The nurse had kind eyes, almost too kind to see the horrors a nurse in her position must see. She was peering at me with sadness and sympathy, rather than empathy. Her lips pressed together as she forced a small smile. "We should focus on you right now, ja?"
"I am quite all right as you can see," I told her. "It’s Claude that I’m worried about." Nurse Geni took a chair from the side of the room, lifted it and brought it over beside me. She was about to say something awful. People always take a seat when they must deliver bad news. "He’s gone, isn’t he?"
"I’m afraid I don’t know anything about your friend, Claude," she began. "Herr, you have been sedated and unconscious for nearly a week. You were hit with shrapnel from an explosive. Your arm was severed very badly, and the surgeons were forced to amputate what was left. It was the only way to save your life."
My heart must have stalled as she was talking because I wasn’t sure I was even breathing. Instinctively, I glanced to my right arm, noting it was where it should be. With a slow movement, I twisted my head to the left, finding the sleeve of the hospital gown I was wearing flattened against the bedding.
My left arm was gone.
As a child, I feared the thought of death, wondering how someone could understand the meaning of being gone for eternity. I would lie awake, wondering if we would come back to earth someday in a new body, or if our souls traveled infinitely through space. I could never wrap my head around the meaning of forever, but I could block out the thoughts knowing I would be dead and therefore would not have to worry about those thoughts.
This was different. I was alive and would have to live on forever without a left arm. It was a part of my body that had been with me all my life. I didn’t know how to live with only one arm.
The war had stolen my arm.
"Charlie," the nurse whispered, forgetting about the manners or respect for authority I was owed but didn’t want. "This isn’t going to be easy, but you are alive, and that is what matters."
"I can still feel my arm, and it doesn’t hurt," I tried to explain.
Nurse Geni smiled kindly, her red lips glistening beneath the orange light. "Our minds are capable of a lot, Charlie." The nurse righted the sheets and pulled them taut across my chest, carefully avoiding my left shoulder. "Your mother has been here, but she left to freshen up. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to find out you have awoken." I don’t know how Mama has dealt with the news. I promised her I would be careful. I never wanted to put her through more pain than what she had already endured. "Rest, Charlie. I’ll let you know when your mother has returned."
Nurse Geni walked out of the room, each of her movements slow and agile. The environment was likely made to be a calm and restful place, but I felt anything but peaceful. I looked over at my left shoulder again, feeling the need to apologize to my body.
How could I keep moving? I wasn’t sure if I was even out of danger. Still, my biggest concern was Claude.
"Nurse!" I shouted.
Nurse Geni was quick to return. "Yes, Herr."
"Please, could you do a little research and find out about Claude Taylor. He was with me in the battle. He was shot. I need to know, Fräulein. It is most important."
"Very well," she said with another soothing smile. "I will see about finding information on your friend."
I had fallen back to sleep after the nurse left my room, but now a soft hand was sweeping alongside my cheek. The familiar scent of soap told me who was sitting beside me. "Mama," I called out before opening my eyes.
"My Charlie," she replied, sounding heartbroken and despondent.
"I am so sorry, Mama," I groaned. "I am so sorry."
Mama shook her head, and her eyes filled with tears. "You are alive, my sohn. You have no reason to be sorry."
"I was trying to help Claude," I told her. My voice was hoarse and must have been hard to understand, but by the look on her face—the puzzlement, I knew she comprehended my words.
"What is wrong with Claude?" I thought Frau Taylor would have notified Mama.
"He was shot, Mama. I was sure he was not going to make it."
Mama’s eyes grew wide, the whites covered with red veins. "No," she whispered. "No, not Claude."
"I don’t know where he is, Mama."
"Surely if he were dead, Frau Taylor would have been notified by now, ja?"
I wanted to shrug my shoulders, but trying to move my body seemed useless. I didn’t know if I could even shrug my left shoulder anymore. "We will find Claude, dead, or alive. We will find him."
"I wonder when I’ll be allowed to go back to my guard duty," I mentioned. It was a passing thought—much more than a passing thought. Since I had left Theresienstadt, I had been fearful of Amelia being transported to a killing center. So many thoughts were going through my mind at once.
"Oh, Charlie. You won’t be going back to any type of duty. You have lost your arm. Surely they can’t expect you to work any longer."
