A Drop of Rain (19 page)

“I don't want make no trouble,” said Mary. “Not for director, not for nobody. I never made no trouble for nobody in my whole life. I want forget about this bad experience. That's all. I not think about it more. It make me more sick to think about it.”

Then Mom also told Mary that her daughter could come here to look after her. Mary said her daughter could not get out of Poland, but Mom said she could.

“It's an emergency,” Mom said, “and your daughter is not trying to emigrate permanently. Besides, Joe and I will sponsor her. We are Canadian citizens and financially secure.”

There are times when having an experienced, professional, engineer/teacher for a mother is handy. I was impressed by how Mom started solving Mary's problems efficiently. Even though Mom was (and is) under a lot of stress herself, she was calmly helpful to Mary.

As we were walking home from the hospital, Mom
said that, although Mary is a good friend, I must not panic and forget my school work. I said that, now that I have quit working at the Rec Plex, I will have plenty of time for school
and
helping Mary. I said I had “adopted” Mary. Mom said she was proud of me.

“When Mary gets out of the hospital, she can just rest,” I said. “If I have to pay her landlady with my own money to cook meals for Mary, then I will. Or I'll take dinner to Mary after school—after I've heated up something for Hanna.”

“Hanna's not eating much anyway,” said Mom, sighing. “Many days she has little more than a glass of water. I'll try to get home earlier this week. I should be able to. The semester is winding down.”

When we got home, Joe was still there, reading a book at the kitchen table. Joe promised to drive Mary home from the hospital when they let her out. He also offered to do the paperwork for getting Mary's daughter to Canada.

I phoned Grandma this evening to thank her for inviting me to go to Hawaii. I explained that I couldn't go with her and George this time because I am needed here. I promised that I would write her letters during the winter, and that I would visit her next summer. She said she would send me a postcard as soon as she got to Hawaii.

Sarah phoned me just after I finished talking with Grandma. I told her what had happened to Mary, and she was very sympathetic. Sarah told me that her
father has moved back home. Actually his secretary, who is much younger, “dumped him.” I told Sarah that she is lucky. Her father might be behaving immaturely, but at least he lives in the same house as her, so she can see what he's like.

Here is the letter of resignation that I wrote to the director of the Rec Plex:

Dear Sir:

I am resigning my part-time position as a cleaner at the Recreation Complex in order to protest what I feel is the very unfair treatment of two full-time female cleaners. These cleaners were made part-time employees after they had been full-time for several years. They lost their benefits and were paid less, even though they were expected to do the same amount of work. I definitely feel that this unfair situation was the main cause of one of these employees, Dr. Mary Kowalska, becoming seriously ill.

Yours truly,

Naomi Goralski

Joe and I get along great. School and work are okay. Joe says Eva and Naomi need a lot of “emotional support” these days. They need us to listen to them.

Mom sent a cop around to check on Joe and me.
The cop said that, since I am over eighteen, there's nothing Mom can do if I don't want to stay with her any more. The cop was an old guy who knew Joe. He shook hands with Joe and me as he left.

Joe and I are busy. I've started taking judo lessons. When I went to check out Joe's T'ai Chi class, I watched some judo black belts working out in another room. I decided I preferred judo.

At the Christmas break, we're going to Toronto together to look for some equipment for Joe's photography in antique shops and second-hand stores. We're also going to visit some art galleries.

Joe says he was pretty lonely “batching” by himself. He says he used to have a drinking problem. He dried out with a good alcoholism counsellor, once he faced his problem. He never touches booze now.

Joe used to push people around, like Steve does. But he realized that kind of mindless aggression is useless. Also destructive.

I do the grocery shopping, because Joe hates doing that. He does the laundry, because I hate doing that.

The last year I worked as a country doctor, my mother came to stay with me. After Grandpa died, she stayed one year with Elizabeth, one year with Johnny, and then one year with me. Sadly, I soon discovered that Mom was seriously ill. She was dying.

Soon she is so sick that she is in bed most of the time. When I am not at home, a neighbour comes in
and gives my mother her meals. Unfortunately, I am not home most of the time, because my medical practice keeps me very busy.

After I return each night, I do what I can for my mother. I feel guilty that I can't do more, but she sees how tired I am. She says: “Don't worry. I am happy to lie quietly in your house. That is enough. The neighbour takes care of me quite well.”

Still, I worry. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night. I slip into my mother's bedroom to listen to her breathing. I know that soon her breathing will stop.

One night she calls to me. I go into her bedroom. She folds me in her arms, and she holds me tight.

“My child!” she exclaims, and then she dies.

After my mother dies, living alone is difficult. I have made many friends in the country, but still I feel too sad.

My gentleman friend, Paul, lives in a big city. The city is several hours away by train. He comes every Sunday, but that is not enough. He wants me to marry him and move to his city. Finally, I decide he is right. It is time to start a family.

Our first child, Adam, is named after my father.

When Adam is two, I take him with me to the hospital where I work now. A woman is selling doughnuts just inside the door.

“Doughnut, please, Mommy!” says Adam.

