Mother and Me (12 page)

I wished I had more time to see the people as they passed my slot in our partially opened door. I wanted to look longer at the man on the donkey and the red-faced woman in the kerchief, the long skirt, and the boots, as she leaned forward against the weight of a large bag on her back. But they all flashed by too quickly, whipping backwards out of sight.

“Where are we going anyway?” It was Sonya's voice.

“We're going to a farm, dear,” her mother answered. “Remember Irenka's parents, Mr. and Mrs. Metner? Well, they have an estate—it's a farm where they grow … well, I don't know what they grow, but they have peasants who raise things to feed people in the cities … people like us. And they have cows and horses. It's away from the city so it won't get bombed, and they're letting us have one of their cottages till this is over.”

“Will Irenka be there?”

“I don't know. I suppose so. I don't suppose the Metners will want to stay in Warsaw either.”

“Irenka has a brother your age, boys,” Miss Bronia said. “He has a pony, I hear, and maybe he'll let you ride it sometime. Maybe they even have more ponies and you can ride together.”

I was immediately envisioning Fredek and me and our young host, each mounted on a pony and led around by a man in a cap and high boots, the way they did in the park. Kiki and I had passed those ponies millions of times, me waiting anxiously for my eighth birthday, which was when I was to have my first ride and which wasn't due until the coming January. And now, months before my birthday, I would be riding a pony, not just for one ten-minute ride as a birthday special, but daily. And by the time we went back to Warsaw, I would be able to get up onto the pony by myself and control him by myself too. Then, when I finally got my birthday ride, I would surprise Kiki as well as the pony-rides man by jumping up on the pony, myself, and galloping around the park.

“I know how to ride horseback,” Fredek said. “I can gallop and jump and everything. I'll draw my sword, hold it over my head like this, and charge!” He followed this by making hoof-beat sounds.

I doubted strongly the veracity of Fredek's claim. But I did realize that our rides were not going to be as idyllic as I had first fantasized. Fredek would, right away, be wanting to race and attack cows and things. And the men in caps and high boots who led the ponies, would think Fredek was brave and I wasn't because I just wanted to ride the pony. Now I hoped they only had one pony, and Fredek and I wouldn't be invited to ride it.

The three mothers were all sitting very quietly now, and Fredek was still making his galloping sounds with an occasional, “Charge!” or a horse's neigh thrown in. I returned to my private theater on the other side of our half-open door,
watching the endless variety of people whip in and out of my life for two seconds, moving backwards.

“Somebody's crying,” Auntie Edna said suddenly. I listened, but couldn't hear anything. And then I did, but it wasn't a person.

“It's a scream,” Auntie Paula said, because it was quickly growing louder. I felt the truck suddenly speed up.

“What is …?” my mother began, but the scream became deafening.

There was a crash, a sudden wind inside the truck, and the truck rocking left and right as though it would topple over. We were all on the floor suddenly, and the truck was speeding now, still oscillating from the concussion.

Auntie Edna screamed, “Oh, my hand! Oh, my hand!” The explosion had torn the cord and blown both doors open. As they banged back and forth, I could see a big cloud of dust in the road we had just passed. One of our suitcases fell out and bounced along the road. Beyond the cloud of dust, an ugly airplane was flying away from us, low to the ground. Its wings looked like they were broken. They came out of the fuselage at a downward angle for a foot or two and then turned upward. Its landing gear, which other modern planes tucked up into their body, hung down like the stumpy legs of a dwarf. Then it pulled up and disappeared.

I was lying across the legs of some woman who turned out to be Auntie Paula. Miss Bronia was across my legs, and Fredek seemed to be hugging my mother. Only Sonya seemed not to have been dislodged from her corner seat.

“My hand! My hand!” Auntie Edna cried again, as we began to untangle ourselves.

“Is … is everyone else all right?” Auntie Paula asked. Nobody else complained.

“What's wrong with Missus's hand, Mrs. Tishman?” Miss Bronia asked, making her way over the tossed-about luggage on hands and knees.

“I fell on it.”

Miss Bronia knelt in front of Auntie and took her right arm and hand in both of her hands. “Can Missus move the fingers?”

