The Girlfriend

Chapter Twelve

Patrick

"People love my blog," Lydia told me excitedly.

She was lying across the couch with her feet in Jon's lap and her head in mine while I played with her hair and she browsed her phone.

"You're not still writing about us, are you?" Jon asked warily.

"No, but people keep asking about you and what it was like coming back to New York. Someone keeps commenting about a paparazzi fight but I don't know what that's about."

I caught Jon's blush from the corner of my eye and smirked. "Oh yeah? There's no details or anything?"

He whipped around to flip me off and glare. "Paparazzi get into fights all the time, it's probably nothing."

I couldn't help but chuckle and go back to my laptop while Lydia glanced between us with growing confusion. "You two are weird, I'm going to work on my stuff for a little bit."

I was actually relieved when she left the room with her computer. I loved them for visiting me, but I wanted them to go home. Lydia didn't want to leave my side, Jon was on edge, and now I couldn't even escape the hotel room to go see Aleksy. For two days we all stayed in and I felt like I was going stir crazy. And Lydia was fucking needy. I loved her to death, but holy shit she required more attention now than ever before, and she got all doe-eyed and giggly when Jon and I sat next to each other. It was cute the first time, it was eating at me now that I felt like I couldn't leave. And god only knew what the fuck was wrong with Jon now, but whatever it was would have to wait – I wasn't opening up another can of horseshit while in a foreign country.

I needed five minutes to myself and some breathing room, I needed a strong drink and a joint, I needed— To answer my ringing phone. It was an unknown number, but Jon was sitting across from me at the table so it couldn't be him. Weird.

"Hello?" I asked after the fifth ring.

"Am I speaking with Patryk?"

It was an older woman, a much older-sounding woman with a heavy Polish accent. "Yes, this is he."

"Patryk, my name is Celestyn, how are you, young man?"

What? "I'm doing fine, thank you. Can I ask why you're calling, Celestyn?"

"You know my son, Aleksy Jarosz, yes?"

Jesus, how old was this woman? Aleksy was seventy-five, this woman had to be ancient. "Yes... We met a few days ago." I didn't know what else to say.

"I heard, I'm very glad you're here to see my son. I know the girls are giving you some trouble, but I was hoping you'd come to see me, is that alright?"

I guess I was going to meet them all. "Are you in Krakow? I can leave immediately."

"Afraid not but I'm not too far out of the way," she replied happily.

I got Celestyn's address and ran off to get dressed. Either Aleksy or AJ had to have given her my number, and if I couldn't see my father then my grandmother would have to do. Getting a taxi was much harder this time around since I couldn't speak the language, but I was finally able to get one to stop long enough to work through my shitty translations.

Where Aleksy lived West of Krakow just outside the city, Celestyn lived South in a town called Wieliczka – which no, I couldn't pronounce. Her house was only about an hour from me and was much smaller than her son's; a two-storey grey-brick building with shady trees and tall grass. If anything, this looked more like a house in the suburbs. Or their variant anyway.