Beyond the Third Door (eBook)

WITH TIME RUNNING OUT

With Maria safely delivered to the orphanage, it wasn’t long before our lives settled into a quiet rhythm. We were grateful for the companionship and Aglaia appreciated the extra rent money. Each morning we ate breakfast together and went our separate ways. Aglaia walked to the orphanage or the hospital depending on her shift, and I took the bus to the furniture factory. Mrs. Karras’ job was a Godsend. It didn’t pay much, but I was treated well and didn’t mind the work.

Every afternoon when I got off the bus, I took a detour home so I could walk by the orphanage. Now a permanent fixture in my life, it was an unfriendly looking structure. Made of concrete, three-stories-high and surrounded by a ten-foot wall, it looked like a prison. Windows covered with iron bars and trees like witches’ brooms added to the compound’s forbidding appearance. It certainly didn’t look like a refuge for children, but it was home to my Maria, so each day I sat on the curb near an open window hoping to hear sounds of her. One time I was sure I heard Maria’s voice, and it gave me hope for the day I could retrieve her. In the meantime, it felt good to be near her.

On days when Aglaia worked in the orphanage, I hung on every word of her “Maria” updates. Any news about her was a gift, but it was demoralizing to miss seeing her reach growth milestones: Maria was crawling, her hair had grown in natural curls, and she was talking now. I couldn’t help but wonder what her first word was or if anybody even heard it.

The months flew by, and before I knew it, 1954 had arrived. Greece’s involvement in WWII and a Civil War took a heavy toll on the tiny country. Poverty, disease, and hunger were widespread, even in the places that cared for children. Aglaia shared her growing concern over the shortage of food, beds, medicine, and nurses at the orphanage. She feared the children were not being cared for properly. Older children were sleeping three or four to a bed. Maria was small for her age, so she still slept in a crib, but those days were coming to an end. There was very little solid food left, and as one year turned into two, many orphans were showing signs of malnutrition and neglect. I was still no closer to retrieving Maria and worried she would not survive there, let alone thrive.

I was living on the hope I could get her back, so Aglaia’s news that dreary day in March 1956, hit me like a thunderbolt. “Rather than let their poorest children die, Greece is opening its orphanages to foreign adoptions.”

I couldn’t believe it was true. Greece would never let its children go. Family, not money or possessions, is what mattered to Greeks.

“Who’s getting these children?” I cried.

“The United States has many couples eager to adopt. Orphans could start leaving as early as May.”

I was worried and terrified about what could happen to Maria. They couldn’t send her away; she was my baby. The note Aglaia wrote and left with Maria said I would come back for her. What about the paper I filed at City Hall? Did both of those mean nothing? I was frightened. Surely there must be something I could do. Aglaia tried to ease my despair by adding, “The selections have not been made yet. You still have a little time.”

“Time, time for what? I am going to the orphanage tomorrow after work to find out what’s going on. Will you go with me?”

“Maria is my Goddaughter. Of course, I will come.”

I spent the next workday in a daze, going through the motions and thinking about my upcoming visit to the orphanage. When I got home from work, Aglaia was waiting for me. I gave her a quick nod and headed straight to the bedroom to change my clothes. Standing in the doorway, she revealed she had called the orphanage earlier in the day and scheduled an appointment with the director himself, Mr. Londos. Wearing the only decent dress I owned, I headed out the door for the most important meeting of my life. While we walked, Aglaia told me two things: It was remarkable Mr. Londos was taking time out of his busy schedule to listen to me, and he was not happy the mother of an orphan had shown up. She advised me to remain calm, hold my head high, and tell him my story.

Director Londos’ office was messy and more substantial than I expected but furnished with a desk, chairs, tables and a small cabinet. On the wall hung the familiar icon of Saint Nicholas. I had prayed to him for strength and wisdom many times in my short life and hoped he was listening now. Aglaia pointed to a table covered with large books, each with a year written on the cover. Those were the ledgers where the nurses recorded the vital information and noted items left with the babies in the receiver. Somewhere in that pile was Maria’s ledger and the papers left with her on May 13th, 1953.

On the director’s desk, I saw stacks and stacks of paper files. They covered every inch of available table space, and each one had a name written on it. It looked like the selection process had begun. I wondered about the children those files represented. What would become of them? Who would be selected to live in America? Who would not? I was shocked the fate of so many young lives rested in the hands of just one man.

Mr. Londos was slim and tall for a Greek. Unhappy about the meeting, he did not smile as he introduced himself to me. “I understand you have a child in this orphanage,” he declared.

I held my head up, answered “yes,” and asked if I could tell him my story. He nodded, folded his hands on the desk, and listened as I began. I started at the beginning in Nikolis and told him about the circumstances that led me to leave Maria in the baby receiver three years earlier.

When I finished, Mr. Londos agreed I had suffered tremendously, but he was not sympathetic to my situation. He explained Aglaia had told me the truth about the orphanages.

All of them were overflowing with desperate children. Conditions in every place that cared for orphans were deplorable. Something had to be done to save the youngsters, even if it meant giving them up. The United States and Greece had worked together and passed Refugee Relief legislation to facilitate the adoptions. His final words shook me to my core: “Most adoptive parents will want babies or toddlers. Your daughter is almost three, and this is her opportunity to have a better life. She should not miss out on such a great chance.”

“But she is my daughter. You can’t just send her off to another country and let strangers raise her.”

He acknowledged my love for Maria but reminded me nothing had changed. I still couldn’t care for my child, and this was the best option. Hot tears streamed down my face and formed a wet circle on my dress as I realized the meeting was not going well. When I told him the declaration, I had signed at City Hall was to prevent something like this from happening, he shared a truth I was not prepared to hear. “Filing that document proved maternity, but it also gave me, as the orphanage director, sole guardianship of Maria. I, not you, will determine what happens to her. And I say Maria would be better off growing up in America.”

The final blow came when Mr. Londos scolded me for using the orphanage for free childcare. He reminded me this was a place for orphans, not for children with parents. If he had found me, he would have given Maria back. He added, “You can’t show up here after three years and take her back. There are rules to follow and laws to obey. If you can reimburse the orphanage for three years of room and board, then you can take her, but I doubt you have that kind of money.

“You’re right, Mr. Londos; I don’t have that kind of money. But from the papers left with Maria, you knew my name the night she was left. Why didn’t you search for me?”

“I am sorry I have no answer to your question. It was an oversight. We should have followed up.” Then he shook his head and muttered something about turmoil, too many children and too little help.

“Please, sir, isn’t there some other way?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I am trying to do the right thing for all these children. For Maria’s sake, she is going to America. My decision is final.”

I sat there nearly out of my mind, unwilling to believe what was happening. “I took precautions to avoid this very thing. You can’t do this to me,” I wailed. Mr. Londos waited a few moments and then made a futile attempt to comfort me.

“The terrible things you have experienced don’t need to define your life or Maria’s. At 19, you are still a teenager with your whole life ahead of you. Someday you would meet a man, fall in love, and want to have a child with him. The adoption you fear is in your and Maria’s best interest; you should go on with your life.”

With that, Mr. Londos stood up and said, “I’m sorry this meeting is over.”

I had done everything possible to protect and keep Maria since I had arrived in Patras. Now in an instant, my dream of reuniting with her was over. Strangers in another land would raise her, and I would never see her again. Blinded by tears of rage and pain, I stumbled out of the office in disbelief. I had lost my beautiful child and didn’t see how I could go on. With Aglaia’s help, I managed to...