“W-w-we’re going ’o be la’e,” she says with a groan. She doesn’t stop to take a breath or collect herself. She just continues moving as if nothing happened. That’s our biggest problem. We just keep moving as if nothing happened. Who am I to stop her when I do the same?
She whips the door open and barrels down the hallway at full speed toward Miss Blum’s office. I follow but allow her the space she seems to need right now, too.
Miss Blum seems cheerful as I enter. “I hope you had a nice day at school,” she says.
I close the door behind me and take a seat on the other side of Nora. “It was a slow Monday,” I say.
Nora’s gaze freezes against the pleats in her skirt and her knuckles are white as she grips her palms over her knees. Miss Blum notices.
“It seems this might not be a good time to talk,” she says, focusing her attention on Nora. “We can find another time that works better today if you’d like?”
Nora shakes her head. “N-n-no, I’m fine.”
Miss Blum’s eyes grow rounder with a flash of concern. She clears her throat and lifts a short pile of papers off her desk, tapping the edges together to straighten them. “The conversation I’d like to have with you both is something out of the ordinary and I don’t want to discuss a heavy topic if you are already dealing with something else today,” she says.
“H-h-heavy?” Nora questions.
“It’s nothing bad or anything to worry about. I just—well, I’ve spent a lot of time contemplating your situation.” My knee bounces as I wonder what Miss Blum might say next. She must notice the discomfort bleeding onto me from Nora because she shakes her head and places her palms down on her desk. “I’ve done quite a bit of research and spoken to several people to help me with what I would like to accomplish. After meeting with the state’s board of children’s services and asking many, many questions, I learned I would need another three years in the country before I can petition for naturalization—to become a U.S. citizen. I was hoping my two years and a declaration of intent would be enough to become a legal guardian to you both, but in three years, you’ll be nearly twenty-one without a need for a guardian,” she says with a sigh. “At eighteen, you don’t require a guardian either, but I can’t bear the thought of sending the two of you out into this world with no one else to lean on. I want to be there for you and with you and do what your Mama and Papa would do for you upon turning eighteen.”
Blood rushes through my face, heat fills my body. My mind is scrambling and I’m not sure what to say, think, or even feel. Nora is staring through her like she’s a window. “You want to be our guardian?” I ask. “What would that mean?”
“Well, legally, it wouldn’t mean much of anything since the three of us don’t have full citizenship yet, but—” Miss Blum takes a slow, deep inhale and closes her eyes. “I lost my baby girls. You lost your parents. Something deep inside of me says we should stay together. I can’t stand the thought of the two of you walking out that door in a couple of weeks and not seeing your faces every day. I am not allowed to tell you I love you very much, but God help me, I do because there aren’t many people in this world who understand exactly what we have lived through or what we are surviving without. Never will I take the place of your Mama and you won’t take the place of my baby girls, but I think we could be exactly what each other needs today, tomorrow, and for as long as we are all here on earth.”
Tears roll down my cheeks and I turn to gauge Nora’s reaction, finding tears on her face as well. “You ’aved m-m-my life,” Nora utters. “I w-w-would give you ’he world i-i-if I could. We n-n-need you.”
I nod my head furiously, agreeing with my sister. “We do. We need you like we need our Mama and Papa. Without you, life would look a lot different for us both. If you’re asking us to be to you what you have been to us, you don’t have to ask twice. And no one can tell us who we love and will always love.”
Miss Blum’s cheeks are scarlet. Her tears join ours and she presses her hands to her heart. “Our families would want this for us, and I have an apartment big enough for the two of you to live in until you are ready to venture out on your own someday. There is no clock with the time running out. If you stay until you’re a hundred and ten, I will be happy to keep you. I want you two to have a chance at a good life—one you deserve very much, and I will do whatever it takes to help you get to where you want to be. That’s my promise to you.”
Nora snags my hand off my lap and presses it against her hot, wet cheek. “We-we’re go-going ’o be o-okay,” she whimpers.
“We all are. We will,” Miss Blum says.
“Thank you,” I cry out softly.
THIRTY
NORA
CHICAGO, UNITED STATES, APRIL 1947
We waited for today, our eighteenth birthday and becoming an adult per the law. Now, it feels as if someone is about to cut the cords above our elevator. I’m grateful for Helena, the offer she has given us. The forms we are filling out in the office of Amazing Grace this morning ask questions about where we are going, and what we will do. We agreed to provide minimal information to keep Helena’s name off any paperwork. We don’t want her job to be jeopardized in case Vallentine isn’t on board.
Both Arina and I were worried about finding work, but within the last two weeks, we have each found jobs that won’t interfere with school or summer classes.
We both complete the paperwork at the same time and glance up at Mrs. Vallentine across her desk, handing her the forms.
“Well, ladies, this is it, isn’t it?”
Arina might be bursting at the seams to say something inappropriate, but she promised me she wouldn’t. “Thank you for taking us in,” Arina says.
“Ye’,” I concur. “’ank you.”
Mrs. Vallentine places the papers down on her desk, intertwines her fingers and rests her hands down on top of the papers. “Ladies, I have something I’d like to say…” I can’t imagine what she hasn’t already said. Her eyelids appear heavier as she continues. “There has been some news following the Nuremberg trials that ended back in October. I, for one, have been naïve to the veracity of what took place during the war. The United States feared for our men and another attack like Pearl Harbor, but it was often hard to determine what was propaganda versus reality, particularly for Jewish people. I should have listened to you more, Arina. It’s wrong that I’ve waited until now to say so, but I’m ashamed by my behavior. I’m not sure you could forgive me, nor would I expect you to but I felt it necessary to say this before you leave.”
Arina has been a forgiving person for most of her life, but I’m not sure either of us is able to forgive the way we once did.
“I’m glad you believe what we have told you,” Arina says. “I forgive you for being naïve—we all are at some point in our lives. Until we learn to see all sides of a story, it’s hard to see the full picture.”
Arina’s words are so practical and poignant that I recoil, surprised to see Mrs. Vallentine nodding with agreement.