Chapter 20 Śmigus-Dyngus!1

Hmmm, it's a Monday in real time and this chapter is about Easter Monday. A coincidence, I swear.

Maria got up early on Easter Monday. Last night, Muti had told her that Vati was resting and she had to wait to see him until he was awake. She wasn't even sure if she wanted to; he had seemed so angry last night. She was glad that Muti was going to be with them on part of the drive back to Germany; at least she would be able to talk to both of them and maybe things would be better.

She went downstairs to Austria's kitchen to see which leftover pastries she could have for breakfast. As she walked past the voile and lace curtains covering the French doors, she paused. She saw dark figures out on the back porch. She hid behind a door and nudged a curtain aside.

Austria, Hungary, Poland and Vati were sitting outside, drinking coffee and talking. She couldn't hear them, but she could figure out what was going on from their gestures. Vati sat back in his chair, nursing his coffee cup and looking down at the table. Poland was gesturing with a cigarette in his hand, looking exasperated and earnest. Hungary kept darting glances between them, occasionally saying something. Austria listened, raising his hand to pause Poland and look towards Vati.

Vati finally said something, and to Maria's relief, offered his hand to Poland. Feliks shook it and then the two clinked coffee cups and sat back. She smiled, just like Onkel Roderich did when Tante Elizabeta hugged Vati and Poland. Gut, she thought, Vati's not mad anymore. At least not with Poland, she thought. She wondered if Vati were upset with her. Did he feel betrayed? Disappointed?

She saw her father and the other nations start to get up from the table. She darted back into the dining room and sat down, trying to look as if she had been there for the past fifteen minutes. She heard them, speaking a mix of German and Polish as they went into the kitchen to refill their coffee cups and enter the dining room.

"Happy Easter Monday," Onkel Roderich greeted her as he entered the room. Tante Elizabeta smiled warmly and asked if she wanted some tea or cocoa. Maria thanked her and said she didn't need anything. What she really needed was to see if Vati or Poland would be willing to talk to her.

Poland walked in and startled a little when he saw her. He look behind his shoulder and slid over to Maria. "Hey, chickie, just want to let you know that things are good between your dad and me," he said. "Liet and I have to leave early to get home today, but before we do, here!" He dipped his fingers in his cup and to Maria's surprise, flicked droplets of lukewarm tea at her. "Śmigus-Dyngus!" He laughed. "It's an old Polish Easter Monday tradition." The two giggled and then he grew serious. "Say, Maria, if you ever want to like talk or something, friend me on Facebook, 'kay? I like you kid, and we can start being good neighbors, tak?"

Maria nodded, surprised and flattered that this shy adult nation would want to talk to her. For some reason, she felt safe with him; she had a feeling he wasn't interested in doing anything creepy to her. "Tak," she said. "And if I don't see you, mają bezpieczną podróż."2 That was also one of the earliest phrases she had learned from her Polish au pair.

Feliks grinned. "Dziękuję, chickie. Now I'm going to get poor Liet up to get some coffee and pack." He sashayed upstairs. A minute later, she heard "Liet!" in his nasal voice.

Vati came into the dining room, cup of coffee in one hand, a slice of makowiec in the other. "'Morgen, Liebling." He leaned over and kissed her on the head. "Is Muti up yet? We have a long drive ahead of us."

"I haven't seen her since last night." Maria thought it was odd that Vati didn't know if she was up or not. Usually, they were joined at the hip. Ewwww, hip. She winced.

"I'll go check on her." He went upstairs. Maria wondered if he was going to run into Poland and if their civility would last.

Poland and Lithuania clattered downstairs. Toris got coffee while Feliks started directing him as to which bags to put where in their car. Maria felt sorry for Lithuania; he seemed so kind, patient, and more masculine than Poland. Yet, Feliks seemed to be the leader in their relationship. Finally, Toris got some pastry for breakfast, and with many kisses and hugs, Lithuania and Poland were on their way.

Vati came downstairs. He smiled at Maria, but it felt fake and brittle to her. "Muti's decided to drive back to Liechtenstein with Onkel Vash," he said. "We need to leave soon, so why don't you run upstairs and say goodbye to her and pack."

Maria nodded. Everything felt wrong, she thought, as she trudged upstairs. They had always made the trip together, dropping Muti off in Vaduz before they entered Germany. She went to Muti and Vati's guest room. Muti was lying in bed, her back to the door.

"Muti, Vati said you were going back with Onkel Vash," she announced, half-hoping for an explanation. Muti turned to face her and smiled with puffy eyes. She held out her arms to her and Maria fled into them.

"Ja, it just made better sense." Muti's voice was sweet and calm, but Maria didn't like the sick, cold feeling in her stomach. Something was wrong, but no one was going to tell her until it was too late, and then she had to accept it. "Don't worry, Maria," Muti said, "I'll see you in a few weeks. I love you, Liebling." She kissed her hair.

Maria began to sniffle. Muti exclaimed and made little soothing noises as she clutched her. "Muti, why aren't you going with us? Is Vati mad at me? Are you mad at him?" She was sure it had something to do with Poland; had they quarreled about her talking with him? Was Vati angry or ashamed with her? If so, why was Muti leaving her alone with him in a car for hours? Maria thought of the cold silence awaiting her and sobbed even harder.

"Nein, nein, Maria, Vati isn't mad at you. I just thought it would make better sense for me to travel with Onkel Vash. It's a much easier trip for him than you and Vati. This way you don't have to make a detour to Vaduz." Muti's small fingers smoothed her hair, but Maria wasn't relieved. "No one's angry with you, my sweet girl," she continued. Maria looked up at her and saw her gentle smile.

"You and Vati?" She whispered. Please don't be mad at him, please don't leave us, she thought frantically.

