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They clung to Baba like baby monkeys. They weren't going to lose each other in Vienna. They'd never find each other again in that huge, crowded airport where no one spoke any language that any of them knew. Mehmet showed off his English, and he proudly herded them to the tra
nsfer gate that said NEW YORK JFK. Again the wait, the line, the moving down the narrow aisle into the broad belly of the plane to find their seats. Like a veteran of air travel, Meli helped her little brothers fasten their seat belts and then fastened her own and sat back. This is it. In a few more hours, we will be in New York, USA.
TWELVE America
NEW YORK. WELL, SHE THOUGHT, AS SHE STAGGERED SLEEPILY off the plane, they had nothing anyone would want to steal—that was a plus of sorts. Baba and Mehmet carried the plastic suitcases of hand-me-down clothes they had been given at the camp. They were so small that there had been no need to check them as luggage.
"Meli, watch out for your brothers," Baba said.
Mama had Vlora by the hand, and Meli reached out for Isuf and Adil. Isuf started to resist, but one look from Baba and he took Meli's hand. She held on to both boys as the whole family went down the endless corridor to the huge hall, where it looked as though hundreds of people were lined up, all waiting to be let into America. Vlora was so sleepy that she was falling down, so Baba gave the suitcase he was carrying to Mama and picked her up. She nestled against his neck, dead to the world.
More waiting, until at last they reached the white line painted on the floor and were waved over to a tall booth, behind which sat a grim, uniformed guard. They crowded around Baba as he handed over the papers he had been given at the camp. It took time, because the officer had to send for someone who could talk to Baba in Albanian. It seemed to Meli that it was taking far too much time. Maybe the papers were counterfeit and Baba would be thrown in jail and...
"Is something wrong, Meli?"
"No, Isuf," she said, breathing deeply to make herself calm. "These things always take time." Though how did she know? She hoped her brother wouldn't ask.
It seemed forever, but eventually they were all pointed toward the gigantic customs hall, where they didn't have to wait for luggage, as they had only their three tiny suitcases. They had nothing of worth to declare—Mehmet said that someone at the camp had told him to look for the Nothing to Declare sign. The two guards there were busy talking to each other, but one of them stopped long enough to glance at the family and nod toward the doorway. They were blinking like little moles in sunlight when they exited the hall and found themselves in the reception area, where hundreds of people were pressing against the ropes, all waiting for their family or friends to emerge.
"They told me at the camp that someone would meet us here," Baba said, worriedly scanning the people at the barrier who were waving and calling to other arrivals.
"Look!" said Isuf. They all turned and saw a woman standing near the rope with a piece of cardboard that said LLESHI. Still tightly bunched together, they moved down the ramp, around the barrier, and toward the sign. Baba bowed. "We are the Lleshi family," he said, and, miraculously, he was answered in Albanian by the woman holding the sign.
"I'm glad to see you," she said. "Did you have a good trip?"
"We had cola!" Adil said.
"Thank you," said Baba. "A very smooth trip."
"I'm sure you're tired," the woman said, "but we have to go to another terminal. Your plane for Vermont leaves in just over an hour, and if you miss it, it will be a very long wait for the next flight." She smiled at them. "So, are we ready to go?"
They were getting on a third plane? This was another endless journey—like fleeing the Serbs—only this time they could do it sitting down with food served on little trays. What is it like in Vermont, Baba? Meli wanted to ask, but she couldn't. They were walking too fast, and she had to be sure she stayed close and held on to Adil and Isuf. And then, of course, how could Baba know what Vermont was like?
They rode a moving staircase—the little boys loved that!—and took a bus to another building, where they came to a barrier. Their escort said something about Baba's papers to the woman in uniform who was checking tickets and identity cards. "I can't go past security with you," she said, "but wait here a minute. I'll get an airline representative to take you to the right gate."
"Hmmph," grunted Mehmet. "We can count, can't we? Surely we can find the gate."
"Hush," said Mama. "She only means to be kind."
But the airline person did treat them like children, Meli thought, herding them through the metal detector and to their new gate, finding them seats in the waiting area, motioning for them not to move until—she pointed at a person standing behind a high desk and mimed someone talking into a microphone. She raised her eyebrows in a question.
"Yes," said Mehmet in exaggerated English. "We un-der-stand. We will wait."
Her eyes widened a bit, but she didn't say anything, just gave a little wave and disappeared.
"They all think we're idiots," said Mehmet.
"We should have said 'Sank you,'" Meli said.
"It's 'Thhhh-anku you,'" Mehmet corrected.
"Come, come," said Baba. "Time to get on." Meli could see him counting heads, though they were all within inches of each other.
This was a much smaller plane, and they weren't all sitting in a row together. Meli was with Adil, Mehmet with Isuf, Mama with Vlora, and Baba was all alone way at the back. Meli found herself turning and looking down the aisle to make sure he was still there.
There was no real food on the trip from New York to Vermont. Adil was delighted to get cola and a little packet of salty bits. He finished his drink in a few gulps. Meli took sips of her cola, feeling both exhausted and jumpy. She was so tired of traveling, every minute taking her farther and farther from home.
"Can I have the rest?" Adil asked.
