“What will this trip be like?” asked Kasia.
“So far, the plan is the Rabbits will start in New York City and then fan out to stay in private homes across the country. Then the group will meet up in San Francisco and travel to Los Angeles and then return across the country by bus, visiting Las Vegas, Texas, and ending in Washington, D.C.”
Kasia translated to the others, who gathered close to hear. I expected at least smiles, but the women remained solemn.
“They would like to know where the ship leaves from,” said Kasia.
“Oh, no ship,” I said. “Pan American Airways has donated the airfare.”
There was much excited discussion in Polish and plenty of smiles after that.
“Most of us have never been on a plane before,” Kasia said.
Dr. Hitzig stuck his head in the door, and all eyes turned to him.
“We have our final list,” he said. “May I speak to you privately, Miss Ferriday?”
I rushed to join the doctor back in our exam room.
“They are all cleared to go on the trip,” Dr. Hitzig said.
“How wonderful.” I breathed a tremendous sigh.
“Except one. The doctor.”
“Zuzanna? Why, for heaven’s sake?”
“Sorry to say, I found a hardened Virchow’s node,” he said.
“What?”
“It indicates a cancerous tumor.”
“Can it be treated?”
“Probably not. It is a strong indication of stomach cancer. Her days are numbered, I’m afraid.”
I hurried to the women waiting at the door with their coats on, ready to head home. I asked Zuzanna and her sister, Kasia, to meet with Dr. Hitzig and me privately and ushered them to the exam room. They sat on folding chairs.
“Zuzanna, I’m afraid, well…” Dr. Hitzig said. “The lump I found in your neck is a hardened Virchow’s node.”
“The seat of the devil?” said Zuzanna.
“I prefer the name ‘signal node,’?” Dr. Hitzig said.
“It is a symptom of gastric cancer, isn’t it?” Zuzanna said.
“I am afraid so, yes.”
“Too bad to have one named after a German doctor,” said Zuzanna with a wan smile, eyes bright.
“How can you be sure?” Kasia asked.
“We should do more tests,” Dr. Hitzig said. “But it is the conclusion of the medical group that you are not a candidate for travel to the United States.”
Kasia stood. “What? The whole reason for the trip is to get medical attention not available here. How can you bring us all this way and refuse the person who needs you most? She can have my place.”
“It is not a matter of space, Kasia,” I said.
“You talk about helping us, Miss Ferriday, but you don’t really care. You bring us fancy handbags and expect us to snatch them up.”
“I thought you would like—”
“We are ladies, Miss Ferriday. Ladies who don’t all like being called Rabbits—easily frightened, caged animals. Ladies who live in a country where we cannot accept gifts. Is this not obvious to you? A new handbag from an American? People disappear for a lot less. A Polish journalist accepted chocolates from an American, and no one has heard from her since.”
I felt my cheek grow hot. How could I have been so cavalier?
“Kasia, please,” Zuzanna said.
“You really want to help, Miss Ferriday? Help my sister.”
Kasia walked to Dr. Hitzig. “I will pay you anything to put her on that list.”
“We will know more after the test—” Dr. Hitzig began.
“My sister is a woman who can save lives. She has done nothing but help others. You treat her, and you treat thousands.”
“I wish it were otherwise, but the doctors here agree,” Dr. Hitzig said.
“We cannot overrule the ZBoWiD,” I said.
“I’m leaving,” Kasia said. “This is ridiculous.”
She rushed out.
“I’m so sorry,” I said to Zuzanna.
Zuzanna laid one hand on my sleeve. “I understand, Miss Ferriday—”
“Caroline, dear.”
“The important thing is the rest of the girls get to America.”
I gathered Zuzanna in my arms and held her close. Such a lovely woman. But so thin. How tragic she was so ill. If only we could get some of the Woolsey remedies into her.
When we finally separated, Zuzanna took my hand.
“Don’t mind my sister, Caroline. Kasia is just a little tense sometimes. We’ve been through a lot together. But your gifts are very much appreciated.”
She smiled.
“And if you want to leave your gifts at the hat check, I’ll make sure the girls get them once no one is looking.”
1958
The day before I was scheduled to leave for America, our tiny bedroom was scattered with clothes, some mine, most borrowed. Pietrik rubbed his back, sore from taking my suitcase down from the closet shelf and putting it back up, since I’d packed and unpacked six times. Pietrik had won a radio at the factory, a prize for the most productive worker, and we’d turned it up, for good-looking Eddie Fisher, my favorite singer, was on.
Dungaree doll, dungaree doll,
Paint your initials on my jeans…
Pietrik held me, and we swayed to the music. It would be nice to be able to dance again. But how could I go to America and have the operation without Zuzanna?
I released Pietrik and continued to unpack.
“How can you be so foolish?” he said.
“I’m not going without Zuzanna.”
Pietrik sat on the bed next to my open suitcase, Matka’s old green one. “Zuzanna told you to go. How can you pass this up?”
I wanted to get on that plane. More than I’d wanted anything in a long time. I would have the chance to have my leg put back to normal or close to it. Just the idea that I might be relieved of the pain made me giddy. And all the girls were scheduled for dental work. Could the dentists there fix my tooth? It had gotten so bad I hardly smiled. Plus, what would it be like to fly in a jet to New York and see the sights? California too. The Lublin papers had already made us celebrities.
I pulled my good dress from the suitcase and hung it back in the closet. “How can I leave Zuzanna here?”
“We’d miss you if you went,” he said. “But think of all you’ll miss out on, Kasia. Zuzanna’s the one who most wants you to go. What about Halina? How does this look, her mother afraid?”
The thought of flying on a plane for the first time made my stomach hurt—never mind the prospect of having to use my terrible English in America and of another operation.
“I’d be gone for months. Who’s to say Zuzanna would be alive when I returned?”
Pietrik took my hand. “We’ll take good care of her.”
His hand felt good around mine. I pulled away and closed the locks on my empty suitcase.
“There’s no changing my mind,” I said.
Pietrik heaved my suitcase up, returning it to the top shelf of the closet. “You have to learn there are some things you can’t change.”
“So it would be better to leave my sister here to die? I’m not—”
I turned to see Zuzanna there in our bedroom doorway.
“Oh, I was—” Had she heard?
Zuzanna stepped into the room, hands behind her back. “Don’t worry about it, Kasia.”
I braced myself, arms folded across my chest. “I won’t go without you.”
“I’m glad,” she said.
“So you’re not upset with me?”
She smiled. “Not at all.”
I wrapped my arms around her and felt her hard ribs through the back of her dress. “Good, because I would never leave you.”
“Well, that makes me happy,” Zuzanna said. “Because if I’m going to die, I’ll want you near me.” She pulled from her pocket a telegram envelope. “Especially since we’ll be in New York together.”
She pulled a sheet from the envelope, cleared her throat, and read: “Miss Zuzanna Kuzmerick cleared for travel to U.S. STOP Travel documents to follow STOP Report to Warsaw Airport with New York–bound group STOP Bon Voyage STOP Caroline Ferriday STOP.”
Pietrik walked to the closet and pulled the suitcase down from the shelf as Zuzanna and I swayed in each other’s arms to Eddie Fisher’s smooth voice.
Together, together, together.
DECEMBER 1958