Chapter Text
The drive back home from Williamsburg is mostly quiet. The stillness inside Zosia’s car, only disrupted slightly by the radio on low volume, contrasts the hustle and bustle outside, which she somehow manages to mostly ignore. Her eyes are firmly on the road, though part of her mind keeps wandering elsewhere.
She did her best to keep her demeanor under control during her stop at Cafe Mogador, yet it’s only now that her heart has started to race. Her hands are firmly on the steering wheel, and she has to take a deep breath and exhale before she can relax her grip. She takes her left hand off the wheel and adjusts her glasses—that she only wears when reading, working, or driving—before giving her own knee a series of gentle pats, in an attempt to shift her entire focus to the road in front of her.
It seems to work somewhat, though Carol’s face remains etched in her head.
Not that it has ever left completely, anyway. But to see it manifested in front of her, under the most unassuming of circumstances, blew her mind.
She sighs as she continues her drive, while only occasionally glancing at the goings-on outside. Nothing strikes her as different in particular, especially with how much she has grown used to in the past few years, but today a lot of it feels out of the ordinary. In a strange way she can feel an array of memories being conjured, ones that she always tells herself to not revisit. Today, for the first time in ages, she is unable to fight the urge to do so.
“Kurwa,” she mutters to herself.
Even as she pulls up in front of her brownstone, Zosia can feel that her head is not entirely there yet.
She can’t remember the last time this happened, and she feels the slightest bit of embarrassment for failing to keep her composure—something that she normally prides herself on. It’s all been thrown out of the window since earlier this morning, all because of something that was never in her calculation when she moved here.
She sighs as she starts observing her surroundings in an attempt to get herself together. The sight of cars parked outside the brownstones, the sound of children playing on the sidewalk, the feeling of the gentle breeze against her skin. It takes her a moment, but she finally can feel herself grounded in the present.
Upon opening the front door, she raises an eyebrow in surprise at the sound of the TV in the living room along with a child’s hearty laughter. She did not expect Jake to have brought Roman home this soon, but something about it feels relieving to her and she starts walking toward the living room with a smile.
“Hi, Mama!” she hears as she enters the room, where Roman is sitting on the couch with a cup of yogurt in his hand while watching Bluey on TV. Zosia smiles at him, and he waves his little hand in response.
“Hi, misiu,” she greets back as she joins Roman on the couch and kisses the top of his head. “I didn’t know you were home already. Did you have fun with Daddy?”
The boy nods. “Yeah! His hotel room is so big. And Daddy took me swimming yesterday!” he tells her
“It was a struggle to get this one out of the pool,” Jake chimes in from where he’s sitting in one of Zosia’s armchairs. “Don’t hold it against me, but I had to bribe him with ice cream after dinner. It was the only way he’d get out of the water.”
Zosia playfully rolls her eyes. “Everything okay?” she asks Jake.
“All good, no worries,” Jake reassures her. “Hey, make sure to show Mama your new sketchbook later,” he tells Roman, who beams and nods as he takes Zosia’s hand in his.
As much as Jake tries to humor Roman by also watching the cartoon on TV (which, to his credit, he is usually good at—something that Zosia always appreciates), Zosia notices that he keeps looking at his watch repeatedly. She looks down, and he’s also tapping his feet against the floor. It’s a habit of his that she understands well, that tells her he’s anticipating something.
Even after all this time, Zosia still remembers. It’s simply in her nature.
“What time is your flight?” she asks Jake, and at the sound of her voice he steadies his feet almost in an instant.
He checks his watch again. “Five-thirty out of Newark,” he sighs. “It was a last minute thing so they couldn’t get me on one from LaGuardia or JFK. Gotta head there early before the traffic gets nuts, I guess. Might do a bit of work while waiting.”
“Are you flying straight back to San Francisco?”
“Nah,” he shakes his head. “Miami. I have a presentation tomorrow, and I did ask to do it on Zoom but they insisted. Can’t complain, right? Could always sneak out to the beach, all expenses paid.”
Zosia chuckles, catching just the slightest hint of weariness on Jake’s face despite his remark. “I suppose you can’t,” she says sympathetically. “You driving to the airport?”
