I’M Home I’M Home

By Paula Cytryn

Ellen Cohens parents had promised to pay for a trip to Poland to visit her grandparents when she graduated from college. In 1939, the time has come. But the news from abroad isnt promising and make them wary and far from enthused about Ellens visit to Europe.

Ellen is not deterred. She leaves New York, journeys to Poland, and ultimately struggles to survive the horrors of World War II. Her travels take her across Europe, to the Taiga of Siberia, and Central Asia. Ellen is both betrayed and her trust misplaced as her plight grows darker and darker with no hope in sight. Its only because of her will to live that shes able to return to New York. But a surprise awaits, one for which she is completely unprepared.

A coming-of-age story set during one of the most volatile times in history, Im Home Im Home narrates Ellens story as she suffers the evils of mankind and the horrors of being alone in a strange world where little mercy is found.

• Language: English
• Publisher: iUniverse
• Release date: Feb 24, 2011
• ISBN: 9781450292191

Paula Cytryn

Paula Cytryn an accomplished author who wrote Not a Chance My Dear, Not a Chance and a collection of short stories called All of Us Need Help Sometimes. A child survivor of World War II, Cytryn came to the United States in 1951 and now lives in Brooklyn, New York.

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Copyright © 2011 Paula Cytryn

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9218-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4502-9219-1 (e)

iUniverse rev. date: 7/10/2015

Dedicated to my children Tobetha and Abe.

A special note of appreciation to my daughter Tobetha for all her hard work editing this book.

HOW COULD HE DO THAT TO ME

How could he!!!

How could he do that to me!!

Eyes bulging, hands clenched in tight fists

The young woman knocked them against each other

And felt immune to the pain

Falling in a heap to the floor, she banged her head on the wall

Gee! It felt good.

And she banged her head again and again

How could he do that to me!!

She stormed

And she paused

I WILL!!! She stated

But the authority in her voice was lacking.

Holding her head to her stiff knees

In a barely audible voice

Mournfully, she moaned

I will.

I’m Home I’m Home

E llen, visiting her mother, burst into the kitchen. Mom! I’m starved! What smells so delicious here? she asked. The expression she encountered on her mother’s face made her stop in her tracks.

Ellen, you have guests in the living room and I think they are from Russia,

Dorothy, Ellen‘s mother, mysteriously told her daughter, privately thinking that since Ellen came home from ‘over there’, she seemed always to be starved.

Ellen remained on the spot, her pulse skipping a beat, unable to move or speak. She perceived the questioning expression on her mother’s face. Then Ellen slowly and hesitantly opened the door a crack and peeked in. Two men were sitting on the green velvet sofa with their backs to the door, leafing through the pages of the magazines lying on the coffee table.

Ellen braced herself, opened the door wider and entered the room.

Hello there. she said.

The men abruptly turned around and Ellen’s face became bloodless. She quickly reached for the chair nearby to gain composure. Ellen had instantly recognized Alex from Moscow – from that long time ago. He hadn’t changed much: he had the same straight, lean frame. The same dark black hair. Only his sideburns had turned white.

Their eyes met and clung. His eyes projected pain and sadness. Ellen had difficulty speaking. Her mouth had become very dry. Slowly she withdrew her gaze from him and curiously looked at the younger man standing beside Alex. Surprised and shocked, she recognized the image of herself in the young man who was looking at her so intently.

Ellen, Alex said softly, Yes, this is my son Gregori. He looks like you, doesn’t he?

What are you doing here? She finally managed to ask him while she was unable to withdraw her gaze from the young man.

Gregori insisted that we look you up and come to see you, Alex replied. We had a lot of difficulty fulfilling Gregori’s wish. But, here we are. I must admit that although life was not merciful to either of us, still you did not change much. You are still the Crasawica (beauty) I remembered from way back.

Ellen, still looking at Gregori, was unable to utter a word.

Ellen, Alex continued, We did create a fine young man, didn’t we? He chuckled.

