I don’t understand what she means. She’s speaking in circles but is obviously perplexed about whatever is bothering her. “Sure, of course. I’ll be here.”
“You don’t look well,” she says with a tired sigh. “Are you sick?”
I shake my head. “I’ll be fine.”
“You’re hungry,” she tells me.
At Auschwitz, we are all hungry. “Please, don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll just get your friend Adam some food then, yes?” My bottom lip falls, not expecting her quip of a remark. “That’s what I thought. I’ll find you both something.”
I didn’t realize I was still holding on to her wrist until her gaze falls to our linked arms. I release my hold and nearly fall backward as she swings her arms around my neck and presses her cheek to my chest. “I’ve never needed someone before. I’ve always been able to take the world on myself, but—” No one has been this close to me in so long that I’ve forgotten when it’s like to be desired. An embrace, the warmth, a connection, a moment where grief can’t cut through my chest.
I debate whether it’s all right to reciprocate, but my arms find their way around her before I’ve made up my mind. “Everyone needs someone,” I say, interrupting her.
TWENTY-EIGHT
HALINA
I hate to feel surprised to find Rosalie and Celina waiting for me as they said they would this morning. It’s been hard to figure the two of them out. I’m not sure if they’re actual friends or simple acquaintances forced to spend time together for the sake of the children.
Flora is already complaining about the bumpy ride in her baby carriage, which I’m sure will turn into hard cries at any moment, but maybe the forward motion will settle her down first. Celina and Rosalie both have carriages too, but theirs are designed for children a bit older than Flora.
“Are the girls nervous for their first day?” Celina asks as she turns off the residential street.
“They didn’t say so. They seemed eager to get ready this morning.”
“Good. It does appear that most of the children are quite excited to return. Except for these little ones,” Celina says, shuffling her fingers through the little boy’s white-blonde hair in her carriage, then moving her hand to the girl, who’s a bit older, walking beside her. “Halbert and Lisbet aren’t old enough for school yet, and they’re a bit sad to know their sister and brother get to have all the fun.”
The little girl in Rosalie’s carriage lets out a stern yelp, grabbing the outside white bars of the carriage, twisting around to see Rosalie with a scowl. “I don’t go!”
“You are not going to school, Hilde. You’re only three. They won’t even take you in yet, so there’s nothing to worry about.” Rosalie sweeps her head to the side, giving us a giant eye roll. “This one is not like the others. She would love nothing more than to be the only child with all the attention.”
“Isn’t that what all children want?” Celina asks with a chuckle.
No. Not at all. I keep my answer to myself, knowing most people don’t see life through the same lens as me.
“How old are the four children who are going to school?” I ask them both.
“Greta is ten, and Claude is seven,” Rosalie answers first.
“And Konrad is nine, and Erika is five,” Celina follows. “Konrad is almost ready to enlist himself into the army,” she says with a phony grin. “Nine going on eighteen.”
“Don’t be rude,” Konrad says. “Mother and Father don’t appreciate your tone when you speak like that, yes?”
“Why do you care so much?” Claude asks him, from a younger point of view and a different family.
“Because…you should too, Claude. We’ll both be men of the house sooner than you realize.”
The conversation between them and the words spewing from Heinrich’s mouth this week have a gut-clenching grip on my stomach.
The schoolhouse appears just over the hill in the near distance, marking its territory with a blood red flag and the iconic Nazi symbol. I’ve almost forgotten what this town once looked like before it became cloaked in these waving symbols of death. The Nazis don’t want anyone to ever forget, even for a moment, who is always watching over us.
“They can sense fear,” Rosalie speaks quietly.
“Who?” But I’m staring right at the who…The Nazi guards at the small school building’s entrance.
“Rosalie and I have concluded that they aren’t worth much to the higher ranks if they’ve been placed on duty at the school, which makes them meaner, more miserable. Don’t make eye contact and you’ll be fine,” Celina adds.
