Those vines are yours to climb
To touch the rainbow’s endless time
This magic place, so safe and near
Exists for you—right here, my dear
A tear from Mother’s eyes falls onto my wrist. The ground rumbles heavier than before, like an earthquake that won’t end.
“Luka, I must confess something to you,” Mother says, grabbing hold of my chin to look at her.
“What? What is it?” I wish she would stop saying goodbye. I need the strength to get us out of here somehow.
“I had a friend who worked at city hall, one responsible for supplying lists of citizens to the Germans. I paid her a large sum of our savings to remove your name from the list of eligible male laborers. Your father and I agreed it would be the best use of our money. I wish more than anything we had enough to keep all three of you off the list, but the three of you being in one household would have raised questions. Your grandfather made it clear he has lived his life and would give whatever he had left to you. Your father, though far too young for such morbid thoughts, said the same. We all wanted the same: for you to have a chance to make it through this so you can experience the life you deserve.”
“Mother, how could you—why wouldn’t you tell me—” I lived all that time in fear of a letter. I can only imagine what people must have thought about me walking around after all other men my age had been taken. I must have looked like a coward.
“Because of the thoughts going through your mind at this very moment. You would have chosen to protect your father or grandfather over yourself. You would have turned yourself in. That’s the man you are, the man I’m proud of, but the man—my son—who I will protect until the day I die whether you like it or not.”
As if shock hasn’t already taken its toll on every part of me, my gaze lingers on Mother, a mix of emotions tearing through me. Have I done right by her? Have I done enough to deserve what she and Father have done for me?
The bricks begin to fall, one by one, giving us little warning to move before it’s too late. I pull Mother out just in the nick of time before the rest of the building caves in.
“Jews! Jews over there!” a German police officer shouts.
“Put your hands up,” I tell Mother. “They’ll know we aren’t here to fight.”
“What will they do with us?” she asks.
“I only know we shouldn’t run now.”
It isn’t long before a truck rumbles through the piles of burning rubbish and we’re harshly shoved inside with a load of others. An SS soldier punches his fist against the metal body of the truck. “Take these ones to the train station. They’re going to Auschwitz.”
Auschwitz.
Mother cups her hands over her face as tears fill her eyes. “I’ve heard of Auschwitz. That’s where they’re killing our people.”
TWENTY-FOUR
LUKA
April 1943
Oswiecim, Poland
Were we spared or being sent someplace worse? No one on this train is any more aware than we are. There’s only darkness, except for a few cracks along the outer walls of this speeding train. We can’t sit or move without pressing into another person. We’re pinned together like rolled up socks in an overflowing drawer.
Mother sways slightly forward and backward, only moving along the side of my arm tirelessly with every bump and turn. Our skin is raw, covered with dirt, smoke, and rubble, scratching and scraping with each touch we can’t avoid. Her eyes are closed, and I believe she’s being held up by me and whoever is on her other side. I wonder how much longer this never-ending ride will last. Will it go nowhere until the end of time? “Mama, you can rest your head on my shoulder.”
She doesn’t respond and I can’t lift my arms to help her.
I’ve been staring into the dark scarfed head in front of me for so long I’m not sure if my eyes have been open or closed, butmy body is stale and numb. My toes and my fingertips are cold as ice, numb to the touch. The temperature keeps falling even though there’s no air to breathe.
When the train comes to a sharp halt, we all bend and straighten together, a frozen tidal wave. The door opens and people fall out. We all lose our balance and tumble forward like dominoes. I manage to catch Mother with my back then pull her to my side as we prepare to step down from the train onto the platform.
It’s daytime, but the sky is covered with a thick blanket of dark gray clouds, rain expanding within and threatening to pour out on us all at once. I would drink it. I would take the wet cold in exchange for drinking the rain.
“Line up,” SS officers shout at us as they pull others who didn’t move fast enough off the train.
