THIS ORDER OF THINGS

Depression was not a state that overcame Norbert’s mind often. Nature had been kind to him and had endowed him with a happy personality. The past few weeks, however, had been tough. November’s melancholy was always difficult to live through, with its yellow fog, grey sky, and dirty rain polluting his mood. Altogether the elements formed a cloud of haze in the sky, usually azure blue. He stared at the computer screen with his marks in mild shock. He had actually failed at something he loved. His computer science mark was his lowest. It below what he needed to start his next semester. Norbert sat frozen in his chair, paralyzed by fear of what his future might look like when he heard a faint knock on the door.  He said, “Come in.” 

The door opened, and his mother, Mrs. Szklarski, walked up the few steps into the attic bedroom and looked around.

“Norbert, why is it so messy in here? You are usually so neat and tidy.” 

“I know, Mom. I’ll clean up soon. Don’t worry.” 

“I am worried. What is going on with you?”

“Nothing, Mom. Why?” 

“Well, you haven’t come downstairs all morning. It is almost midday. I got concerned.”

“Don’t worry, Mom. Please. I’m fine.” 

“Norbert, it is my job to worry about you. Just tell me what is bothering you.” 

Norbert looked at his mom. 

“I don’t want to tell you.” 

“Why?”

“I’m scared.”

“Scared of what?” 

“Of disappointing you.”

“I am your mother! Maybe I can help.” 

“I’m failing, Mom.”

“Failing what?”

“I am failing computer science. I can’t keep up. I’m not your precious Veronika. It’s too much for me. I didn’t want to fail, but I did.”     

“Oh, Norbert,” Mrs. Szklarski whispered and walked up to the window. Brilliant, midday light broke through the clouds, and she extended her face towards it. Days were getting shorter in November; she wanted to absorb the brief moment of light. “Life is full of failures; it is how you handle them that counts. I came to Canada in my late thirties and got a candy factory job despite my university education. I worked so hard my legs are full of varicose veins already at forty-nine, and what did that get me? Do you think that you or Veronika never coming to me with your problems is not the ultimate failure for me as a mother? Sometimes I wish we did not have this beautiful house, or half the money we do but that my children were closer to me. I sure paid a high price for our immigration.” 

“Sorry, Mom, I didn’t know you felt that way.  I don’t come to you because I don’t want to worry you.” 

“Worry me! Please! Worry me any time you need me. I am your mama. It is my job! My favorite job in this life! As for your school, you can drop this class before it is on your record. Your grandfather died this fall; it affected you. I will make you a copy of the death certificate. In the meantime, I am sure there are other, easier courses that you would like better and then retake the hard one next year, or in the summer when you can focus on just that one. You must solve problems, Norbert, not run away.” 

“Actually, there are a couple of electives I can take after Christmas, but the only courses offered are business.” 

“So, take business! Anything! Just do not get stuck feeling so disheartened you stay in your room all day. You are so young! You should take business and other things. Just explore.”

Norbert looked at his mother. She was getting ready to leave.

“Mom?”

“Yes?”

“You really made me feel better. Thank you.” 

She bit her lip looking very nervous herself and said shyly, “You know Mr. Korzynski is coming tonight for dinner, and I have asked Caitlyn to join us, but I have been calling all day, and I can’t reach her. It’s not like her to make herself unavailable. Can you please go over to her house and see what is wrong? Her grandmother is in a nursing home now, with both of her parents dead, now that poor girl has no one left.” 

“Of course, Mamuish.” Norbert agreed. “I will go and see what’s going on.” 

They went downstairs. 

It was not birthdays but Name Days that Polish people celebrated by tradition. St. Andrew’s was a big day for the Poles: Andjeyki, it was called. The last day of November, it was also the last day celebrated in a loud manner before Advent. Norbert’s parents used Andjeyki as an excuse to invite their special guest, Andrew Korzynski, for supper.

Korzynski had been Mr. and Mrs. Szklarski’s co-sponsor in Canada many years ago. They did not keep in touch closely with him anymore, but he still mattered to them as much as he did on day one. In the form of a live human body, he was the physical evidence of a shadowy, long lost dream of a better life in North America before reality settled in. They needed him to remember how they had once felt: energetic and full of hope. Korzynski had been born in Poland and spoke Polish, but due to his character and how his immigration unfolded, he belonged to Canada. With Caitlyn unavailable, Norbert’s parents would have to deal with the dinner by themselves. They were uncomfortable with this new situation, but they would die before showing their vulnerabilities from living in a foreign country so, they acted their usual selves. The preparations went on as the day rolled by. As large pots of water boiled on the stove, Mrs. Szklarski started dusting off all the wooden and clay art and folk carvings they had brought back from Poland over the years. She worked hard, cleaning and watching for the boiling pots simultaneously. 

When the dusting was done, she went into the kitchen and started making pierogi from scratch. She poured flour and other ingredients onto a wooden board, even though he had told her many times that the mixer could do it just as well. She always thought she could do things better than the machine. The ingredients all came together and she started to knead the dough. Now that he was older, Norbert realized there were so many tasks in his mom’s daily routine that some were done easier the way she was used to doing them, even if it looked harder to him. 

