CHOSEN FAMILY
By Lila Hershenson
I am jerked from my daydream at the all too familiar sound. Nazis, pounding on my door.
“Open up!“ The voice is loud and terrifyingly familiar. I search my small room for a place to hide, but the door creaks open. Too late!
“Hello? Mira? Are you in there?” I breathe a sigh of relief. It is just Abba. “Are you okay? What happened?” I realize too late that my face still matches my feelings from a moment before.
“I’m fine,” I say. He eyes my knuckles, white from clutching the edge of my chair.
“If you say so,” he replies, still suspicious. “Anyway,” Abba continues with a flick of his hand, as if brushing the moment away, “Your Ima and I want you downstairs. It is time we had a proper conversation. It is time we talk about, well, you know.”
He turns to leave, then looks back, as if waiting for me to stop him. I don’t.
He is right, I realize with a jolt. It is time we talked about that night. About the pounding at the door. About the loud German words being thrown at us, still gibberish, waking my precious baby sister Neni. About my mother's hand, suffocating her, just trying to keep her from crying. So long ago. So long ago I can barely remember. I can barely remember my own baby sister.
“Don’t think about that,” I say to no one in particular, willing myself not to cry.
The tears fall anyway, and to distract myself, I think about my family. My Ima and Abba. Abba! He told me to come downstairs! I jump up from my desk and sprint to the kitchen.
When I get there, Ima and Abba are arguing in quiet whispers, and Savta is setting the table, trying her best to not invade their conversation. As I enter the room, Ima and Abba fall silent, and Savta comes to put a supporting hand on her son’s shoulder. I was yet to find out what it was supporting, though. Abba glances at Savta’s hand, then at Ima, then at me.
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
“Miriam Gilat Malka, my beautiful daughter,” he starts. Stepping forward, he runs a hand over my eyes. “These eyes have seen so much tragedy, yet they, you, hold on.” I see tears glisten in his eyes, but he looks away, clearing his throat. I wait for him to mention Neni, but instead, he starts talking about something much, much more terrifying.
“Your Ima and I have decided it is time to escape. As a family. We will leave for Sweden in a few days. I couldn’t bear to lose another child.”
He looks out the window, as if transported to a pool of grief, where he is drowning in sorrow. My mother quietly steps forward and whispers something into his ear, and as quickly as it started, it stops. He looks at me, as if remembering I am also in the room. Shame fills his eyes. Eyes have seen so much tragedy, yet hold on.
“I am sorry you had to see that. Eleven is too young to have seen that.’’ And just like that, my fun-loving father is back. Even though his intoned voice is everything but fun-loving.
My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences? My book is called Bridge of Starlight. It’s a book about a normal girl, Charlie, a bit paranoid, whose whole world is thrown into a frenzy in one afternoon. As if the people she loves being abducted isn’t enough already, she finds herself in a secret magical organization that reveals hidden information to her. And her whole life changes. Just like that. Soon, she finds herself thrown into a conflict that she didn’t know about until that one fateful afternoon. And the question is: Will she succeed alongside her friends? Or will she suffer the consequences?
We are thrilled to introduce you to our newest published author, Sloka Edara! Sloka recently published her book, Bridge of Starlight, through our Fresh Ink publishing program. In Fresh Ink, youth authors with a completed draft of a novel are mentored through a chapter-by-chapter revision process. At the end of the program, the author is guided through the publication process resulting in an ink-and-paper book they can hold in their hands and share with other readers!
It is 2 o’clock, exactly 22 minutes after Abba’s scene. I jump at the sound of knocking on the door, sounding much less violent this time.
“May I come in?” Abba sounds nervous. If I wasn’t concerned then, I definitely am now.
“Sure,” I say, wondering what in the world he wants. “It’s always open!”
“What are you doing?” he asks. I eye his hand suspiciously behind his back.
“Nothing. What about you? What brings you to my neck of the woods?” I inquire.
“Nothing much,” a hint of mischief gleams in his eyes. “Just a letter from David.”
“GIVE IT!” I lunge for the precious letter, the only thing that David sends me from college in Hungary.
Ever since the war started, he has been coming less and less. It’s almost like he savors not being raised in a war-torn world, all safe at his college, not having to think about his family anymore. I finally manage to get a hold of the letter, and I quickly shoo Abba away, so I can open my letter in private.
