A Drop of Rain (8 page)

Now I wonder whether Hanna had objective reasons to be paranoid about the police. Tonight I found the following note among the boxes:

Thursday, May 3 about eleven o'clock in the evening, in front of the door of Apartment _______ in building ______ on ________ Street (near the corner of ______ Street and _______ Avenue), I was witness to a scene of police brutality (five big policemen against one person outstretched on the floor, feet tied).

This bleeding person (there were spots of blood in the corridor), was rolled up to his hair in a blanket, was deposited like a package on the edge of the sidewalk before being placed in police car no. ________.

At least six people besides me were present in the corridor of the third floor during the event.

I should like to have contact with the person arrested, his lawyer and a woman who happened to be in front of Apartment ______ at the moment described above.

I believe that I perhaps know the arrested person and could give testimony in his favour.

Eva was crying on the phone this evening about her sister wanting to die. Eva seems so strong, then she suddenly breaks down. All I could do was listen.

Gave Jill one thousand dollars—the last of the money earned by driving trucks all summer. And the academic year has barely started! I suggested to Jill that I should have some say in where she spends the money I give her, but of course she told me to “F--- off.”

I can't stand that woman's vulgarity. How did I get involved? Forty-year-old, bald guy with no self confidence due to failed first marriage meets scheming female. That's how.

Eva is so selfless. I suppose she gets that from her role model, Hanna. Eva spends the minimum on herself. Naomi is such a contrast.

I lusted after gorgeous alto cumulus clouds this morning while walking to work.

Monday, October 11, 1999

“Grey on grey!” That is what I said to myself when I first saw Mary. Grey hair, grey eyes, grey face. Her entire body beamed, “Unhappy! Unhappy! Unhappy!” She was like a lighthouse in the rain. But she was also stylish and graceful. Now I know that she makes her own clothes, and that she did gymnastics when she was young. She was even supposed to be in the Olympics when she was my age, but she got sick and couldn't. Even though she is poor, she is always well dressed and attractive.

Mary talked to me nonstop from the minute I started working with her. Even though I know some Polish words from listening to Mom and Hanna, I found Mary hard to understand at first. One day, for example, Mary talked on and on about some guy called “Pop-yeh-woosh-ko”. He was a Polish priest who was murdered. Mary's English was so bad that I thought this was something that happened during
World War II. But later, when I asked Mom if she knew about “Pop-yeh-woosh-ko”, Mom explained that he was murdered only about fifteen years ago, in 1984, during the Solidarity Uprising.

Mom said I should already know about the Polish Solidarity movement, because my father was involved in it. (Thanks, Mom. I did know this about my father.) Mom also said, “Pop-yeh-woosh-ko” is spelled
Popieluszko
. There's a slanted stroke through the L which makes it pronounced like an English W.

Mary doesn't talk about politics much. She says she “hates” politics because it is only about “who is going to sit on the chair.” Mostly she talks about her life in Poland and Canada. About her parents and brother and sisters. About her kids. About being a doctor.

While Mary talks, she also works. She's a perfectionist, and she thinks the Rec Plex should be as clean as a hospital. She makes sure I'm doing everything right. She tells me to check that the buckets, mops and rags are clean before I start and after I finish. She shows me how to hose the shower area, how to use the institutional washer and dryer, and so on.

My second day at work, when Mary covered for me because I was feeling sick, I realized that she is very kind. She is going to teach me how to sew fashionable clothes. And she doesn't just talk. She listens too. She must have been a good doctor and mother. She has three kids back in Poland. I think she already suspects I am depressed about the situation at home. Of course, I am also depressed because Curtis is ignoring me. Plus Sarah ignores me after school now too. Sarah has a new boyfriend who plays
football and goes to the college.

It's not that I don't love Hanna. I do, even though she's definitely weird. I know she's always been there for Mom and me, even though I haven't seen her for the past four years. Hanna is sort of like a nun. She doesn't care about worldly things like clothes. Yet Hanna often disagrees with the Catholic Church. I guess Hanna is so intellectual that I can't understand her. I am not stupid, but I think reality is more important than ideas.

Anyway, for the past few years, Mom has been very worried about Hanna. Mom has been so obsessed about Hanna's strange behaviour, that she has been phoning her all the time, and going to Montreal to visit her, even when she had other things to do. Like work. And school. And take care of me. Mom kept saying: “Hanna is going to drown herself in the St. Lawrence River some day!”

Mom never neglected me or anything, but she stopped seeing our life objectively.

Since I got back at the beginning of September to Mapleville, life at our house has revolved around Hanna. I guess that's natural when someone is so sick, but it is depressing. Hanna doesn't make any demands. She says we don't have to visit her. She says she is content to lie in her room alone. But we can't forget about her. How can we? If you knew there was a wild animal under your porch suffering and dying, could you forget about it? And what if it was not a wild animal, but a pet you had loved for a long time?

Is life worth living? Good question. I wish I knew.

I like Mary because she is funny and fun. Sarah has these same qualities. But Sarah is different from Mary, because she is tall and beautiful, young and inexperienced. Also, Sarah is not interested in helping other people, while Mary is. Sarah is spoiled. Sarah thinks she will always get exactly what she wants. She's not snobbish, however, and I know she likes me. We always hang around together in school, even though I can't really talk to her, and even though she disappears after school. She says she “admires” me for getting a job to make my own money.

We had our Thanksgiving dinner tonight after I finished work. Joe ate at our house, because his boys are with their mother. Then he and Mom went over to his house to watch videos.

Mrs. Henderson, I'm very flattered that you like “The Blind Man's Song” so much. I will try setting it to music, like you suggested. You're the first teacher who has said I have writing talent. I guess I get that from my father's side of the family, although Mom says that her father also used to write poetry when he was young, and she did too.

I'm doing a big history project about Poland. I'm planning to send a copy of it to my father to impress him,
so he'll invite me to come and see him. Mr. Dunlop said it doesn't matter that I don't have access to the Internet at home. He says the Internet is an unreliable source for research anyway, and he wants us to be able to use “primary and print” resources efficiently too.

Mom knows all about high tech stuff, but her own computer is fifteen years old. Mom says that she can't afford upgrades or Internet charges. She uses the college computers a lot.

I can do my history project easily by interviewing Mary. Mary talks frequently about Poland during the war and communism.

Here is what a Polish history book says about the beginning of World War II. The English version of this book is titled
History of Poland
. It was written by A. Gieysztor, and others, and published in Warsaw in 1979. It says: “The German attack on Poland began at dawn on September 1, 1939. Within a few weeks the Polish army, in spite of its heroic struggle, was defeated.” The Polish nation experienced frightful “oppression and destruction” for almost six years under Nazi occupation.

Here is what the
History of Poland
says about how Polish people behaved during World War II: “There were no traitors in Poland during the Second World War. The Poles unanimously rejected Hitler's ultimatum of total destruction for their people and their country and were the first in Europe to offer him armed resistance. . . . The people tried to survive
and despite everything dealt the enemy many a painful blow.”

Joe came in last night when he brought Mom home. When I told him about the big history project I'm doing, he said he had the perfect title: “The Decline and Fall of the Soviet Empire, Or My Weird Life.” I always feel like Joe is teasing me.

I showed Mr. Speers, my old art teacher, my drawing of the woodpecker: “The Fallen Bird”. He said I should definitely apply for art college. He said I have the talent to be any kind of artist I want. I could go into fine art or commercial art.

This morning at breakfast, when I told Mom what Mr. Speers said, she got all quiet. I could tell she's still worried that I'll turn out like Dad.