Can I see you again soon?
he asks.
I look at him
with a determined look.
Eyes narrowed
and focused.
Only if I can drive.
He laughs
in approval
and gives my shoulder
a squeeze.
I close my eyes
and feel the sound
of the engine
rumble
through my bones.
Giorgos (Gio)
U.S. Army, Northwestern France
1918
The U.S. Army
has deemed
my body whole.
My mind fit.
I am not
the same soldier
who marched
these paths
so many
months ago.
A boy
eager to belong.
I am splintered
into a million
shards.
Mind filled
with violence
and pain.
My entire life
has been a story of loss.
Women push carts
filled with dresses,
pillows, and china.
Villagers dump
their belongings
in the streets.
All they cannot carry.
A man walks
with four horses
tied to ropes
trailing behind him.
There is human feces
in the road.
Everyone
is running away
from the German
border.
We are marching
toward it.
I close my eyes
and see Jeanne
on the beach,
light shining
through her auburn hair.
She’s holding
a shell to her ear.
Her skirt
curves around her
in the wind.
She’s searching for me.
Remembering me
in the trapped sound
of the waves.
I find a post office
It’s abandoned.
Letters strewn
across the floor.
News
that will never arrive.
Words of love
that will never be read.
I stare at the letters in my hand.
Pray for everyone
who is lost.
Jeanne
Saint-Malo, France
1918
I wake to the bells
in the tower,
ringing incessantly.
Are we being bombed?
I get dressed as quickly
as possible.
All of the other nuns
are gathered in the hallway,
looking drowsy and
confused.
Sister Agnes
comes bounding
up the stairs,
screaming
at the top
of her lungs,
We’ve won!
And just like that—
the war is over.
People are embracing
shouting
and laughing.
There’s a band
marching in the streets.
Snare drums,
trumpets, and tubas
followed by a man
beating a big, round
bass drum.
I walk the town
alone
in my white veil.
I may be
the only one in the world
not celebrating.
There are so many soldiers
and they are all waiting
to get their
deployment papers
home.
Everyone is restless.
I see two men fighting
in front of the hospital.
A woman yells,
Stop, Jacob!
as one man hits
the other man
square in the jaw.
Blood spurts
across my white uniform
as I pass them.
I am shaking as I enter
the large, steel gates
of the hospital.
We need to find something
for these men to do.
The volunteer nurses
and I decide
we should hold
one last dance.
It is almost Christmas
We decide
to hold a snow dance.
A large tube
blows confetti
from the balcony.
White snowflakes fall
on the dancers
below.
All the other girls
look beautiful
in their long dresses
and ruby red lipstick.
I stick out
with my black robe
and white veil.
At intermission,
the nurses serve
hot roast beef sandwiches
pickles
sugar-coated beignets
nuts, chocolates
and cigars.
Sixty gallons
of hot chocolate
and not a drop left.
Everything tastes divine. 28
When the music begins
the horns start blowing
and the strings start singing
and the snow starts falling.
I imagine
Gio holding me.
Kissing me
on the back
of the neck.
I close my eyes
and I feel his arms
around me.
We sway softly
in the middle
of the dance floor.
Until I realize,
it’s not a dream.
I gasp
and turn around.
Gio’s eyes
are shining with emotion.
He takes my hands
in his.
I squeal and kiss him
and then realize
my mistake.
I push him
away.
Where have you been?
They sent me to the front.
I didn’t want to leave you.
You didn’t even say goodbye.
I wrote you, but I couldn’t send the letters.
He places a stack of envelopes
in my hands.
I love you.
I hug the letters
to my breast.
When they released me
from my post,
I traveled directly to the hospital.
I couldn’t wait to see you.
They told me you were here.
I love you, Jeanne.
I can’t love anyone.
I gave myself to God.
He touches
the veil
that covers my hair.
Why are you doing this?
His voice is not
unkind,
but I can tell he’s angry.
I choose my words carefully.
I don’t have a choice.
I take a deep breath in
as he says,
What if you did?