"Dear Mira Malka,
How are Ima, Abba, and Savta? How are you? I am doing fantastic, thanks for asking. I have been doing some thinking, and I have decided to write and say that I am coming to visit, to take you back with me. Ever since we lost baby Neni, it just hasn’t been the same. Since Hungary is still free, I want you at my side until the war ends. I can’t lose another baby sister. Please take this information into consideration. I will arrive in a week. See you soon!
Sincerely, Your Brother, David"
I hastily check my calendar for the day he will come. Today is December 2, 1943, and it takes 10 hours to get from Hungary to Copenhagen, and since it takes a week for letters to arrive… Let’s just say that I can’t wait for tomorrow.
“DAVID!!!!!!!!!” I instantly regret the volume of my voice. The whole neighborhood must have heard me. The whole neighborhood…including the Nazis. David’s face changes from full of love to a mask, concealing fear. But he wasn’t doing a very good job of concealing it.
“Sorry,” I manage to squeak out.
David walks towards me and folds me into a hug. “Be glad they didn’t hear you,” he whispers.
I don’t need to ask who they are. Abba clears his throat, reminding David to acknowledge his parents.
“Forgive me,” David chuckles, making his way over to greet them.
“Good to have you back, son,” David squirms under our mother's grasp.
“Have the kids at school been treating you well?” Abba inquires, pulling him away from Ima and fastening David into a squeeze of his own. I roll my eyes at their emotional man-hug.
“Good!” His answer sounds squished, but I think that is just because he is getting squished.
“Anyway,” my mom starts, obviously wanting to interrupt the embarrassing moment before any neighbors get suspicious. “What are you doing here? I mean, don’t get me wrong, It’s great to see you, but why?” I cringe. I kind of forgot to mention my little sabbatical to Ima and Abba.
“I have come to take her back to Hungary with me. Didn’t she tell you? She did, didn't she?” asks David, looking confused.
You did what!” Ima glares at me and David. The happy family reunion is over. David scowls at me.
“You didn’t tell her. Oy vey,” he groans.
“Sorry,” I say for the second time, trying to sound sincere.
“Sorry won’t work for me. Inside. Now.” I have never heard Ima this mad before. What did I do?
I peer at David. He looks as nervous as I do. I think he thought being at college would free him from our mother’s anger.
As Ima paces around the room for the fifteenth time, Abba finally comes to comfort her, just as she did for him only a few days ago. I guess there is something comforting about Abba to Ima. I guess that is what love does to you.
Abba’s comfort seems to have the effect he hoped for. I cast a hopeful glance at Ima, and after a few long seconds, she finally gives in.
“Fine. You. Can go,” she says, drawing out each word, as if wanting to procrastinate her defeat more and more with each syllable.
“Yesss!” David and I shout in unison.
“I’ll go pack. I’ll be right down in a minute!” I hurry up the stairs, grabbing my already packed bag. I was waiting for this moment, and it finally came. So why am I not as excited as I should be?
I look around at the crowded train and tell myself the same thing I have told myself from the moment the Nazis pounded on the door of David’s college dorm.
“I should have known that they would take over. Nothing stays free for long. Why did I come back with you?” Seeing my expression, David leans over to comfort me.
“It will be okay. Everything will be okay,” he says.
As much as I want to believe him, I can’t. A few days ago, maybe I might have been able to believe him. We had made it until the Hanukkah party. The night the Nazis stormed the college. It was the noise that gave us away. It was my idea that gave us away. The weeks I spent planning the party, just to have all those innocent Jews taken away to who knows where. At least David and I hadn’t been separated yet. But still, we are being taken away to who knows where. What did I do?
The sound of my stomach growling shook me from my standing nap. I look around the Breendonck camp. Blinking my eyes, it all comes back to me. The party, the innocent Jews, the train, the lack of food, Leah, LEAH! I forgot to visit her today! I peer around the side of the bulky man in front of me. Seeing how few people there are left in the line, I groan. Leah or food, Leah or food, Leah or food? I suppress a sigh. I know Leah would choose me, so I must do the same for her. I tap David on the shoulder, and when he leans down I whisper,
I tap David on the shoulder, and when he leans down I whisper, “Can you try and smuggle a double serving today? I forgot to visit Leah. Thank you!! Love you!!”
