“Hey, I thought we weren’t doing that today.” He brushes his face with his hand to wipe away the crumbs.
“We aren’t posing for any fake content, but the picture I took is as real as it gets.” I hold the camera screen out toward him so he can look. “This one is just for me.”
His eyes widen and he covers his mouth with his hand. He looks down at his shirt and tries to rub out the stain. “Delete that immediately. I look awful and my shirt is stained and…” He rubs the fabric of his shirt together with more force, trying to remove the stain.
“Absolutely not. This is going to be my favorite photo of you. It’s not posed. You aren’t wearing some fancy designer whatever. It’s real.”
Brady looks at the screen again and frowns. Then he looks at me and I show my approval with a big smile and exaggerated thumbs up. I slide the camera back in my pocket. “What do you want to see in Poznan?” I ask.
“Everything,” Brady says with a relaxed sigh. “But slowly. I want to actually see this place instead of just taking pictures for content. Let’s decide where we want to go as we’re going. What do you think?”
“You want me to be honest?” I ask.
“Of course!”
“I love that idea.”
Chapter 34
Poznan
Brady
It’s almost impossible to believe that a summer storm lead us to where we are. There isn’t a cloud in the sky above Poznan and the afternoon sun feels warm on my face. We follow a cobblestone street past vendors selling small wooden boxes painted with colorful flowers, silver jewelry encrusted with pieces of fossilized amber, and blue pottery with red and orange dots. Poznan is smaller than any of the other cities we have been to this summer and not nearly as glamorous or cosmopolitan as Berlin or London, but it has a gritty charm that makes me feel like we are a part of it rather than tourists walking through it.
We wander our way to the old town square with rows of pastel colored canal-house styled buildings. An elaborate fountain with a Greek god in the center sits on one corner of the square. Children are playing at the edge of it, dipping their hands in the water and splashing each other. They laugh and run around the base, letting out a sharp shriek every few steps. I can’t help but smile at them and feel an ache in my heart missing my niece.
“These kids are about Gemma’s age,” I say, keeping my eyes on the fountain and the kids running around it.
“I’ve overheard you on the phone with Gemma. You know exactly how to connect with her and make her giggle. She loves when you sing that Motown song.” He nods. “My little sisters are older. Teens. They think I’m sooo uncool.” He rolls his eyes the way they must mock him.
“No, they don’t.” I slap his arm.
“Uh, yeah, they do. They love to tease me. ‘Hayes, don’t wear that. They’re grandpa jeans.’” He comedically raises his voice for the impersonation.
“I’m sure they adore you,” I tell him.
“They do,” he admits without containing his pride.
“But they aren’t wrong about the jeans,” I add, and look down at the baggy denim that fits him like a laundry bag. After all, it’s Poland, and that means pure honesty.
“Et tu?” He laughs and sits down at a bench on the side of the fountain where I join him. “Tell me more about Gemma. She’s five now, right?”
I’m touched he remembers.
“Gemma is so smart.” As soon as he asks, I’m able to conjure an image of her in my mind and it’s easy to share. “She knows how to read whole words and some sentences and her math skills are beyond mine. She has this way of connecting to things and loving them so intensely. You can almost feel her vibrate.” I smile thinking about the day I brought her a stuffed whale from a toy store in Sag Harbor. She was so ecstatic, it made me ecstatic.
“Oh, so she’s like you. You get that way.”
“I do?” I ask.
“Yeah, it was one of the first things that attracted me to you. I’d grown up learning to not get too excited about, well, anything because something good can be taken away from you at any moment.” He bends his head to look at the ground and I watch the sides of his mouth turn down.
I know Hayes is talking about his mom. She died when he was eleven and his sisters were only toddlers. All of his memories of her are golden and warm. She sounded great. Full of love and always hugging him. That’s what he remembers.
“I had to take care of my sisters and work part-time. School. Sports. I always tried to be rational and measured in my reactions. No stray movement. Cautious. But then I met you and you just had any feeling you damn well wanted. When you liked something, youreallyliked it. It blew me away. We had this tutoring session and you brought me your favorite cookies from that bakery over on South Street.”
“Oooh. I loved that place.” I rub my tongue against my teeth remembering the way the moist and chewy dough would get stuck in my teeth. “Chip-a-Dee-Do-Dah! Their cookies were the best in Connecticut.” My voice can’t contain my excitement.
