An Afterlife. Frances Bartkowski

each other. A German and Jew, imagine that, in such a short time. But really, we are just people to each other. That’s what she and I became. It makes it feel more possible to simply be living here in Bavaria, while we all keep waiting for the next stop.

      But there is sad news, too, that I want to share with you. You must remember the beautiful coffee house owned by the Lencher family? Not too long ago I found in a list of names their son, Motek, who was alive, and living nearby. I made efforts to write and find out more about exactly where he was staying only to learn that he was in the hospital in Munich. Ilya and I visited about three weeks ago, and last week, my friend Fanya and I went to his funeral. Oh, Masha, how can I begin to tell you what it felt like to be at a funeral? And I had only just found him, in time to see him once before he died. The visit we had was so wonderful. He remembered me and Pearl as young women he knew through our brother, Max. I always thought he had feelings for Pearl, and when we spoke of her, even as pale as he was I thought I could see him blushing. He remembered our parents bringing us there on Sunday afternoons when he would be working at the café. So satisfying it was to be talking to someone from home. And now so sad to have lost him again. I needed to tell you this. I know you understand in your own way since you left everyone behind so many years ago. Your courage then helps me now to go on. And Ilya’s love and Fanya’s friendship. I hope you don’t mind being the audience for my sorrows and my joys. It is so very meaningful to know you are there, to be in touch as adults, and to continue to hope that one day we may see each other.

      All my love to you and all your loved ones,

      Ruby

      • • •

      I’ve been breaking into pieces too much these past few days, Ruby told Mala. And today was just about it! I don’t want to think about it! I don’t want to know from that place!

      What place, Mala asked? She was bracing herself; she knew Ruby would explain, but she wished she didn’t have to hear. Ruby, always making it her business to think, to feel. When it was better not to.

      You know, my always kvetching Mr. Grynbaum? I do my best to ignore him even as I hear his latest fury. Today, first thing in the morning, there he is at my door, at the office. I just want quiet time to catch up on paperwork. But no, he comes to report on an insult. Always wounded, this one. Like we don’t all have our bruises to rub smooth.

      What was it this time with him?

      Someone told him to mind his own business.

      So, what’s so insulting?

      Exactly! But here’s what made me so upset…. He made me remember. Those words, “Mind your own business.” They frightened me once. Pearl and I were walking home from school. We were thirteen. You want to hear this? It’s a long and bad story. More than one story.

      Do I want to hear it? No, but you know I’m listening now.

      We were walking fast because it was cold, windy and snowing. We decided to take a short cut through an alley not far from the building where we lived. We thought the wind wouldn’t be so hard there and it would save time. We were carrying school books. I know because we dropped them nearby in a frozen puddle. When we turned into the alley, two boys were fighting. The bigger one had his foot on the smaller boy’s chest. He was spitting in the boy’s face. We saw it. We were close enough to hear it. We stopped in our tracks, too nervous to move or to turn around. I knew Pearl would be too scared to speak, but I couldn’t stop myself. It was awful. We could see the boy on the ground had a bloody nose. There was light on his face from a window. I said before I could think, “Leave him alone. He’s already hurt! Leave him be!” The bully kept his foot on the boy and looked right at us. So did the boy on the ground. And then the big one said, also without thinking just the kind of thing he probably said when he could get away with it, “Mind your own business, nosy Jewish bitch!”

      And you and your sister? You didn’t talk back then, did you?

      I knew who I was dealing with in that moment. I put up my hands and dropped the books in a bit of a shock, and I let him see we were getting out of his way. I knew he wasn’t finished with beating the other boy, but I also knew there wasn’t anything I could do to stop him. We backed away to go the way we came from, the longer way home. I picked up the books fast, took Pearl’s arm in mine and we turned toward home. We were shaking from the cold and the fear and the shock of his calling us names. But the sight of him stepping on that boy and the sound of him spitting in his face—I can see it like it was this morning when Grynwald showed up at my door.

      I felt bad for him, even if he is such a pest and a miserable man most of the time. You know he tries to win me with sweets every once in a while when he knows I’ve lost patience for his demands and complaints.

      You said, more than one story . . .

      Oh, Mala, you really have the patience . . .

      What else have I got? Nowhere I need to be but here to listen to you and your troubles today. Did something more happen with those boys?

      No, we went home. I remember we had something warm to drink when we came in from outside. We never told our parents. We hardly ever spoke of it again after that night. Before we went to sleep we said a few things about how cruel boys can sometimes be. How little we knew of cruelty. Petted, loved girls that we were.

      But there was a Kapo in Belsen at the end, the last winter of the Lager. A bitch she was, too! She said the same words to me one day when I wasn’t standing quietly lined up for the morning counting of bodies and lice still alive. A girl in my row was shaking so badly from cold or sickness or just fright, the other four of us did our best to get her in the middle before the German came to our row so she wouldn’t be so noticeable. And we wouldn’t either. She saw me moving positions in line, and before I knew what was happening her whip came fast across my knees and she might as well have been spitting when she said, “Mind your own business, nosy bitch!”

      Ruby, this is why it’s good to forget. You’d remember that? For what? What good is it!

      I didn’t try to remember, but when Grynwald came to me today, it was all just there. The boys. The Kapo. And I couldn’t forget. I haven’t.

      Now you put that away from you. Today! For good!

      You know I can’t. But I know what you mean. Always trying to figure out. Forget. Remember.

      • • •

      Ruby wasn’t feeling too well, but the sun that woke her from the same old dream of drowning erased the night and made her eager to join the others for their expedition. There was a pool, outside the town, where the friends had been going now that summer seemed here to stay and where they felt at ease, in a group, speaking several tongues—even as young German strangers, some in families, some in courting couples—just like them—also went to shake off the heat of these days. It was early for such a spell of warm days. For the past two weekends, it seemed as if everyone she knew was heading off to this swimming pool, where they could enjoy being outdoors, nearly naked, and no, not suffering, not shivering, but doing this thing Ruby had learned from the Americans to call “relaxing.”

      Feeling young and ready for pleasure was something she could remember when she was barely a woman, and those memories—though filled with loved ones no longer here—urged her into this day. “Fun” was another word she’d learned recently from those Americans whose work took them to the camp, to her office. Like that American officer, Leon, who she was sure was flirting with her. That appeared to be his way with women, she could see. They had danced together to a tango record someone had brought to the party organized for his 30th birthday. He was a great dancer, holding her tight and getting her to follow his quick steps and turns. So she warmed up to him easily, like the sister she used to be. She had Ilya waiting for her.

      Now that the women were all ripe again—babies everywhere—she was anticipating joining the breath of it all. It was true. There were couples who weren’t having it easy. There were miscarriages sometimes, and she knew at least two women who had to take to bed for their last months to be sure the baby would be all right. Ruby would sometimes think how different everything would have been if she