The smile by Zielona Sowa Publishing House

My name is Tekla. That’s lame, isn’t it? I’m supposed to be named after my great-grandmother, but I really don’t care. Ever since kindergarten everyone was making fun of me: ‘Tekla girl, go to hell’. Yup, as far as I can remember I have always been angry, I thought that everyone was laughing at me. “Tekla, smile for me”, “Tekla, cheer up”, “Tekla, don’t be so grumpy”. G-r-u-m-p-y. That’s lame, isn’t it? Basically, everything sucks. No use trying to cheer up with little things like: the sun is shining, holidays will start in one week, and that I am winning at Angry Birds. Angry Birds… that’s really lame. How can you shoot pigs with birds? Lame. The worst thing is that my Mum was hit by a car. From that moment I quit smiling for good. So did my Dad. Our smiles followed Mum to Heaven. I no longer had a Mum. My Mum had the most beautiful smile in the world. Now I really regret that I had been grumpy all the time.

That day (it was during the strawberry season) me and dad were on the subway. Subway. Because Dad hates cars. I guess you know why. I can’t remember when it happened. On every station that lady was grinning from the billboard. White, perfect teeth. White, because brushed with some lame toothpaste. She was smiling that stupid smile to persuade everyone into buying that toothpaste. ‘Why are you smiling?’ I asked her quietly. ‘Because I’m getting paid for it’ she explained. ‘You’re crazy’ I whispered. ‘The world has gone crazy. Smiling for money?’ ‘Help me, Tekla’ she said. ‘I am so very tired of smiling all the time, I can’t do it any longer.’ ‘Look at me’ I replied. ‘I don’t smile at all. It’s quite simple really. Just think of something really scary and you’ll stop smiling.’ ‘Like what?’ asked the Billboard Lady. ‘Imagine your name is Tekla. Just like mine.’ The Billboard Lady laughed, showing her perfect teeth. ‘There are worse things than being named Tekla!’ ‘Of course. For example, last year my mum was hit by a car.’

Guess what? The lady did a really terrible face. She wasn’t smiling, or rather she was, but the smile was really frightening. I screamed. ‘What happened?’ Dad asked. ‘Who are you talking to?’ ‘To the Billboard Lady with that stupid smile.’ ‘Oh’ Dad replied and his lips turned into straight line, just like a zipper.

I liked it when Dad would drop by to say ‘goodnight’. He kept doing that ever since Mom was gone (she used to do it before). In short, it was very comforting when he was putting his hand on my forehead just like she used to. ‘Did you brush your little teeth, sweetie?’ he asked. ‘Mhm. You can go now, Dad, you don’t need to lull me to sleep’ I replied, but Dad stayed and kept his hand on my forehand and was looking into my eyes. I could tell he was a bit worried. And it wasn’t about whether I brushed my ‘little teeth’ (what a lame phrase) or not, but that question he asked reminded him of that lame Billboard Lady with her lame toothpaste and with her stupid smile. ‘But…’ Dad said, but I interrupted, I didn’t want him to feel sadder. ‘Don’t worry about me. I won’t have nightmares tonight. I promise.’ ‘I’ll leave the door wide open.’ ‘Leave it ajar’ I said quickly, ‘maybe someone will pay me a visit tonight.’ That wasn’t the best line, and Dad just shook his head with even greater sadness. He kissed me on my forehead, just like Mom did. He was at the door when

I called him. ‘Dad.’ ‘Yes?’ ‘You forgot about something.’ Because he forgot about it. Mom never did. ‘Oh, right. I love you’ he finally remembered. Dad was still standing on the doorstep. ‘Well? And didn’t you forget something as well?’ ‘You know I love you too. You can go now.’ It was the same with Mom. First she told me that she loves me, that I told her the same. It used to be a really nice ‘I love you’ exchange. Dad finally left, he left the door ajar. I looked at my Mom’s picture with a small black ribbon attached. The frame was standing on my bedside table made of light wood. I thought Mom smiled at me from that picture. I am not really sure if she did that, but I believe she did. And then something amazing happened – it was like a line of light swept through the door. And in that line there was – oh my! – a shadow… I got up and wanted to check whose shadow that was. The door creaked. I put my head through the door frame. The shadow was thick like glue or like maple syrup, but totally black. I wanted to touch it. And then

