Swans Are Fat Too (15 page)

No, but no, he'd just disappeared for a moment––he'd be at the other end of the village. She ran, wet clothes clinging and flapping, back to the waiting children. "Where's Yola? Where's Hubert?"

"Yola's with her aunt."

"Maybe he's with Yola and Hubert. Let's go see." She speed-walked down the road, the children following behind, pleased with the excitement, picking up additional children as they went. "Maks has disappeared, Maks has disappeared." Oh, goody.

They rang at a gate. Yola appeared. "Maks?" She'd seen him heading in the direction of the railway station. He was following behind some people with backpacks. Some tourists, maybe, she didn't know them. She saw them go into the trail by the woods. When? She didn't know, quite a while ago now.

Hania remembered what he'd said to Kalina: "We have to go back…" She'd been thinking about the email she was writing; she hadn't been paying enough attention. Oh, why hadn't she paid attention? Could he have gone back to Warsaw on his own? There could be no other reason she could think of why he would take the trail through the woods. It wasn't at all like him to go off on his own. He had lurid imaginings, was afraid of the dark, afraid of the forest. He would only have gone if he could have followed someone. Oh, Maks. Certainty struck as she tried to reason with herself. He wouldn't. He would. She had to follow him fast. Did anyone know when the train for Warsaw passed, she asked, her throat dry. The children all shook their heads. Yola went to ask her aunt. One went at eleven-forty-five and the next at one-thirty. After that there wasn't another until evening. It was ten to one now. Hania ran back through the village, through the house, and shook Kalina awake. "Kalino, wake up! Wake up! I think Maks has taken the train to Warsaw! Is it possible? Would he go to Warsaw by himself?"

Kalina opened her eyes, sat up looking dazed, thought a minute, and nodded her head. "Yes. He would. Because…"

Hania didn't wait to hear the reason. "Are you sure? Because if you think so, I'm going to call the police."

Kalina nodded, looking scared. "Yes. You'd better call them."

Hania called the police station. The receiver was picked up and she could hear sounds in the background, a leisurely conversation being finished before a voice came on. "Hallo. Police."

"Hello. This is Hanna Lanska in Żabia Wola. I'd like to report a lost child."

"One moment please." A long pause. She stilled her breathing.

"A…lost…child…" She could imagine the police officer writing slowly, the slow cursive of the uneducated.

"Please, it's a matter of urgency. I think he took the train to Warsaw."

"Name," the voice was bored.

"Maksymilian Lanski."

"No. Your name."

"Hanna Lanska."

"How do you spell it?"

"Please. It's a matter of urgency. He's only seven and I think he's on the train by himself…"

"
Pani
,
please. One thing at a time. Spell your name."

"L.A.N.S.K.A." The minutes were ticking by.

"Is that L like 'Ludwik' or R like 'Robert'?

"L like 'Ludwik.'"

"Hold on a moment." She could hear a conversation in the background. Krzyś was going for coffee, or did he want a coke? And did you see the soccer game last night? Super goal, wasn't it?...

Hania trilled nervous fingers on the phone. "Please sir!" she wailed into the receiver.  

"L like 'Ludwik' or R like 'Robert?'"

"L. Ludwik. Ludwik-Ludwik-Ludwik!"

"
Pani
, please! Don't get impatient." A pause… "Now is this lost child a boy or a girl?"

"A boy. Age 7. He just turned 7."

She could hear him repeating as he wrote: "A…boy….age…seventeen…"

"Name?"

She slammed the phone down in a fury.

"Kalino! Kalino! We have to go after him at once. We have less than twenty-five minutes to get to the station!" She ran through the house, stuffing their most indispensable belongings into a bag. A minute later and she was back outside, pulling Kalina to her feet. "Come on! Run! Or we'll miss the train!"

They ran, Hania with the bag slamming against her thigh, Kalina clutching her stomach. They ran along the edge of the field and into the woods and Hania stopped and leaned against a tree and wondered if her lungs would burst. Thirteen more minutes. They ran, stopping periodically to catch their breath, running on. Hania's throat was like sand paper, her lungs felt like a squeezed sponge and the world swam before her eyes. There was the cement slab of the station.

