A cold chill strikes my nerves, leaving me to wonder what the noises could have been from.
“I see. Well, lucky for you, you have two sisters, and another baby sibling on the way. Isn’t that right? You’ll always have someone to play with.”
“I suppose,” she says, stepping into the foyer from the bottom step. “I don’t quite want a brother, and Mama doesn’t know if the baby is a boy or a girl. And Flora, she doesn’t do much except cry. Isla is too old to play with stupid toys.” Her accent on the word stupid leads me to believe this is a conversation she and her sister have had before.
“Well, at least there are plenty of other children on the street to play with, right?”
Marlene forces a tight-lipped smile as we reach the back door. “Yes,” she says. “But no one ever stays for long.”
TWELVE
GAVRIEL
We’re all starving. But it’s a different kind of pain to watch another person eat as if they haven’t in months. The desperation in Adam’s eyes, the drool foaming at the corners of his mouth, the lump in his throat…He’s crouched, shoveling bites into his mouth, his cheeks full like a chipmunk’s. What are we living through? The sight claws at my heart.
For a moment, I see Natan instead of Adam. The thought burns through my veins. I know I must look the same way to him, but it’s inhumane to feel and watch.
“That woman is an angel,” Adam says, crumbs flying out from between his lips.
“Yeah, she’s something else,” I say, savoring the smoky taste as the nerves of my tongue coil. We’ve eaten stale bread and coffee grinds together too many times to count. We’ve also starved in silence, side by side. This is the first time I’ve seen Adam smile over a mouthful of bread.
A bite of bread catches in my dry throat, and I can’t swallow it fast enough. Each morsel falls heavily to the pit of my stomach, an instant satisfaction I had nearly forgotten existed.
Adam’s already reaching for another sandwich while I’m trying to pace myself.
“My mom and younger sister used to make sandwiches like these. I’d always poke fun and tell them they were making a picnic for mice with how small they were,” he utters through a mouthful.
“I’m sure they appreciated that,” I snicker.
It’s the first time in weeks I’ve laughed without guilt, and Adam’s the funniest friend?—
The funniest friend I know…now, at least.
I haven’t felt a laugh deep in my gut since the last time I was with my brothers.
“Not really. My sister had an eye for nailing targets and—we’ll just say I frequently ran from the kitchen with mustard in one eye and something pickled in the other.” He laughs for a short moment then sighs. “I hope they’re doing all right.”
“I’m sure your sister found someone else to throw pickles at while you’re gone,” I tell him, trying to use the same hope he depends on.
There were eight sandwiches in total and we’re both staring at the last four like starved lions. We each take another. He shoves his into his mouth and moves back to the pile of lumber, grabbing another plank.
It’s been so long, living on rations, it’s hard to remember the last time I had a meal that filled my stomach so much. I know to eat slowly, and not to overeat. It’s the easiest way to purge every morsel after, only to be left with an empty stomach burning with acidity.
“Give me a minute,” I tell Adam, slouching against the beam I’ve been leaning against, and roll my head back, staring through a gap in the rafters. The glare of the hot sun slips through and blinds me for a moment.
I curl my fingers into my fist, recalling the touch of Halina’s fingers brushing against mine—a touch I shouldn’t have had a second thought about. It can’t matter. Yet, it does. It’s aconnection. She isn’t just another servant in this house. There’s something magnetic about her.
I used to complain about the lack of quiet in my life, having two loud brothers, and energetic parents. I kept up, but the moments I wanted to lose myself in thought, someone would interrupt. I didn’t know what I was wishing for until we were separated from each other after leaving Krakow. I never want to experience a moment of silence again. I want the air to be filled with joyful sounds, laughter, and love. Her spirit has given me a thread of hope that there’s more than cries of pain left to be heard.
Though…she also seems a bit too brave.
She could end up like the others, who weren’t sent away due to their courage, but lack of discipline. With each interaction I have with Halina, my concern for her well-being deepens. Maybe it’s because I know too much and have seen the worst of what these people are responsible for.
Without the setting of Auschwitz behind me, murder might sound more like a threat, but it’s a simple solution for the Reich.
They’re called thugs, heartless and cruel people, but within the perimeter of this SS “restricted zone,” there’s something that exists within the guards and officers—something too dark for anyone to understand.
Humans don’t kill other humans by instinct. There’s something else that causes a man to pull a trigger without hesitation, and I’m not sure I’ll ever know what that is.