that thing grabbed my hand! I thought it must have been that shadow – what else could it be? But whose shadow was it? Whose? I had terrible goosebumps all over my body. From the tip of my head to my heels. That thing that was holding me was slicky and repulsive. It grabbed me and pulled towards the front door. It pushed me through the staircase, every bone in my body crackled. That thing kept pulling me through the yard. I saw Mrs. Trzebiatowska looking through the window. She always does that because she is very nosy. She does that even at night. Mrs. Trzebiatowska was suffering from insomnia. ‘And where are you going at this hour, young Tekla?’ she asked, leaning on the window sill ( she always does that) ‘Help me!’ I cried. ‘What’s with the “help me”?’ She sounded as if nothing was happening. ‘Save me, Mrs. Trzebiatowska!’ ‘Save you from what?’ ‘This thing wants to kidnap me!’ I didn’t lie. That thing kept pulling me. ‘What? What wants to kidnap you, Tekla?’ asked

Mrs. Trzebiatowska. The tone of her voice was as unimpressed as if she was reading some weather forecast on the web. ‘I don’t know… something… can’t you see it?’ ‘No, I don’t. Go home, back to sleep. Don’t you know kids shouldn’t stay outside at night?’ ‘But I can’t, this thing wants to kidnap me! Please, save me!’ ‘Call you Mom for help.’ ‘But I don’t have a mother anymore!’ – I shouted, and I didn’t even cry, as I was trembling with fear, and when you are really frightened I suppose the tears just dry out. ‘Then call your Dad.’ I wanted to shout, but something sticky clogged my mouth and pulled towards the street. I turned my head to see what was it. I could see a thing, and I felt I was dragged in the air, above our city, above Warsaw. I could see the skyscrapers and streets bright with city lights. That view was not pleasant, not one bit. It wasn’t pleasant when I was flying just above the spire of Palace of Culture. I thought the sharp end of the spire would pierce me. Luckily, I soared just a few inches above it. Then it pushed me towards the Vistula river. I was

really scared, I know how to swim (Mom taught me), but swimming in a river is different to swimming in a pool or lake. There are strong currents and whirlpools (take extra care if you want to swim in a river). I was about to be thrown into that black water, but then – slice! – something swished close to my ear. At first I didn’t know what was it, but I quickly realized. It was a sword. The sword of the Mermaid of Warsaw. You know, the Mermaid who guards Warsaw standing on the Vistula bank near that bridge (in all this excitement I forgot the name of that bridge, oh, right, Świętokrzyski Brigde). Slice! Slice! Slice! The Mermaid was swinging her sword. Not to harm me, but to release me of that thing that kidnapped me. ‘Don’t give up, Tekla!’ the Mermaid cried slicing with her sword. That thing grabbed me even tighter and wanted to toss me into the black water. The Mermaid was fighting fiercely, but she was attached to the pedestal, and couldn’t move closer to me. Even If she was free, she wasn’t able to do much, as she couldn’t fly (I saw once a picture of a mermaid with wings, but this one didn’t have them). And on top of that the Mermaid had a tail instead of legs.

‘Tekla, try moving closer to me!’ Blade sliced again. I tried to free myself but I couldn’t. That thing was just about to throw me like a rock into the black waters of the Vistula… ‘I can’t!’ I cried. ‘I don’t have the strength.’ ‘Think of something that will strengthen you.’ ‘Like what?!’ ‘I don’t know what’, the Mermaid cried. And then I thought of my Mom. But not in some general way, it was very specific. Mom always styled her hair with a center parting, and she had a small mole on her chin. And also small wrinkles around her eyes, cause she was constantly worrying that they make her look old. I always told her that those wrinkles were caused by smiling, not by ageing. Ok, but let’s keep this specific. My Mom appeared in my thoughts exactly the same as she was when she would come to my room to say goodnight. She was leaning and her hair was tickling my cheek. And you know what? It helped. I wrestled so hard that I finally set myself free from that sticky thing. And then the Mermaid threw another blow with her sword. That thing howled so loud that every building around the old town trembled. I landed in front of the Mermaid.