“You sit right here,” I say, lifting the chubby little child onto a bench. “And don't move!”

I turn my back for a moment to buy the doughnut, and Adam disappears!

I look everywhere! I ask everyone! But no Adam! My child is missing!

I run outside into the parking lot. No Adam! I run down the street. I call his name! “Adam! Adam! Adam!”

Where is my child? There he is! He is standing and talking to a young woman.

The young woman shows me how she found out who Adam is, and where he lives.

“What is your mother's name?” she asks Adam.

“Mommy,” says Adam.

“What is your father's name?” she asks him.

“Daddy,” says Adam.

“What does your daddy call your mommy?” she asks.

“Mary,” says Adam.

“What does your mommy call your daddy?”

“Paul,” says Adam.

“And what is your address?” she asks.

Adam knows his address perfectly, right down to the apartment number!

Our second child is called Anne, after my mother. Anne is not as independent as Adam. When we go for walks in the forest, Anne goes a little way, and then she wants to be picked up. Meanwhile, Adam runs ahead. He is very athletic, like I was.

Getting outside the city is good for my children's health. In the summer, they stay at the little cottage where my husband's parents live. This cottage is just outside our city. It has a pond. One day, Anne and our third child, Andrew, see ducklings in the market.

“Oh, Mommy!” Anne exclaims. “Can we have ducklings for our pond? Please? They're so cute!”

“Please, please!” Andrew pleads. “Can we have ducklings?”

I buy two ducklings, one for each child. Anne holds her duckling very carefully, but Andrew keeps hugging his duckling and crooning, “My ducky! My ducky!”

Soon Andrew's duckling is dead. Poor little Andrew can't stop crying.

And Anne's duckling, who has been left all alone without a brother or a sister, is going, “Peep, peep, peep!”

So my husband says, “Mary, you must buy another duckling tomorrow when you go to the city. In fact, get two—one for Adam too. He is too proud to ask for such a babyish present, but he would enjoy a duckling too.”

So the next morning, on my way to work, I stop at the market to buy two more ducklings.

Only one farmer is selling ducklings this morning, and he does not want to sell two ducklings. He has
twenty
ducklings to sell.

“All right,” I sigh. “How much for
all
the ducklings?”

“One hundred zlotys,” he says.

“That is robbery, but my Andrew is crying, so I'll take them,” I say.

And I put twenty ducklings in my shopping basket and rush off to work.

All day long as I examine patients, twenty ducklings sit in a corner of my office. Twenty ducklings go, “Peep, peep, peep!”

When the last patient is gone, I take the ducklings to the cottage.

The ducklings thrive in their new home.

Anne's lonely duckling is happy. Andrew is happy. Adam is happy.

These ducklings soon grow up. Every day we have duck eggs for breakfast, duck eggs for our neighours, and duck eggs to sell at the market.

And this is how we manage when times are difficult. We sell duck eggs, and other produce, that we grow at the grandparents' cottage. Even though my husband is a teacher, and I am a doctor, we do not have much money. Under the communist system, educated people do not make as much money as they do in the capitalist system. A doctor often makes less money than her patients.

Part of our salary goes to saving for an apartment for each of our children. We have to save ten or even twenty years for an apartment. There are not enough places to live in Poland, because building takes so long. There are not enough materials. There is not enough money. Central planning and corruption make every enterprise slow and difficult.

Another part of our salary goes to the rebuilding of Poland. In proportion to its size and population, Poland was the most destroyed of any country during World War II. For a whole generation—over thirty years—we Poles pay to rebuild our country.

I am often tired because I am so busy. I work extra hours at the hospital, so I can become a specialist and earn more money to help the family. I also wash and iron the family's laundry. And I do the cooking, cleaning and shopping. Shopping is especially difficult. I must stand in line. I must wait and wait.

One day when Anne and Andrew are being very
naughty, I lose my temper and snap: “Go out into the world! See how you like it there! Otherwise, you'd better learn how to behave!”

Then I stamp off to continue with the washing, cooking, or whatever I am doing. I am so busy that I do not notice what Anne and Adam are doing. They take their toothbrushes and slip out the main door of the apartment. They descend the stairs and emerge into the open air.

They do not go far. They hover at the entrance to our building, trying to decide where to go.

Along come Paul and Adam back from school.

“Anne! Andrew!” Paul exclaims. “What are you doing here with your toothbrushes?”

“We were very naughty, and Mommy said we must go out into the world, but we don't know which way to go!”

Then Anne and Andrew begin to cry.

“Oh, no!” exclaims Paul. “You don't have to go out into the world. You come back to the apartment with Adam and me. You apologize to Mommy for being naughty. She will forgive you.”

Anne and Andrew come back to the apartment. Of course I forgive them. I hug them both and kiss them. But Anne and Andrew go on crying for a long time. All evening they sniff. And so do I.

I feel horribly guilty. Naomi and Curtis were out together somewhere, and Joe and I went for a walk. We left Hanna with a new hospice volunteer, and a
new nurse came. Apparently, this nurse gave Hanna an unprescribed pill to ease her pain.