He reaches into his pocket
and pulls out a box.
I open it.
Inside, there is
a necklace.
A small golden bird.
I can’t go home
I want to make a home with you.
Come with me to America.
The next day, my aunt
calls me
into her office.
She squeezes her eyes,
rubs her forehead
with her hand.
In one month,
you will say your vows,
and then you will be married
to God.
If this is not what you want,
you need to tell me.
Now.
Mary
Detroit, Michigan
1934
Letter #22
November 11, 1918
One moment, I think I understand what the future holds.
The next moment, I realize that I don’t.
Yours forever,
Petit Oiseau
My mother and I are doing laundry
when a neighbor
arrives at our door,
breathless.
There’s been an accident!
My mother is shaking,
searching for coins
for a cab.
Our car is parked in front
of our apartment.
My brothers are nowhere
to be seen.
Silently, I take my mother’s hand
and lead her to the car.
I open the door
and take my place
behind the wheel.
Mary!
You don’t know how to drive!
She’s standing on the sidewalk
refusing to get in.
I open her door
from the inside
lean over the seat
and say,
Get in the car, Mama,
or I’m going to the hospital
on my own.
When we arrive at the hospital
my father is mumbling
in Greek.
Get off me, you fools!
I have to get back to work!
But no one understands
this pitiful,
wounded man.
His words seem like nonsense.
Both of his hands
have been wrapped
in gauze mittens
and he looks like
a newborn
who is moving
its limbs
uncontrollably
trying to scratch
the skin
and scream
into the ears
of everyone
he loves.
My father has lost both of his thumbs
in a metal press
at the factory.
He won’t speak
to anyone.
He lies splayed on the bed
like a wreck, scattered
on the side of the road.
He keeps repeating
the same phrase
over and over
in Greek.
I want to go home.
I want to go home.
An hour
turns into a day,
a day turns into a week,
a week turns
into two.
I bring
my father tea
that cools
untasted.
Toast
that goes
untouched.
He lies
with his back
to the door.
He will not move
Aunt Violetta sends a letter and a ticket
on a steamship.
New York City
to Athens.
My brother needs to return
to the olive groves
of his youth.
He has been gone
far too long.
Our eyes widen
as we read the words
My son and I
will return with Giorgos
when he is well.
My mother holds the letter
and reaches for me
with her other hand.
She looks slightly baffled
as she says,
I’ve never had a sister.
I want to say,
I had a sister once
and it was the best
feeling in the entire world.
I stop myself.
I don’t want to spoil this.
I just hug her
as tightly as I can
around her waist.
The platform fills with steam
eardrums bulge
with the screech
of wheels grinding
to a halt
on the track.
My father appears lost.
My mother
pats his pocket,
reminds him
to board
the correct train.
The Wolverine,
from Detroit
to New York City.
I wonder how
he will make it
across the ocean
alone.
Right before we say goodbye
I pull
a stack of letters
from my coat
and hand them
to my mother.
Her eyes widen.
Where did you get these?
I found them
in the cellar.
Have you read them?
Every single one.
She blushes.
Then rubs her palm
over the smooth
surface
of the envelopes.
Was this you?
Are you “petit oiseau?”
Yes.
I never realized
you wrote letters during the war.
We were so scared.
Alone.
We needed each other.
My father
puts his arm around her
and kisses her
on the cheek.
We still need each other.
Why don’t you talk about the war, Baba?
Tears well up in his eyes.
It’s over. Done.
His voice breaks.
The past is better in the past.
He squeezes
my mother’s shoulder again.
I have what I need—
what I wanted all along.
You were a nurse, Mama?
Why didn’t you continue?
Why didn’t you tell me?
I became a mother
and that became . . .
You
became the most important part
of my life.
She hugs me.
I stand between them
and see
how much they value
our family.
How long they yearned
for peace.
How much
they love each other.
And me.
I watch my fa
ther board the train
He looks back,
waves,
and blows a kiss
to my mother.
A young man