Ellen’s face had turned red as he said this and she covered her mouth with both hands in order not to scream.

Ellen, Alex was saying, He knows about us. My wife, for whom I sacrificed so much, just could not mother him. She said that he looks so much like another woman’s baby that each time the baby was brought to her, he gave her the chills. She just couldn’t accept the idea that I betrayed her with another woman, even though I did it for her. Alex sighed deeply.

But never mind all that. Alex continued, Our Gregori is an exceptional young man who is the main surgeon at an important hospital in Moscow and extremely beloved and respected by his patients. As I promised you a long time ago in Siberia, I did provide the best for our son; starting with the most caring governess, I sent him to the best schools money could buy. And the results paid off handsomely.

Ellen wanted to speak but her mouth was too dry and she could not utter a single word. She noticed that Gregori’s dark eyes were so much like her own that she burst out crying.

At this, Gregori slowly approached Ellen and wrapped his arms around her.

I wanted so much to see you and get to know you, he whispered into her hair.

So did I. So did I Ellen hoarsely responded through her tears.

Unwillingly, Ellen was caught up in the grip of her bloody memories from the past that she had tried for years to forget.

July 16, 1939.

The Cohen family feverishly debated the subject of their daughter’s trip to Poland to meet her grandparents for the first time who lived in a city just outside of Warsaw. Her parents had promised Ellen that when she graduated college, they would provide her with a ticket and all the necessities for the trip. That day had arrived and Ellen firmly demanded of her parents to keep their promise to her.

Meanwhile, the news coming out of Europe was none too promising. Hitler’s volatile and ruthless speeches on the radio made them wary and far from enthused about Ellen’s visit to Europe at this time. They were frankly worried about her. Mrs. Cohen, to no avail, appealed to Ellen to postpone her trip for a while longer but Ellen could not be swayed. She stubbornly insisted that she had waited long enough and that her parents had to keep their promise, having given it to her such a long time ago. Ellen rightly claimed that, after all, her grandparents were aging, and she promised her parents that when she returned from Poland she would begin graduate studies at the University toward a Masters degree.

Eventually, her parents had to give in to their strong-willed daughter. Strengthening Ellen’s argument was the fact that her grandparents so looked forward to meeting their only grandchild for the first time.

The day of Ellen’s departure quickly arrived. Mr. and Mrs. Cohen drove their daughter to the airport. Mrs. Cohen held Ellen’s hand in the backseat of the car; she had so much to tell her but she was all choked up and couldn’t say a word. At the airport, Ellen’s luggage was quickly collected and Ellen was asked to enter the appointed gate. She warmly hugged her father, kissed her mother and enthusiastically followed the other passengers to the boarding gate. Mrs. Cohen, looking forlorn, waved to her, saying, Take good care of yourself, child, please. Don’t worry, mother, Ellen joyfully replied. Mrs. Cohen looked at her husband with tear-filled eyes and placing her head on his chest, she muttered, I already miss her.

The couple drove home in silence, each of them wrapped up in his/her own thoughts.

Mama and Papa will have a ball with her, Mrs. Cohen said to her husband.

Indeed, Ellen was awaited by a whole mob of people, hugging her, kissing and caressing her.

Isn’t she a beauty? her grandmother asked one and all. She recognized Ellen from a photograph that Ellen’s mother had sent her. Ellen warmly embraced the elderly, elegant and handsome lady. Finally, her grandfather had his chance to entwine Ellen in his arms saying, I thank you, Lord, and your parents, for giving us this opportunity to get to know you, my dearest child.

Ellen’s grandparents lived in their own little brick house in the suburbs. The lush, beautiful garden in front of the house instantly caught Ellen’s fancy. In back of the house Ellen admired the fruit orchard. Her grandfather led her to a tree with red-cheeked apples and ripped off an apple. Wiping it with his handkerchief, he extended it to Ellen. She eagerly bit into the juicy apple and marveled at its unique taste.

