Long Way Home(16)
Dining in the first-class social hall was like eating in a magnificent restaurant with crystal glasses and silverware, white linen tablecloths, and even an orchestra that performed while we ate. The ceiling of the huge space soared two stories above us, with a gallery around the second floor and a sweeping double staircase that made me feel like royalty as I descended to the main level. We could even choose our own meals from the menu. Mutti and Sam’s mother seemed to enjoy each other’s company but Ruthie and Sam’s brothers, who were twelve and ten, were shy with each other.
I sat beside Sam and we talked nonstop. I’d had crushes on boys in the past, and I would giggle with my girlfriends about what it would be like to hold hands with a handsome boy or even kiss him. But the fear and degradation we’d endured for the past few years had dashed any dreams I might have had about meeting and dating a boy. My growing friendship with Sam seemed like something from a fairy tale. “Did you know there’s a cinema on board?” Sam asked. “They’re screening a movie tonight, and I promised to take my brothers. Want to go with us?”
“I’d love to! It’s been years since we were allowed to go to the movies.” We made arrangements to meet outside the theater, and while it wasn’t exactly a real date since Ruthie and Sam’s brothers tagged along, I was excited and thrilled to be seated in the darkened theater beside handsome Sam Shapiro. The film was billed as a light romance, but when the lights dimmed and the screen came to life, a newsreel of Adolf Hitler began to play.
“The day of reckoning for Jews is at hand,” the Führer bellowed. A shock wave reverberated through the theater like an electrical current. The fear I’d felt for the past five years came rushing back. I looked away from the goose-stepping soldiers on the screen, feeling sick to my stomach. Ruthie began to sob. All around me, people rose to leave.
“Let’s go,” Sam said. “We don’t have to listen to this.” I could tell that he was livid. I was glad to get out of there, too, and so was my sister. “This is no different from home,” Sam said. “The Nazis enjoy toying with us, giving us hope and then snatching it away again.”
As other people left the theater along with us, I overheard a distinguished-looking gentleman say, “I’m going to speak with the captain immediately about this insult.”
“Let’s take Ruthie and your brothers up on deck,” I suggested, “and we’ll look at the stars.” We had a view from the promenade deck of billions of stars sparkling in the sky and the giant swath of the Milky Way high above the ink-black water. We stayed until the children complained of the cold.
“Do you want to finish exploring with me tomorrow?” Sam asked. “I may have to bring my brothers along, though.”
“I don’t mind. I’ll ask if Ruthie wants to come, too.”
Shortly after breakfast Monday morning, the ship docked in the French port of Cherbourg to take on more passengers. The sky was sunny and clear once again, and as Sam and I stood at the rail with our siblings, we had a clear view of the streets along the waterfront. “Look!” he said, pointing. “No Nazi flags or swastikas anywhere.” The streets of Hamburg had been plastered with the hated symbols on the day we left as the city prepared to celebrate its 750th anniversary. “See, Gisela? The rest of the world really is free. And now we will be, too.”
The St. Louis didn’t remain in port for very long, and soon we were steaming out into the ocean again. Sam and I spent most of Monday together, trying to take advantage of all the amenities that were offered to first-class passengers like us, including language classes. While most people opted for Spanish lessons to prepare for life in Cuba, Sam and I were eager to improve our English skills, anticipating a more permanent future. Before parting ways at the end of the day, we made plans to meet again tomorrow.
On Tuesday morning the swelling waves and tossing seas were so ferocious that most people stayed inside. At breakfast, the waiters had to raise the little wooden sides on all the tables to keep the dishes from sliding off. After eating, I hurried to our meeting place to be with Sam. “We’re crossing the Bay of Biscay,” he explained. “The seas can get pretty rough here.” He offered me his arm and we linked them tightly to steady ourselves in the wind and rough waves. We laughed as we staggered against each other like a pair of drunkards. The delicious thrill of his nearness, our bodies touching, canceled any fear I might have had of the roaring ocean. “We’re west of France and north of the Spanish coast,” Sam shouted above the wind. “The Bay of Biscay is notorious for harsh weather and dangerous sailing.”
“And shipwrecks?”
“Sometimes.” He wrapped his arm around my waist and pulled me close. We stood in the stern, looking down at the ship’s wake. After watching for a few minutes, we could see and feel that the ship was changing course. My stomach rolled over.
“We’re not turning back, are we, Sam?” As frightening as it was to be sailing through such turbulent seas, the thought of returning to Hamburg was even more terrifying.
“We’re a long way from Hamburg now. We won’t turn back. You’re shivering. Do you want to go inside?”
“Not unless you do.” I felt safe by Sam’s side, journeying through the storm with him. It was as if we were the only two people in the world and had only each other to think about.