“Yeah, I’ve arranged for the rental car to be picked up at Newark,” he replies as he picks up a car key from the coffee table. “Unfortunately, I think I need to leave now.”
As Jake stands up from his seat, Roman immediately walks toward his dad. “Do you really have to go now?” he asks with a pout.
Jake takes a deep breath, and Zosia can see reluctance on his face. “Yeah, buddy. I have a plane to catch, and I have very important work tomorrow,” he picks Roman up, which seems to appease the boy somewhat. “We had fun, though, didn’t we?”
Roman nods with a small smile, and he wraps his arms around Jake’s neck. Jake hugs him back, and they take their time enjoying their embrace. The sight makes Zosia’s heart sing, and every time she sees Jake with their son she feels deeply grateful that he’s such a stellar father. There were things that didn’t work out in their marriage, but she would never regret that period in her life. It brought her Roman, and she wouldn’t even dare to think about a life without him. She’s also aware how lucky she is that she and Jake remain very much amicable, and she couldn’t have asked for a better person to co-parent their son with.
“You want to bring something to eat?” Zosia offers. “I could make you a sandwich, if you’d like.”
“No need, Zosh. I’ll just grab a bite at the airport,” Jake politely declines. He then crouches down to Roman’s level, gently ruffling his son’s hair. “Don’t stay up late tonight, okay? And I know your mama is much better at bedtime stories, but try asking just a normal amount from her.”
Roman giggles and gives Jake another hug, and Jake responds by kissing his son’s cheeks. “I love you. You’ll be back soon?” Roman asks with his best puppy eyes, and that’s something Zosia knows Jake is always weak for.
“Love you too, buddy. I’ll let you know the next time I’m in town,” Jake responds with a smile before turning to Zosia. “Thanks a lot, by the way. Let me know if either of you need anything, will you?”
He stands up and offers Zosia a friendly hug, which she graciously accepts. “Thank you. I know he had an amazing weekend,” she says. “Safe trip, okay?”
Zosia takes Roman into her arms, and they both walk with Jake to the front stoop and watch as he gets inside his rental car. Roman gives a series of waves as his dad drives away, and stares at the car until it disappears from view.
Once she puts Roman back down, Zosia lets him lead her back inside and he heads straight to the living room to pick up where he left off with Bluey and his yogurt. She doesn’t join him immediately, but instead takes a moment to continue grounding herself by studying the hallway of her house. A large oil painting depicting Ellis Island adorns the wall across the stairs, with a wooden buffet table just below it. A series of photos, meticulously arranged, occupy the surface of the table; some of Zosia together with Roman and others of just him, over the years since his birth. Fragments from her life over the past few years, a life she has grown very used to having though she keeps telling herself to never take it for granted. At times it feels like it’s a life that she has always had, one that she always knew she’d be experiencing at this point in her life.
Meeting Carol this morning has reminded her that it’s far from being the case. There was a time before all this, with Carol playing a key part in it. Even that sounds like a gross understatement to Zosia, knowing that Carol was, once upon a time, a constant presence. Suddenly she feels like a fool for assuming that it would all remain in the past, considering that they were worlds apart for the longest time.
It also prompts her to question if Carol had ever stopped being a presence in her mind. She knows the answer—as she has always done, but she’s never quite ready to admit it.
Their meeting this morning lasted barely an hour, yet it felt like years’ worth of revelation. A reminder of the vast distance between their worlds, each completely alien to the other. In the years that followed since the last time Carol had fallen in love, got married, and been widowed—with so much in between and even more since, Zosia knows, and whatever it was has brought Carol back here.
Zosia wonders how Carol would react if she found out about her own world, and everything that has taken place in it. Her meeting Jake back home in Poland, their marriage that brought her back to the United States, Roman’s birth, and her subsequent divorce. Sure, divorce is hardly comparable to the death of a spouse, and Zosia is aware of how lucky she is that she and Jake remain amicable and that he’s a terrific father to their son, but in her own way she had to deal with loss, too. Of some facets of her life at a certain point, and of clear directions that she used to expect to always have. Nowhere as bad as Carol did, but it was there nonetheless.