Meanwhile, guests kept popping in, bringing flowers and fancy chocolates to welcome the guest of honor, Ellen. Ellen, the only child, savored it all, unaccustomed to such lavish attention from so many people. Back home, her parents were always working in their jewelry store on West 47th Street in Manhattan. Their housekeeper openly demonstrated her annoyance at having Ellen around while she attended to her tasks in the house.

Ellen, a pretty brunette with dark, penetrating eyes and long shiny hair, knew that her parents worshipped her. Raised in a luxurious house, attending prominent private schools, she was surrounded by popular, handsome young men and giggling girls. She had plenty of money to throw around and Ellen became a capricious, spoiled young woman.

Ever since her parents had promised her the trip to Poland to get acquainted with her grandparents, Ellen walked around in a trance, fantasizing, planning, shopping at Bloomingdales and bragging about it to her friends, disregarding her beau and evoking envy among her friends. In the end they left her to herself. Henry, her steady boyfriend, frustrated and pained by her newly unpredictable behavior, accepted invitations from others, flirted with others and made sure that Ellen found out about it. Ellen, wrapped up in her plans, did not notice and did not care.

Meanwhile, news out of Europe about Hitler’s advance upon Austria, his tirades of hatred toward the Jews, reached the Cohen family and they sorely regretted their promise to their daughter about the trip to Poland. Their attempts to persuade Ellen to postpone her trip fell on deaf ears. Ellen insisted on going to Poland and continued with her preparations to leave right after graduation.

Presently she found herself in the dining room of her grandparents surrounded by various delicious dishes. She remembered her mother bragging about her own mother’s expertise in cooking. The aroma in the house from the food was intoxicating. Ellen heartily savored each dish as it was placed in front of her on the table.

Just like her mother, a hearty eater, her grandmother thought. She patted Ellen’s long shiny dark hair. The scent of the lilacs in the crystal vase in the center of the table pleasantly tickled Ellen’s nose. My G-d, Ellen proclaimed, even the lilac smells better over here.

Wait, wait! her grandmother pointed out to her the boxes with withered little flowers behind the windows. Macheiki. Ellen looked at her grandmother questioningly. Like a miracle you will see those little flowers blooming in the darkness of night and enriching the air with a heavenly scent.

Mother never got tired of telling me about them. Her grandmother suppressed a smile over the way Ellen pronounced Macheiki, the name of the flower.

Now, Ellen, tell us about your life in Manhattan. I’m sure the skyscrapers are much more interesting. Your mother used to send us pictures of them but I really have difficulty imagining the sight of them.

Why don’t you come for a visit to us and see them for yourself? Ellen asked.

Oh, we are too old to travel on a ship for weeks on the Atlantic Ocean. But we are very grateful to your parents for sending you to us to get to know you.

Ellen’s grandparents stood up from the table, telling Ellen that the radio would presently announce the news. Settling themselves on the couch, they switched on the radio and immediately could be heard the screeching, authoritative voice of Adolf Hitler. His stormy, dictatorial voice made Ellen cringe. The piece of bread she was eating fell from her hand. Ellen’s grandfather quickly switched off the radio and, mutely looking at her for a while, he said to her, My child, I don’t have to describe to you the joy your visit has brought into our house. It is clear for you to see. But I am afraid that dark clouds are coming our way and perhaps you should consider returning to the states, to your parents.

But she barely just arrived, her grandmother plaintively intervened, and today’s paper distinctly says there is not going to be war with Germany.

Daily, relatives from nearby cities Ellen did not even know about and friends of her parents claiming they all went to school together, crowded the little house of her grandparents in order to see ‘Ellen who had just come all the way from America’. Wow! From America! What a beautiful girl! Each one stated. Are all girls in America so beautiful? Is everyone rich in America? Live in luxurious houses? Ellen smiled at their naiveté, saying, no, not everyone in my country is rich and lives in a luxurious home – but she sensed that was not what they wanted to hear. They just ignored what she was saying and kept admiring the clothes she was wearing and her carefree