Revolution Baby by Alison Anderson, Joanna Gruda Read Free Book Online Page B

wanted me to teach him a few words of “dog.” I decided not to tell them the truth. After all, it was true that Bibi did seem to understand everything I said to him. Maybe Polish really is a language with which to communicate with dogs. Even Roland the owl was dazzled by my talents, and when he saw me deep in conversation with Bibi, he would watch, looking very impressed. This vacation was the last time in my life that I was able to make the most of my status as a foreigner, because by the time we returned to the orphanage everyone knew that I could understand what they said in French. And that I could communicate in French.
    I had a new friend at L’Avenir Social, a girl. Her name was Geneviève. She was one of the instructors. She was funny and kind, but she also knew how to be strict and demanding. Every time she saw me she would exclaim, “Look at his periwinkle eyes! He’s so sweet!” There was a rumor going around that she and Arnold were in love. It was Roger who was behind the rumor—Roger Binet, to whom we’d given the nickname Robinet (which means water faucet in French, and much later I’d be sorry I’d called him that so often, just to annoy him). I was no expert on love, but it was true that you could often see them whispering together, maybe that was how you could tell when people were in love.
    It was fun talking to Geneviève. For a grown-up she listened to me very attentively. One day she told me that “my mother” would be coming to visit later that day. She was surprised when I showed no enthusiasm.
    â€œI know this is the first time she’s coming to see you, but she’s been very busy since she brought you here. She must be very eager to see you again.”
    â€œShe’s not even my mother.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    Well, it was now or never. I’d finally found the right person to confide in, and my French was good enough. So in I went.
    â€œShe kidnapped me from my real parents, Hugo and Fruzia Kryda, in Warsaw. She said she was my mother, but I know that was just a trick so that I wouldn’t run away during the trip. I want to go home to my real parents in Warsaw. I miss them a lot.”
    Geneviève was not the sort to say anything just to break the silence, so she looked at me without saying a word. Her eyes went moist, her cheeks red. I waited for a long time.
    â€œJules, my little Jules . . . I beg you to believe me, Lena is your real mother . . . She had no choice, when you were a baby, other than to leave you with those people who looked after you as if they were your parents. And she had no choice, later on, but to take you away from them again. She has done it all for your own good . . . You have to believe me.”
    I couldn’t speak.
    â€œI would like so much to convince you. One day you will see them again, those people who brought you up, but for now it’s better for you to stay here, my sweet. Lena loves you very much, you know. Be nice to her, please. You will, won’t you?”
    I still didn’t speak.
    â€œThink about it then, a little, all right? I have no reason to lie to you, you know that, don’t you? Think about it and we’ll talk again after your mother’s visit. Come on, it’s time to eat, go and join your friends at the refectory.”
    I wasn’t hungry. I didn’t feel like joining anyone. I went out into the park and I walked, somewhat aimlessly, until I reached the rabbit hutches. I was cold and it felt good. Smartie came over to me, all happy, but I had nothing to give him. All I had for him was my own story, and it didn’t make sense to me anymore. He looked at me with big sad eyes. He wouldn’t want to be in my shoes. I knew that Geneviève hadn’t been lying to me. I could tell. She would never have done such a thing. But for all that, it didn’t necessarily mean that Lena’s story was true; Tobcia