Mary Alice Monroe - Girl In The Mirror

The nuns at the convent were kind and sympathetic to her situation. Their eyes blazed with fervor as they assured her that God would forgive her for the sin of fornication if she prayed hard, showed remorse and vowed to sin no more. During the following two months a new calm settled within, one that grew as her baby grew.

It was then that Father Oziemblowski from her village came to see her. “Good news!” he’d announced. He’d found a family that would adopt her baby. After the birth, Helena could discreetly return home and not another word would be mentioned of this unfortunate affair.

“You must trust our guidance in these matters,” Father had told her. “For your child’s sake, if not for your own.”

Helena listened with eyes wide and meek, but in her heart, she balked. Give up Frederic’s child? Unthinkable! Her child was not a bastard. If Frederic was here, they would be married, in a church, blessed by God. Maternal instincts flared, making her cunning.

As soon as she found an unsupervised moment, she sneaked from the cloister and took the bus to the old section of the city where a row of flat-faced, four-story buildings in stages of disrepair stood shoulder to shoulder before a park, like ancient grande dames sitting in the splendid shade of trees in full bloom. The Walenski apartment was in one of the larger buildings with a grand entryway. After a brief wait, a stylish stocky woman answered the door. Immediately, Helena recognized the same regal haughtiness she had once admired in Frederic, and the same strong, aristocratic nose.

“I am a friend of Frederic’s,” Helena said, standing tall in her shabby, oversize raincoat. “I was hoping you could help me find him. It’s urgent.”

Mrs. Walenski was on guard. “I don’t know where my son is.”

“Wait!” Helena pushed her hand against the closing door. “Just one moment. What I have to tell you should be spoken in private.”

Mrs. Walenski’s eyes narrowed in scrutiny, and Helena read dismissal in their flinty coldness. “I don’t allow strangers inside my home. What is this about?”

Standing on the front stoop, Helena stubbornly held her ground. She unbuttoned her long coat and slipped it open, revealing the rounded belly of a woman in her fifth month of pregnancy. She felt tawdry beside the elegance of her surroundings, ashamed of her predicament, but for her child’s sake, for Frederic’s, she would not back down.

“I am carrying Frederic’s child.”

“You are lying,” Mrs. Walenski whispered, quickly ushering Helena into the foyer and closing the door. “Do you think you are the first girl to try to trap my son in such a vile manner?”

While Mrs. Walenski moved through the rooms with sharp precision, Helena wandered as though she were walking in a dream. The house was a blur of splendor, such a contrast from the ramshackle farmhouse her family squeezed into. As she gazed around the room, she noticed details rather than the whole: a gold filigreed clock, the rich carpet, a crystal chandelier of princely proportion. What must it be like to be the mistress of such a house? she wondered. If she were Frederic’s wife, would she live here as well?

“Tell me who you are,” Mrs. Walenski demanded.

“I am Helena Godowski and I am not trying to trap your son. Don’t you think it’s the other way around? I am carrying his child. Your grandchild. Frederic promised he would send for me from America, but as you can see, I can’t wait any longer. My family is shamed and I can’t return home, either. I’ve nowhere else to turn. The nuns want me to give away my child. Did Frederic never mention me?”

Mrs. Walenski was blinking heavily and shifting in her seat. “No, never. What do you want?”

“I want Frederic. I want to be with him.”

“That’s impossible! I don’t know where he is. Really, I don’t. He cannot write, you little fool. The authorities are looking for him, surely you understand that? You don’t want him to go to prison, do you? You can’t want that.”

“No, no, of course not.” Helena was flustered now, her face flushed with joy. If Frederic could not contact his mother, then surely he could not contact her, either. He had not forgotten her. He loved her! She was sure of it.

“I love Frederic,” she said. “I wouldn’t do anything to hurt him, you must believe me.”

Mrs. Walenski’s shoulders lowered. She nodded, and a new sadness entered her eyes.

“I need help,” cried Helena, encouraged by the sympathy she now sensed. She looked at her belly. “Frederic doesn’t know about the child. He left before I was certain. Before I could tell him.” Raising her eyes, she leaned forward. “Please, if you could tell me just the name of the city in America he’s in, I’m sure I can find him. Please, you must believe me.”

Mrs. Walenski stared at nothing for a long time. Her hand had risen to her cheek and she sat as though frozen in thought. When she brought her hand back to her lap, her eyes were focused on Helena and the curve of her belly.

“I do believe you,” Mrs. Walenski replied at length.

“And now you must believe me. All I know is that he went to a city called Chicago in a province called Illinois. There is a large Polish population there.”

“Perhaps you can give me the names of your relatives, or friends. Someone I can reach when I arrive. I know no one in America. And I’m already five months along.”

“I’ll write a letter of introduction to a friend of mine. She will help you. And I will give you money to purchase an airplane ticket. One way.” She cleared her throat. “And there will be enough to give you a new start in America.”

“Oh, thank you,” Helena exclaimed, her hands covering her face as she sobbed in relief. She had never hoped for so much.

“Don’t thank me. You don’t know my son as well as I do.” Mrs. Walenski seemed to shrink inside herself as she continued. “Frederic is a selfish boy. Perhaps it’s my fault. I’ve spoiled him.” She fingered a rosette of garnets in her ear for a moment, then dropped her hand with a vague gesture. “If you should find him,” she began, pausing, searching for the words. “Please know that he may not welcome you. I don’t say this to hurt you, but you see…you are not the first girl he has placed in this situation. Frederic is very determined when he wants something. Obsessed. And…sometimes cruel. His father can be like that, you see. The other girl was from a small village, like you.”

Helena looked away, afraid the worry in her eyes would betray her.

“He never mentioned your name to me, not once,” Mrs. Walenski continued. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?”

“I must find him,” Helena replied in a strangled voice.

“Very well. I shall see to the arrangements. One more condition, however. If you do not succeed in finding my son, you will promise not to declare your child a Walenski.”

The affront took Helena’s breath away. “But the child is…”

“I must insist on this point,” she interrupted.

Helena lowered her head. “I promise.” With two words, Helena whispered away her child’s heritage.

Mrs. Walenski was true to her word. Within the month a young, very pregnant Mrs. Helena Godowski arrived in Chicago. Helena learned quickly that a woman alone in a foreign country, especially a pregnant one, had no friends. So close to term, and with no English skills, the best that a letter of introduction got her was a baby-sitting job, earning enough for room and board. Whenever she could, Helena searched for Frederic.

She searched everywhere, begging the help of the close-knit Polish community for any word of a Frederic Walenski from Warsaw. One man had seen him, soon after his arrival, but had not seen him since. It was generally believed that he’d left town.