I set down the jugs and run away before he can say no. I feel bad for a second because we have been in the line since sunrise, but before I can go back I pass a Nazi with his back to me and instantly slow down, tripping over myself. If he had caught me running, I would have never gotten that food. From David or Breendonck.
When I reach Leah’s stall, I peek in through the window, and her face lights up in a smile.
“Finally! I was wondering when you would come. What took you so long?” she asks, sitting up.
I maybe kind of forgot, so I went to the food stall stand, and the line was so long by the time I remembered I was already at the front. David promised to get a double serving.” I add when I see the concerned look on her face.
“Either way, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. How are you feeling?” I ask. Leah is sick with typhus because an epidemic is currently raging around the camp. She is getting worse and worse each day, and only my visits seem to cheer her up.
I still remember meeting her. She was the only person who welcomed me to Breendonck. She shared her food with me when there wasn’t enough for the new “recruits,” and smuggled blankets for me when I was cold at night. She was like an older sister to me, even if only by one year. She helped me blend in to avoid the guards’ attention and whatever punishment they were planning. But, she grew into more of a friend as the days and weeks passed. Leah has been in concentration camps since the war started, constantly being moved around. Now that she’s sick with typhus, I feel like I need to repay all of her kindness towards me. It really is a miracle she is still alive. Nevertheless, the things she’s seen… I would really rather not be her, to tell the truth.
“I’m good,” she replies, reminding me she is there.
“Okay. Now for the real answer,” I say, urging her on. Leah slumps, as if she can’t go another day.
“I, I, I’m slipping away, Mira, and I don’t know what to do! Please, you have to help me! Get me out of this place, I need a real doctor. Not a Nazi, a good one. An honest to good one. Help me. Please!”
My heart breaks to hear this and to know that she is keeping this from me. How long has it been going on for? How much time does she have left? Does she have any time left at all? Who will help her now? I know what I need to do.
I hurry out of the stall to find David. When I do, he walks toward me and slips an apple in my hand.
“Why the long face?” He asks. I burst into tears as I recount Leah’s words, and he drops the containers and wraps me in a hug.
When I pull away we walk back to our shared stall. I need to tell him my plan to escape.
I stare at David, wondering what he is thinking.
“So?” I ask after a long silence, on the edge of my seat. Well, that is if you can call a stack of hay a seat.
“I’ll be honest, it’s a risk. Remember Shlomo?” He clears his throat, looking away. “But it might be worth it,” he says. I focus on his last few words, hope blossoming in my chest.
“You really think so?”
David shrugs, looking at me expectantly.
I think about his words. Could we really smuggle Leah out? I know it’s my plan, but I am starting to doubt myself. I mean, she can barely walk.
“Stop it,” I tell myself. “You're kidding yourself. Everything will be okay!” I take a deep breath.
“Did you say something?” David inquires.
“No. Let’s do this. Operation Smuggle Leah is a go.” I head out to tell Leah the plan. ***
“Are you sure this is going to work?” asks Leah.
I am sitting across from her in her stall. As I told her the plan, she got more and more excited with each word, looking less like the mature 13-year-old I have grown to know, and more like the giddy little girl the Nazis captured 3 years ago. But that's gone now. Now her face shows doubt.
"Are you sure it is going to work?” she asks again, snapping me out of a daze. Leah narrows her eyes when I don’t answer.
“I have my doubts, but I think it will be worth it,” I tell Leah, quoting David.
“Fine. When will this happen?”
“Tonight,” I declare. I was hoping she wouldn’t ask, but I guess I was pressing my luck. She grimaces.
“What’s the plan?”
Phase 1:
I stand in the food line, sweat dripping down my back, face, and even places I didn’t know could sweat. The Nazi at the food stand stifles a laugh when he sees me. I groan. In order for the plan to work, the Nazis could not recognize my face, meaning I had to wear one of Leah’s ridiculous sweaters. It was black with a gray hood, two sizes too small, and incredibly warm. Sighing, I head back to Leah with three rotten apples. One for me and David to share, one for Leah, and one for the escape. If this plan is going to work, Leah will need all the strength she can get. That means one whole apple, not a measly half of one.