“Ow, it hurts.”

“Missus should try.”

“Yes, ow, I can. It's moving.”

“All of them?”

“I don't know.”

“Mrs. Tishman should try them all.”

“Let me see … ow … yes, that one and, ow, that one and, yes, I think I can move them all.”

“All right, then I don't think it's broken. It's probably badly sprained. Missus should sit back up on the bench … here, I'll help Missus. That's it, and now Missus should rest her arm on her lap for support. I'll find something to wrap it with.”

The truck slowed to a stop. Mr. Dembovski and Mr. Lupicki appeared at the open doors. “Is everyone all right?” our driver asked.

“Yes,” my mother answered. She didn't even mention Auntie Edna's hand.

“He missed us,” Mr. Dembovski said.

“He was diving down right at us,” Mr. Lupicki said, “and when Boleswav speeded up suddenly, I think he couldn't make the adjustment. It was a Stuka.”

I had heard that name before.

“They make a horrible sound,” Auntie Edna said.

“I'm afraid they may try again,” Mr. Dembovski said. “They think we're an army truck.”

“Yes, because we're painted green,” Auntie Edna said.

“Maybe the ladies should get out and walk,” Mr. Lupicki said. “That way, if we hear them coming again, you can run away from the truck. Boleswav and I can jump out into the field.” Mr. Lupicki seemed to suddenly become aware of his loosened collar and tie, which he now proceeded to adjust. His pomaded
hair, however, was still all in place. I looked at his tightly-fitting jacket, and it didn't seem to be concealing any gun.

“What if the airplanes come and machine-gun us again?” Auntie Edna asked.

“It's easier to crawl under the truck from the road than from inside,” Auntie Paula answered her.

The stream of people parted to pass around us as we stood behind the truck. Somewhere behind us, I realized, there must be a big hole in the road where the bomb had landed, and the people must be circling it the same way, but I wasn't tall enough to see over their heads.

“Are you going to walk on this road in those heels?” Auntie Paula asked Mother.

“I don't have any others.”

“You didn't pack any other shoes?”

“I don't have any flats.”

“You didn't bring any flats?” Auntie Edna asked.

“I don't own any flats.”

“What did you plan to wear at the Metners' farm?” Auntie Paula asked. I smiled inwardly. Then I remembered Kiki's charge.

“Maybe mine will fit Missus,” Miss Bronia said. She began digging in her suitcase.

In a moment Mother was standing in a pair of brown sandals, and I noticed with pleasure that she wasn't taller than me by as much as before. Being happy to find myself nearly as tall as Mother, I reasoned, was not breaking God's Commandments.

“Why don't the ladies walk in front of the truck,” Mr. Lupicki said. “That way, Boleswav and I can keep an eye on them.”

I could tell that the mothers were beginning to like Mr. Lupicki.

“We're just out for a country walk,” Auntie Paula said. “Give me your arm, Sonya.” She and Sonya hooked arms and stepped into the stream of walking people.

“Hold my hand,” my mother said, the way she did when she took me out on the street on Kiki's day off, even though Kiki had not made me hold her hand for over a year, except when we crossed the street. Mother's palm was smooth and soft as a silk cushion.

“Here,” Mother said, taking the gold lighter from Auntie Edna, who was struggling to light it with her left hand. Mother lit Auntie Edna's cigarette for her.

“Do you want one?” Auntie Edna asked.

“I left mine in the truck,” Mother said. I watched Auntie Edna reach her left hand into the sling that Miss Bronia had fixed for her and produce a box of cigarettes for Mother. Mother took both the cigarettes and lighter from her and lit up.

“It hurts like the devil,” Auntie Edna was saying. “Bronia says she has some powders for the pain, but there's nothing to wash them down with except the children's cocoa.”

Walking in front of us, Miss Bronia held Fredek's hand, and I could see them talking to each other and wondered what they talked about. I could not imagine Fredek carrying on a conversation about anything other than guns and shooting people. I looked at Miss Bronia's free hand with longing.

“Are we going to walk all the way to Metners'?” Auntie Edna was saying.

“When it's dark it should be safe to get back in the truck.” Mother answered.

