Daffodils to Chrysanthemums

“Finally,” I thought to myself, “the snow has all melted!”. I had been feeling down, as I normally do, ever since the first snowfall back in November, and my morose, frosty crust had barely started to melt with the little sun we had got that spring. As my mood had sunk, so had my marks at university. I had been able to keep it from Mum and Dad until now, and I didn't plan on telling them this week end either. The prospect of telling them was almost as daunting as the exam which was coming up in just under a month, and I had lost nearly as much sleep over seeing them as over the exam.
Walking to the station that lovely spring morning I began to feel better. Warsaw is not the most beautiful city in the world, but seeing the lilac with its leaves budding, and the crocuses shining out from the ground so recently unburdened from snow, I couldn't help thinking that living here wasn't so bad after all. Even the university and its campus weren't so bad. It was just my studies that the sun didn't make any better. Assignment deadlines and exams are just as closely associated with warmer weather as gin is with tonic, leaving me with quite a dilemma of wanting the sun or not.
“Can I carry your bag for you?” came a call from behind me, lifting me from my mind wanderings. I turned around and saw Matt laden with his “student-week-end-break bags”, obviously on his was to the station too. Immediately, the first smile of the day came to my face. I hadn't seen him for a few months and whatever it was that he had been doing had made him look good. I regretted not spending that extra ten minutes in front of the mirror, and I couldn't even coyly play with my hair since I had a bag in each hand. I would just have to hope I looked sexy in that 'pure, unmade-up' kind of way.
“That would be great! Thanks. But your bags are nearly as big as mine. How are you going to take this as well?” I asked knowing exactly what his reply would be. Mat just shrugged and grinned. He was just the same as any male of any species wanting to show how strong he was and how well he could protect me. Another smile, this one timed and controlled to maximize its effect, and my laundry bag with horrible handles was no longer weighing me down.
“So you're going home for Easter too, are you?” he asked nervously.
“Yeah. A chance to get away from the books and my dorm, I wouldn't miss it for the world. Why don't we see you at McFadden's Pub anymore? Last year you were there every week and you were getting rather good at pool and darts!”
“Yes, I know,” he said, clearly pleased that I was happy talk to him. “But it's too much for me with all the study we have to do. I haven't read Great Expectations to the end, and that assignment about contemporary prose is still hanging over my head as well.”
“That makes me feel better,” I joked, but it really did. “If you, the perfect student who doesn't go to McFadden's on Friday night, haven't finished Great Expectations, the fact that I have barely started it isn't so bad.”
“You'll be fine. You always are.”
“Yeah, Yeah.”
“It's true. You've always been the same. You're like a lion who sleeps and plays all the time until the hunger is too much. When you feel the stress of the deadline, your appetite will write those papers without you.”
“You have such a nice way with words. Thank you,” I said, and I meant it too. He blushed showing that he didn't receive compliments very often.
Talking to him made the journey home far more pleasant. Even not being able to find a seat and having to sit in the corridor wasn't as bad since I was with him. The sun seemed to shine that little bit stronger and the spring breeze a little bit warmer, and soon that frosty crust seemed to have gone away completely. For the first time since I had been away, I didn't want the journey to finish. I wished that we could just ride the train talking for the whole week end.
My disappointment doubled as we pulled into Ostróda station and I saw my older sister there to pick me up. That meant that the week end would be all about how wonderful she was, and how nice her husband was. Maybe I would find some time to study after all.
“Hi Martha. Over here!” I could hear her calling as soon as I stepped onto the platform.
We hugged, and I put on my best happy face.
“You remember Mat, don't you?”
“Yes of course I do. But haven't you grown up! Nothing like the boy who used to play on the swings that I remember,” she said trying to embarrass him.
“Let's go,” I interrupted, not wanting to get annoyed with Barbara any sooner than I had to. “Mat, we can give you a lift if your mother is not coming.”
“Thanks, but that's fine. I can walk. It's not as far as it is from my dorm.”
“Come on!” I said. “Barbara won't embarrass you any more, and it's the least I can do to repay you for carrying my bag this morning.”
“OK,” he said, his shoulders lifting with joy but his tone more respectfully thankful. I gave him the front seat as that was what my parents always told me to do, and as an added benefit I didn't have to sit next to Barbara.
As we drove home I thought I was listening to a politician on an election trail, showing how her policies were what the rest of us needed for a successful life. It didn't seem to bother Matt. He sat there calmly nodding at the appropriate moments and giving the occasional comment of encouragement. The barrage of questions, which I thought were too personal and to which Barbara clearly didn't want an answer, almost made me blush. At least she wasn't grilling me over my marks, boyfriends, drinking habits, diet, and my methods of recycling – her favourite campaign message.
When we pulled up outside his mother's house I wanted to get out and spend the week end with his family. The three hours we had spent together getting on the train were the best three hours I had had for a long time. He understood why I was feeling down, and was able to break all my problems down into bite-sized pieces. He thought my dreams of travelling the world were achievable, and even shared the dream of going to India. He believed in me and my wild aspirations of becoming a poet. “If you don't follow the dream and become a poet, whose poems will school children have to study in years to come?” he had said. What a different person he was from who I had remembered. When we went to high-school together, he was only interested in football and Zofia Lewinska. Now he was interested in lots of things, and the most surprising of all was that he seemed interested in me!
Unfortunately, this piece of information had not gone unnoticed by my loving sister who wanted nothing but the best for me, and had to approve any decisions I made.
“He likes you rather a lot, wouldn't you say? How much have you two been seeing of each other lately? Why haven't you told me about this? Come on little sister, that's what I'm here for, don't you know?” she asked as we pulled away.
“Why didn't you ask him while he was here?” I snapped back. “You asked him everything else about his private life. You even had the check to ask him about Zofia.” Lashing out at Barbara had always been a way of stopping her from asking questions, but it also proved to all watching just how good Barbara was compared to the evil younger Martha.
“OK. I'm sorry. I did get a bit carried away, and I shouldn't have been so nosy. I'm sorry Martha.”
“Great,” I thought to myself. “Now I can't reasonably stay mad with her, and I have to talk to her about Matt.”
I let a minute pass before starting again. “We have been meeting at McFadden's every Friday night, and study together on Tuesdays. We are just friends at the moment, but there is lots of gossip about us. I heard that I was pregnant and that we were going to drop out and move back to Ostróda!” This really did make me feel better, and Barbara looked shocked. Maybe the rumour of the baby had been too much. It did however make her stop talking just long enough that she was unable to ask me any more questions before getting home. That pleasure would be reserved for Mum after Barbara leaked the the juicy gossip.