz, I hope you know that.”

“Naaah, it’s the least I could do, really. I couldn’t… Well. I couldn’t do much back then. Almost made it worse, even. So… You know.”

Milosz hates hospitals. He had to bring his mother here one too many times.

“Hey, uh… You feeling okay? I know I'm rambling but I'm sorry. If I had reacted…”

“Milosz, don’t sweat it! It's all good. I’m pretty much fine, actually.”

Simowiet visited on wednesday.

“We should press charges.”

“Sim, I really don’t want to think about that right now.”

“Hanko might be in danger if we don’t, Bazyli.”

Simowiet hates hospitals. Last time he had to run to one, they told him Jacek didn't make it.

“I’m… Ugh. You're right, now isn’t the time to talk about this. You should focus on your recovery.”

“Hey, Sim, relax. I’m fine. It’s okay.”

Tonia visited every day. Sometimes with Zajac, sometimes not.

“I tried to go talk to the Dolak parents, but… they moved out in a hurry, apparently.”

“Really? Hah. Should have seen it coming. Where do they live now?”

“I… I don’t know. It's like the entire family just up and vanished. I don’t… I don't think they're in town at all anymore.”

Tonia hates hospitals. Because of me. Because I made her spend half of her teenagehood in those rooms and those halls.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Bazya. I really am.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault. I'm fine, I promise.”

Hanko didn’t visit.

They didn’t text, either.

I tried to call them, it went straight to voicemail, the number isn’t attributed anymore.

I don’t know if they’re fine. I don’t even know if they're alive.

Hanko likes hospitals. It’s one of the only places he used to feel safe at, before we came along.

I hope those assholes had the decency to take him to one. I don’t remember much from the altercation but I do remember that he was injured. Badly. He’s probably worried sick, too. Maybe even blaming themself, knowing them.

If he was here, I could tell him.

That I'm fine.

That we’ll both be fine.

That it’s not his fault.

It’s mine.

[soupedepates]

I love it it's perfect

I love how you wrote Idalia and how clueless Zuza is

Simowiet needs love

And extensive therapy

Idalia and Zuza belong to @soupedepates and Louis (mentioned) to @corneille-but-not-the-author

______

Aïcha dumped me.

I kinda felt it coming, to be honest. As soon as she asked me to meet up after class. We sat down in our usual café, and she told me she didn’t feel like this was gonna work out, that we were probably better off as friends, the usual breakup speech.

We lasted, what, two months? A month and a half? Longer than most of my previous relationships. We’re both aiming for an history degree and we bonded on a shared project about political relationships between muslims and christians. The only arguments we’ve ever had were about which period we were going to make that damned presentation on.

I’m sort of relieved, as usual. Maybe I'm a bit of an asshole for that, but the more it went on, the more awkward it got. At least she didn’t throw a fit, she didn’t storm out. We actually hung out after agreeing to stay friends and talked about french presidents and showed each other memes and it felt nice.

But now she went home, and I feel weird for some reason. I should be glad that I didn’t get any drink thrown at me for my lack of tears or that she didn't block me, but some of the stuff she said just won't leave my head.

I take out my phone. 5pm. Milosz is still in class. I don't want to go home yet if it's just to sit in an empty living room feeling bad about myself.

He doesn't even know I was dating someone. No one knows. Mid-september to mid-november and I didn’t tell anyone. I'm not like the rest of them, I don't like talking about my dating issues. They can ramble about their relationships all they want, but I’d rather keep mine private. I don’t owe them to anyone. I’ve seen what can happen to people who are careless enough to make everyone know about it.

The screaming and the broken arm and the hospital and the tears and the

Yeah. Anyway.

I’d much rather sit and listen to Bazyli’s misadventures with Kaspar, seeing Milosz pine or Bronya being all touchy-feely with Louis.

Or maybe you're ashamed.

…

I feel worse.

I open the family group chat. Andrzej is spamming it with deepfried memes again. There’s talks about Kamil’s upcoming birthday. Tobiasz sends pictures of him with his girlfriend, it's probably the universe giving me the middle finger. But apart from that, nothing of note. Nothing for me to fix or help with.

I need to be needed somewhere. Anywhere.

