57. An unexpected intervention

I am a size double zero. One of my international friends takes me clothes shopping at the outlet mall because I need performance clothes for music recitals. I try several dresses and skirts on and I am drowning in all of them. I cannot find anything that fits me until I grab a skirt with a size 00. I can probably make this one work. With a belt. 

It is nearly the end of my first semester. It looks like I will be making straight As in all of my classes. Except one. American history is my enemy. My grade average is somewhere in between D and F. I am hoping I can at least make a D to pass the class and move on. I am working hard and with the professor’s test taking accommodations, it may be possible. 

Unfortunately, what is currently scaring me the most is the big news I heard from Frankie. She is pregnant with another baby. This will be her third baby. Frankie and her boyfriend are talking about getting married. This is all good and exciting for everyone else but me. I am worried that on top of babysitting Dylan and Aaron, I will have to take care of the new baby as well. And babies are demanding, I know this much.

I am pondering all of this as I walk into the school auditorium. All of the pianists from the music program, about 10 of us, are meeting here for our Master Class with Dr. Jones. Even though I have been a student here for almost the entire semester, I haven’t heard any of them perform yet. We will be playing for each other and then analyzing our performances. The first student starts playing her classical piano piece, music book in front of her face, struggling to find the correct notes. Stumbling on the keys. Another student takes the stage after her, the same story repeats. They struggle with the notes and they are playing beginner elementary pieces. Pieces I learned to play before the age of 8 I am guessing. I turn in my seat and look at Dr. Jones. 

“It’s still work in progress,” he announces. “We are playing for one another to see where we stand. We will keep practicing, right? Everyone?” He is looking around at all of his students and everyone is nodding in agreement. I am not. 

I don’t belong here. I know this. On a professional piano level, I don’t belong. I understand why everyone was calling me a star when I first got here. It’s obvious that things are set up differently in this country. It is not possible to study piano in college in Slovakia and be a beginner. No way! I get it now. But I feel foolish for ever doubting myself and thinking I may not be good enough. I see my value now. My value at a small music program such as this. Either way, I am still grateful I am here. Even though I don’t really fit in. All of a sudden my stomach growls loudly before I can stop it, and because Dr. Jones is near me, I know he can hear it. He dismisses all of the other students after our Master Class and then approaches me.

"Jarka,” he waves me over. “Come here, I need to talk to you. Couple things I want to address with you.”

I look up at him expectantly. My first thought is always that I am in trouble and I hope I haven’t done something wrong. 

“I know that our piano students are not at your level. We are a small college with a small music department. We give these students a chance and expose them to music. They have a chance to learn to play an instrument which is very valuable. We want to spark that music passion in them. Do you understand? And that is why you are a huge asset for us. You are their motivation.” 

I smile and nod. “Thank you,” I say.

“Also….” he pauses and scratches his face. “Are you doing ok? Is everything going alright with you and your living situation?”

“Yes,” I lie but Dr. Jones doesn’t seem very happy with my answer.

“You don’t look so good. You look tired. You are very thin. I don’t remember you being this thin before,” he observes.

I sigh and look away. 

“Tell me, Jarka. You can trust me. I feel responsible for you.” Dr. Jones insists.

Ok. I give up. I am afraid to start talking because I fear I may break down crying. And I don’t want him to see me cry. That would be humiliating. 

“I have been very tired.” I start, hoping not to choke up as I speak. “I have to babysit all the time and don’t have time to practice or study.”

“How about on the weekends?” Dr. Jones looks concerned.

“I babysit on the weekends too. Even overnight.” I look down, staring at my feet.

“Are the people at the nursing home nice to you? Are they treating you well?” He won’t let the subject go and I am uncomfortable. I am so embarrassed to admit my struggles. I like to be in control and I don’t want to show my weaknesses to anyone. 

“Yes, they are nice. Well, it’s more like they don’t care. I have to find food to eat and…..” I am not able to finish because Dr. Jones interrupts me, grabs my arm and pulls me out of the auditorium. 

“I think I heard enough. Let’s go.”

I follow him out of the music building to his car. I fill him in with more details on our way to the nursing home. I am worried this may turn ugly but I don’t try to stop him or talk him out of it.

As soon as we park in the nursing home driveway, I get out of the car, and see Aaron and Dylan running out of the house toward me. When they spot Dr. Jones, they stop in their tracks. 