“I suppose so,” Auntie Edna agreed. Then her tone changed and she began speaking French.

“
Julien parle Francais,
” Mother answered. It meant Yulian speaks French, and it was one of the few things that I could understand in that language. “Go walk with Miss Bronia and Fredek,” she said to me. Without further prompting, I rushed ahead and claimed the free hand.

“Hello, Yulian,” she greeted me. “You're going to walk with us?”

I nodded my head enthusiastically. We walked on in silence, but the hollow of Miss Bronia's palm spoke volumes to my hand.

Nearly everyone, I realized, was walking at the same pace. A little ahead, on my right, a man and a woman were not keeping up with the others. They were older than Mother, but not as old as my grandmother, and they were walking arm in arm. They wore city clothes. The man had taken off his jacket and rolled it on top of a bag that he had tied to his back with two neckties. His shirt was sweat stained under the arms. The woman had on a brown wool skirt and a beige blouse. It, too, had little damp stains under the arms. I felt sorry for the embarrassment she must be feeling. She had a kind, round face with brown hair streaked with gray. A widow's peak made her face look like a heart. I saw that she was having difficulty walking and she was leaning heavily on his arm for support, as they drifted backwards in our stream.

The man, too, I saw, was laboring under his extra load. Then, suddenly his face had turned dark red, and he stopped, there on the crowded road, and began tugging at his shirt collar, which was already unbuttoned. The woman had turned to face him and was saying something to him. Then, as we moved further ahead, I saw the man just get shorter.

Several other people were surrounding him now, and I could just see his red face as they held him up. His eyes were rolling back and forth as though looking for a way out of their sockets.

We continued walking. I didn't think that either Miss Bronia nor Fredek were aware of the happening. I wanted to see more, but I didn't want Miss Bronia admonishing me not to look, so I turned away as we walked on.

Then I heard Mother's voice. “Miss Bronia, the truck's stopped for something!” she called.

“Oh, we'd better wait,” Miss Bronia said. “Mrs. Herbstein!” she called to Auntie Paula, up ahead, “the truck has stopped!”

Auntie Paula and Sonya stopped. “What is it?” Auntie Paula asked.

“They just put a man into it,” Fredek said.

Auntie Paula and Sonya walked back to where we were standing. “What's happening?” Auntie Paula asked.

“I don't know,” Miss Bronia said.

“They put a man in our truck,” Fredek said.

“A man fainted,” Auntie Edna said.

“And they put him in the truck?” Auntie Paula said. “Our things!”

The three mothers ran back to the truck. Fredek tried to go after them, but Miss Bronia held him by the hand. “We'll just wait here,” she said.

“Mother doesn't need any help,” Sonya said, laughing.

Then I saw Mr. Dembovski standing on the running board. “Is anybody a doctor?” he yelled out. Nobody responded, as people kept walking past.

After a while, Auntie Edna and Auntie Paula came back to where we were standing. “He looks like he had a heart attack,” Auntie Paula said to Miss Bronia. “Mrs. Waisbrem is staying in the truck with his wife. It's dangerous to stop here.” Then the truck began to move again and we resumed walking.

“What's a heart attack?” Fredek wanted to know. I knew what a heart attack was. I had seen my grandfather die from one. I wished I had said so before Miss Bronia began telling Fredek about the heart stopping to pump the blood. But then I thought about the poor woman with the heart-shaped face, whose husband was right now dying in the truck, and felt ashamed.

“What songs do we all know?” Miss Bronia asked. Without suggesting any songs, Fredek immediately launched into a soldiers' marching song, which Kiki and I knew very well. Miss Bronia joined in, but I didn't feel like singing. That poor woman in our truck was right in the process of losing her husband who was dying because he had been helping her walk. I had a good sense of how awful she must be feeling.

“Do you know the words, Yulian?” Miss Bronia asked.

If I said yes, she would ask why I wasn't singing, and if I lied and said no, that would be even worse. Besides, she would probably tell me to listen to Fredek sing them again. I realized that of the options open to me, the most expedient one under even these dire circumstances was to just join in the singing. I did. It was, after all, wartime.