pulled her hand away in displeasure. Finally, she floated to Jadzia’s side and put her hand on her head. The woman smiled instantly and whispered: “You’re it.” In a flash of blue light, the woman disappeared.
The next few weeks went by faster than Jadzia imagined. Her friendship with Kamila grew closer and she was eventually strong enough to eat solid food again. Within a month of her arrival at the hospital barracks, her health had improved. Patients were being released daily to make room for new arrivals. Most were dismissed with no place to go.
As the time for Jadzia’s release approached, she tried to imagine her own future. Nurses and the other patients often asked where she was going. She never had an answer for them. At night, when conversation diminished and she had time to think, curled into a ball and wondered if she would (or could) recover from the nightmare of the last six years, if she would ever have a family of her own, if her body would be strong enough one day to bear children. Alone and afraid, she forced her eyes shut, pulled the sheet over her head to block the still, cold air, and struggled to block the fear from her heart. A nagging thought persisted: Will I see my parents again – and will they ever forgive me?
Before she could conjure an answer from her imagination, she heard a whispered voice say: “Yes.”
She opened her eyes and looked around but there was no one there. Kamila and the other women had fallen asleep. She was completely unaware of the tiny, naked redhead who sat perched on the cross above Jadzia’s bed. In a flash, the young woman disappeared.
Hours before her release the following morning, a nurse approached her. “Do you have somewhere to go?” the nurse said.
“No,” Jadzia replied.
“A lot of the patients well enough to leave are going back to the camp,” the nurse suggested. “The barracks are a lot more comfortable than before.”
Jadzia shook her head vigorously. “That’s okay. I’d rather take my chances in town.”
The nurse smiled. “Of course. There’s a transport that goes to Furstenburg tomorrow, but I don’t know where you’d go from there; life is far from normal.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kamila said. “Does it pass Berlin?”
“Yes,” the nurse said.
“But what of your friend in Sweden?” Jadzia asked.
“You can come with us to America if you want. Start a new life,” Kamila answered.
Jadzia chuckled sarcastically. “Like there’s another option.”
Content with the arrangement, the nurse left to attend to the other patients. Kamila leaned toward Jadzia and whispered: “I mean it. Come with us to America.”
She sighed heavily and slouched in defeat. “I can’t go to America. I have to find my parents.”
“Then where will you go?”
“Maybe someone in Berlin will help me find them.”
“Wouldn’t they return to your home?”
“I want to remember Poznan the way it was before the war. No, I’ll only go to Poland if I know they’re there.”
“Then I’ll go with you to Berlin and help you.”
Later that day, the two girls climbed aboard the transport vehicle with nothing but the clothes they had on. Squeezed into the truck were a few prisoners Jadzia recognized, but many looked like local Germans, the fear of being noticed etched in their faces. Kamila chatted with the other passengers, trying her hardest to make someone laugh. A few people smirked but most looked at her with suspicion for being so cheery. Jadzia knew
The next few weeks went by faster than Jadzia imagined. Her friendship with Kamila grew closer and she was eventually strong enough to eat solid food again. Within a month of her arrival at the hospital barracks, her health had improved. Patients were being released daily to make room for new arrivals. Most were dismissed with no place to go.
As the time for Jadzia’s release approached, she tried to imagine her own future. Nurses and the other patients often asked where she was going. She never had an answer for them. At night, when conversation diminished and she had time to think, curled into a ball and wondered if she would (or could) recover from the nightmare of the last six years, if she would ever have a family of her own, if her body would be strong enough one day to bear children. Alone and afraid, she forced her eyes shut, pulled the sheet over her head to block the still, cold air, and struggled to block the fear from her heart. A nagging thought persisted: Will I see my parents again – and will they ever forgive me?
Before she could conjure an answer from her imagination, she heard a whispered voice say: “Yes.”
She opened her eyes and looked around but there was no one there. Kamila and the other women had fallen asleep. She was completely unaware of the tiny, naked redhead who sat perched on the cross above Jadzia’s bed. In a flash, the young woman disappeared.
Hours before her release the following morning, a nurse approached her. “Do you have somewhere to go?” the nurse said.
“No,” Jadzia replied.
“A lot of the patients well enough to leave are going back to the camp,” the nurse suggested. “The barracks are a lot more comfortable than before.”
Jadzia shook her head vigorously. “That’s okay. I’d rather take my chances in town.”
The nurse smiled. “Of course. There’s a transport that goes to Furstenburg tomorrow, but I don’t know where you’d go from there; life is far from normal.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kamila said. “Does it pass Berlin?”
“Yes,” the nurse said.
“But what of your friend in Sweden?” Jadzia asked.
“You can come with us to America if you want. Start a new life,” Kamila answered.
Jadzia chuckled sarcastically. “Like there’s another option.”
Content with the arrangement, the nurse left to attend to the other patients. Kamila leaned toward Jadzia and whispered: “I mean it. Come with us to America.”
She sighed heavily and slouched in defeat. “I can’t go to America. I have to find my parents.”
“Then where will you go?”
“Maybe someone in Berlin will help me find them.”
“Wouldn’t they return to your home?”
“I want to remember Poznan the way it was before the war. No, I’ll only go to Poland if I know they’re there.”
“Then I’ll go with you to Berlin and help you.”
Later that day, the two girls climbed aboard the transport vehicle with nothing but the clothes they had on. Squeezed into the truck were a few prisoners Jadzia recognized, but many looked like local Germans, the fear of being noticed etched in their faces. Kamila chatted with the other passengers, trying her hardest to make someone laugh. A few people smirked but most looked at her with suspicion for being so cheery. Jadzia knew
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