‘Thank you.’ ‘Any time’ the Mermaid replied. ’I am here to, you know… I’m here to help those like you.’ ‘Those like me? That is?’ ‘Those who can’t handle it’ she replied. ‘Can’t handle what?’ ‘Sadness.’ ‘But I am perfectly able to handle my sadness.’ ‘Yup, I just saw how well’, she laughed. ‘You mean that thing…’ ‘Yes’ she interrupted, ‘that thing was Sadness.’ My jaw dropped. In that same moment, Sadness emerged from the dark with the whistling sound, like a flying bullet from a war movie. I felt that sticky thing around me again, pulling me towards the river… I woke up screaming. I was sweating, even my hair was wet because of sweat. ‘Tekla, wake up, dear’ Dad was looking at me. At first, I didn’t realize it was my Dad, but I quickly came to my senses. ‘You had a bad dream.’ ‘Someone was here’ I said. I really thought someone had been in my room. After a while I realized that I was dreaming, and there was Sadness in my dream.

Dad sighed and his mouth slightly twisted in a bizarre manner. ‘No, there is no one here. Go to sleep, my dear, go to sleep’ he said, and his mouth twisted even more.

The next day Dad took me to a doctor, whom I visited quite often after Mum passed away. I didn’t like this doctor, she kept asking me about things I didn’t want to talk about. ‘Tekla?’ the doctor asked, looking at me like someone who is trying to be nice. ‘Mhm?’ I always reply with a ‘mhm’ when I am annoyed or when I am in no mood for conversation. ‘You never smile, do you, sweetie?’ she asked, and I thought that she should be careful with that “sweetie”, because I am no sweetie, at least not for her. ‘No, mister doctor’ I said. Doctor smiled with a smile so fake that it hurt. Really lame. ‘It’s MISS doctor, Tecla’ Dad corrected. ‘It’s OK’ said miss doctor but that fake smile didn’t

leave her face, as if it was glued with that glue they use to fix shoes that smells really bad. ‘Please tell me, sweetie’ the doctor continued, ‘is it true that you talked to someone who really wasn’t there?’ ‘I don’t understand, mister doctor.’ She looked at my Dad, on his troubled brow. I had a feeling that because of me everyone in the room felt uneasy. That’s good. ‘Your dad told me that… you believe someone from a billboard spoke to you.’ ‘That’s exactly what happened. I spoke to the Billboard Lady, the one who is advertising toothpaste.’ Doctor was thinking about something for a while and then she wrote something in her notebook framed in black leather. I didn’t see what she wrote. Besides, I couldn’t decipher her doodles. She asked: ‘Does that lady look like your mom, perhaps?’ ‘No, mister doctor.’ More wrinkles appeared on my Dad’s forehead. ‘I see. And are you having nightmares? Do you see scary thing in your dreams, sweetie?’ There we go again with that ‘sweetie’. I replied really

loud: ‘I can’t remember, mister doctor.’ I lied, but why shouldn’t I? Was I supposed to tell her about Sadness from my dream? ‘I see.’ She looked at me again with her cold eyes, then she glanced at my Dad and started to fill a prescription. ‘I will give you little pills, sweetie.’ Great, not only “sweetie” but also “little pills”. I hate everything that’s “little”. Little teacup, little pot, little teeth, and so on. It makes you sick. Mrs. Trzebiatowska calls our caretaker Gregory, who weighs 200 kilos, “Little Greg”. Mercy… Mom never said ‘little tea’ or ‘little shoes’. She always asked if I brushed my teeth, not little teeth. ‘What do I need those pills for?’ I deliberately said ‘pills’ instead of ‘little pills’. ‘They will make you smile’, the doctor replied. ‘Why should I smile, mister doctor?’ ‘Tekla, it’s MISS doctor’ Dad said. The frown on his forehead turned into Mariana Trench. Do you know what Mariana Trench is? You don’t? Well, google that! OK, I’ll tell you. It’s the deepest place in the Pacific Ocean. Well, maybe I exaggerated a little bit with that

Mariana Trench, but I was really angry at that point. And when Dad said ‘Its MISS doctor’ I replied: ‘Miss doctor? With a mustache like that?’ That lady really had a mustache!

looking at me sadly and I bet he thought it was great he had already bought the medicine. Because he had. It was on the same day I had to take that medicine. ‘Here you go’ Dad said. He had a few colourful pills prescribed by that whiskery doctor. ‘Do I have to?’ ‘No. But do it for me sweetie, please’ Dad replied. I noticed that his hand was shaking slightly and the pills were almost bouncing, like fleas or something like that. And it was not funny at all. ‘But don’t call me sweetie’ I asked him. This time I didn’t like this whole sweetening. ‘What should I say, then?’ ‘No the way miss doctor does.’ ‘Ha! So you know this is MISS doctor!’ Dad shouted. I could swear the pills bounced like real flies.