We persevered. I took a job as a typist with the camp administration and met the other residents in our makeshift community. The place resembled a city, replete with schools, businesses, and civic organizations. We could almost pretend that we’d resettled, right there at the camp. It was a decent life, but it wasn’t built to last.
Countries like the United States, Canada, and Australia were admitting people for resettlement, and I put myself on the list despite my misgivings and the fact Mother would never be approved due to her health.
“I won’t go without her,” I’d told the man processing my paperwork. “How could I leave her here?”
The man explained that the wait list was long, as these countries limited how many displaced persons were allowed in each year. Probably by the time my name came up, Mother’s illness would cease to be a factor. In other words, she’d be dead. His words were more comforting than I’d like to admit.
That summer, we learned that the camps were closing, and the Allies were winding up their DP sponsorship efforts. Panic overtook us all. There were a million of us left. Where would we go? Would we be subject to German rule once again? The idea chilled me to the core.
They were not fast in shutting down—thank God—and for the next two years I worked and painted and fretted nonstop. Mother either ignored or yelled at me. I kept a respectful distance, from her and the other DPs. Although I’d grown quite lonely, I hesitated in forming friendships, in being part of any “group.” I would not soon allow myself to be identified by the songs I sung, or the gods I worshiped, or anything someone might one day deem wicked.
During this time, I developed a closeness with my boss, an American soldier. This friendship turned into the physical. He thought I was beautiful and smart. That I spoke six languages impressed him to no end. He was handsome and kind, though not the brightest, but he was enough at the time.
It’s possible he was using me. There weren’t many single, young women at the camp, fewer still in decent health, and none with my looks. I stood out. Many made passes, but his was the first I entertained.
The man promised he could get me to America. He had an aunt in Wisconsin willing to sponsor me, and such arrangement would ensure the fastest track. We were staring down the barrel of 1950—a new decade! I had to go, and take this opportunity. As for him, he was leaving, too.
“I can’t abandon my mother,” I explained, for the hundredth time.
“She despises you,” he said.
“But she is my mom.”
His last night at the camp, my soldier came to say good-bye. Mother was asleep and we got to it right at the kitchen table. She walked in as I straddled the man. She screamed, she screeched, she pummeled me all over, with both of her fists.
In a blur, I managed to pull on my dress, and the soldier escaped partially clothed. Through it all, Mother wept for all that she and Father sacrificed to give me. And now I was a common slut.
“You were supposed to be amazing,” she said. “Now you’re worthless, less than nothing. Dressing like a strumpet. Making love to any American who glances your way. Your father would be appalled. If this is what you’re going to do with your life, it wasn’t one worth saving.”
The next day the soldier was gone and my papers were approved. I had an immigration visa in hand. I had to go. This was my chance to prove that I wasn’t a “common slut” and that my life was worth the risk. I would do something grand, something meaningful. There was one place to make big dreams come true: the United States.
* * *
“That’s why I’m here,” Alicia said, voice shaky, as she reached the end of her tale. “And why Mother is still in Germany. My goal is to earn enough to buy her a nice house, and hire a nurse to help. Mother is young, but unwell, and I don’t know how much time we have left. She hates me, but I owe it to my father to make sure she’s all right.”
Alicia let her gaze fall on Jack. She saw that he was fidgety and glistening with sweat, as though he’d been the one to confess.
“Hell, Alicier,” Jack said, and shook his head. “That is fucked up.”
Alicia nodded, not knowing whether he meant what happened to her, or what she’d done.
“I’m sorry for keeping this from you,” she said. “But I’m not ashamed of the decisions I’ve made.”
Jack stood and Alicia’s heart plunked into her gut. As she started to speak—to protest, something—Jack offered the unthinkable. He spread both arms for a hug.
“Come here, brave girl,” he said.
Alicia stood, legs warm and weak, and then she collapsed into Jack’s chest and began to weep. The man was scrawny, stiff and thin, but it seemed like he could hold her up for days. Jack had the oddest way of making himself seem bigger, even when he was skin and bones.
“I hope you realize,” he said into her hair, “that no matter what your mother thinks, you’ve accomplished what you set out to do. You’ve made a name for yourself. You’ve proven that the universe knew what it was doing when it kept you alive. Personally, I’m quite grateful. Not to be selfish about it.”
Alicia laughed sadly.
“I don’t know that I’ve made a name for myself.” She pulled away and looked up. “But I’ve sent her money for this and that, minor luxuries that might improve her life. I’ve also been able to pay for medicines that she wouldn’t otherwise get.”
“It’s so impressive what you’ve done. A refugee, no less!”
She bristled.
“I haven’t done all that much. She’s still sick, still in the camp, and still being tended to by Nazi doctors.” Alicia sighed. “And while I’m making confessions, I should tell you about the necklace you gave me. The truth is, I sold it.”
“You what?”
“That’s why I didn’t wear it tonight. I sold it and sent her the proceeds.”
“Alicia.” Jack released her from his hold. “That was a gift. I won’t ask what you got for it. I’m sure you were swindled.”
“I view myself as having a decent handle on the value of clothes and jewels,” she said. “And I didn’t think you’d care. You weren’t the one who bought it!”
