And you can't stay

This was exactly one of the mornings when I woke up startled, almost jumped up because the light entering the room told me that it was later than it should be. With my heart pounding I check the phone. It is 10am. I let the head fall on the pillow again and try to straighten my thoughts before I start panicking. 

“It is not as bad as it might seem. I will not manage to clean the apartment, but well, it hasn’t been cleaned for a fortnight, so one more day is not going to make much difference. If I leave before midday, I will still manage to get to the mall and get everyone a small present. If I am fast and efficient, it can be done before 5pm and so I will still manage to get to the dinner by 6pm.” Self-reassuring worked. I’m back on track and the heartbeat slows down. 

As the water starts falling on my back and head, I relax. Warm water in my hair, eyes, caressing my shoulders and warming up my body. I will meet my grandparents, parents, aunt and her husband, my happily married sister with her husband and child. The other grandmother might join too, so that she doesn’t feel alone on Thanksgiving. It’s going to be okay. I haven’t seen them for over two years, but it is going to be okay. I’m nervous just because it’s been such a long time. 

When I get off the bus, I start recognizing the pavement, the buildings, the trees, the smell. It’s the crispy smell of winter and snow. I know that only a couple of weeks ago it smelled of heavy soil full of water and fallen leaves. Now the winter has taken over and the smell of soil subsided to the crispiness. I breathe it in trying to fill my lungs as much as I can because now I live in country of eternal summer and I came to miss the smell of winter. 545. I never remembered the house number. Even as a child I used to come here, look at the number, try to remember it and then at the next visit I would be surprised by this number again. 

I ring the bell and there is the unmistakable voice of my grandma. “Yes, Sir? How can we help you?”

“Granny, it’s me.”

She doesn’t need to say anything. You can feel the joy even across all the walls that still separate us. She doesn’t speak to the speaker anymore, she’s shouting to anyone out there inside “Georgie’s here. Someone go down to open the door for him.”

“Georgie, are you there? Pete is coming.”

My aunt’s husband, well, my uncle, I guess, but I never got used to calling him that. He’s the weirdest one of all my family. He’s a good bloke. I just never understood how he ended up with us. But my family has a very inclusive policy and anyone can enter and will be welcome. And anyone means anyone. You would need to be a serial killer threatening to kill someone from the family - then maybe you would be rejected. But now that I come to think of it, maybe even in this situation they would come up with something like “He must have had a very difficult childhood.”, “I bet he doesn’t have a good social security network.” or “This is the only thing he knows how to do. He has never learnt any better.”

I am still smiling at the thought of how nicely strange is my family, when I see Pete behind the glass door. He opens the door and hugs me. I’ve spent my whole life trying to be a tough guy, and guy’s never cry, do they? but I can’t help but feel one tear forming in each eye, some more liquid trying to escape from the nose and the mouth trembling with the effort not to let go. I quickly separate from him. 

“How have you been? What’s new? You haven’t aged a tiny bit in all that time.”

“Come on in. Everyone has already arrived.”

As I enter the elevator, I feel nervous again. The elevator has changed. It has a big mirror in the back and the walls are painted in bright colours. Probably to make you feel better when you go to work at 6am. The building is well-maintained and they keep modernizing it but they still haven’t managed to arrange some kind of automatic opening of the front door. 

The elevator is getting closer and closer. My grandparents live on the top floor and I feel my stomach tightening. I know that they are all good folks, but I’m still feeling certain uneasiness. I can’t put my finger on the reason and that makes me feel all the more nervous.

Pete knocks on the door. We never used the bell because the noise that it makes is considered too loud and could disturb the people inside. I don’t remember a single time when I actually heard the sound of the bell. The door bursts open and there they are. My grandma is the first one because she’s the hostess. A kiss on the cheek and a hug. Then comes my mom with a glass of wine. She knows. A half-hug and she passes me the glass. My grandfather a bit further on so that I would have the space and not everyone jumping on me at the same time. A firm handshake and welcoming smile. He has turned into a serious gentleman. My aunt and my sister are in the kitchen preparing the last details for the dinner. A kiss and hug for each one of them. My sister’s husband is playing with their child in another room and we just acknowledge each other. We do like each other but there is no need for any closer physical contact. And my dad sitting in the sofa with his glass and a book. He is in no hurry to greet me. He knows that he will get his time when the whole round is over. He is sure of our relationship so he can play it cool even though I suspect that if the rest of the family wasn’t here, he would be the first one at the door even before the elevator would manage to stop.

