November 22, 1950
The woman stood in front of a full-length mirror, taking in her appearance. She stood in a white lace dress, with full sleeves and the train of the dress pooling at her feet. Her veil was a small netting pinned in her hair over her left eye, while her dark hair was pulled into a bun.
As she stared into the mirror, she heard someone call for her. "Drina! It's time, hurry!"
Drina took a deep breath, grabbed her bouquet, and walked out of the room and towards the main part of the church. The processional music played and her friend Nancy was being escorted down the aisle by the best man. Then, it was her turn.
Luca's father, in lieu of her own, extended his arm towards Drina and she took it, and they paced themselves to the music down the petal-scattered aisle until he handed her off to Luca. He looked so handsome. His bushy beard had been perfectly trimmed, and the blue tie he wore made the color of his eyes pop.
When he took her hands in his, he smiled down at her and whispered, "You're so beautiful."
She couldn't help but smile back and say, "Nais tuke. Thank you."
Finally, the music stopped and the priest began to speak, addressing the congregation, though Drina could barely hear him over the pounding in her ears. "Dearly beloved, we gather here on this day before God to join this man and this woman in the bonds of holy matrimony."
As the priest continued to speak, Drina stared into Luca's eyes, feeling a sense of calm as she did so, and she waited for the priest to address her.
"Luca and Drina, have you come here to enter into marriage without coercion, freely and wholeheartedly?"
"Yes," they both answered.
"Are you prepared, as you follow the path of marriage, to love and honor each other for as long as you both shall live?"
"Yes."
The priest nodded and smiled. "Since it is your intention to enter the covenant of holy matrimony, join your right hands and declare your consent before God and his church."
Luca spoke first. "I, Luca Favell, take you, Drina Bosko, to be my wife. I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life."
"I, Drina Bosko, take you, Luca Favell, to be my husband..."
#
Ema sat across from Drina at the coffee table, looking down at the cards in front of her before she laid down a book of cards. They were playing Rummy to distract themselves from the heat and she knew she was losing to Drina, the clear expert at the game. What she truly didn't understand was how Drina could stand to wear long sleeves while Ema was uncomfortable even in a tank top.
"Good move, chav," Drina said, smiling.
"Thanks." Ema ended her turn by picking up a card from the discard pile. "Where did you learn to play this, anyway?"
"France. My friends teach me."
"Was it cooler over there?" Ema joked, fanning herself with her cards.
Drina smiled as she studied the cards in her hand, but she made no move to adjust her sleeves. "Sometimes."
"I've always wanted to travel, but even with a tattoo artist's salary, it's hard to afford. Where have you been?" Ema asked, watching Drina lay down her cards.
Drina was quiet as she looked at the pictures on her wall. Finally, she said, "Many places. I travel America with Luca. Before that, I live in Poland, France. Before the war, I travel Czechoslovakia."
"What was that like?" Ema asked.
"I did not get choice, it was hard. We traveled because we had to, not because we want to." She smiled and said, "If you travel for fun, is good for spirit, is adventure. Coming to America was my adventure, chapite!"
#
January 10, 1949
When Drina stepped off of the ship, she followed the other passengers into a long line, with doctors approaching people with medical instruments and examining them for a few moments before moving on to the next person. When it was her turn, she counted in her head before the man said, "Okay, you're good to go. Welcome to Ellis Island, ma'am." Six seconds.
Then she followed the line into a large room filled with desks and hundreds of people. The buzz of conversation was almost deafening. It took nearly six hours before Drina was motioned towards a desk. Her head was pounding and she was hardly aware of the questions she was being asked.
"Name? Age?"
"Drina Bosko. Twenty-four."
More questions. So many questions, Drina couldn't remember them if she tried, but eventually she was told, "Congratulations. Welcome to the United States, Miss Bosko."
The smile on her face lasted so long, her cheeks began to ache.