“Oh, geez, not the Sarge Shriver junk again.”
“It was a rash decision, but I’m not going to spend time on that particular regret, as I have plenty of others to keep me busy.”
“You’re right,” Jack said with a frown. “It’s a stupid necklace. I’m sorry for giving you shit.”
“No apologies necessary.”
“Fuck. You know what? I knew you were strong from the second I met you. But that was a guess, and now I know for sure. How did you survive all that?”
Alicia smirked, for she’d given him the most cursory of overviews. Yes, she survived the move to Radom, and the convent, and the camp, but she could’ve spoken for hours about everything else she’d endured.
“I don’t know if I survived,” she said, “or was simply a day luckier than so many others. Through it all I told myself, I only have to reach tomorrow. At least I was in a convent. We were still in danger, but better off than most.”
“You’re a hero to me,” he said.
“I’m no war hero, though,” she said with a wink. “No one gave me a medal.”
“That was easy. All I had to do was have someone sink my boat.”
With an exhausted sigh, Jack sat. He tugged on his shirt, as if letting in some air.
“The soldier?” He studied her with a squint. “Did you love him?”
Alicia pressed her lips together for a second or two.
“I’m not sure that I loved him,” she said, “but I believed in our romance absolutely. It was an enchanting thing in that moment of time. We didn’t have to think about the future at all.”
She sat beside Jack and smoothed her skirt over her knees.
“He helped me get my visa,” she said, “but that’s not why I fell for him. It’s difficult to explain. He was handsome and kind and after going so long without human contact, it felt so
good to be touched like that. I’m sorry if it sounds scandalous.”
“I’m jealous,” Jack said with an almost playful growl, “but it doesn’t sound scandalous at all.”
“Being with him made me feel alive, human, after not feeling that way for so long. And I wasn’t the only one.” She smiled. “When I first arrived at the camp, I was one of the youngest. And then, boom! Babies were being born, left and right. At one point, Stuttgart had the highest birth rate in the world, thanks to the DPs.”
“I want to take care of you,” Jack said, clutching her hands. “From now until forever. I want to make sure that you never feel unloved, or worthless, or desperate again. Alicia, let’s get married.”
“Jack! What a ridiculous thing to say!”
Alicia’s heart fluttered and her palms grew sweaty. She refused to accept the world he was offering to her. He didn’t mean it. Jack Kennedy was impetuous, full of big ideas.
“Dad’s always saying a Catholic politician needs a Catholic wife,” he said, “and you fit the bill.”
“Not the same way your mother does.”
“No one’s that Catholic,” he said with a snort. “Except possibly the nuns at your convent school. Anyway, I don’t care what my father thinks.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is. Dad has his opinions, and I have mine, and they’re not always the same. You know, I keep telling the pols that I’m not Joe Kennedy. Why are you making me do it with you?”
Alicia would never mistake the two men, but as for Jack’s future, there was no clear point at which the Ambassador’s ambition stopped, and Jack’s took over.
“I can give you everything you want,” he said. “I can buy your mother a house tomorrow, and get her the nurse! Even though she doesn’t deserve it. But if that’s what you want, you’ll have it.”
Suddenly, Jack pushed himself off the couch and dropped to one knee. Alicia panicked and rushed toward him, thinking he’d taken a spill, that his back had betrayed him once again.
“Shall I call an ambulance?” she said.
“Alicia Darr,” he said, looking into her face, “will you marry me? I don’t have a ring, but I’ll buy you the best one there is.”
“Jack, no,” Alicia said. “I’m not going to accept any hasty proposals.”
She wanted to, very badly, but Alicia knew Jack’s ways. She didn’t want to say yes, and then have him change direction—or forget—by noon.
“It’s not hasty,” Jack said. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. The night of the firemen’s ball, I resolved to make you my wife. I saw all of this in you, your strength, your intelligence, your bravery, though I didn’t understand it at the time. I love you, Alicia. Please marry me.”
Everything inside Alicia screamed. That Jack applauded her mind instead of her breasts or rear was so unlike him that she wondered if he was serious after all. And if he could love her after what she’d said, deflowered “Catholic” girl and all, then he could love her in spite of anything.
“I don’t know,” she said, though she did know, very much.
It seemed too rushed, too harried. Then again, that was the very way of Jack.
“I want to take care of you,” he said again. “I promise to make everything wonderful, for the rest of your days.”
“Oh, Jack,” Alicia said with a nervous chuckle. “No one can promise that, not even you.”
“Marry me,” he said again.
“Do you really mean it? And will you still mean it tomorrow, and next week?”
“Absolutely.” He broke out into a grin. “If you want to know the truth, Sarge picked out a ring.”
Alicia threw back her head.
“Jack!”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “I did consult him, but in light of a recent jewelry kerfuffle, it’s probably best that I pick it out myself.”
“At least you’re capable of learning from your mistakes,” she said.
“You’d better believe it.” His smile widened. “So, Barbara Kopczynska, now Alicia Darr, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Jack Kennedy,” she said, tears returning to her eyes. “I would love nothing more than to be your wife.”