“Mom, I’m going to see Caitlyn, as you asked.”

“Thanks, Norbert. Bring her with you if you can. I much rather she entertains Korzynski than me. She is better at it, so joyful and outgoing. I’m too shy.” 

“I’ll try, Mom, but I’m not that persuasive.” 

“Sure you are,” his mother smiled. “Just try.” 

He opened the hallway closet and took out the expensive, dark blue Umbro jacket, which he bought with his hard-earned money cutting people’s lawns in the summer, put on his boots and left. 

Upon his arrival, Mr. Korzynski had taken off his coat and asked for a diet coke. Norbert had gotten back but he had not managed to get Cailtyn to come. She had lost a friend and was not in a mood to socialize. Norbert sat stiff watching his nervous parents talk to Korzynski. When the guest of honor was finally asked to sit down and dine with them, Korzynski winked maliciously at Norbert and declined his parent’s invitation, saying, “Eh, nie, nie. I’m here only for a little while, just a drink. I just wanted to check up on you.” He was a heavy man but one who never lost his reflexes. He lied with such ease. He curled his mustache with his index finger and added, “Maybe a glass of sherry,” his eyes lit up playfully above his sunken cheeks. But it was only a momentary illusion of a joke. 

No one was laughing.  Everyone was uncomfortable. No one spoke. Norbert’s mom went to the kitchen to fix the drink. Mr. Szklarski followed his wife, unsure of how to please a man whom they valued above anyone else they knew, but a man who was acting now as if he wanted nothing more than what he already had. There was nothing new to discover, nothing that would embellish his life or add a spark to it. Certainly not a dinner prepared in his honor.

“He said dinner. Right?” Norbert could hear Mrs. Szklarski’s strained whispers coming from the kitchen. Her voice revealed her frustration. She was overworked and tired, having cooked all day (making pierogis from scratch was no easy task as Norbert knew well) and now she felt it had all been for nothing. 

“I think so,” Mr. Szklarski replied but looking at his wife’s weary face, he added, “Yeah, he did say dinner, but maybe he meant dinner time. I don’t know.” Mr. Szklarski was irresolute. He had too much respect for Korzynski to criticize anything Korzynski did. Both of them knew that Korzynski did say “dinner”, but backed out of his promise for some reason, and he was pretending now to never have promised. They just couldn’t believe a gentleman would be so disrespectful. Norbert’s parents were stunned with Korzynski’s contempt they weren’t capable of showing anyone. 

While his parents were in the kitchen, Norbert socialized with Korzynski, listening to his “back in the Navy” stories. Still, privately Norbert analyzed the flow of events of the late afternoon. He still remembered the scent of Caitlyn’s perfume mixed with the sour scent of wine, she had been drinking to drown her grief of yet another dead person in her life. Imperfect yet so brave, her presence lingered in Norbert’s memory. He wasn’t willing to let it go. He wanted to keep it, even just a memory of someone’s courage. As if mobilized by her energy and presence, observing her over all those years, something clicked. And he heard his own voice loud and clear, “Come on, Mr. Korzynski! My mom cooked all day for you. You said you were coming to dinner, so let’s sit and let’s eat.” 

His parents stood frozen at Norbert’s audacity. 

 “Heh, heh, heh. It’s nice to hear you speak, Son.” Korzynski looked at Norbert with surprise, downing the last of his sherry. Norbert had always been the quietest person in the room. “But it is time for me to go.” 

“Really, sir, we all thought you were coming for dinner.” 

“I was, but you know indigestion at my age is like a capricious woman: it comes and goes as it pleases…” Korzynski explained, yet remained in his seat, staring at Norbert. “Tell me though, what are those courses you said you were taking? Business? That’s my forte! If you haven’t noticed, I may not be the richest man in the area but, I do have a few contacts.”

“Thank you, Mr. Korzynski. I am pretty sure you are the richest man in the area,” Norbert wrinkled up the corners of his eyes at Korzynski, “I would be most happy to call you but please, sit at the table with us. You can have something small.” 

“Norbert. It’s okay. Don’t force it,” Mrs. Szklarski said. She would complain to Norbert in private about her sufferings, but in public, she was petrified of making a scene in a land foreign to her, land, which forever remained strange. Full of uncertainty, she would undermine her children in public if they brought attention to her. It was one of the reasons Norbert seldom spoke. He had learned his mother was always embarrassed by almost everything. 

“Why don’t you pack something to go then, Mom?” Norbert gave in. 

“That’s a great idea. I like your new-found persistence, Nobert.” Korzynski searched his pocket and produced a business card. “Here. Take my information.” He looked at Norbert again. “You have changed, my Son. Make sure you call. I may have a job for you.” 

Korzynski left with enough food to last him a week but Mrs. Szklarski poured herself a drink when he left. “How dare he?” she said to herself. Mr. Szklarski started to shove food in his mouth without sitting down, or putting it on a plate. Norbert watched his parents, feeling so powerless to ease their suffering, he felt suffocated. Even when he tried, he failed. Yet again.  He went to the kitchen and also poured himself a drink, in secret, not to worry his parents even more. He sat down and gulped it, rinsing the glass and putting it in the dishwasher so that no one would ever suspect.