There has to be somewhere I'm needed…

Suddenly I remember Milosz saying something about forgetting his sweater at Zuza’s last time he came to help rearrange furniture. Every time I need an airhead, I can always count on him.

I text Zuza to ask if I can come by to pick it up. She replies quickly, “no problem”, and the weight on my chest eases a little.

I take the bus to the apartment complex, dial the code, ring the bell. Familiar gestures, almost automatic, comforting.

The door opens.

It’s not Zuza.

It’s her girlfriend, only wearing jeans and a sports bra, she's barefoot, how, it's cold as fuck today, her ginger hair going all over the place, and a beer in hand.

“Well, if it isn’t Streetlamp.”

Wow, another joke about my height, how creative.

“I have a name, Idalia.”

“I forgot it.”

“It’s-”

“I know your name, kid. Learn how to take a joke, will ya?”

I don’t like Idalia.

I don't like how she walks around Zuza’s apartment like she owns the place. I don’t like how she lays flat on the couch with her feet hanging. I don't like how she leaves her empty cans everywhere (and not just cans of alcohol, coke, lemonade, protein shakes??). I don't like her son, but nobody does. I don’t like her attitude towards me, like I'm some brat, even though I'm an adult and she’s only seven years older than me. I don’t like how loud she is. Anyways, I don't like Idalia.

“So, watcha here for?”

“Picking up Milosz’ sweater. He forgot it.”

“Oh yeah, that. Zuza washed it. It's on the chair.”

“Thanks.”

I go and pick up the sweater. It would be too short and large on me but it’s the perfect size for Milosz. It’s old, stained, falling apart a little. At least it smells clean, blessed be Zuza.

I can feel Idalia’s stare on me and it makes me uncomfortable. It's time for a painful attempt at small talk.

“It’s weirdly quiet today. Where's Dmitry?”

“Eh, he's at Tekla’s this week. You don't know how good it feels to be able to take a piss without a mini you attached at your leg.”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”

She raises an eyebrow, I groan as I fold the sweater.

“I have six brothers. The youngest is in middle school. Took care of them a bunch.”

It used to be seven.

“Ah yeah, I get that.”

I know. I know your family, my older brother went to school with yours. I know we had similar lives. Similar dads. Similar moms.

Shit, pure shit, all of it.

“I don’t have to do that anymore, thank the fucking gods!”

I grit my teeth.

Do you know how fucking lucky you are to be able to see all your brothers at any time

No you don’t, of course not

We're the exact same so why are you so fucking

Lazy

Irresponsible

Careless

You uncaring bit-

“... You good, kid?”

I let out a heavy breath. I open my backpack and try to make the sweater fit.

“Yeah.”

Idalia takes a loud sip of her beer. It makes me want to shove it in her face.

“I think I saw your brother, recently. The oldest, I mean.”

“Lucjan?”

“Yeah. Nice dude.”

Lucjan did tell me that he met her. He’s still friend with one of her brothers, I think. The Adamski and the Lupsowiec were always the problem children. Forges bonds, I guess.

He was surprised when he met Idalia again. She wasn't a girl when he knew her, apparently. He says she looks happier now.

She’s fucking loud about it

I envy her

I couldn't voice anything if I tried

I don't know how to tell anyone what I want

Even less what I am

“You're doing that face again. What’s wrong, Streetlamp? Got dumped or something?”

I freeze. She blinks, goes back into sitting position.

“Wait, for real?”

“That’s none of your business.”

“How come Zuza didn’t know? She knows everything about the dating shit in your little crew.”

“I didn’t tell her.”

Precisely because she repeats everything to you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing. It just didn’t work out. She said we were better off as friends and I think she’s right.”

That's not the only thing she said.

“You know, Simowiet, maybe you should do a little… self-reflection, or something. About yourself, I mean.”

I don't know what she means by that. I know I'm unlucky when it comes to dating. I've come to terms with it. It’s fine.

Maybe you just can’t love anyone properly.

I zip up my backpack. Idalia looks confused.

“Hold up, “she”?”

“Yeah, she. Her name’s Aïcha. Is there a problem?”

“No, but uh, I thought that you…”

“That I what?”

“Well… You know.”