KENNEDY MAY GO TO KOREA
The Boston Daily Globe, June 20, 1951
WASHINGTON, D.C.
It was usually around two o’clock in the morning when the panic set in.
Alicia hadn’t been a good sleeper since she left Łódź. They were probably all like that, she guessed. Where the war had survivors, it also had millions of twitchy-eyed specters who’d never get a full night’s sleep again.
She didn’t have to worry about Gestapo raids anymore, at least when her dreams behaved, and Alicia was grateful to fret over more pedestrian concerns. Nonetheless, it was one month until their planned honeymoon and they didn’t have a wedding date. How would this all come together?
Alicia slid from the bed, careful not to jostle, for Jack hadn’t been sleeping well either. In addition to his usual back ailments, his headaches had worsened. Later in the week, doctors were going to X-ray his skull.
“My greatest wish,” he’d said last night, “aside from marrying you, is to experience twenty-four hours free of pain.”
Alicia crept downstairs, feeling her way through the unfamiliar darkness. It was her first time in Washington, and the home Jack shared with Eunice, though Eunice was rarely there. She’d been working with juvenile delinquents in Virginia, to her mother’s vast chagrin.
In the living room, Alicia slumped in a blue wingback chair and glanced out to the cobblestone streets. Much like her husband-to-be, Georgetown charmed her on sight, with its gas lamps, tree-lined avenues, and rows of federal townhomes, not to mention all those American flags flapping together in the magnolia-scented breeze.
“This city,” Alicia had said as they meandered the neighborhood last night. “It’s so beautiful and unimposing. Everyone seems happy to be alive.”
Jack laughed.
“Give it two weeks,” he said. “When summer hits, you’ll see this place for the festering, insect-ridden armpit that it is.”
But Alicia didn’t want to be in Washington in two weeks. She wanted to be in Hyannis Port, preparing to exchange vows. Even a modest affair needed planning, too.
“Everything will be fine, Alicia Dahr-ling,” Jack promised. “We can change the date, wait until the timing is right.”
This was the problem, for the timing was never good. Jack was right then working on a new bill, something about a pine tree quarter, which didn’t seem terribly important, but who was a DP to judge? Plus, the Kennedys were scrabbling about, trying to figure out how to deal with Teddy and also accommodate Ethel, due to give birth any day.
Now Jack was talking about going to Korea, to survey the problem firsthand. It needled Alicia, if she might be so selfish. She didn’t understand how someone could choose rubbing elbows with the Reds over an outside double cabin on the Ile de France, which they’d booked for next month.
As Alicia watched the quiet streets, she sank deeper into the chair. Maybe postponing the nuptials wasn’t the worst idea. While she didn’t mind the “small affair” they’d discussed, Alicia couldn’t help but remember last summer, when the house was abuzz after Bobby’s grand celebration. Was it wrong to want the same excitement, at least for Jack?
But, there was the matter of time, and Alicia’s mother, who was sicker by the day. Despite the Catholic upbringing, Alicia wasn’t convinced on heaven, and she wanted her mom to finally see that Alicia was important, that she was worth something, by and by.
Alicia closed her eyes. She sent a prayer to her mother, and to her father, wherever he might be, if anywhere at all. Please let these dreams come true, and please let them be able to see.
* * *
Sunlight blasted through the windows, and Alicia woke up kinked and cramped. She sat upright and tried to rub the pain from her tingling neck. Was this what Jack’s body felt like, as though he’d slept
in an uncomfortable position for nights, weeks, years on end?
With some effort, Alicia stood. She stretched and checked the clock. Seven fifty-three. In front of the house was an empty spot where Jack’s convertible had been parked. He was gone, it seemed, working on his twenty-five-cent piece. Alicia wished he’d woken her before he left.
She went upstairs to pack.
That night, Jack was bound for Boston, to speak at yet another dinner, and Alicia was going home. The Cape Cod Art Association opened in a few weeks and she planned to submit a painting, of what, she did not yet know.
As she stepped into Jack’s room, Alicia let out a groan. It was an abomination. The bed was a wreck, and clothes were scattered everywhere, like someone had detonated a suitcase bomb. He and Eunice had a maid, but she’d once been Jack’s nanny and therefore spent more time mothering Jack than cleaning his home.
After slipping into an aquamarine skirt and terrace blouse, Alicia searched for her stole, which she ultimately found under a shoe. She tossed it over her shoulders and went to grab her handbag, which sat on Jack’s paper-covered desk.
“Slob,” she muttered.
Purse hooked onto her arm, Alicia collected Jack’s letters into a neat pile, along with scads of bills, some unpaid since December. No wonder Jack’s friends were always cross with him, and that Dumont’s had stopped extending him credit.
As Alicia stepped away from the desk, something caught her eye, a letter with Merchandise Mart on its mast. This was Joe Kennedy’s Chicago operation, but it wasn’t the charmless office building that made Alicia stop. It was Sarge’s name, underlined with two strong strokes. She picked it up.
Dear Jack—
Here’s the bill for the present. Hope it’s not too much over your limit. If convenient, your check should be drawn to order of The Merchandise Mart.
The Summer I Met Jack Page 22