She reacted as well as she could’ve when Carol talked about her wife’s death, she feels, but she isn’t sure if Carol would respond just as well. The Carol that she knew from all those years ago would probably scoff in disbelief upon finding out, but the woman she met this morning is still a mystery. It hits her just how crazy the notion is—someone who was once part of her everyday existence is now virtually a stranger, and there was a time when Zosia believed that Carol Sturka would never be a stranger in her life.
Yet it didn’t feel entirely like that when they met this morning, for some odd reason. Sure, she was taken aback to see Carol there for the first time after thirteen years, but part of her didn’t find it to be completely out of nowhere, either. She doesn’t know if it’s because deep down part of her heart always knew, or hoped, that she and Carol would someday cross paths again, or because of something else that she can’t quite specify at this moment. Either way, as always, it’s not something she’s ready to admit.
“Mama?” she hears Roman call out for her from the living room, snapping her out of her thoughts. Bringing her back to her world as it exists in the present, far and away from the one that has constantly bugged her mind since this morning.
A reminder that this is her life now. It’s nothing like what she pictured thirteen years ago, but it is what she has.
“Yes, kochanie?” she calls back in response, her left hand touching her right wrist and moving in a rhythm that feels like second nature to her by this point. She takes a deep breath, slowly feeling herself being grounded back to the present. Again.
“I’m hungry,” Roman says, and Zosia can hear the TV being turned off. “What’s for lunch?”
Zosia takes a look at her watch, and sure enough it’s close to lunchtime. She can’t remember exactly how long she’s been standing in the hallway and deep in her own thoughts, but it must’ve been quite a while. She knows Roman must’ve noticed in his own childlike way, and she fully expects him to bring it up later.
“Sorry. I was—I had a lot to think about, but I’ll be there in a few,” she says as she begins making her way to join her son in the living room. “How about I make you a sandwich?”
Hours pass into the night, and Zosia is getting even more restless.
At least not physically, and she credits herself for keeping herself together enough to appear calm on the outside. She isn’t sure how much Roman has noticed, or if he’s noticed anything at all, but up until now he hasn’t asked anything.
She manages to distract herself by making dinner, and while it’s just a very simple dish of pierogi and kielbasa, she makes sure to pay close attention to every step—even as far as reciting each one in Polish. Anything to keep her mind occupied, and prevent it from wandering to what happened this morning. It works, she thinks, though not fully. Not that she finds it surprising, anyway.
At dinner, she’s relieved to see that Roman is more interested in telling her all about his weekend with Jake. She tries her best to follow, but at times she can hardly offer anything more than a nod, or occasionally responding with, “Really? That’s great!” She wonders if Roman notices how his mom’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, though if he does he doesn’t say anything and instead opts to talk about all the drawings he did over the weekend in his new sketchbook, and how excited he is to show them to her before bedtime. Zosia herself is unable to eat much, and as much as she tries to focus on her son she can’t stop herself from getting lost in thoughts about so many other things. She can feel guilt starting to creep in, and she really tries her best to engage with what Roman has to say, but her mind keeps drifting away.
It’s not something she’s used to, and she normally prides herself on her ability to remain in control even under less than ideal circumstances, but any semblance of control has been scarce today. All because of this morning, and she finds it exasperating.
Once dinner is finished, she makes sure to clean up the table and take care of the dishes as quickly as possible, and can feel herself moving on autopilot while loading empty plates into the dishwasher. It’s a weird feeling, something that she doesn’t experience often, having almost every movement controlled by an almost-unseen force—one that seemed rather vague at first, that she didn’t expect to still influence her in such a way. For once, she feels perplexed, and the feeling is made worse by the knowledge of what caused it.
She briefly considers doing a bit of work before she retires for the night, but even just opening emails on her iPad overwhelms her, and she knows right away it wouldn’t provide her with a much-needed distraction. She heaves as she puts away her iPad, and decides to head to her son’s bedroom instead.
Much to her relief, Roman has brushed his teeth and changed into a pajama set—one of his favorites, a red Super Mario shirt paired with dark blue pants. He sits on his bed, holding his new sketchbook in one hand. He looks at Zosia, his dark brown eyes so full of love and wonder, and she feels guilt creeping it yet again for not having been fully present today. Again, she wonders if he’s noticed.
