I’m holding Tatiana up, but losing my grip. Her ankles drag behind her as I pull her along from under her arms. The fight has left her body, too.
A nurse comes by and takes her by the arm, hoisting her upright to remove her weight from me. “I need to take her with me,” the woman says.
“No,” Tatiana groans but doesn’t fight against the nurse holding her. She can’t.
“They need to help you,” I tell her, placing my dirt-covered hand on her cheek. “Let them help you. You’re safe now.”
My words linger in the air after they take her away. I just hope I’m right…
FIFTY-FOUR
ELLA
May 1945
Many weeks have passed, and I remain in the same haze as the one I was in when I arrived, dormant on a cot, staring up at the crease of a pitched tent. Conversations drift around me, some I hear, others float by unnoticed, but someone said Warsaw was no longer unreachable. I don’t know if someone can find my family, if I even still have one. The odds seem impossible, but if I’ve heard proper information, transport is being organized to take citizens of Warsaw back home. Within hours, I’m escorted onto a bus. “You’re going home,” someone said. “We’ll do whatever we can to help you find your loved ones once you arrive there.” The words are hollow.
The bus travels harshly over broken roads and rubble, leaving me to do little else but wonder if I’ll recognize Warsaw. It will never look the way I remember. The other people on the bus aren’t talking either. No one has any idea what we’re traveling toward, aside from a place we used to call home. What will be left of it? And can I even call it home if Luka won’t be there to greet me…?
I fall asleep for brief spurts of time, but only fully open my eyes when the squeal of the bus brakes slashes through my ears. I’m not sure where we are. I don’t recognize anything outside the window. Yet, Red Cross volunteers are helping us off the bus, one by one, and walking us toward a brick building. I should recognize this building if it’s in Warsaw.
When it’s my turn, I hold my focus on the steps leading off the bus then the curb, and the broken blocks of pavement and rubble, walking down a narrow path toward the building we’re being taken into. I can walk, but the volunteer holds on to me as if I can’t.
Another bench awaits me inside the building, next to others who have departed the same bus. There’s a lot of people talking, but not those of us who came from the bus. People passing by stare at us as if we’re unearthed dinosaurs. They aren’t sure what to think of us. I suppose I might act the same way if I was seeing us all for the first time.
A figure walks toward me but I don’t look up properly until they’re within reach. Then suddenly he’s on his knees, grabbing my hands. “Ella,” he cries out.
For a long moment, I fixate on him—recognizing him, but having trouble finding my words. All I can do is ask myself if this is real. I don’t know anymore.
“Ella, it’s me…”
My heart—it’s torn in half.
My gaze settles on his eyes, awakening my nerves.
“Tata,” I utter.
It is him. He’s here. He gathers me in his arms and pulls me to his chest. “My baby. My Ella.”
“Tata,” I say again, my voice croaky. “I’m home.”
He kisses my face, my forehead, cheeks, and nose before scooping me up into his arms and walking away from the bench with me. I rest my head on his chest and let my eyes fall closedwhile listening to his heart race. “This is my daughter. My papers are in my left pocket. Her name is Ella Bosko. She’s twenty-three years old, birth date is the tenth of July 1921—born in Warsaw.”
“Yes, sir, the information matches. You can take her with you, but she will need further medical follow ups.”
“All right,” Tata says, moving ahead with me toward the front doors. He nuzzles his cheek on top of my head then pulls the collar of the donated coat I received at some point in the last few weeks. “Keep warm, sweetheart.”
“Ella!”
“Dear me?—”
The voices are a dream. I recall them so well. They sound so real.
“I’ll take her, Tata.”
I blink my eyes open, but I’m blinded by the sun glaring down. I’m shuffled from Tata’s arms into Miko’s.
“Miko?” I utter.
