Chapter 8 Mixed Reality

Warsaw 1939

F or many weeks after her marriage to Henrik (in her own words), the smile didn't leave Franka's lips. Twenty-one years old, shapely and attractive, Franka's golden hair reached her shoulders and her blue eyes sparkled with joy. The young couple didn't know where life would lead them, but they had confidence in the future and a zest for life enveloped them. Franka's parents, Sara and Moshe, were on edge; the political situation in Warsaw, and in Poland as a whole, was unstable. Henrik had trouble finding a job, his young wife did not bring in any income either, and they survived with the Syten family's support.

One evening Henrik announced that he had finally managed to find a job. Franka immediately envisioned the beautiful apartment they would move into, the family they would raise, and how her mother would help her take care of the children. She saw herself going to dine at her parents' house every Friday evening, her little boy sitting on her father's lap – a warm, loving family scene. But Henrik's words cut short her fantasy: The work wasn't in Warsaw ? not even in Poland. They would have to relocate to a town in the Ukraine, where he would work in the family business of his friend Vladek. Franka quickly objected. "What's wrong with us being here?" She was certain that with a bit more effort, Henrik would find work in Warsaw. Her father was more clearheaded and convinced her to take advantage of the opportunity to try a different life. Franka trusted her father's judgment and listened to him, despite her reluctance to live so far away – about 650 km – from everything she was familiar with and accustomed to.

Franka's mother helped her pack. "Take the beautiful towels from the closet, the ones I bought for Passover on Yerushalayim Boulevard. And take two dish towels and a set of bed sheets from the closet," she said hurriedly. "I'll go make something to eat."

Franka and Henrik would be leaving soon. Vladek offered to drive them there in his car so that they could pack at their own pace.

"Maybe I'll join you? And help you acclimate?" her anxious mother offered again.

Franca rejected the offer. In recent years, her mother had been suffering from severe back pain; every wrong movement caused great pain in her left leg and made it hard for her to walk. How would she be able to tolerate the twists and turns in the road?

Their last evening in Warsaw arrived, and the family sat down to dinner as usual.

"I'll come visit you when I'm less tied up at work. The store is very busy, as everyone is looking for bargains for the coming spring," said her father.

Franka tried to catch his eye but was unsuccessful. Her father stared intently at the edge of the table, a shadow of sorrow on his face. He rested his chin on his palm, with his elbow on the table. Franka and her father were extremely close, even though they didn't see each other very much. Her father worked long hours in the family clothing store on Stavky Street, leaving early in the morning before she got up. Every day before he left, he would go into the children's room and whisper in their ears " zey gezunt " (be healthy). More than once, Franka woke up just to kiss her father and listen to his receding footsteps.

Franka and Henrik set out early in the morning. The parting was difficult and emotional. Franka consoled herself with the thought that she would soon return. Tonya, her 14-year-old sister, and Shlemik, her 19-year-old brother, ran after the speeding car until they couldn't keep up.