“Hey,” she says as she sits next to Roman on one side of the bed. “Don’t you have something to show me before bed?”
Roman nods with a smile before placing the sketchbook in Zosia’s lap, and she immediately starts taking a look at each of the drawn pages. She studies the crayon drawings, depicting an assortment of objects that he must’ve seen during the weekend including cars, trains, and skyscrapers. Each of those has the familiar childlike quality that she loves so much, that she remembers being fascinated by when she was Roman’s age. Of course, it’s way too early to tell, but sometimes she can’t help but wonder if he’ll grow up sharing her appreciation for visual arts.
“What do you think, Mama?” he asks expectantly as he places his hand on her arm.
Zosia leans in to kiss her son’s head. “I think they’re wonderful. It must’ve been really fun, observing all these things you got to draw!” she says, and she can hear a hint of pride in her own voice. “Daddy got you this new sketchbook, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Roman says with a nod. “I forgot to bring mine, so Daddy said I should get a new one and some crayons so I can make drawings while he works.”
“I see,” Zosia replies, her hand now caressing Roman’s hair. She hears him sigh softly, a sign that he really needs to go to sleep soon. “Do you want me to read you a story?”
To her surprise, Roman shakes his head and instead just lies down and grabs a shark plush toy, one of his favorites, to cuddle. “You’re tired, Mama,” he mumbles. “You had lots to do today, right?”
Immediately, Zosia’s heart drops, and even more so when she sees the genuine concern in Roman’s eyes. Her son knows, after all, as she expected, but it still stuns her nonetheless. He’s always been an observant boy, which she knows is something that he gets from her, and all of a sudden she feels bad about her mind not being fully present all day. Somehow she knows that even if Roman was aware of the full truth he would never hold it against her, but it does nothing to ease the guilt.
“Well, that’s right,” Zosia responds, moving closer so she can place her hand on Roman’s hair. “I had…plenty to do.”
Roman turns to lie on his side, his eyes firmly on his mom. “I think you need sleep. You can read me a story tomorrow when you feel better, right?” he says with a smile, and Zosia’s heart melts at that.
“Of course. But do you know what will make me feel better soon?” she asks him with a playful pout, which gets him to look at her expectantly. “Cuddles. I think I need a lot of those.”
Roman gives Zosia a grin in response, and opens up his arms in invitation. She moves closer to the middle of his bed, and wraps an arm around his body. She lets him lean against her and take her other hand in his, and she can hear him sigh softly in her embrace. She closes her eyes as he places his head in her lap, allowing herself to relish the closeness.
There’s nothing quite like it, she thinks, as she runs her fingers along her son’s hair and gently rubs his scalp. The feeling of loving and being loved thanks to this little person with so much fondness for life and everything in it, especially his mom. She still remembers how novel it felt when Roman was first born, and five years later the feeling still amazes her like nothing else. It’s not something that she envisioned exactly when she was younger, but she wouldn’t change it for the world. Her life has taken so many turns in over a decade, and not all of them pleasant, but at the end of the day they’ve brought her right where she is now, with her beautiful son.
Still, sometimes she finds herself contemplating all the what-ifs, and everything that her life could’ve been had one thing been different. And today she thinks about it more often than the previous years combined since she last left New York.
She continues stroking Roman’s head, slowly feeling him falling asleep. When she hears his soft snores, she carefully moves him from her lap to the middle of his bed, places his shark plush toy in his arm, and adjusts his blanket. “Dobranoc, kochanie,” she whispers as she kisses his head, and walks out of his bedroom, leaving the door slightly open just the way he likes it.
Thoughts still run through Zosia’s head as she starts getting ready for bed in her own room, though—much to her relief—she’s significantly calmer now after tucking Roman in. She changes into a nightgown, climbs into her bed, and turns off the lights, bar one nightlamp on her bedside table. She takes a deep breath as she closes her eyes, her left hand rubbing her right wrist again to soothe herself. Exhaustion is slowly taking over, and it hits her that so much of the day has drained her energy significantly. She feels herself relaxing, her surroundings drifting away, and Carol’s face is the last thing she sees before she fully succumbs to slumber.