“I could tell you a story about—” I tap my chin. “A princess, perhaps?”
“One who lives under the floor,” she says with a giggle.
“Marlene,” Isla scolds her. “That’s not nice.”
“It’s all right. Princesses can live just about anywhere,” I say.
“Even behind black iron bars?” Isla mutters.
I lower my voice with a narrow focus on Isla’s innocent face. “What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing.” Isla lifts her book and leans back into her original position to continue reading.
“Which iron bars are you referring to?” I press.
“The ones that keep us safe from the evil Jewish people. Shouldn’t you know this?” Isla raises a brow and snarls her lip, making herself a mirror image of her mother.
I step toward Isla’s side of the room and kneel by her bed. “Jewish people are not evil.” As the words fall out of my mouth, regret forms as Isla’s stare grows wide.
“Yes, they are,” Isla argues. “They lie, cheat, and steal. They’re mean and cruel—they even murder innocent people.”
“Are they going to murder me?” Marlene cries out.
“No, no. That’s enough. Not everything you read in a book is true, Isla.” I can only imagine the absurdity written in this propagated book I’m clenching between my hands. I heard enough after Isla told me the book was teaching her how to tell the difference between a good Jew and a bad Jew.
“I didn’t just read about it,” Isla argues. “Mama and Papa say the same.”
My blood boils beneath my skin. There were many Jewish girls and boys who lived alongside me in the orphanage. There wasn’t a difference between us. I’m not sure how to explain that to a little girl who has clearly been raised to think differently.
“She’s right,” Marlene says. “Mama and Papa do say the same thing.”
The truth bubbles on the tip of my tongue, wanting to tell them what their father really does all day. I don’t know if they’d question me after seeing the way he treats their mother. Plus, they have no reason to believe me, of all people.
No. That’s not true. I’m being a coward. I want to make them see the world differently, better, through innocent eyes. That’s what I promised myself I’d do in this forced situation. Even Gavriel wouldn’t stay silent. I know that much now. I saw the way he looked at the children. He doesn’t hold them accountable for what they’re being manipulated into thinking. He must believe they can be saved too. This is what I need to be doing.
“Your mama and Papa have to follow certain rules and laws in order to keep you safe, but the truth is…”
“What? What truth?” Isla snaps back.
“Never mind. I wouldn’t want to get in trouble with your parents. It’s not my place to teach you about this topic.”
My sigh is heavy as I wait for Isla’s curiosity to peak. “I want to know,” she says.
“It’s not my place. I would be sent away from here for breaking rules, and?—”
“No, you can’t leave us!” Marlene cries out. “Please. We want you to stay.”
“My parents wouldn’t listen to a word I say anyway,” Isla says. “I won’t tell them we talked about this. I don’t want you to leave either.”
My chest is lighter, as if I’ve broken through the outer layer of Isla’s steel walls. “Love is stronger than hate. Forgiveness is easier than staying angry. And seeing both sides of a story? That’s like reading two books in one—twice the truth, twice the understanding.”
“Like a book?” Isla asks. “Two characters who have different stories instead of one being a side character to the other?”
“Exactly,” I tell her. She understands. “You see, the Jews can’t be monsters, killing, stealing, or lying because they’re the ones locked behind those black gates. They’re scared and hungry. They want to live. That’s all. They don’t want your life. They just want their own back. But someone decided to readonly one side of the story. And now that’s the only one being told.”
They’re both staring at me as if I’ve told them the sky isn’t blue.
“That’s sad,” Marlene says. “I wouldn’t want to be scared and hungry all the time.” If I say any more, she’ll be up with nightmares tonight. I think I’ve said just enough to encourage a moment of understanding to set into their fragile minds.
