I start going again, before I panic. And then I’ve made it! I’m down! I’m a little giddy, but I’m here.
I wait for a few moments to get steady, then I take a deep breath and stroll casually into the kitchen. I’m almost surprised that it looks exactly the same. I feel like so much time has passed that Mom might have a new tablecloth or kettle or something. She’s busy at the stove, stirring something in a saucepan. The smell is like a life force to me. I feel stronger just being close to it.
“Hi, Mom! That stew smells delish.”
She nearly drops the spoon in the pan.
“Kasia!” She rests the spoon on a plate and flings her arms around me. She knows to be gentle. She lets go of me and rubs her eyes.
“Don’t cry, Mom!” I tease.
“It’s onions, just the onions,” she says with a smile. “You should have told me you wanted to try coming down. I would have helped you, mój aniele! Do you feel okay? Are you sure it wasn’t too much? Come—sit. After all those stairs, you need to sit. Let me get you a drink.”
She brings me a cushion for the hard, plastic chair.
My whole body is so sensitive these days. I’m already starting to feel weak, but I don’t say anything about it. I hope Dad gets home soon. I’m not sure how long I’m going to last.
I glance at the photos on the fridge. Me and Dad making silly faces, Mom posing on a bridge, a picture of my aunt and uncle in Poland. There’s one missing—the one of me and my brother Marek. I’m sad, but not surprised. Dad and Marek haven’t spoken since he dropped out of college and went traveling around Europe.
Dad is home early, to my relief—and the expression of delight on his face as his large frame and bald head fill the kitchen doorway makes it all worthwhile.
He’s still in his work clothes, dirty from his day at the building site, but he does his funny version of a traditional Polish celebration dance in the small kitchen. Mom hastily moves pots and pans out of the way so nothing goes flying, and I am laughing so much it actually hurts.
“Moje kochanie,” he says, gently stroking my hair. “It’s so lovely to have you down here and not exiled upstairs. I hope this is a sign of good things to come.”
“I only wish Marek was here to see you, too,” Mom says, sighing.
“So do I,” I tell her, getting a pang as I imagine my brother here, too, grinning and high-fiving me.
Dad tuts scornfully.
“Dad!” I protest.
“Let’s not spoil the evening talking about him,” Dad says firmly. “Give me two minutes to get changed and when I come down, we’ll talk about something else, something happier.”
Mom winks at me when he’s gone and picks up her phone from the counter. “I’ll take a photo of you at the table and we’ll message it to him,” she says quietly. “Marek will be so pleased.”
Dad comes back down and Mom serves up. “Well, what’s new?” Dad asks.
“We had a visit from a police officer,” Mom says. “He was very handsome!”
“I hope he didn’t stay long, then,” Dad teases. “This about what you saw the night before, Kasia?”
I nod and Mom tells Dad what he said.
“I hope they find the woman,” I say. “I just want to know she’s okay.”
“Well, you did the right thing reporting it,” Dad says to me. “The rest is up to them.”
I know Dad’s right. There’s nothing else I can do.
“I thought we were going to talk about happy things,” says Mom.
“Hey, yes! How about this for a happy thing?” I say, smiling.
I tell them about winning the writing competition, and they are both thrilled. Dad gets up to do another celebration dance, but Mom tells him to stop or he’ll get indigestion.
“I want to get well enough to go the award ceremony,” I tell them. “And I want you both to come with me.”
“I’ll do my best,” says Dad, “but you know how things are. It isn’t always easy for me to get time off. It’s a big project, this assisted living facility, and we’re a month behind already. Hopefully by then we will be back on track.”
Although I want Dad to be there, I’m glad that he’s not even questioning the idea that I’ll be able to go myself.
“It’s exciting, Kasia, but you need to be careful,” says Mom. “We’ll have to see how you are closer to the time.”
Mom may be more realistic, but I prefer Dad’s optimism. However, as she speaks, I realize that the room is starting to spin. I don’t want Mom to be right, but, in the end, I have to tell her. “I need to lie down.”
“Let me help you back up to bed,” she says. “You’ve done really well, but that’s enough for now. I can bring you up dessert if you’d like some.”
As I stand up, panic rises in my chest. “Mom—I don’t think I can do it—I don’t think I can get back upstairs. I need to lie down now!”
“Lie on the sofa for a minute,” Dad suggests. “Here, take my arm.”
He helps me into the family room, where I collapse on the sofa. I still feel like I’m on a boat in a storm and the panic is overtaking me. I want my bed—I want to be in my room.
After twenty minutes, I don’t feel any better. Dad sits down beside me.
“I want to go to bed,” I tell him.
“I’ll help you, kotku.” He holds out his arm.
I shake my head. “I can’t stand up, Dad.”
“Lucky you have a strong father then,” he says. He’s standing now, smiling and holding out both arms.
“Dad!” I exclaim. He hasn’t carried me anywhere since I was about five years old.
“I’ve carried heavier things around the site today,” he assures me. “Look at these muscles.”
Before I can protest, he has me in his arms and is lifting me. As much as I hate being treated like a child, I enjoy feeling safe and warm and held, and I am more grateful than anything when he lowers me gently onto my bed.
4
I can’t get up the next day or the next and, apart from crawling to the bathroom next to my room, I don’t try to do much else. The only other thing I stand to do is draw the curtains—open in the morning and closed at night. I know Mom would do it, but I want to look out—remind myself that there is a world out there.
This evening, I look across the street, and I can see a light on upstairs in the room opposite mine at number 48. Someone is drawing the curtains there, too. I briefly catch a glimpse of the figure, but it doesn’t look like the man or woman who live there. It’s someone skinnier—a girl, I think. Was it her I saw in the window the other night, when the woman was abducted?