“Are you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost already and it’s not even nighttime yet.”
“Of course. I’m fine.”
I’m fine, but my chin is quivering, and I can’t make it stop.
“Hey, hey, I’m—I’m sorry if I said something to upset you,” he says. The few times we have talked, typically in passing about topics as general as the weather, or what the cafeteria is serving, I end up overfilling with emotions that have nothing to do with him. He’s the only one who attempts to make conversation with me and I guess everything, no matter how vague it is, reminds me of what I’ve lost.
“I promise you said nothing wrong.” With that promise, a tear forms in the corner of my eye.
“Come with me for a walk. The shop is just a block away from the schoolyard, and a lot of the kids don’t get home for another hour.”
I glance over my shoulder toward the front of Amazing Grace. No one is outside watching. I guess it would be okay to take a quick walk.
“Sure,” I say.
A smile presses into the corners of Dale’s lips and he nods his head in the direction we need to go. “Here, I’ll take your knapsack, so you don’t have to lug any of those heavy books around, at least.” He doesn’t wait for me to agree before sliding the strap off my shoulder and placing it over his.
We walk in silence for the first block and, as if I took the lid off a steaming kettle, questions bubble within me. “Who are you, Dale?” My question couldn’t be simpler.
“I’m Dale, and I’m a groundskeeper at Amazing Grace Children’s Home,” he says.
“I think I need more than that,” I say, dipping my hands into my pockets.
He takes a deep breath and lifts his chin toward the sky. “Well, like I told you, I’m nineteen, and I have a job because my father is the grounds director. I work more hours than necessary, but I don’t mind keeping busy. I prefer it, actually. Most of my high school friends have left the area to pursue higher education or job opportunities, so I guess I’m at a crossroads in my life and I’m not sure where I want to go just yet.”
An all-American dream. I don’t think he knows how lucky he is for the chance to pick a direction in life. I wouldn’t wish the opposite on anyone, though. “And you? Tell me something I don’t know,” he adds.
I feel he knows more than he lets on, and I’m sure the staff talk to one another. “I think you should only know my name and the fact I suffer from occasional nightmares about my twin sister and the year I spent in a death camp in Poland. If that’s the case, I can knock your socks off and tell you I’m seventeen and was born and raised in Debrecen, Hungary.”
He must have known it was coming—the dark answers. I can see how hard it is for him to swallow the lump in his throat, but he squints into the distance as if he’s trying to put together his next question. Most people wouldn’t dare ask me more.
“If I ask something that bothers you or makes you uncomfortable, will you tell me to stop?”
“Probably not,” I say, honestly. I just don’t want to be the person who starts a conversation with something like: I watched black clouds of smoke funnel into the sky every day, knowing it was from the incinerated bodies.
“What was it like? Living in a death camp and not—”
“Dying?” I finish his question.
Two Years Earlier
Auschwitz, Poland, October 1944
I have told myself that if a week passes and I haven’t seen someone I typically see, they’re gone. They have either died or been killed in the gas chambers—something we aren’t supposed to know about. I’m not sure if the Nazis care that news runs through every barrack quicker than a radio signal, or if they are truly ignorant of the fact that we still talk like humans rather than the prisoners they treat us as.
Today, the first day of October, will be five days since I’ve seen Nora and five months since I’ve seen Mama and Papa. I have taken risks and asked Kapo workers and aides if they have any information about her. After not receiving answers, I promised myself I wouldn’t assume the worst until day seven, but I can’t control the thoughts racing through my mind. I haven’t slept. Maybe I’ve dozed off for a few minutes here and there in the middle of the night, but I’m jolted awake, remembering I don’t know where Nora is or if she’s coming back.
The nights are the worst. The moans and groans from people occupying various rooms pipe through the halls like old furnaces in desperate need of repair. I cover my ears, but I still hear every sound, unless it’s my mind filling in the silence.
We’re not allowed out of our rooms after the last gong chimes outside, but these few hours before sunrise are my only chance to look for Nora. I’ve tried the last four nights, but there have been Nazis guarding the hall. It’s as if they expect nightly wanderers. I haven’t needed to try to sneak away before now, though. They stand far enough away and they don’t seem to hear me crack open the door to peek out, but I’m sure they would see me if I took one step.
“Where are you going?” a girl asks. I’m not sure who is asking because there isn’t any light spilling into this room.
“Shh,” I reply.
“Are you going looking for your sister?”
“Please, hush,” I beg.
“I wouldn’t go looking for trouble, not in that hallway. You don’t know what you’ll find.” But I don’t care what I find if I find Nora.
I crack the door open a bit more, hearing what sounds like a Nazi conversing with someone around a corner. I wait and watch for a minute, wondering if whoever he’s talking to requires his help and will distract him from his guard post. My eyes burn against the lights after being in the dark for hours, but I wait long enough to watch the Nazi leave with whoever he was talking to. There’s no one manning the hallway. I might not have long, but it could be my only chance to look for her. I’ve seen the conjoining doors inside so if I can make it to one laboratory, I can move from room to room on one side of the hallway. We have one in this room too, but it’s boarded up.
The linoleum flooring in the hallway is much colder than inside the room. I tiptoe to the first conjoining laboratory. It’s dark with only a few small, orange-tinted light bulbs along the back wall. The glow is enough to guide me toward the next room, but not before noticing the vials of blood neatly placed between metal clamps, each with a label.
The next room holds three gurneys, three bodies, none of them moving aside from the slight rise and fall of their chests. I hold my breath, praying none of them are Nora, and I lean over each person to inspect, my body convulses as I press my palms onto the cold metal tables, silently praying that I won’t recognize any of these people. Please don’t be Nora. Please. I can hardly tell if they are girls or boys because they are bald, but they seem older than the average age of the children here. As I lean over the last person’s body, I search for a freckle beneath the center of their left eye. There isn’t one. My knees weaken and one of my hands slips off the side of the table. I clench the fabric of my pajama top and press my fist against my chest. None of these people are her. She’s not here.