I love her zest for life.
She goes on to tell me all about what she wants to do in the future, down to how many children she wants. I wish I could be more like her, but these days, I tend to live in the moment. I am hopeful, but with things getting worse with each passing day, it’s hard for me to be optimistic.
When we reach the town, it seems somber. Normally, the streets would be filled with people going from shop to shop, getting things they need on this side of our small town, but today, a few people pass Anika and me. Ashes from a nearby fire fall from the sky like snow. The scent of smoke gets stronger, and the soot falls onto my eyelashes.
“I wonder what they are burning today,” I say to Anika, as she skips along by my side, keeping pace with me.
“Could be anything,” she chirps.
Turning the corner, I gasp. I turn to Anika and see her dropped jaw and wide eyes.
The school, engulfed in flames, creaks and moans as if fighting to stand tall. Smoke pours out the windows and floats up to the sky, circling as if claiming its victim. The looks on the faces of some of my classmates are as sad as mine.
“I want you to go home. Walk back with Ishmael and the others. I have to go find Mae,” I say as I push her towards the group of students heading in the direction of our home.
“But, Estherly—”
“Go, I will be ok, get home!”
Turning from my sister, I head in the direction of Mae’s home, hoping I will meet her on the way. I pass by vandalized shops with broken windows and even burned structures. The word Jude painted on doors with the Star of David stares me in the face. What has this life become? What did we do to be treated this way? I’m almost halfway to Mae’s and there is still no sign of her.
Making my way to Mae’s well-to-do neighborhood, I round the corner of her street. My feet seem cemented to the ground at the sound of yelling. Four SS vehicles line the curb outside of Mae’s home.
Horror freezes my body. Seeing Mae struggle with one of the demanding men with her baby brother in her arms makes my heart ache. Mae’s mother is pushed down the porch steps, and she nearly stumbles.
“Line up!” a Nazi shouts.
I can’t make out every word being exchanged between Mae’s father and the tall soldier, who, by the looks of his decorated uniform, is no doubt the captain. Mae’s father tries to hand the man papers with wide, pained eyes. The captain snatches them from Mr. Stein and orders him back with the wave of his hand. Mae’s baby brother screams in her arms.
“Quiet that child!” screams another soldier nearest Mae.
Rocking her brother back and forth doesn’t stifle the baby’s cries.
“Shut him up now! Or I’ll do it for you!” He leans into Mae, raising a pistol to the baby’s head. Mae places her hand over the child’s mouth to stop him from screaming, but the baby still whimpers.
I’m frozen where I stand when the soldier knocks Mae in the face with the butt of the pistol. She twists her torso, protecting the baby. Falling, she lands on her back, cradling the baby to her chest. Mae cowers as the SS goes to hit her again. It’s as if everything goes in slow motion and I’m watching a picture show. It’s unbearable when Mae’s mother screams. Helpless, she sobs, looking at her children on the ground.
I can’t take this. This has to stop!
Mae lies on the street in obvious pain. I know Mae so well that I’m sure she doesn’t want to cry in front of these men or in front of her family. She’s stubborn and headstrong and cares so much for her family that she wouldn’t want them to see her in pain.
The soldier barrels down on Mae again with his fist and then raises his hand again. In my peripheral vision, Mr. Stein races towards Mae. Fear grips my heart because I know this is the wrong move to make. Mae’s mother shouts at Mr. Stein to stop, but he keeps rushing to his children. His hand grips Mae’s coat, and I jump when the shot fires. I double over as Mr. Stein falls to the ground, still clutching Mae’s coat. Blood spatters Mae and her baby brother while Mrs. Stein falls to her knees. A crimson pool forms around Mr. Stein’s body.
I take a step forwards because I have to help. I must do something, even if it means risking my life. A strong hand grasps my elbow, and I’m pulled back around the corner. For a moment I think, This is it. This is the moment I’ll die. Another SS must’ve seen me, and now I’ll die like Mae’s father. My body is twisted and pushed against the building. I look up into frightened, crystal-blue eyes. I almost don’t recognize Henry in his freshly pressed, Nazi soldier’s uniform. It reminds me of Mae commenting on how Henry was staring at me in the schoolyard. My heart aches for my friend when I think of her.
“Turn around and go home, now.”
Unable to speak, I shake my head. Tears flood my cheeks and with the pad of his thumb, Henry wipes them away. I sink into him, letting his strong arms devour me.
“My dear Estherly, you need to go.”
I pull myself away from his chest, seeing the marks my tears leave on his coat. Grabbing my hands, he leans in and puts his plush lips to mine. We linger for a moment before he panics and looks around to make sure no one has spotted us.
“Go, my sweet,” he says as he gestures towards the sidewalk.
“But—”
“Go.” He gives me a gentle nudge. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I say as I turn and walk down the street, willing my feet to move faster than they ever have.
Passing by the school, small hotspots still burn. The once proud building is nothing but rubble now. Red, glowing embers speckle the debris while spirals of smoke seep from them.
Making my way through the town, I’m rattled by the sound of what I think are SS trucks coming my way. Frightened, I run for home, praying I make it before I’m seen. Flinging open the front gate, I bolt towards the door and toss myself inside, slamming the door behind me. Breathless, I sink to my knees behind the door and sob.
“Estherly, what’s happened?” My father drops the book he was reading and comes running.
I can’t speak; my words choke me when I think of seeing Mr. Stein lying on the ground dead. My heart aches, thinking of Mae covered in his blood. My soul is crushed by the uncertainty of not knowing what happened to Mae and her family.
I’m still unable to utter words. My father bends and wraps his arms around me. Mother comes down the stairs in a hurry with Anika trailing behind her.
“What is it?” Mother whispers as she kneels near me and takes me under her arm.
“I’m not sure, my dear,” my father says.
Oma comes through the back door with her wicker basket. She sets it on the wooden kitchen table and rushes into the entryway to see what the commotion is all about.
“He’s dead, they killed him,” is all I can mutter between sobs.
My father scoops me up and carries me to the living room. Sitting me down on our brown, plush sofa, he covers me with my favorite quilt that my mother made for me when I was a child. The soft fabric warms and comforts me as my father adds more wood to the fire. The flames intertwine with one another, as if every movement is perfectly in sync. Normally, the crackling and fluidity of the flames calms me, but now I’m enraged like the fire that tore through my school.
My mother hands me a cup of warm broth and sits down next to me. “Estherly, can you tell me what happened?” She puts her arm around my shoulder.