I fall into the background as Papa places his hand on Rosalie’s shoulder rather than answering her question. “Miriam, are you down here?” he calls out to Mama.
She and Eloise hurry around the corner with Benjamin tucked into a blanket within the cradle of Mama’s arms. “What isit? Why are you home at this hour?” Eloise clutches the fabric of her dress, crinkling it into tight fists as she studies Papa’s eyes, waiting for an answer.
Mama knows why before Papa can answer her. All the pink in her cheeks drains at once.
“They took it,” Papa says. “The factory is theirs now. The car, too.”
Mama’s eyes widen and she pulls Benjamin in closer to her chest.My vision shrinks to a peephole. The floor sinks beneath my feet, and my next breath is warm, short, and stuck in my throat. A stab of cold breaks through my skin, then a shock of heat. Cold again. Then heat.
Limbs tingle. Lips go numb.
“Stefan!” Rosalie shouts. “Ste—fffaahn.”
I could swear my heart stops pumping blood.
Mumbles circle my head as a chattering sound drops into singular syllables—words without meanings. Darkness blinds me, sound becomes mute, and my skin is numb.
A twisted rag wedges between my teeth.
Hands guide me to the ground.
My muscles become rigid and black spots clash against the world around me.
Then nothing.
Voices return before a hint of light.
“Onto your side. Good.” Her voice, so calm. So sweet. “It will pass.” She’s an angel.
“This shouldn’t be happening. He has medicine,” Mama cries out.
Medicine?
Med-med-i-cine.
“It’s over. Less than a minute, and he’s recovering. He’s all right.”That voice. It’s so beautiful. “I’ll take care of him. Why don’t the rest of you have a seat in the family room.”
Lips touch my cheek. Rose. Vanilla.
“You’re beau—beauti?—”
“Shh. Take my hand and squeeze as hard as you can. Let’s sit you up against the wall.”
The black spots have almost entirely faded, but my vision is still a blur.
A hand curls around mine. I can see it. I think. Rosalie’s hand.
I try to squeeze but I can’t. I can’t feel my hands.
“You’re safe. Everything is all right,” she whispers.
But even through the blur, I can see the truth in her downcast eyes as she stares up at the clock on the wall.
FIFTEEN
ROSALIE
AUSCHWITZ I