Phase 2:
I stand by the “showers” waiting for David to come back. He went to grab a slip of paper, an old pen, and a wooden spoon. It would look suspicious if I was with Leah, because I am always with her these days. I wait in line for the “showers”, letting people cut me so I don’t get to the front. The other prisoners don’t know that gas, not water comes out, but, David, Leah, a handful of others, and I know not to go near them.
Shlomo, David’s bestest best friend, got caught trying to escape from Breendonck. The Nazis were questionably understanding, taking him to the new shower to get cleaned off. He was never seen again by the Nazis or any of the other prisoners, only to wake me in the middle of the night, half dead. He managed to warn me about the showers before he died and told me to never set foot in there. He passed in David's lap later that night and was buried in a grave numbered 8. Now I wait near the site of his murdering for David, his best friend.
Phase 3:
Using the spoon David smuggled, I carve out a clean hole in the apple. Using the old pen, David writes a note on the piece of paper and slips it into the apple. Leah silently refills the hole, and David and I go back to our shared stall. I try resting before the long night to come, but I find myself unable to sleep. Instead, I busy myself by singing some of the lullabies my mother taught me. Soon, I feel my eyelids get heavy, and I am asleep.
Phase 4:
Since I stood in the line to get the apples, David patiently waits beside me to keep me company.
“Nice sweater,” David snorts. I roll my eyes. It was very hot.
“Yeah. Nice ‘Cover Girl’ sweater,” I retort. We had to wear Leah’s sweaters again, and that was the only one that fit him. It used to be her older brother’s before he died.
“Ahem!” The guy at the stall, Bren, clears his throat. “How may I help you?” He asks.
“Hi. Sorry. We, we, uh, um, one cup of flour please,” I say. David elbows me in the side. It is part of the plan, but it still hurts.
“OWWW!!!!!” I double over, pretending to be in pain, while David slips the apple into the Nazi’s apron pocket. I know David doubts me, but I am sure we can trust him. I stand back up, picking up the flour while dusting myself off, ignoring the suspicious stares and whispers. Phase 4 complete. Now comes the hard part, we wait.
Phase 5:
I rock back and forth on my heels, trying to pass the time. Leah, David, and I sit by the dumpsters, waiting for Bren.
“Where is he? He should be here by now,” Leah starts. “Ughhhh!!! I knew we couldn’t trust him!”
“For once, I agree with her,” David says, not helping.
“Wait. Listen. Can you hear that?” I ask. It sounds like rain dripping into a chimney. Pit, pat, pit, pat. Or soft footfalls! Nothing like the Soldiers' hardpounding boots. More like a chef who wants to help a sick child escape. As soon as Bren comes into earshot, he starts lecturing us.
“What do ya think ya doing? Eve’ a whistlin’ teapot is quieter th’n ya chitchatting.” I sigh. His Danish is so poor, it’s hard to listen to. But, as much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I glare at Leah and David. Oy vey. Waving goodbye to Bren, we head the way his stubby finger points.
Over the wire fence where Bren led us, I see a field of gray wheat. A free field of wheat. And soon, I will be as free as those stalks.
“Come on. We don’t want anyone to catch us!” David gestures to a hole dug in the ground under a part of the fence.
“We can’t just stand here all night,” Leah adds, already on the other side. Already free. I go to join her, and then David. And then……. then Leah collapses into my arms.
“No!!!! Leah! Don’t leave me!” My soft screams devolve into even softer sobs. I collapse as I realize I can’t even mourn for my best friend. I have to think about myself instead. The thought breaks my heart.
“No, no, no, no! Don’t leave me, Leah. Hang on, hang on!” My quiet sobs echo into the night, falling only on deaf ears.
“Come on, we have to get out of here. What happens when the Nazis hear us and catch us?” David asks.
“David, we can’t just leave her. I go where she goes. *sniffle* If she stays here, I will stay here. You would have done the same *sniffle* with Shlomo,” I say.
I know I have touched a soft spot. David slouches, but I am too numb to care.
“I know it’s hard to accept death, but you have to move on,” David puts a comforting hand on my shoulder. I brush it away.
I let another second escape and, using all my strength, David and I lift Leah and carry her away from Breendonck. As I continue to silently cry, only one thought comforts me. At least she died free, at least she died free. I repeat the thought until I no longer fret about getting caught, and Breendonck is only a speck in the distance.