#(zuza didn't turn out so bad)

[soupedepates]

Hanko (mentioned) belongs to @noa-de-cajou

I turn on the camera.

"So, mama, baba, did you understand the concept?"

"I'm not sure I understand why school asks you for that", baba answers immediately. "What do they teach you these days?"

"It's a project and it's not for school", I say as I'm putting everything in place for the video. "Since Czcibor won't be back anytime soon... I want to film the family. I've already recorded mamie-Roz and gramps, I'm doing my cousins next week." I look at my mum. "I've been thinking about including Idalia in that but I know baba and she aren't on the best terms..."

"To hell with that woman", baba scoffs. "But I think you should include Hanko, you know, with the adoption procedure and all..."

I go back at my place, behind the lens, and smile at my mother, who looks more aloof than usual.

"Is everything fine, mama?"

"Oh, hm..." She takes a few seconds to gather her words. "Yes. I'm just wondering if you're fine about discovering things you haven't been told about yet..."

"It's fiiiiine. Baba, you begin! Remember, no filter, it's for posterity."

They both share a silent giggle. I clap in from of my camera to signify the beginning of the clip, and make my life easier when I'll do the editing. My grandma seizes grapes and puts them into the huge bowl I've in front of them.

"I am Danuta Piaseckiya, your grandmother, Agatka, and my mother, Zorza - whose name inspired your mother's by the way - disappeared when I was 13, in 1967, and I got put in an orphanage until I got into medical school. I've learnt in 1989 that she was suspected of being a spy and a traitor to Polska Rzeczpospolita Ludowa and got executed for it. And I'm putting grapes!"

"Oh I remember when we learnt. We were packing our belongings and waiting for the paperwork..."

"You remember, Zushka?" baba exclaims, surprised.

"Well, yes? Hm. I suppose it's my turn now..." My poor mother seems so nervous. She grabs pomegranate seeds and tosses them in the bowl. "My name is Zuza Majak, née Czacka, your mother, and when I was five, almost six, in 1982 I wasn't talking yet. So my teacher tried to talk my mother into putting me in an institution as I was considered highly intellectually impaired. And I'm adding pomegranate."

"You remember that too?"

"Yes? I remember mister Andrejski and you arguing in the kitchen. It was seven days before my sixth birthday, and literally the day martial law was suspended", my mother replies.

"My turn then..." Baba pauses to think. "When I was pregnant with your mother, abortion was legal and free in Polska, so everyone was trying to talk me into terminating my pregnancy. Mostly the biological father. And I'm adding... This sliced apple."

"Whaaaat", I exclaim. "Really?"

"I learnt it when I was a bit older than you", my mother chuckles. "When I tried to reconnect with him, through MSN Messenger... My turn, then!" She grabs raisins and pours the whole bag in the bowl. "When I was ten or eleven, prices were so high that your grandmother didn't eat if I hadn't done so."

"Oh yes, that happened", baba smiles. "Aaaah, I tell you, Agatushka, we had places in kindergartens and higher education was free, but life under the People's Republic was tough, I tell you, I tell you!"

"Yet mama's still talking about how the Soviet days weren't that bad."

"I am joking when I say that!"

"It wasn't that bad", my grandmother cuts. "At least there was money in healthcare. So, my turn. When we arrived in France, your mother was put in special need's section because I disclosed her autism diagnosis to the school. I harassed the principal until she got put into European section, as she was fluent in three languages and a brilliant pupil."

My mother looks embarrassed for a minute, as baba throws orange slices in the salad. Eh. She's like that. They're like that. Mama is shy while baba is quite opinionated.

"Hm... I'll add a last anecdote about my childhood then... It must be a lot to unpack already..."

"It is, mama", I reply with a slight amusement in my voice. "But y'know, I got to archive that. Before it's forgotten, you know. I'll have everyone do happy anecdotes after that."

"So...when I was seven, and still non-verbal, I decided to run away from home to find my biological father who was living quite far away. I remember taking the Warsaw Metro... I had looked up his address in the Yellow Pages. When I found him, he was already married with other children, and he just brought me to the police station. And I had my first words in front of the officer, which were "My dad doesn't want me as his daughter". The poor man wasn't looking great when your grandmother came to pick me up."

"I was absolutely frantic! Do you imagine? A little girl, who couldn't speak!" my grandmother shouts before patting my mother's head. "And your mother decided to start talking at that moment! It was... It was a rich day, to say the least!"

I record them chatting in Polish after this remark. It sounds happy. Relaxed even. I don't speak Polish. I understand it, when mama talks, but they're talking together so fast I can't follow. I turn off the camera, and baba starts serving the salad.

[soupedepates]

Hanko belongs to @noa-de-cajou

"I say this to you, Hanko, but if anything bad happens, I might poison someone."

I am an old woman now, and I am not as able as I used to be. That cerebrovascular accident almost put me in a wheelchair for all my life. Which doesn't mean I won't fight.

And I've grown quite fond of this child.

Almost my grandkid when you think of it.

"Here, here, take a piece of the kremówka I've baked. You'll feel better with a full stomach... I'm hearing a door getting slammed, or is it my imagination?"

I've heard it too, he types on his tablet.

"Dima is usually a good kid. Frankly, I can't understand why he is so mean to you. Yes, yes, he is only six, but still. You didn't try to burn your classmates' hair when you were a kid, did you?"

Hanko types a "no". I pour him a bit more of tea, serve him a bit more of kremówka.

"Not having two parents together don't turn you into a monster. Look at me or Zuza. Or he is starting to take after his mother. Would be a shame. One Idalia is already too much so a second one..."

I don't hear many noises coming from downstairs. I don't like this.

Then someone knocks on my door.

Who could it be. Oh, surprising. My... daughter-in-law. Fantastic. I can almost hear Hanko flinch at this horrible sight.

"Where is he."

I close the door, just for her to try again. She knocks, and I answer.

"Why did you..."

I close it again. She knocks for the third time, looking more puzzled than angry at me.

"Hello Idalia, what is bringing you there?" I say with a smile. You won't get anything out of me with that attitude, young lady.

"Herm... Hello Danuta, I, uh... I am looking for Hanko", she answers, visibly confused. "We uh... we need to talk."

I never was a fan of this girl. Never. I know her father. Bad man. Tried to give a chance to his offspring, got my Zuza crying over her coffee in some of the worst meltdowns I've ever seen since she was a child. So logically, I just slam the door shut.

"So, Hanko, what do you want to eat for dinner?"