The Things We Cannot Say(26)

Find Tomasz. Please Mommy. Find Tomasz. Trzebinia. Poland.

This time, when Babcia looks up at me, I stop and I really focus on her. Her eyes are bright and clear. She looks determined and frustrated, and not the least bit bewildered. I still have no idea what she wants, but I am inexplicably certain that she knows.

“Mom,” I say slowly, “I don’t think she’s confused.”

“Alice, she seems to be telling us that her dead husband is in Poland,” Mom sighs. “Of course she’s confused. Pa is in an urn in her retirement unit, for God’s sake.”

For the next several minutes, Babcia repeats herself via the AAC, over and over again.

Find Tomasz. Please Mommy. Find Tomasz. Trzebinia. Poland.

Mom shakes her head and huffs out a breath, then turns away from the bed.

“Now she wants to talk about Poland,” she mutters. “Now that she can’t talk. You know as well as I do how closed she and Pa were to talking about their life back in Poland. You and I both went through phases as teens where we all but interrogated the woman about the war and she’d always shut the conversation down.”

Find Tomasz. Mommy, find Tomasz.

I look at Mom again, and she throws her hands into the air.

“She’s calling you Mommy, for God’s sake!” Mom says in exasperation, but I reach down and edit the label on my photo, then press the icon pointedly.

Alice.

“Better?” I say to Mom, and she sighs impatiently. Babcia reaches for the iPad again.

Find Tomasz, Alice. Please find Tomasz. Your turn.

I take the iPad, and I stare down at her message, then I draw in a deep breath and I type a promise I’m not sure I can actually fulfill.

Yes, Babcia. Alice find Tomasz.

She reads the message, then she looks at me and tears swim in her eyes. I kiss her weathered cheek and sigh.

“I suppose we may as well tell her what she wants to hear,” Mom says stiffly.

I can understand why Mom said that, but that’s not what I’m doing at all. This is no false promise of assistance to my grandmother to bring her comfort.

This was the woman who picked me up from school most days and who always had a batch of fresh cookies waiting for me at home. This was the woman who made it to all of my school assemblies and recitals because Mom never could. This woman taught me to deal with heartbreak as a teen and helped me to do my college applications and get my driver’s license.

But somehow, most importantly, this woman taught me how to be my own kind of woman and wife and mother. I’m the person I am today because of Hanna Slaski, and now that she needs me, I will not let her down. I fully intend to do whatever I can to help her find whatever it is she’s looking for.



CHAPTER 8

Alina


Even in the worst of times, life takes on a rhythm and the days blur into one another. The first year of the occupation was no exception to that rule. Every day ran on routine, and that routine began and ended with thoughts of Tomasz. Most of the time, I didn’t even let myself consider the possibility that I was pining for a dead man.

There was just so much more to worry about.

From the day my brothers left, my existence was caged. My parents told me I wasn’t to leave the farm, although they would permit the occasional visit with Justyna at the boundary between our properties. I argued against this, and at first, I was sure I’d find a way to change their minds. I had friends in the town—Emilia and Truda and Mateusz were in the town, and besides, the farm was surely no safer than the township. We often saw Nazi trucks rumbling past on the road at the front of our home. Since the occupation began, even the newspapers had ceased to operate, other than Nazi propaganda publications, which Father refused to read. Wireless too was now banned—Father destroyed his precious radio unit after the decree that any Pole found owning such a device would be executed.

If I couldn’t leave the farm, I’d be cut off from the world altogether.

I was desperate for any news at all, but I particularly hoped for news of the work farms or of Warsaw, where I could only assume Tomasz remained. When Father made his trips into the town, I’d beg him to let me join him, but nothing I said would sway him. He promised me he was asking after the twins and Tomasz, but for the longest time there was no news at all, and with my adolescent arrogance, I was certain that I could do better.

“You have heard about the lapanka, of course,” Father told me casually one day.

“The game?” I asked, frowning. “Yes, of course, we played it as children...” Lapanka was much like the English game “tag.” Father shrugged.

“The Nazis play lapanka too, Alina. They block off the ends of a street in the township and they round up everyone inside and cart them off to a camp or prison for even the slightest reason.”

“I wouldn’t give them a reason,” I said stiffly.

“Can I see your identity card?”

I blinked at him, confused by what I thought was an abrupt change of subject. We’d recently been ordered to carry our identity cards with us at all times, but I was still getting into the habit of carrying mine, and besides, we were in the dining room so I knew I was safe enough.

“It’s in my room, Father.”

“Well, there is your reason, Alina,” Father said flatly. “If a soldier happened by you and caught you without your identity card, they would take you or maybe shoot you on the spot. Do you understand that? You tell me you want to go into the township, but even here at home, you cannot remember the basic requirements to keep yourself safe.”