A Tale of Two Citizens by Elyce Wakerman

A Tale of Two Citizens by Elyce Wakerman

Author:Elyce Wakerman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Yucca Publishing
Published: 2015-01-01T05:00:00+00:00


He signed the warrant application and put it in the box of papers to be sent to Turner Battle, Perkins’s assistant secretary, for his consideration. Obviously, Orovitz would be arrested, have a hearing if he could afford one, and most likely be deported if, as Will suspected, he’d lied to the federal government about his age. Will only wished they were all this easy.

He stretched out his fingers before reaching for the next file.

Poland

As he sat looking out the window of the train taking him from Warsaw to Lukow, Harry realized how used to a black-and-white world he’d become. During his years in America, he’d marveled at the grandeur of the George Washington Bridge, the elegance of Fifth Avenue and Rockefeller Center, but carried along here, in a landscape of trees and meadows, he felt as though the senses that operate in a countryside were rousing from a long sleep, and that the world once again existed in color.

Fields spread from the windows of the train like a quilt of interwoven greens: the light shades of the wheat, the somewhat darker small grains, and the deep rich greens of the corn. Stocky rows of apple trees lined up every now and then like seams of the blanket, a multi-colored tapestry welcoming him home.

Harry fiddled with the Panama hat resting on his knee, spinning it by the brim. He’d put on his new suit this morning and suddenly feared that its stylishness might set him apart from his countrymen. His fellow passengers wore Polish military uniforms or short-sleeved shirts more appropriate to the weather. Maybe he should at least remove the plaid beige tie, loosened now for the ride, but intended to be cinched tightly to make a smart contrast with his white shirt. He’d purchased the outfit—the beige summer suit, matching tie, and white shirt—not only to make a good impression on Regina and his son, but for the appearance he intended to make later in the summer at the visa office in Warsaw. He wanted to look as American as possible when he asserted his son’s American citizenship; a passport was one thing, but it would be even more persuasive to look like a real citizen of the United States.

“Wuku,” the train conductor trumpeted in a thick Polish accent as he passed through Harry’s car. He must have dozed, for already he could feel the train slowing down as it made its approach. He swept his fingers through his hair, buttoned the top of his shirt and tightened the tie. Placing the hat just so on his head, he sighed deeply and watched as the agricultural vista faded behind wooden structures and signposts. Any minute, they would pull into the station. The train would stop, and his eyes would find her.

With the screech of the brakes, Harry curled his fingers around the handle of his suitcase, adjusted his hat once more, and stood up to make his way toward the exit.

The platform was dotted with small clusters of waiting people.



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