The Things We Cannot Say(103)

But on the inside?

I’m melting down like Eddie on his worst day. My thoughts are an absolute muddle—I’m second-guessing this insane course of action I’ve set myself on, and frankly, pretty much every single decision I’ve made in the last week since I decided to actually come here. Doctors come and collect patients, and every single time, they stare at me. Patients come in, stare at me, go in for a consult, then come out, stare at me some more, then leave.

I feel like I’m on a stage, and the show is something like Watch Alice Michaels Lose her Dignity in a Foreign Country!

Lia approaches me around lunchtime, and for a moment or two, I think I’ve won. Before I can celebrate, she sits heavily in the chair beside me, and she drops her head into her hands.

“You just can’t stay there,” she says desperately. “You seem like a reasonable person so I’m going to beg you to reconsider this. I have work to do, Alice—patients are asking questions and I can’t let this go on. You won’t change my mind.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you do,” I say simply, and then I raise my chin, hoping I look like Babcia, or even Callie, when they are being overtly stubborn. Lia’s gaze narrows and she sits up again, straightening her spine.

“Right, you’ve left me no choice. I’ve been patient. I’ve asked you nicely, several times, and now I’m warning you. This is a workplace, and if you won’t respect my request for you to leave, I have no choice but to call the police and have you removed.”

Okay, I didn’t expect that. I frown at her.

“Lia...please...”

“Five minutes, Alice. Then I’m calling the police.”

I hear Mom cheering me on inside my brain. Sometimes you have to smash the damn door down, Alice. I lean back in my chair and cross my arms over my chest.

“A much easier way to get rid of me would be to agree to speak to your grandmother.”

Lia growls and stomps back behind her desk. She’s conferring a lot with her colleague, and a few minutes tick down while I busy myself praying with all of my might that the police threat was an empty one. I see her pick up the phone, but I pretend I don’t notice—because maybe she’s bluffing, and obviously I’m getting to her, so maybe if I just hang in here a little longer—

The doors swing open a few minutes later, and two policemen enter the room. They approach the counter, and Lia, wearing a scowl, points to me. The officers approach me.

“You’ve been asked to leave,” the older of the two says abruptly. “We’ll give you one last chance to do it voluntarily. After that, we’ll be carrying you out—and you’ll go straight to our car and then our station so we can charge you with trespassing.”

I’m sure they hear my petrified gulp as I rise to my feet and nod.

“I’m going,” I squeak.

“And madam?” The other officer says, as I pick up my bag, preparing to sprint to the door.

“Yes?”

“If we see you here again, we will arrest you.”

I shoot one last, pleading look toward Lia, who’s watching me with her hands crossed over her chest, and then I bolt out the door and back to Zofia’s car. Once I’m inside, I collapse into the chair and try to catch my breath.

“Did you just get arrested?” Zofia gasps.

“Almost,” I groan, and I cover my hands with my eyes. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Zofia starts the car, and drives away at what can only be described as breakneck-but-legal speed. We’re almost back to the highway when she starts to laugh, and eventually, I join in.

“You’re either really, really determined to do this for your grandmother or you’re completely crazy. I can’t really tell which at this point.”

“Me, either,” I admit, the laughter deflating. “But it was all for nothing.”

“We can come back tomorrow?” Zofia offers.

“And do what?” I ask. “Take a free ride to the police station?”

“Well, how would you like to spend tomorrow? Do you have any other ideas? Did she give you anything else to go on?”

“No,” I admit, and look back to my phone to start flicking through the photos I took of Babcia’s notes and her AAC screen. I read each entry aloud.

“Trzebinia. Well, we came here.”

“Yes.”

“Ul. S′wie?tojan′ska 4.”

“Her childhood home.”

“Yes. Ul. Polerechka9B.”

“A beautifully renovated historic home in a gorgeous, sweet chestnut–lined laneway. We have no idea why it was important.”

I sigh heavily.

“Ul. Dworczyk 38.”

“The medical clinic where Aleksy Slaski worked.”

“Emilia Skalski.”

“Your great-aunt.”

“Alina Dziak. My grandmother’s real name.”

“Yes.”

“Saul Eva Tikva Weiss.”

“We have literally no idea.”

“Prosze? zrozum. Tomasz.”

“Your pronunciation is beyond appalling, but yes, she asks us to please understand Tomasz.”

“Which we have no idea how to do.”

“And that’s everything?”