My name. He wanted to know my name? Jews no longer had names. We were called Jews. I was called a Jew girl. We weren’t individuals anymore. We were just one entity, and nothing else mattered. Even before I was taken, the only place I heard my name was in my home with Mama, Papa, and Jakob. It was forbidden to use our names anywhere else. It had been that way for years, and sadly, living without a name became normal. “My name is Amelia,” I toldhim.
He reached his free hand out, turning it over, palm up, and I didn't understand what he wanted. He urged his hand forward a bit more as if I didn’t understand the gesture. With hesitation, I struggled to lift my hand from my lap and dropped it gently into his. Charlie’s hand folded around my fingers as he looked around the room once more for onlookers, then lowered his head and placed a soft, quick kiss on my knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Amelia,” hesaid.
The sound of heavy steps echoed in the hallway outside the room, forcing Charlie to stand erect. He took another glance at me, then at the bread sitting beside me. “Thank you,” I offered in a hush and bowed my head down as I quickly chewed the sweet bread that was much softer than any piece I had been givenhere.
“You’re very welcome,” he said. Charlie made his way back to the door, his shoulders back, chin angled toward the ceiling, and left me staring at the back side of the door with wonder as my mind raced with possible reasons for theinteraction.
My thoughts were soon interrupted when a conversation filled with laughter and German words ensued in the hallway on the other side of the door. I wanted to imagine he was not one of the Nazis laughing, but what did I know? Their form of entertainment was sick, and it was hard to determine when their laughter was for fun, or in preparation for something far moredevious.
I still wondered if the bread Charlie gave me might kill me, but left to choose between the possibility of being poisoned, or sleeplessly lying on the coiled mattress while suffering from starvation for another long night, it was worth taking the chance on thebread.
I finished the bread as fast as I could chew, feeling the crust scrape down the sides of my throat before falling into the empty pit of my stomach. My mouth and throat had become so dry from vomiting and dehydration that it was hard to push the small pieces down, but I continued choking on them until the roll was gone—until every little crumb wasdevoured.
I rolled onto my side, facing away from the puddle of vomit I left behind, and closed my eyes in hopes of sleep or death. Though, my mind wasn’t shutting down easily that night as it replayed the sensation of Charlie's lips touching my bitterly chapped, cold, and dirty skin. It was, however, a pleasant change of imagery after constantly reliving the scene of Mama’s insides being scattered along thesidewalk.
The thoughts scared me, knowing what could have happened if anyone had seen the exchange between Charlie and me, but there was a spark of thrill I couldn’t deny—a current of electricity that brought just a little part of me back to life, even while knowing I could never trust a man from that side of the war…the side that killedMama.