Muti smiled sadly. "He said some things that upset me yesterday, but don't worry, Liebling, all will be well." Maria didn't believe her, but her mother kissed her. "All will be well," she repeated. "Now you have to pack your things and head out soon. Do you want me to help you?" Maria felt very needy and young; she nodded and watched as Muti got out of bed, wrapped a robe around herself and slid her tiny feet into slippers. They went to Maria's room and put her clothes, Easter gifts and other items in her suitcase. As they chatted about packing, their dogs, and upcoming spring visits and activities, Maria started to feel better. Muti was planning to come back to Neustrelitz to see her and to go with her and Vati to the seaside resorts of her state in the summer. She wouldn't say those things if she didn't mean it, she reassured herself.

"I thought you were leaving later." They turned and saw Vati watching them. Why does he always have to sneak up on people, Maria thought angrily, but she tried to look happy to see him.

"Ja, I am, but I wanted to help Maria pack and say goodbye." Muti stood up and adjusted her robe. "Besides, it's time for me to get up and get breakfast. Have a safe trip and I'll see you two in a few weeks." As she squeezed by Vati to leave the room, he dipped down to kiss her, landing only one on her cheek. Muti sailed into the hall, a regal little princess, as Vati turned to watch her. When he looked back at Maria with quizzical eyes, she shrugged and resumed packing. That's what you get for being a jerk to other people, she thought to herself.

He told her to be downstairs in fifteen minutes, and she nodded. Onkels Ludwig and Feli were eating breakfast, about to go back to their own countries. Onkel Roderich grumbled about how no one took Easter Monday as a holiday seriously, while Tante Elizabeta took a phone call from Poland. Vati was studying his phone's map application for shorter routes. He saw Maria and they made their farewells and got into their car.

The ride began silently, except for the German rock Vati played. Maria read a book on her tablet. When Vati tried to point out interesting sights along the highways and roads, she gave a cursory nod, engrossed in her British fantasy novel. They stopped for gas, toilet breaks and drinks. Vati grumbled about how expensive gasoline was, and Maria silently retorted, What do you expect as we run out of fossil fuels? Onkels Ludi and Vash now drove completely electric cars and they boasted about the savings in money and kindness to the earth. She watched him buckle his seat belt and start the car. For someone who looked barely twenty-five, he sometimes acted like a grumpy old man. She had to remind herself that he was actually old, almost a millemium, but then she thought of how Poland was actually older and yet more youthful in appearance and behavior. She wondered if she would freeze at a adolescence or early adulthood and looked resignedly at her flat chest. What strange creatures we are, she thought glumly.

Somewhere between Nuremburg and Frankfurt, Vati turned and stared at her. "You're awfully quiet," he said.

Maria shrugged. "Children should be seen and not heard," she replied.

"And people should speak when they are spoken to," Vati said. "You used to be such a little chatterbox. Why so silent today?"

"Why clutter up the environment with extra noise?"

"Are you upset about what happened with Poland yesterday? Or about Muti not traveling with us?" Vati had veered to the right-hand land where the traffic was slower, an unusual move for a nation who liked to travel fast.

"Both." Maria paused her book and turned to look at her father. She studied his fine, sharp profile as they drove along and noted the set to his mouth before he opened it.

"What do you think a father is going to do when he finds his almost-teen daughter getting her hair done by his ancient enemy? An enemy who has been known to play both sides of the fence, if you get my drift." Vati shot a glance at her.

"That she's found out her neighbor makes an awesome gay BFF?" Maria countered. At least her father smirked at that one. "Which females has he been with?"

"Ukraine." Vati glared at her. "And rumor has it, Hungary. Even Belarus way back in the this isn't about airing Poland's dirty laundry," he sniffed. "I mean, I could do it, just as he had no problem—"

"Why didn't you tell me about the aunt you named me after?" Maria wasn't interested in her father's self-righteousness.

Her father's knuckles tightened on the steering wheel. "What's there to say? Poland told you everything." His voice was bitter.

"Why didn't you tell me first?"

"Never came up. Never asked. Never seemed to be important." Vati shrugged. "It's not like she's going to show up at our door, waving armfuls of presents and asking to see you." He looked briefly at her. "She's basically forgotten about me, Schatz, and we should probably forget about her."

And yet you named me after her, Maria thought to herself. Vati was back to watching the road. "Why is Muti upset with you?"

Vati open and shut his mouth a few times. At first, Maria was pleased to see he had no easy answer, but then she started to worry that things were more serious than she thought. "Frankly, I have no idea, Schätzchen," he finally sighed. "Last night, when she came to see me, I was pretty doped up on some awesome drugs. I must have said or done something then, but I honestly can't remember." When he looked at her, his red-violet eyes confused, she finally felt sorry for him.

"It can't be that bad if she's going to come see us next month," she said.

"She loves you, Maria," Vati said, his eyes back on the road. "She'll go through hell or high water for you, even if she's upset with me." He blinked, pinched the bridge of his nose, and kept driving.

It's amazing to think that I'll be posting the next chapter in the New Year. And speaking of posting, I have just posted the first chapter of my Prussia x Danzig story, "The Pet" over the weekend. If you're interested, you can look it up under M-rated stories featuring Prussia x Poland, or you can put me on Author Alert, so you don't miss a chapter of either "The Cuckoo Bird" or "The Pet." I wish you all a Happy New Year with good health and good things. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing my work!

1 Polish: Wet Monday. On Easter Monday in Poland, boys tried to drench girls with water from buckets. Now it's equal opportunity soaking or sprinking. Symbolically, it celebrates the "baptism" of Poland as a Christian nation in 966 AD.

2 Polish: have a safe trip