“We’d go to Austrian Poland, of course,” Bronia said. “And we could afford a private tutor for the children.” I knew about their dream of opening their very own sanatorium in the peaceful environs of the mountains. But before now I’d envisioned it more like my dream of one day moving to Paris, somewhere hazy, far off. Hearing her speaking of it with such clarity made me understand how much she wanted it, right now.
“Hela would be fine without you in Paris,” I reassured her. “And selfishly, I would enjoy having you closer if you do move back.” Jakub was now five, and I’d only met him twice. I’d only seen Lou a handful more times. It would be a wonderful thing to be closer to my niece and nephew, for me and for Kaz, who longed for children of our own still.
Bronia smiled a little and squeezed my hand. She closed her eyes. “If only you could know how tired I am,” she said. “Two children and city life and working full-time as a doctor.”
“But you have it all,” I said, not meaning to sound bitter, though finding it hard to keep the edge from creeping into my voice.
“Hmmm,” she murmured. “I suppose I do.”
I ARRIVED HOME AGAIN ON A THURSDAY EVENING, AND EVERYTHING looked different than it had when I left. The dusky sky seemed blacker, the street from the train to our apartment longer. Even our apartment itself felt smaller after having spent months in Papa’s more spacious place in Warsaw. But Bronia and I had sold all of his things, split the rubles between us with a share for her to take back for Hela too, and now with them heavy in a purse in my valise, I wondered if we might finally have enough to move into a bigger place in Loksow.
Inside my apartment, I washed my face, took my hair from its bun, and ran a comb through it. And then I began to feel an impatient longing for my husband again, whom I hadn’t seen in seven whole weeks. We had written weekly letters while I was away—I knew he was busy with Hipolit’s research, doing almost all the work himself now, which as I’d written to him really made it his research, didn’t it? Kaz had written back, deferred to Hipolit’s brilliance, but I’d told him he needed to give himself the credit he deserved, to which he replied how much he loved me for writing that.
When the door opened at last, and he walked inside, I felt a light inside my body, the memory of what it felt like to skate with him on the pond in Szczuki so many years earlier. So young and alive and free. I felt that again, suddenly.
He smiled widely, when he saw me. He felt it too. He came to me quickly, ran his fingers softly through my long untangled hair, leaned in and pressed his lips tenderly to my forehead. “Kochanie, why didn’t you send a telegram? I would’ve met you at the train.”
“I didn’t want to bother you,” I told him. “I know how busy you are with your work.”
“Never too busy for you,” he whispered into my hair. “Oh, I have missed you so.”
We stood like that for a while, holding on to each other in the darkness of our apartment. I clung to him, inhaling his familiar pine scent. I had not cried, not the whole time, since Papa’s death. I had moved ahead, making plans, helping my sisters, ordering the disorder in the aftermath of death. But now that Kaz was holding on to me again, steady, I could finally let go. And the tears I hadn’t even understood I’d needed to cry came quickly, furiously.
Kaz lifted my head up gently, wiped away at my tears with his thumbs. He leaned down and kissed my cheeks softly.
In the years since my baby Zosia had died, I’d pulled away when he reached for me, afraid to be close to him in that way again, afraid of what would happen if there were another pregnancy, another baby growing inside of me. I never forgot the doctor’s words, that it was my fault, my body to blame.
But now I was overcome by a need to be with him, and when he tugged at the buttons on my nightgown, I leaned in closer, kissed him, found a desperate sort of comfort in his body that I hadn’t even realized I’d been longing for.
KAZ AND I USED OUR NEWFOUND RUBLES TO MOVE INTO A two-bedroom apartment on Złota Street, a few blocks closer to Hipolit and to Kaz’s research. Here, on a street named for gold, the buildings were a little nicer, the sky strangely less gray, and flowerpots filled with corn poppies lined the steps in front of our new building.
Kaz quit his teaching position and began assisting Hipolit full-time. He was now doing all the research on elasticity on his own, with only guidance from Hipolit, who was mostly bedridden. Hipolit was paying him well to conduct the research, and Kaz promised Hipolit that he would publish the findings, even if it wasn’t during his lifetime. I encouraged Kaz to tell him that whatever findings were published, they should have both their names on it. It might’ve started as Hipolit’s idea but now Kaz was the one doing the work.
I put the remainder of the rubles into hiding in the bottom drawer of my chest, promising myself I would use to it to grow and build my university, somehow. It was what Papa would’ve wanted, what Papa would’ve been most proud of. And I would not disappoint him. I would continue to teach and help other women learn. I would continue to learn myself.
THE NEW YEAR DAWNED, AND IN THE SPRING, BRONIA SENT A letter telling me it was officiaclass="underline" she would be a resident of Poland again by the end of summer. Construction on their sanatorium in Zakopane had begun, and it would be completed by August. Soon they would be only a six-hour train ride away from me.
This was followed in quick succession by a letter from Hela—she was engaged to Jacques! She wanted to hold the wedding in Paris before Bronia moved away, but only if Kaz and I were able to make it there. Were we?
“Are we?” I asked Kaz, showing him the letter, later that evening.
We were in a different place, a new apartment, and in the past few months we had reconnected. We had a newfound pleasure in being together again, exploring each other’s bodies at night in bed. I felt a way I had not in years, not since the beginning days of our marriage.
“We have to go to your sister’s wedding,” Kaz said, frowning a little. I could practically see the thoughts going through his head by the long crease in his forehead. It would take days to get to Paris, days to get back, not to mention the time we would spend there for the wedding. And what would Hipolit do without him in that time? How would his research suffer?
“I could go on my own,” I told him. “I wouldn’t mind.” The truth was I would mind a little. But I also understood how important his work was to him.
“Let me see if I can figure it out,” Kaz said, rubbing his chin with his fingers. “Can you wait a few days to write Hela back?”
I nodded, and leaned across the table to kiss him. He kissed me back, deeper, harder. I put Hela’s letter down, put my sisters out of my mind. Here on Złota Street, in Loksow, it was just me and Kaz. And that felt exactly perfect.
“MARYA,” LEOKADIA CALLED OUT TO ME ON WEDNESDAY AFTERNOON. She’d been teaching a piano class to three young women interested in music who I’d found at the girls’ gymnasium in town after befriending the headmistress, a woman my age who desired more for her students. I’d attended Leokadia’s class today simply to watch, as it was my first experiment in pulling girls as young as fourteen into our university. Their talent was astounding—even with a few years of my own lessons from Leokadia, I could still barely play a simple song—and Leokadia’s teaching was wonderful. She was kind and patient, and she handed all three of them more challenging pieces to practice, saying she would want to see them again next week. The girls left, their faces glowing, and Leokadia called out to me, asking me to stay.