"The train's coming!" gasped Kalina, "I can hear it. It won't stop unless we're there!" She dashed on ahead and jumped onto the platform, flagging to the train. Hania came up as the train slowed to a stop with a long blast of its whistle. They just had time to stumble up the ladder when it was in movement again, then picking up speed. Hania opened a compartment door and collapsed onto a bench, gasping for breath, her chest heaving. Someone handed her a small bottle of water. She drank, and eventually felt better. She found a towel in her bag, dried her face, and looked around. Kalina was sitting opposite, watching her.

"What," said Kalina, "if he didn't take the train, and he's still back there in Żabia Wola?"

They rode for many miles in silence, contemplating this idea.

"He'll go to the neighbor's," they decided. "Someone will look after him. We'll call when we get to Szczotki Dolne."

"Of course," said Hania, when she came back from purchasing their tickets, "maybe he'll be in Szczotki Dolne. He'll have to change trains. How will he do that? How will he know where to go?"

"I don't think he'd leave the station," said Kalina doubtingly, "I think if he couldn't figure out which train to get on, he'd stay there. At the station. I hope."

"Let's hope so."

"Unless he got on the wrong train."

The two hours passed very slowly. The train stopped at every tiny town, every cement slab, every trail through the woods. It barely got under way and it was grinding its brakes again.

They were coming into Szczotki Dolne. They were jumping down from the train, rushing along the platform looking right and left, into the shabby glass and metal station. No one was around. Hania rushed to a ticket window. "Excuse me," she said to the ticket lady, who looked up from her tea, "did you by any chance see a little boy pass through here? About this high, with glasses? Around a quarter to two?"

"Lots of children pass through here, I don't pay attention, I'm sorry."

Another woman entered the booth. "There was a little boy like that. With glasses. He was asking which platform for the Warsaw train. I didn't see his parents around. I thought he was goofing off while they were in the restrooms or something."

"Do you know where he went?"

"No. He went off and I didn't pay attention."

Kalina said, "Hania, the train will be coming." They turned and hurried towards an underground passage. No Maks.

A warning signal. Could that be the train? They quickened their pace, were almost running, then Kalina stopped and stood still.

Hania came back to her. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"I don't know. I feel strange."

Hania looked at her. She did look very odd, almost white. Maybe it was just the light of the underpass.

"I think I'm going to faint." She was swaying.

Hania caught her. "Here, sit down."

Kalina collapsed onto the ground. The train whistle blew.
Boże
,
Boże
kochanie
, the train was coming in.

"Kalina," said Hania with forced calm, "You can not faint now. You can't. We have to find Maks. Get up!"

The loudspeaker announced. "Train for Warsaw leaves in three minutes."

"Kalina! Three minutes. Come on, I'll help you. You can faint on the train." She pulled the girl to her feet again and supported her as they staggered along the passage, up the stairs, along the platform. The whistle blew. The train was going to go. A station guard stopped the train with a signal, rushed towards them, caught Kalina's other arm, and helped Hania drag her up onto the train. They were off.

On the train Kalina revived. "I'm all right now," she said, leaning wanly and limply against the window and leaving Hania to fret on her own.

If only the police had been helpful, she thought, they could have called Warsaw and someone would have been looking for Maks at the station. If this had been America, the police would have been helpful and efficient; they would have found Maks…and then would have charged me and probably his parents with child neglect or abuse and after ruinous lawyer fees we'd be lucky to get off with just our smirched names and suspended sentences and Maks would go to a children's home. In America someone always has to be to blame …I am to blame.

Maybe the conductor will have caught Maks, she thought, as the compartment door opened and she handed over her ticket to be checked. When the conductor left she said to Kalina, "Do you think the conductor might have found Maks? He won't have had a ticket."

Kalina opened her eyes. "If Maks doesn't want to be found, no one will find him." She closed her eyes again.

True, thought Hania, leave it to Maks. But he would have to get out at Central Station, go through all the taxi stands and traffic, around the station, through the underpasses, along the city streets. What if he got run over?

"Will he take a bus?" she asked Kalina, "when he gets to Warsaw? Got. Or do you think he'll have walked?"

