Before You Break

“Hmmm,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his chin as he contemplating the names I’d chosen. “I think I approve.”

I was mesmerized by how his fingers worked his jawline. “Yeah?”

“I like them.” His gaze landing on my lips before sliding up to my eyes. “I like them a lot.”

He turned to join my father and uncles as his double meaning swept over me, like a salve. I stood there in a drunken stupor, watching his tight backside move in those dark-wash jeans.

My father was already rubbing his hand along the side of Qui

Mom was busy setting the tables. There were always two for these types of di

“What took you so long, Corka?” My parents had spoken half Polish, half English my entire life, so I understood the language better than I communicated it. I would’ve been more fluent had I practiced, but my parents didn’t push it. I was more interested in appearing as Americanized as I could in front of friends.

Avery was the only friend who got on my case about it. Said I should feel lucky and embrace the language. But I wasn’t as confident or strong-willed as she was. I’d actually cared about being popular and fitting in. Which seemed ridiculous in hindsight.

Besides, after Christopher died, I’d never fit in again. Nobody had gone through what we had and none of my friends besides Avery had seemed to understand. So I’d stood out like a sore thumb even more. And that’s when I’d decided to focus on healing rather than being popular.

“We weren’t that long, Matka,” I said. “He wanted to change his greasy shirt.”

“That was polite,” she said and gave me a knowing look. “He’s very handsome, that one. Just make sure the other one knows you’re finished before moving on, you hear me?”

My cousin Andrea wiggled her eyebrows, and I felt my cheeks heat up.

“It’s the right thing to do,” Mom said, placing her hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at her.

I had trouble meeting my mother’s searing gaze. “So . . . you wouldn’t be upset if that were to happen?”

“Upset?” she asked, her eyebrows bouncing together. “Prosze, I only want you to be happy.”

I nodded and felt my stomach unclench. Relief washed through my limbs.

“And right now, your eyes are dancing for that boy.”

I heard my cousins snickering in the kitchen as they separated utensils for the place settings. Aunt Karina wasn’t here yet, and I was grateful to not also be under her direct scrutiny.

Soon enough we were all packed into the dining and living rooms. Qui

When Qui

After a couple plates of food each, we sat back in our folding chairs stuffed to the gills.

“That was so good,” Qui

“Not all the time. But, yeah, I guess so.” I realized that I took all of this for granted. What kind of meals did Qui

“What favorite thing does your mother make?” I asked, figuring he had something to be nostalgic about.

“My mom?” He nearly choked on the soda he’d been sipping. “I could tell you my favorite restaurant takeout menu. Or about the spaghetti and meatballs our cook used to make.”

I bit the inside of my lip to contain my reaction. “Oh. Sorry.”

“No sweat,” he said. “It’s how I grew up. I didn’t know any different—unless I stayed with my aunt and uncle.”

And that’s when I finally saw a wistful glint in his eyes. Or maybe it was regret.

“My father’s a career politician, and for us, that meant another way of life,” he said.

Before I could ask him exactly what he meant, he took the conversation in a different direction. “How do you say thank you in Polish?”

Something unlocked in the very center of me. I’d tried teaching Joel how to say a couple of words to impress my parents, but he’d never seemed interested enough to try. Besides, he’d already known my family well enough from church and sports.

I leaned across my seat to whisper it to him as gratitude and admiration lodged in the back of my throat. When my lips closed in on his ear, I felt him shiver. “Dziekuje. I’ll say it slowly for you. Jin-ku-yeh.”

“Jin-ku-yeh,” he repeated two times, and it was the sweetest sound to my ears.

Then he cleared his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. Abrams, jin-ku-yeh. This food was amazing.”

The whole table went silent at his rough translation. My cousin Andrea’s eyes twinkled at me and my aunt Karina looked taken aback and pleased at the same time. She tapped my mother’s hand.

“That’s a lovely thing for you to say, Qui

Qui

My mother’s eyes flooded with sadness. She could tell how sincere his thank-you had been as well as I could. She must have been already deciding how many different kinds of leftovers to wrap up for him. He had just opened up the floodgates for my mother to gift him with endless amounts of food and bakery items. I was never going to hear the end of it.

“You come back anytime,” my father chimed in, rendering me speechless. “You hear me, son?”

I knew my father had enjoyed Joel’s company and thought he was fu

Having my father’s approval meant more to me than he’d ever know. Even if Qui

We gorged on Aunt Karina’s cream pies and my mother’s powdered-sugar pizelles while we played two games of Mario Kart with my brothers in our basement rec room. Afterward, I helped Qui

My mother had gone as overboard as I’d expected her to, given the amount of Tupperware loaded in our hands. But I didn’t complain. I knew Qui

“Now I see where you get your gaming skills,” Qui

“You mean my brothers?” I asked. “Nah, I taught them everything they know.”

Qui

He leaned against his car, his keys dangling in his fingers, and I tried thinking of anything to say to prolong his visit. I wasn’t quite ready to let him go yet.

“Hey, how far is Seymour Park from here?” he asked. “Used to have games there in high school. Sometimes we’d hang by that cool waterfall afterward.”

“Not far at all, just around that bend.” I pointed down the street. “You could walk there from here.”

“Seriously?” He straightened himself and glanced at the sidewalk leading in that direction. The park was a regular hangout for us in high school. It boasted a fishing pond, a miniwaterfall, as well as a playground, and a baseball diamond.