The Train Station (Prague) – Fifteen years ago
Mum gazed around the station nervously.
I knew things were tense when Aunt Mara wasn't talking either. When Mum was upset, she was the one who always tried to distract me. And this time she didn't.
We'd been waiting outside in the rented car for over an hour before Aunt Mara said that we should go inside. As we trudged inside, the pelting rain made it hard to see.
Aunt Mara went first, into the station through the side entrance, then me and Mum followed behind her. As we walked, my trainers squeaked on the stone floor and we left little puddles behind.
The lights were dim save for the lights lighting up the shops. And the ceiling was higher than a church and the departure board clattered through its numbers and letters. I kept my head down and tried to keep up.
As I walked, my bag thumped against my back. I had only the essentials in there, of course. An extra jumper, a photo of me and mom at the beach last summer. A stuffy, of course, not that I would admit it. And I had a whole set of threads for making friendship bracelets.
My best friends, Isabella and Cara from school, were going to get one that I made in every country we visited this summer.
Except, I had no idea where we were going now so I didn’t know if I had the right color thread for the country flag.
Mum's eyes kept going back to the big doors at the far end. I looked too, because whatever she was afraid of, I wanted to see it coming.
"Don't look," she whispered. "Look at me. Only at me."
Her normally copper face had gone ashen. The rain had made her edges curl up and her normally sleek bun a little poufy. She also had a scratch on her cheek from the hedge we'd gone through instead of the gate.
Aunt Mara came back from the ticket window quickly. "Two sets of tickets. One on platform nine," she said. "It leaves in eleven minutes headed north. The other set is on platform two. It leaves in seven minutes and is headed south. We have to choose and go. Right now."
“Give me the bad news." Mum said.
Aunt Mara took too long to answer, her gaze was fixed to the north doors.
"Bad news is we’ve got company at the main entrance," she said. "Two of them. There'll be more at the front of the platforms. They have photographs. We’re out of time."
The knot in my stomach tightened more and I was too afraid to ask. Mum and Aunt Mara bent their heads together and whispered.
"They're looking for two women and a child," Aunt Mara whispered. "They won't look twice at a mother and daughter."
"Then you take her through and I'll follow on the next—"
"There is no next one. He'll have men at every entrance within minutes."
"Mara."
"I can make them pause. You have to take her. You know what will happen if you don’t."
My stomach tightened as I focused on the words. Daddy was looking for us and Mum and Mara didn't want us to be found. This fun vacation was not a vacation.
We'd been running.
I was so stupid.
Why didn't I figure it out before. Mum and Dad had been fighting a lot before we went on vacation. Daddy was always mad at her. But Grandpa always took her side. But then Grandpa had gone to heaven, and Mum was sad all the time.
Nobody spoke. The board clattered overhead.
"No. It has to be me. You can protect her better. I’ll make them see me," Mum said “And you both stay safe.”
She sounded so calm, as if she was telling me, "Dinner's ready" or "Time for bed, my love."
How could she sound like that? I didn't understand until I was older how hard she'd been trying.
"No," I whispered.
Both their heads turned.
"No. We're all going. You said we were all going." I was being too loud, and when Aunt Mara put her hand on my shoulder, I lowered my voice to a whisper. "You promised. You said someday we'd go somewhere safe. You said someday. It's someday. It's supposed to be someday."
For a second, Mum looked like she was going to cry. Then she pressed her lips together and tried to look calm again as she knelt in front of me. The station floor was dirty and wet, and the cleaners were watching, but she didn't seem to care about any of that. Not even her tights. She just put her hands on my face the way she always did, with her warm palms against my cheeks and her thumbs at my temples.
"Listen to me," she said.
I nodded against her palms.
"We can't all get out together. I have to stay behind and hold the door long enough for you and Aunt Mara to get away."
"Then I'll stay with you."
"No."
"Mum—"
"You will get on that train." She was speaking even more quietly now. "You will go to school, and you will grow up, and you will be so happy. Do you hear me? You let your aunt keep you safe, and you be happy."
I couldn't stop crying then. Mum tried to wipe the hot tears away with her thumbs, but there were too many, and in the end, she just kept her hands on my face.
"I can't," I said.
"You can. You're my girl, and I know you can do this."
"Who's going to check the windows?" I didn't even know why I was asking about that. Mum checked every latch before bed, and I couldn't imagine going to sleep without her there to do it. Or leaving her there without me. "Who's going to check on you?"
She let out a sob and pressed her lips together as if she could stop another one from coming out. Then she tried to smile at me, even though her face was all wet.
"You mustn't come back for me," she said.
"Not even when I'm older?"
"Not even then. I need to know you're safe." She rubbed her thumbs over my cheeks as she spoke. "Promise me."
I shook my head against her hands.
"Please, my love."
"I promise," I whispered.
"And the garden promise," she said. "Say it again."
"Mum."
"Say it."
"I'll let myself be happy, even when I'm scared and even when I don't feel like I deserve it." My voice broke in the middle.
"That's when you have to remember the promise most," she said.
She kissed my forehead and both my cheeks, then kissed the top of my head. I could feel her face in my hair as she held me there and took a deep breath.
"I love you more than every star," she said against my hair.
"More than every star and the moon as well," I said, because that was the part I always said. I'd been saying it for as long as I could remember.
Aunt Mara checked the station clock.
"Lydia," Aunt Mara said softly. Then she pulled my hands away from Mum's coat and lifted me off the floor.
She had one arm under my knees and the other around my back, with my bag still strapped to me, and she was carrying me away from Mum. I fought her. I'm not proud of it.
I'm not sorry either.
I kicked and twisted because I needed her to put me down, and I kept reaching over her shoulder with both hands. Mum was getting smaller behind us. She had her fingers pressed to her mouth, but she wasn't coming. Why wasn't she coming?
Then Mum turned around. Her hands were shaking as she fixed her hair and straightened her coat, but when she lifted her chin and started walking toward the big doors, she didn't hurry.
She didn't look back either. I wanted her to, but she kept walking toward the men with the photographs, and they were all watching her now. Which meant they weren't watching us. That was how she was holding the door for me.
By the time Aunt Mara carried me along platform nine and onto the train, I couldn't stop shaking. She put me in a seat and held me, and I kept crying. She didn't tell me to stop.
"Watch the window, Nic Nic," she whispered. "Keep watching your mum for as long as you can."
I pressed my hands flat against the cold glass and watched Mum. Far down the concourse, the men in dark coats stepped in front of her, but she didn't look at the train. She kept looking at them and talking. She was still talking when the doors hissed shut, and none of them had turned toward us.
She wasn't coming with us. I was never going to be happy without her.