"He'll walk. He wouldn't know which bus," mumbled Kalina.

"Will he know his way?"

"Maybe. Probably. If he doesn't get lost in the underpasses."

Of course, maybe he was still back there in Szczotki Dolne. Or maybe he never left Żabia Wola. Maybe he was wandering, lost, through the woods.

A train employee came by, pulling a refreshments cart. "Anyone want potato chips, sandwiches?" he queried. Hania shook her head impatiently. She was too nervous to eat. How could one eat at a time like this?

Warsaw. At last, they were on the outskirts of Warsaw. The suburbs passed, one after the other, the train stopping occasionally. And then here they were, coming into Central Station. She roused Kalina, made her walk to the door so they could jump out the minute the train stopped. It was entering the tunnel, the platforms raced by, a shriek of brakes and they were there and getting down from the train.

"Do we search the station first or go straight home?"

"Go straight home. He wouldn't stay here, I'm sure. This close to his goal he'd go on."

"But Kalina," Hania asked, as they rushed up a staircase against a tide of travelers hurrying down. "What is his goal?"

"Just to get home, I guess."

"But why?"

"Here," said Kalina, without answering as they emerged from the building onto the sidewalk, "which way do you think he'll go? Do we split up and take different routes? Or what?"

"No. I think we'll take a taxi. If he isn't at home, I'll call the neighbors in Żabia Wola, and if no one's seen him, I'll have to call the police again." She headed for the front of the taxi stand.

"Even if he's there," Hania said to Kalina in the taxi, "he won't be able to get in. Not even into the building if the intercom's fixed."

"'Course he will. He's not stupid like that Paulina …" she broke off abruptly. "He'll ring at the neighbors and ask them to let him in or he'll wait till someone comes in or out."

"Yes. He still won't be able to get into the apartment though, will he? Unless you have a key hidden somewhere?"

"He won't care about that."

"What do you mean?"

But Kalina had the look of someone who was biting her tongue, and wouldn't answer any more questions, but only stared out the taxi windows and shrugged.

9

While Hania was still paying the taxi driver, Kalina had already rushed over to the entry, pushed a button, and been let into the building. The door didn't close fully behind her and Hania was able to catch it before it locked. She stood for a moment in the entryway, hearing Kalina's footsteps running up the stairs. She followed more slowly. One landing, two. Surely if Kalina had found Maks waiting in front of the door, she would have called something down to her? The third landing, the fourth. Hania was panting now. There was the Lanskis' door. No Maks. Above was only Konstanty's apartment. Maks wasn't here. So where was he?
Boże
.
Boże
. And where was Kalina? Hania looked about. Had she gone to a neighbor? To Aneta's family?

Kalina was coming storming down from above. "He's not here and Bartek's gone too!" she shouted.

Bartek? Who's Bartek? And what do I do now? thought Hania, her heart sinking.

"He's our dog. She is, I mean." Kalina stopped several stairs above Hania, and tears began to roll down her face. "We were keeping her in the attic," she muttered between sniffles, "in the old laundry space. We've had her there for months."

Someone was on the stairs above them, slowly descending. Konstanty Radzimoyski. Hania's heart gave a painful slam in her chest. Not him. Anyone but him.

"Good evening, ladies. Are you looking for Maks?"

Oh, wonderful Konstanty.

"Is he with you?"

"Yes." A smile. "Why don't you come up?"

Maks with Konstanty. Horrors. "I hope he wasn't too much trouble," Hania ventured, hurrying up the stairs.

"Oh no. He was quite helpful. I'm setting up a website with medical information for people with no knowledge of medicine. It has to be in simple language. I tried each sentence on Maks and if he understood I figured I'd got it right."

Konstanty's apartment was identical in layout to the Lanskis'––but how different in atmosphere, thought Hania. Somehow it had an air of peace and order that was completely lacking below.

They passed through the hallway, into a large room. The first thing Hania noticed was the large carved desk. The next was Maks, almost lost amongst the tapestry cushions of a wide sofa, holding a small mongrel dog.

"Hello, Maks," said Hania, calmly. "We've been looking for you."