Let Me Go

by Lily Foster

  “I don’t know, Dylan.”

  Michal, a little tipsy himself, came upon us then. “No sneaking off under the stairs. My father likes you now but don’t blow it.”

  Dylan laughed and led me back out to the living room. I loved watching him with my young nephews and he was also patient, feigning interest convincingly, when Veronica prattled on and on about her recent, first experience at a Broadway show. Later on, as the music got louder and the vodka was flowing, I saw Dylan talking to my father and then my father patting Dylan on the back before he walked back towards me. “What was that about?”

  “I asked him if I could take you up to Connecticut tomorrow for Christmas dinner. I lied and told them my parents were leaving early and wouldn’t be able to meet for dinner this week in the city, as planned, and they really wanted to see you again. I’m smooth.”

  “Smooth and borderline drunk.”

  “No I’m not! I thought you’d be happy, Kasia. I want you to be at my house for the holiday. C’mon. And anyway,” he crowed, “your dad said yes.”

  We spent the next morning with my parents and three brothers opening presents around the tree, sipping coffee, and eating babka. I was now fully at ease and so happy that Dylan had not only made it through last night, but now seemed like he was on his way to becoming a fully integrated member of the family. I loved my parents for their kindness and appreciated the effort my brothers made to make Dylan feel at home.

  My mother had gotten a gift for Dylan and he looked downright emotional as he unwrapped the cufflinks and my father said, “Those are for when you head out into the real world, Dylan.”

  He thanked them and then remembered the gift he’d gotten my parents was still in the trunk. He hopped up and went out to the car in his bare feet. When he came in he had a few extra people with him, Patryk and his parents. Awkward. Dylan came in first and raised his eyebrows as he mouthed Patryk’s name to me. Patryk’s parents spoke English perfectly well but launched right into Polish, which I found rude. My brothers all jumped up and greeted them. Patryk had spent a good chunk of his childhood and young adult life in my home; my brothers were all very close to him. Dylan sat back down and just took it all in.

  Patryk’s mother greeted me politely but without the warmth and familiarity that she once had. She spoke to me in Polish and I answered her in English. I hugged his father, whom I adored, and then Patryk hugged me and kissed my cheek, lingering a few seconds too long as he told me I looked great in a low, husky voice. Oh my Lord. I pulled back and looked him in the eye. I’m sure he could see the pain on my face. “My boyfriend is here, Patryk.”

  I didn’t want to rub anything in Patryk’s face, he was a good person, but I also didn’t want Dylan to feel uncomfortable. “Come,” I said as I led him over. “Dylan, this is Patryk. Patryk this is my boyfriend, Dylan.” This felt so awful.

  I could ask why his parents would just come over unannounced but it really wasn’t unusual to just pop in on one another around here; we were a tight-knit community. I’m sure Pat’s mom had gotten word through the grapevine that I was bringing someone home and wanted to see for herself. Or maybe it was Pat who wanted to see who had taken his place. At any rate, I wasn’t feeling very sympathetic after a half an hour of Patryk speaking only Polish to my parents and brothers. Tomasz was clueless but at one point I saw Michal raise his eyebrows at Patryk and then made a point of responding to him in English. Alex also made a concerted effort to include Dylan in the conversation. When they showed no sign of clearing out, I told Dylan I was going to go up and get showered and changed so that we could leave. “Are you ok?”

  “I’m fine, Kasia, insanely jealous but fine.”

  When I came downstairs with my overnight bag I felt terrible. Patryk was looking at me with such a look of loss and sadness. Dylan was getting dressed in one of my brothers’ rooms, thankfully, so I had a minute to speak with him privately. “You look beautiful, Kasia.”

  “Patryk, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I still love you, Kasia. When I heard you were bringing a guy home I just…lost it. I knew if you were bringing someone here it was serious. I just need you to know that I want you, Kasia, only you.”

  “Patryk, don’t. I care about you—”

  I’m sure he could tell by the look on my face that I didn’t feel the same. He shook his head and looked towards the floor. “Please, Kasia, don’t. Don’t make it worse.”