No. I don’t know. That’s what irks me. That, and her eyes full of insinuations that I don't understand. She shrugs.

“Welp. Maybe you should stop trying to date girls.”

…

That's the most unsollicited piece of advice I've ever received and I live with Milosz.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” I reply dryly, “But I don't think you're the person to tell me that.”

“Why? It’s serious between Zuza and me!”

I know.

I just can't figure out why.

You're mean

Violent

Childish

Needy

No better than both our fathers

And yet Zuza’s still with you and I don’t get it because I'm not like you I'm nothing like you I'm nothing like him and yet it's working out

Why is it working out for you

and

never

for

me

Even though you’re a shitty person

…

Maybe

I'm

shittier

“Hey, it’s hard, I get it. You can sit down and talk if you wanna.”

“I don't want to talk to you of all people.”

… I said it out loud. She's looking at me. Her face twists into a snarl.

“Oh yeah? Why not, kid ?”

Don’t you dare

Call me that

In that tone

You're not my parent

You can’t even raise one kid right

“Because you're a fucking-”

Failure

And yet

The door opens. Zuza is looking at us with a raised eyebrow. Idalia doesn't let her talk.

“Zuza, tell your kid that yelling at me ain’t gonna fix his life.”

My cheeks are burning. Zuza looks even more confused.

“Did you yell at her, Simowiet? Did she provoke you?”

Idalia looks outraged at the suggestion.

“No I didn’t!”

I take a sharp inhale, bite the inside of my cheek.

Keep your cool

Everything is fine

You're fine.

“I’m just tired. Sorry, Idalia.”

Apologizing to her makes me want to puke, especially with how smug she looks. Zuza isn’t reading the room at all, which is probably for the better.

“Alright. Do you wanna stay for dinner?”

“No, I was just leaving.”

I don't want your fucking pity

“Thanks for washing the sweater, and I'm sorry Milosz keeps forgetting stuff here.”

“It’s no problem. I’d rather have that than Bazya stealing my stuff, you know.”

“Right.”

Because Bazyli is the only thing that keeps this whole arrangement together at this point

Maybe even our friend group

We’re always the leeches

I’ve always been the leech.

The thoughts are getting meaner. I need to leave.

“I really should go.”

“Sure, I won’t keep you. You're always welcome here, Simowiet, you know that?”

As if.

“Thanks. Bye, Zuza, Idalia.”

“See ya, Streetlamp! My offer still stands~”

I close the door like it’s the lid of my fucking coffin. It’s fine. I’m fine.

I take the way home, a notification rings in my pocket, you're needed, it's a text from Milosz.

“Hey, I'm on the way back from uni, is it okay if I bring Louis over? 🥺”

Louis. Just Louis? Not Bronya or Bazyli? That's unusual. I start to type a reply.

“Want me to leave you two alone?”

No. That's gonna make him uncomfortable.

“Why not bring the whole gang while you’re at it?”

No. Scratch that. I don't want an answer to that.

“I got dumped I'm not in the mood for guests”

… He’s just gonna be worried if I say that. He doesn't have to know.

“If you only need me to be your fucking housewife you could just say so”

What the fuck. No. That's Milosz. He’s my friend. My best friend. Why am I being so mean?

I hear Idalia’s laugh, “yelling at me ain't gonna fix your life”, how ironic coming from her.

“I don’t know. I was just hoping I could get some quiet tonight. Or talk to you. I had a rough day”

… Rough day. I just got dumped, it's not the end of the world.

Stop being so fucking whiny, Simowiet, get it together.

I stare at the text. I start typing again, slowly.

“Sure, no problem.”

And sent. Maybe the period at the end was a little too dry? Oh, fuck it, what’s done is done. The reply arrives quickly anyway.

“Yay! I’ll make dinner for us then! Thanks Sim you're the best 💖”

I smile. A little. He's adorable as always. And his cooking is good.

And you’re a hypocrite.

I put the phone back in my pocket and start walking again. Towards home, I guess. My home that doesn’t feel much like mine anymore.

Aïcha’s face comes back to my mind. Her hand resting gently on mine. Compassionate.

"Maybe you should do some self-reflection, Simowiet. About yourself, I mean."

And

"I’m worried about you, you know."

There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine.

It’s just not my day.