“Who is this, Yaka?” Aaron asks me.

“This is my piano professor, Dr. Jones.” I smile at him.

“Hey buddy,” Dr. Jones greets him too. “Why don’t you show me where your grandma is?”

5 year old Aaron leads us to Mary’s office. She is sitting at her desk, her glasses barely hanging on her face, on the tip of her nose. She looks stressed out as usual but she lifts her eyes from the papers on her desk. A look of surprise is displayed on her face. 

“Hi Jarka,” she says hesitantly. “I don’t remember setting an appointment with you or anyone right now.” She looks confused and not approving of this ambush.

“It won’t take long.” Dr. Jones promises. “Jarka is moving out today.”

Mary’s mouth jerks. She is blindsided and so am I. We are both gaping at him but Mary is a feisty woman and won’t stay quiet for long. As soon as she gets her bearings, she enters her defensive mode. 

“Sorry, we need her today. She is babysitting. This was the agreement.” she turns to me and with a frown she repeats again. “You have to babysit today, Jarka. We depend on you.”

I look back at Dr. Jones. “I don’t think so. She is leaving with me today.” He is much taller than Mary and admittedly, he is intimidating next to her.

“How can you let her work for you for hours and not even care about her well-being? Did you know she barely eats? Do you care? Do you know she doesn’t have time to practice the piano and study? Do you know all of this? No, you don’t! Because you don’t care! You are using her!”

Mary is stunned. I know she hasn’t expected anything like this to happen today. 

“I….I…..there is plenty of food….in the kitchen,” she says shakily. 

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Dr. Jones is truly angry. In ordinary everyday situations, he is a very sweet and kind man with mild manners. Seeing him like this is serious. He means business. 

“Let’s go, Jarka. Show me your room. We are packing,” he commands. I start walking to my room and he is following me. We enter the basement, he looks around, and shakes his head. I go to my closet, pull out my suitcase, and start throwing everything inside. 

Mary is right behind us and Aaron is right behind her. I don’t want him to witness this. He is an innocent child in all of this mess.

“You can’t just take her!” Mary screams. “We need her,”

“Of course I can!” He responds, still riled up.

“This is not right! How can you do this to us? And to our children?”

At this point, Dr. Jones is ignoring her. Mary grabs Aaron and drags him out of the room as Dr. Jones and I finish packing my stuff. Once again, it’s not much. I still only own some clothing, including my new double zero size skirt, a toothbrush, and some toiletries. 

“Let’s go,” he orders me when I zip up my suitcase.  I follow him like a puppy, walking out of the house. 

“Please, reconsider!” We hear Mary’s desperate voice behind us but Dr. Jones still pays no attention to her.

I am about to get in the car. But then I stop, look at Dr. Jones and with a pleading voice, I say: 

“Please, give me a second. I have to say goodbye.” My heart is torn. I see Aaron in the driveway, visibly crying. His little body is trembling and shaking in sobs. He is rubbing his eyes with a fist and every few seconds, his little body jerks with a hiccup.

I walk up to him and give him a huge hug. I hold him tight. 

“I love you buddy. You are a good boy. Your brother is too.” I don’t think he knows what is happening but I am sure he understands that what he just witnessed is not good.

“Please, don’t leave,” he cries, his big blue eyes clouded up with tears.

“I am so sorry, I have to go. But I will come and visit you soon, ok?” I lie again. Another goodbye that tears my soul apart. I have been through this before in New Jersey. Leaving a crying child behind. I am not made for this. My heart hurts. This little boy got attached to me and he wants to play with me. He wants to have fun. I have to leave him with grumpy Mary, his stressed out grandmother who is overwhelmed with her business and her life. I cry too. I failed him. I hug him again, kiss the top of his head, stand up, and start walking away. I get into Dr. Jones’car, still hearing Aaron’s cries, “Don’t go, Yaka, don’t go!” His hands are reaching for me but I can’t turn back. I look down, I look away. I am not able to process all this sadness. 

“I know it’s difficult, Jarka. He loves you, I can see that.” Dr. Jones’ voice sounds soothing now, his anger now long gone.

I nod. My tears are dripping into my lap, on my hands, on my clothes and I don’t even try to stop them anymore.

“Let’s get you some food,” Dr. Jones says quietly as he drives me to his house, to meet his wife, and his children. I am going to Dr. Jones’ home because I am homeless again.