11. Ugly duck or swan?

It is one day before my move to the dorms. I am packing my music books and some clothes, the essentials. My father walks in and interrupts me. “Remember who wanted you to play the piano? Remember why you are going to this school. All the sacrifice and everything I have done for you. I was the one who wanted you, wanted to have a girl. Your mother wanted a boy,” his face is victorious. “Uhm-hm,” I look at him and keep stuffing things into my suitcase. “One day, I will be a famous composer,” he continues and my brain automatically tunes out. How often have I heard this already? I lost count. “I am going to record songs and they will be on TV and on the radio. I will bring you a radio to the dorm…” I stop packing and look at him sharply. “No, dad, that’s not necess……” 

“Yes, it is” he interrupts me, “you need to have a radio so you can listen to my songs.” 

Sigh. 

“Remember who got you here. I always wanted a girl. And I will be waiting for you at home. When there is no one here anymore, I will be here. You will have me and the piano. Remember that.”

I look away and roll my eyes. “Yes, dad.”

The dorm is an old historical building and so is the school. The buildings are located in the old center of Kosice, the same town where I used to take my Wednesday and Saturday piano lessons. The buildings are attached, sharing the same walls. I can walk from my room straight to my piano lesson and I don’t have to set foot outside at all. The walls are thick and made of concrete, that is why it’s always cold inside. 

I am 14 and I am a little scared, going from a sheltered life into a life of significantly more freedom. I am assigned to a room to share with 3 other girls. We have 2 steel frame bunk beds, a desk, and four small wardrobes. The room is otherwise bare. 

“Hi, my name is Emily, I will study to play the organ,” a sweet dark-haired girl greets me when I walk into the room. “Where are you from? What will you study?”

The second floor is full of young girls. They are musicians, singers, dancers, actors, all from different parts of Slovakia. All of us girls are on the top floor and all boys are on the bottom floor. 

I am shy and scared but I answer “I am from Presov, I will study piano.” 

Emily and I become fast friends from day one. We do everything together, we go to breakfast, lunch, and dinner, we study, and we go to classes together too. And she is not the only friend that I have. I have lots of them now. This is my chance, a fresh start. They don’t know about my father and there is no reason for anyone to find out. They actually talk to me. I am their equal. What?

Ugly duck

By the time I finish 8 years of elementary school, it is ingrained in me that I am the weird, odd girl, I am the nerd and piano girl that nobody talks to. I am not a beautiful or a popular girl like some of my classmates. I have big glasses and crooked teeth. I am dangly with long arms and legs, super skinny, pale, and frail looking. I have muddy eyes and look like my father. I am awkward and shy. There is not one boy that ever looks at me. Ever. The popular girls in school already date and flirt with them. Not me.

This is my self-image when I start high school and when I move to the dorm. I don’t expect anyone to like me. I expect to be a loner. To my astonishment, people notice me and are interested in me. How? And why? What has changed? I am away from my father now, he doesn’t control every single minute of my life anymore. He is not here and none of these kids know him. Is this the reason? 

Swan

I walk out of the school into the busy Kosice street. I am with Emily and we are going to grab a snack between our classes. There is a group of junior girls and boys sitting on a bench in front of the school. One of the boys points in my direction and I hear: “She is not very pretty at all, she is ugly!” 

My stomach drops, immediately assuming he is talking about me. Who else would he be talking about? I want to cry so I confide in Emily. “I am always the ugly one!” She looks at me with sympathetic eyes “No, of course, you are not.”

Later that day, one of the junior girls that I saw outside earlier, approaches me. “Jarka, uhm…so there is this boy, Martin, he really likes you.”

“Huh?” I stare at her.

“Yes he does. He wanted me to ask you if you would go out with him,” she continues, smiling.

“Wait what? But he called me ugly!” I blurt out.

It’s her turn to stare at me, not understanding. Then a spark of realization crosses her face “Ohhhhh, no, no, you silly! He wasn’t talking about you. It was just some random girl on the street. You know what he actually said? He said that if we want to see what true beauty looks like, we should just look at you! He doesn’t think you are ugly! It’s the opposite! He likes you. He likes you a lot! All he talks about is you. He is too shy to ask you himself” She rolls her eyes but is still smiling. 

I am speechless.

“Sooo….uhm, you think you will go out with Martin? Please? He is a good guy.” 

“Ok! Ok! I will!”

Martin is a good looking 16 year old “trumpet boy.” He has dark hair and dark blue eyes. My weakness is blue eyes. On our first date, he takes me to see “Home Alone” movie with Macaulay Caulkin. At the end of the movie, we walk outside and it is snowing. Big fat snowflakes floating in the air. And there is this feeling of crispiness in the air. He shyly grabs my hand and holds it. This is new, this is different. “You are so pretty, Jarka.”

I don’t necessarily like Martin in a ‘more than a friend’ way. But in this moment I am so happy. I feel so free, I feel like life has a few more things to offer me. Maybe there are things out there to enjoy. Maybe the piano is not the only thing in the world! I am liking this life! 

I have my first kiss at 14. I don’t like it because I think it’s gross. After a couple of months, after more kisses and more dates, I decide that Martin is not for me. There are other boys out there and they keep asking me out. They leave me notes, they bring me flowers, they pursue me. They are interested in ME. I give each one about 2 months of my life and move to explore more. I have so many boyfriends that I lose count. I don’t have feelings for any of them and I admittedly get mean with some of them when I get bored. But I am enjoying being seen. 

Wait, but I am here to study the piano. What piano? My father is not hovering over my shoulder every minute now. I get by with minimum piano practice and probably some innate talent too. It’s sufficient enough and I am still a great student making straight As. I don’t practice for hours every day. I can breathe. The piano is actually giving me freedom and it is helping me get rid of……the piano. Yes! Piano is eliminating itself from my life. I just need to be patient. I know that doesn’t make sense. But, phew, all I have to do is to get through school and one day I won’t have to touch the keys ever again.

I still go home to spend time with my parents and brother every weekend. Things are going ok but gradually, I see glimpses and signs of my father’s mental state deteriorating again. Every weekend there is more paranoia, more glary eyes looking up at the ceiling, watching for the wet stains. More withdrawal into his own world. One evening, while I am in my dorm room, I receive a phone call from my mother. “Jarka, on Friday, when you get off the bus, don’t go home. Wait for me at the bus station. I will meet you there. Don’t go to the apartment. It’s just not safe. We have a new place. I will explain later. Ok?”