The next hours were a blur. I didn’t remember the trip. I must have lost consciousness, because when I did come to, I was in what looked like a hospital room. My ragged clothing was gone and in its place was a hospital gown. Clean gauze covered my arms and legs. At first I was devastated. They hadn’t listened to me. They’d taken me to a hospital instead of back to Lida.
But then I felt a cool sponge on my forehead and I heard Lida’s familiar voice. “You’re safe, dear Luka.”
I looked up. Lida’s face hovered over me, her eyes swollen and red. I tried to sit up, but I was so woozy that I fell back down. “Lida, can you ever forgive me for leaving you?”
She brushed my cheek with her fingertips. “There is nothing to forgive, Luka.”
“My father … he’s dead. The whole thing was a trick. You were right all along. I am so glad that you didn’t try to come back with me.”
Her eyes filled with tears. She took one of my hands in hers and kissed it. “I am so sorry about your father.”
Neither of us said anything for quite some time. My body ached from the bruises and scrapes and my heart was filled with sorrow for the loss of my father, but lying here with Lida’s hands wrapped around my own was like a salve for the soul. Lida was not angry with me. She understood.
“Don’t ever leave me, Lida,” I said.
She didn’t say anything for a full minute, and during that time I wondered what she was thinking. Then her lips trembled into a smile. “I am here. I will not leave you.”
Those words brought me up short. Of course she was right. It had always been me, chasing after my past when my future was right here in front of me — with Lida.
“I’ll never leave you again, Lida. That is a promise.” Her hands were still wrapped around mine, and it took all the strength I had to raise one of her hands to my lips. I kissed her fingertips.
“I love you Lida. And I always will.”
“I love you too,” she said. “You are the other half of me.”
She gently laid her head upon my bruised shoulder, and the weight of it hurt, but I didn’t care. I wrapped one arm around her back as best I could and kissed her on the top of her head. “You are my life, my home, my soul.”
* * *
I barely had time to heal before I knew it was time to leave. The Soviets might find me again.
Pani Zemluk agreed. “They will be back for you, Luka,” she said. “Of that I have no doubt.”
Lida and I fled to the British zone. Hiding in plain sight with many others who were just like us, we walked for weeks and weeks. We scanned thousands of fluttering notes, looking for information about Lida’s sister and my mother, but we never found anything. My deepest fear was that both of them were dead. But Lida and I had each other and I was grateful for that. We carved out happiness where we could in our vagabond existence. As I looked around at the hordes of refugees, lost and ragged, searching for loved ones, searching for home, I felt lucky. No matter what, I had Lida. And as long as we were together, life was worth living.