Between Shades of Gray(54)

“I’m so sorry,” sobbed the girl. “I’ve ruined your shirt.”

“It’s okay,” said Jonas, hugging his naked torso. His scurvy spots hadn’t entirely disappeared. Pink blotches dotted his emaciated rib cage.

The tall man, the repeater, spoke sprightly, convinced of America, America. I wasn’t convinced of anything, except my yearning to see Papa, Andrius, and home.

On the third night, I woke up. Something tapped on my chest. I opened my eyes. Janina’s face hovered above mine, her eyes wide. The light swung back and forth behind her head.

“Janina? What is it?”

“It’s Liale.”

“Tell Liale it’s time to sleep,” I said, closing my eyes.

“She can’t sleep. She says the yellow girl is dead.”

“What?”

“Liale says she’s dead. Can you check if her eyes are open? I’m scared to look.”

I pulled Janina against me, laying her head on my chest. “Shh. Go to sleep.” She trembled in my arms. I listened. The coughing had stopped. “Shh. Time to sleep, Janina.” I rocked her gently.

I thought of Andrius. What was he doing back at the camp? Had he looked at my drawings? I reached into my pocket and wrapped my fingers around the stone. I saw him smiling, tugging my hat in the ration line.

The yellow girl was dead. Streaks of dried blood ran from the corners of her mouth to her chin. The next day, the guards dragged her stiff body out of the train. Her mother jumped down after her, crying. A gunshot fired. A thud hit the dirt. A grieving mother was an annoyance.

Ulyushka, the woman I despised, kept us alive on the train. We lived off the food she had given Mother. We shared it with others. I drew Ulyushka’s wide face and stalks of black hair, trying to steady my hand through the train’s vibration.

No one refused the water or gray slop in the buckets. We ate greedily, licking our palms and sucking under our dirty fingernails. Janina’s mother slept often. I could barely sleep even though I was exhausted. The noise and movement from the train kept me awake. I sat, wondering where they were taking us and how I would let Papa know.

Janina tapped the bald man on the shoulder. “I heard you’re a Jew,” she said.

“That’s what you heard, eh?” said the bald man.

“Is it true?” asked Janina.

“Yes. I heard you’re a little brat, is that true?”

Janina paused, thinking. “No, I don’t think so. Did you know Hitler and the Nazis might kill the Jews? My mama said that.”

“Your mother’s wrong. Hitler is killing the Jews.”

“But why?” asked Jonas.

“The Jews are the scapegoat for all of Germany’s problems,” said the bald man. “Hitler’s convinced racial purity is the answer. It’s too complicated for children to understand.”

“So you’re here with us, rather than with the Nazis?” asked Jonas.

“You think I’d choose this? Under Hitler or Stalin, this war will end us all. Lithuania is caught in the middle. You heard the man. The Japanese have bombed Pearl Harbor. The United States may already be allied with the Soviets. Enough talk. Be quiet,” said the bald man.

“We’re going to America,” said the repeater. “America.”





65


AFTER A WEEK, the train stopped late at night. Mrs. Rimas said she saw a sign that said Makarov. They herded us out of the carriages. The open air swirled around my face, clean, fresh. I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my dry lips. The guards directed us toward a large building four hundred yards away. We dragged our filthy belongings from the train. Mother collapsed in the dirt.

“Lift her, quickly,” said Mrs. Rimas, looking around for the guards. “If they would shoot a grieving mother, they might shoot a woman with loose legs.”

“I’ll be fine. I’m just tired,” said Mother. Mrs. Rimas and I helped Mother walk. Jonas dragged our suitcases. Mother stumbled again near the building.

“Davai!” Two NKVD approached, clutching rifles. Mother wasn’t moving fast enough.

They marched toward us. Mother straightened up. One of the NKVD spit in the dirt. The other looked at her. My stomach dropped. Kretzsky. He had traveled with us.

“Nikolai,” Mother said weakly.

Kretzsky pointed in another direction. He marched away toward a group of people.

The building felt large, like an enormous barn. There must have been a thousand of us. We were too tired to speak. We fell to the ground on our belongings. My muscles released their clench. The stillness of the ground felt wonderful, as if a hand had stopped a metronome. The screeching of the rails had finally ended. I put my arm around my suitcase, hugging Dombey and Son. It was quiet. We lay in our rags and slept.

Morning broke. I felt Janina breathing, nestled against my back. Jonas sat on top of his suitcase. He nodded at me. I looked at Mother. She slept soundly, her face and arms on her suitcase.

“She called him Nikolai,” said Jonas.

“What?” I asked.

Jonas began pacing. “Kretzsky. Did you hear her? Last night, she called him Nikolai.”

“Is that his first name?” I asked.

“Exactly. I don’t know. How does she know?” snapped Jonas. “Why did he come with us?” Jonas kicked at the dirt.