  Dylan came back in with his bag and when he saw us talking, he grabbed my parents’ present from under the tree and walked into the kitchen, leaving us alone. “Do you love him, Kasia?”

  “Yes.”

  He swallowed and nodded. As he walked out my door he said, “Can you tell my parents that I’ll meet them at the Baranskis?”

  “I will.”

  Dylan and I said our goodbyes to everyone and I let out a deep breath as I sat in the car. Dylan squeezed my hand. “That was rough, huh? Are you alright?”

  “I just feel like…I don’t like to be the cause of anyone’s pain.”

  “He still loves you, that’s obvious.”

  “But I love you…and he knows that.”

  We drove in silence for a few minutes before he spoke again. “I don’t blame him, Kasia. If I lost you I’d keep fighting for you too.”

  As we got closer to Dylan’s, the Patryk drama receded from my mind and I was getting mentally psyched up for my first meeting with Dylan’s parents. “Do you think I’m dressed alright?”

  “You never ask for my opinion on your fashion choices so you must be nervous or something. Please don’t be. I love you, they’ll love you, and you look gorgeous.”

  As we pulled down the drive Dylan looked to me, eyes wide. “I almost forgot about Anna. Listen, my cousin tends to be a bit out there with the phases she goes through. She’s had a rough time the past couple of years and she can be a little…she’s a nice kid…I just wanted to warn you.”

  “Ok,” I said, perplexed.

  I had settled on a cream colored sweater dress with brown suede boots. I didn’t want to add any funky touches for fear of looking uncultured in front of this crew. As we walked in we were greeted by Dylan’s father. The resemblance to Dylan was so strong, I felt like I was being given a glimpse of what Dylan would look like in thirty years. I knew some pretty crazy things about his dad but I put it all out of my mind and found him to be kind, albeit somewhat formal. My first impression of his mother was the same. She definitely seemed to be taking me in and asked me a lot of questions about my family, my schooling, future plans. I didn’t mind, though. It was clear she adored her Dylan, so the twenty questions routine was ok.

  The house was full of family by the time we arrived and Dylan held my hand as he introduced me to every last relative. When I saw a fair-haired beauty coming down the stairs, my first thought was that I’d love to dress her. I was lost in thought, envisioning the way I would fit a dress to her and what colors would complement her coloring when Dylan happily called out, “Anna Banana, where you been hiding?”

  Without thinking I blurted out, “That’s Anna?”

  This girl was the polar opposite of what Dylan had described. She was golden-haired, fresh-faced, and dressed like she just waltzed out of the Boden catalogue.

  She cackled, “I bet Dylan told you I’d have a nose piercing and a shaved head.”

  “No, not at all,” I recovered, shaking my head. “I’m Kasia. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Anna. Nice to meet you too. I like your boots.”

  “Thanks.”

  Dylan stood between us and hooked elbows as he led us into the dining room. “We have been summoned to the dining room, ladies.”

  “If the seat next to my dad is open, please take it, Dylan.”

  He looked to me quickly, apologetically, before he answered, “I will, don’t worry.”

  Dylan did wind up sitting next to his uncle so Anna and I took the two empty seats next to Dylan’s mom. Anna and I hit it off well. I tol
d her I’d been staring at her as she walked down the stairs because I’d had a vision of a dress I wanted to make for her. You could tell she was a fellow fashion lover, as she excitedly yelled to Dylan across the table that he had to take her down to New York this week so that I could do a fitting. Anna told me about her boyfriend, her plans for college, and the decision to live with Dylan’s parents until she finished high school. I didn’t pry; I knew there was a sad story there. I noticed that Dylan’s mom reached over and held Anna’s hand every so often. It made me like Mrs. Cole on the spot.

  Dylan

  I wouldn’t say she’d gotten the full seal of approval, not that I really cared if they liked her or not. I was asked no less than five times by different members of my “not bigoted” family what kind of name Mazur was. If you weren’t named Paine, Prescott, Astor, or some other name that sounded like your relatives sailed over on the Mayflower, you were suspect. That’s just how they were.