My glass is finished. And it is promptly filled by my mother who joins us in the living room. It has changed a great deal. The heavy wooden furniture is gone and so are the tones of brown that used to decorate it here. There is no more the brown carpet with big old-fashioned flowers. It is all decorated in white, yellow and orange. The room looks much lighter and brighter. It seems to be a completely different room.

My grandma appears behind me. “So how do you like it? We redecorated it about a year ago. You wouldn’t believe how much your grandfather complained. That his back hurts, that it’s too heavy. That this is almost a museum piece because we got it shortly after we got married. Do you know that we’ve been together for almost sixty years? We started dating when I was fifteen and we got married when I turned nineteen. Anyway, I insisted that we cannot live like that anymore. We aren’t that old yet and we need need to go with the time. He always threatens to stop buying me all the magazines. You know the magazines about fashion and apartment decorations that I love. But it doesn’t cost much and look at what we managed to do. And now with the floating floor it’s so much easier to clean.”

I listen to her closely, but rather to remember her chattering. She reminds me of a little bird who sits on a tree branch with the very first leaves and tirelessly sings that the “spring has arrived, the spring is finally here, the last snow will soon disappear, look at the little white snowdrops, aren’t they beautiful? the spring is finally here, wake up everyone, leave your houses, let’s breathe the fresh new air, ….”

There is so much joy and nostalgia that they don’t fit in me. It feels that my chest needs to burst out open any moment now. Thank God, my aunt comes and invites all of us to the dining room. It is a big room right next to the living room. This room has maintained its seriousness, but I’m pretty sure that it’s only a question of time before my grandmother takes it into her hands. There is a big heavy wooden table. My nephew needs a special chair to be able to reach it. It is the strangest room in the whole apartment. We almost never use it. My grandparents usually eat in the living room when they are alone. The same when only a couple of people are visiting but when it’s all of us, this room gets opened, dusted and set. It always makes a big impression on everyone.

When the bell sounds, no-one really pays attention. Only my aunt leaves for a brief moment. The table is full of the best home delicacies. There are three types of dumplings, two types of sauerkraut (they all know that it’s my favourite and it’s virtually impossible to get it outside the Central Europe), there is a duck, a chicken and the stuffing that was baked apart. There is chicken broth with tiny little dumplings. There is beer and wine. There is no chance for us to eat it all. And knowing my grandmother, there sure is a dessert somewhere.

My aunt reappears with my other grandmother. She is the serial killer of the family. There has never been a more difficult lady in the world, and they keep inviting her so that she wouldn’t be at home alone. And when she leaves, everyone who was hurt by something that she said will find some justification for her. I bet that she never noticed that I was gone for more than two years, but I’m still glad to see her. She looks as if she walked out of a black-and-white movie. Noone dresses this elegantly anymore. Perfectly ondulated hair, a little hat, a lovely pastel-coloured jacket and a matching skirt down to her calves and high-heels, even though she’s been having problems with her legs for more than a decade. You’d first find her dead than seeing her dressed more leisurely. 

And behind my grandmother enters Lina. 

The sword hanging above my head makes itself feel again. Now I know, she is the reason why I felt so stressed about the dinner. My sister told me that she has stayed well present in the family even after I left. I never minded but I never paid much more attention to it. Of course, we stayed in touch. From now and then. A polite “how are you?” has never hurt anyone. And the truth be told, I did still love her. But I never figured out what to do about her in my life. 

This welcome is a full hug. Much closer than with anyone else in my family and she manages to whisper “Is it okay if I stay for the dinner? If you don’t feel comfortable, I have an excuse ready and I can leave.” 

“No, please, stay. I’m so happy to see you.”

We all sit down and start chatting and laughing. Lina is as beautiful as ever. Maybe more. She’s smart and sociable and I see how she made herself part of the family even though I was gone. And to my surprise, it makes me happy. 

On occasions I tell funny stories from my travels, on occasions I check out and I just watch everyone enjoying themselves. The words stop being distinguishable but the joy of everyone being together is present and you can almost touch it. This is me, this is where I belong. I look at Lina and see her shining eyes and her teeth. She always thought that if you laugh without showing your teeth, then it’s not worth being called a laughter. She wouldn’t let you do things half-way. 

I could imagine the conversation that she had with my mother about joining the dinner. I’m sure my mom invited her and she asked about seven times whether her presence wouldn’t bother anyone and again and again she would be reassured. And her presence was supposed to be a secret present for me. And a secret tool to make me consider staying. It was a common knowledge that I was still in love with her.

And how was I supposed to tell them now that my contract was extended and I needed to leave again in three days?