It’s something I’ve seen all my life and still can’t quite recognize when I look at it up close. I’ve only had a handful of relationships, ones that fell to the wayside in favor of studying, long nights spent with books and a plan, no time for love. Watching Mama and Tata, they fit together so naturally, like breathing. It looks easy, simple, when it’s anything but.
Wishing for my own version of their love is what caused the hairline crack in my composure, just big enough to do something outside of my comfort zone. I gave my number to Dominik Nowicki. He showed up at Mama and Tata’s store last week, looking ridiculous, all smiles and easy confidence. The memory carries a faint warmth, the way a small blush creeps up my cheeks before I can stop it.
He shrugged, casually. “You remember me, huh? You’ve been buried in books, a busy life, doktorka.”
I snorted. “How could I forget? I used some of my best fighting skills back then. Don't come between a woman and her chocolate. I’m surprised you can still walk. Your knees have recovered, I see.”
“Yes, a full recovery.” he’d said, a smirk forming. “Knees and everything else… You should come for dinner one Sunday with my parents. They talk all the time about famous Kasia the doctor. It’d be like having a celebrity in the house.”
The implication had been as obvious as the effort he'd put into his look that day. The shirt fit a little too tightly across his shoulders, hair shaved neat underneath but still full on top, combed back with a little gel. The blond darkened from time, shot through with lighter strands at the tips that caught the light when he moved. Men like him, my Tata would say, aretoo pretty to be Polish. He’d wave his hand and call him some American heartthrob.
But he hadn’t been alone. His little girl, Zosia, clung to his hand, bouncing as she picked out chocolates, pointing with the same greedy certainty we used to have as kids. He crouched down to her level, speaking Polish softly, happily. It was the gentleness that stayed with me, the way his face reset when he smiled at her. A single father to a five-year-old. An unexpected turn of events from the goofy boy I knew as a kid, but one that seemed to suit him well.
My sigh at the memory of watching them together is still lingering when a click cuts through the air. Natalia has her phone raised, angling for the best shot. “This is going to melt my followers’ hearts,” she announces.
Tata startles, then reaches for the phone with a scowl. “Natalia! Give me that.”
She darts back, laughing, already swiping to frame the photo. “No way! You two are goals. This is content gold.”
“Oddaj(Give it back),” Piotr says, begging Natalia to give it to him. “Come on, give it to him.”
The baby chooses that moment to let out a wail in Piotr’s arms, tiny fists flailing against his chest. Piotr groans, trying to rock him while still laughing, which only makes the crying louder.
Mama just shakes her head, muttering under her breath as she tastes her onions. “The peace was nice for five seconds.” Her eyes flick to mine with that exasperated look only she can manage, stitched with love and humor both. Then she stirs once more, satisfied, and declares, “Perfect. Time for dinner!”
Dinner is everything it always is: loud, lively, food passed hand to hand, everyone talking over everyone else. Mama asks Tata how the cousins are managing the store without him tonight. He waves her off, saying they’ve been given tasks, stock to put out, it will be done, not to worry.
Then Tata turns to Piotr. “And you, synu(son)? The shop?”
“Really good,” Piotr says around a mouthful, then swallows. “Too good. So much work, not enough time. Might need to hire a few more mechanics.”
Aga burps the little one, who’s just finished his bottle, and adds with pride, “Everyone knows Piotr is honest, does things for a good price. He can't keep up with it all, he works such long hours. But it's good, the extra money will come in handy. Soon... we might have to buy a bigger house. Trying to make a sibling for Kacper.” She nudges him and he goes, unusually shy.
Tata beams, claps his son on the back hard enough to make Piotr, broad as he is, nearly choke. “That’s my son.”
Then his eyes slide to Natalia. “And you, córka(daughter),when will you focus on school or a career? Somewhere like Blackmoore or Bellevue? Still time to apply.”
“Instagram is a school. Influencer is a career,” Natalia shoots back, with a shrug.
I can’t roll my eyes at her even if that’s what Tata does. I almost admire her. She knows what she wants, even at twenty-two. When I set myself on medicine, it was more pride than certainty. Since theafternoon Mama dragged me to get new glasses, despite my teenage mortification, my course was set. What stayed with me wasn’t the frames or the lenses, but the way she looked at the doctor: attentive, impressed. I remember thinking, with sudden clarity,that’s how I want someone to look at me one day.The feeling followed me long after the appointment ended.
Somewhere along the way, the eye itself became fascinating, the way it utilizes light, has over two million working parts, and makes a conspirator out of the brain when it fails, were just some of the ways it hooked me. I lost hours to my studies without noticing the cost. By the time I reached Johns Hopkins, the choice had already taken something from me. Wanting that kind of respect, that regard, especially as a woman in a male dominated field, meant giving pieces of myself away in the pursuit. I didn’t know what they were at the time. I only knew the price would come later, until later became now, the abandoned pieces of myself staring back at me from the mirror every morning.
Tata’s gaze lands on me next. “And you, Kasia? How was your first week on your own as Dr. Sawadzka?” He says our name like it’s already etched on a plaque at some award dinner. His daughter. A doctor, a specialist, no less.
It makes me sit up straighter. “It’s… going. I had almost forty patients today. It wasn’t too bad. One of the techs even said they love working with me.”
“Ah,” Tata declares, slapping the table. “I knew it! One week in, already the favorite doktorka!”
But Piotr can’t leave it there. “Yeah, but her real prize is the tickets to see her blood man.”
Tata clicks his tongue. “Ah, Kasia, don’t tell me you still chase after that skinny boy that makes all the noise!”
“Tata!” Heat floods my face. “He isfullygrown now, thank you. In his thirties like the rest of us. He’s filled out nicely.”
Piotr raises his eyebrows, but Natalia doesn’t let it go. “Mama, Kasia needs some water. She’s thirsty.”
At first Mama takes it seriously, reaching for a glass, until Piotr bursts into laughter.