  At one point I heard my uncle ask what Kasia’s father did for a living; he was such an uncouth douchebag. Even though Kasia could have legitimately told him real-estate investment, she purposely, I think, said, “He owns some small rowhouses in Brooklyn. He’s the landlord.” I loved that she didn’t look for approval from him or anyone else. I saw my mother’s eyebrows rise, just slightly, at that response as well. Try as she might, my mother was “Old Money”, and subsequently, a snob. Old Money didn’t like New Money and Old Money certainly didn’t like No Money.

  My parents came from similar families and had known each other growing up. They saw each other at social events their entire lives and were almost pre-destined to be together; like my grandparents had conspired to marry them off. My parents weren’t that obvious but I knew my mother had a few front runners in mind for me from our social set. When Kasia was off speaking to Anna and my Aunt Colette, my mother sidled up to me. “She’s very beautiful, Dylan.”

  “I know. She’s a good person too, Mom. She’s smart and very talented.”

  “You’re young, Dylan.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. Just that feelings ebb and flow at your age.”

  What a bitch. “If she was Cecilia Tate would you be feeding me this line of crap?”

  “Dylan! I won’t have you speaking to me this way.” Her voice had smoothed, laced with concern then, “Dylan, I just know…when people are from different worlds it can be hard to make it last.”

  “God, you’re acting like she’s a mail-order bride who doesn’t speak any English.” I felt like reminding her that her “perfect” marriage to her blue-blooded man wasn’t so perfect after all. And was “making it last” so great when your husband was banging a string of girls half your age? I would never go that far though; I was angry but kept my mouth shut.

  “I’m sorry, Dylan. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “I don’t want to upset you either but I think you should be a little more open-minded. She,” I gestured towards where Kasia was standing, “is worth ten times more than any of the slutty debutantes that you assume are well-suited for me.”

  “Dylan, is it really necessary to speak so crudely?” When I didn’t answer she tried again to placate me; the last thing my mother wanted was a scene. She liked to make it seem as if everything was “just fabulous” all of the time. “I do think she’s a sweet and lovely girl, Dylan. If she’s someone who is special to you then I will certainly come to feel the same way about her.”

  At that point I didn’t care what she thought. I knocked back my drink in one gulp and walked away from her.

  Chapter Four

  Kasia

  I was happy to be back in New York the next day with Dylan. Meeting his family went well, I’d thought, but I don’t suppose you could ever feel one hundred percent at ease in that “meet the parents” situation.

  We spent the day doing errands in the city. He followed me around like a trooper as I spent two hours drifting in and out of stores on 38th and 39th Streets, where entire shops were dedicated to selling trims, buttons, beads, zippers, lace, and thread. This was my Mecca.

  As we walked uptown, Dylan insisted on stopping at a box office and picking up tickets for me to take Veronica and Olivia to one of the new, over the top Disney-inspired Broadway shows over the break. I thought that was too extravagant but he insisted. I called Natalina to check first and then made sure to tell the girls that this was a present from Dylan. They squealed so loudly into the phone I thought Dylan might have burst an eardrum and then Olivia told him she loved him; they were easy.

  Walking through the city holding Dylan’s hand I couldn’t help but imagine what our future might be like. “You know, we could do this all the time next year.”

  He teased, “You mean I can follow you around the Garment District and carry your bags? You’re too good to me, Kasia.” He laughed when I hit his chest and then he stopped, grabbed my hand and held it over his heart as he looked at me. “I was just thinking the same thing, Kasia. Next year we’ll be here, together. Our life starts together.” He leaned down and kissed me softly and then we resumed walking, lost in our own thoughts.

  We ended the day having dinner with Darcy. Tom was away with his family and Darcy was leaving with hers in a few days. Dylan would be leaving tomorrow too. When Darcy asked if it was just Dylan going with his parents he answered, “My cousin, Anna, will come along but you know how Palm Beach is, you can’t walk a block without tripping over someone you know.”

  Darcy shrugged. “We don’t vacation there but half of our high school did, right Kasia.”

  “Did they?”

  “Sure. The Paulsons practically own half of Worth Avenue. The Yearlings, the Baxters—they all spend their holidays there.”

  “Samantha Paulson? You went to school with Samantha Paulson?”

  “You know her, Dylan?” I felt bile rise in my throat at the mere mention of her name. She was haughty, conceited, and borderline mean. Over the years, she’d thrown more than a few condescending remarks my way.

  “Yeah, love her, she’s a great girl. I’ve known her since we were kids.”

  Darcy practically spat out her wine. “We cannot be referring to the same girl.”

  Dylan looked a little wounded on Samantha’s behalf. “What? Our mothers are close friends. You two don’t like her?”

  I kept quiet but Darcy felt no such need. “Samantha was, by far, the meanest, most stuck-up girl in our school. I cannot believe you just used the words ‘great girl’ to describe her. Razor-toothed piranha is more like it.”

  “Wow, I’m surprised.”

  I added only, “Yeah, she wasn’t particularly kind back then.”

  Darcy was definitely feeling her wine. “I can’t wait until Samantha hears who you’re dating, Dylan. She’ll be burning mad. In high school some guy she used to chase only had eyes for Kasia. Half the boys in the school had eyes for Kasia,” she laughed.

  “That’s so not true, Darcy!”

  She waved me off. “Anyway, Samantha was always jealous of Kasia.”

  The conversation, thankfully, drifted into other terrain but I had a pit in my stomach. Those were the kind of people that Dylan’s family socialized with and spent their summers and holidays with? Those were the people they enjoyed, that he thought were “great”? I was never so glad that I’d said no to going along with him to Palm Beach.

  I was missing Dylan over the rest of the break but I was busy with family and work. I babysat for Agata’s little boys and I had Veronica and Olivia with me nearly every other day. I let them call Dylan to thank him after the matinee let out and had to stop them after ten minutes of constant chatter; I’m sure he didn’t get a word in edgewise. When I got on the phone he sounded beat tired. “You sound wiped out, Dylan.”

  “Yeah, partying is like an Olympic sport here. Every night there’s something. I just woke up.”

  “Really?” I checked my watch. “It’s six o’clock, Dylan, as in six p.m.”

  �
��Is it? Ugh, I have to get ready for dinner. There’s like some young society fundraising event for the Fresh Air Fund tonight.”

  “Oh, the burden of being young and absurdly wealthy in Palm Beach.” I said it as a joke but I was a little nauseated by his tone. I was also envisioning the scene. In my mind, tuxedo clad young men and girls like Samantha Paulson in evening attire were living it up, happy to be back in one another’s company. Free, finally, from slumming it among the general population of college co-eds that they were forced to intermingle with on a daily basis. Ok, so maybe I was exaggerating but I did have this gnawing feeling that I would be a fish out of water in that world—his world.

  “Don’t be mean, Kasia. You’re supposed to be here suffering through this with me.”

  “Doesn’t sound like you’re suffering, Dylan.”

  It was a struggle to hear him over the din in the noisy Theater District restaurant and then Olivia spilled her Shirley Temple and began to wail. “It’s ok, Olivia. I’ve gotta go, Dylan.” I did have to tend to Olivia but I was feeling a little snarky and hanging up on him abruptly felt good.

  Dylan

  I had a headache, again, and the last thing I wanted to do was get into it with Kasia. I could hear the slightly hurt tone in her voice and I thought to myself, if she only knew what was going on down here she’d be a whole lot more than hurt.

  My mother, I’m sure, was thrilled to see that I’d fallen right back into the scene here. I admit, I was a part of this and I liked these people. I was having fun. Every night there was a dinner, a fundraiser, a casual get-together at someone’s place. It felt like summer camp—with lots of booze and cocaine.

  I had been here a week and although I did miss Kasia, thinking of her made me feel guilty sometimes and that was a drag. As I looked around, I would sometimes think, yes, some of these people were arrogant assholes but most of them weren’t and people from outside of this world tended to judge them harshly just because they had money. Even Darcy, who was no slouch herself, financially speaking, seemed to disdain these people. Of course, there was a difference. While she was probably comfortably well-off, like Tom and Ben, she wasn’t in the one-percent like we were. It was different. What nagged me most was thinking that Kasia would not have felt comfortable here at all. Melanie reminded me of that whenever she had the chance.