The Price of Freedom

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April 30, 1933

Chava was in the middle of sewing a tear in her favorite gown when her mother walked into her bedroom.

"Chava, sind deine Koffer gepackt? Es ist Zeit."

(Chava, are your bags packed? It's time. (German))

"Wohin, Mutter?"

(To where, Mother?)

Her mother didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed the suitcases in the far corner.

Edna looked at her daughter. "Zieh deine Schuhe an. Wir müssen hier raus. Bevor es für unser Volk noch schlimmer wird."

(Put your shoes on. We must get out of here. Before things get worse for our people.)

Chava frowned. "Ich verstehe nicht. Wie kann es für uns schlimmer werden?"

(I don't understand. How can things get worse for us?)

"Weil sie es immer tun. Unsere Leute wurden schon immer gehasst und ins Visier genommen. Bitte, Chava, keine Fragen mehr. Wir müssen Deutschland verlassen."

(Because they always do. Our people have always been hated and targeted. Please, Chava, no more questions. We must leave Germany.)

"Wohin wirst du gehen?"

(Where will we go?)

"Ins Land der Feiheit. Die Vereinigten Staaten von Amerika. Wir werden bei deiner Tante und deinem Onkel wohnen während ich versuche, Arbeit und einen Platz für dich und mich zu finden."

(To the land of freedom. The United States of America. We'll be living with your aunt and uncle while I try to find work and a place for you and me.)

The mother and daughter left in the quiet of the night and boarded a boat, bound for New York.

A month later, thanks to good weather and calm seas, the mother and daughter arrived.

Those first days in a new land was hard. They understood little English and found the American lifestyle intriguing, but confusing.

One morning, Chava was walking through the streets of Brooklyn after getting a pastry from a bakery she found she liked.

A boy walked up to her with a smirk. "What's a pretty doll like you doing out here alone?"

Chava stepped back, feeling uncomfortable by his forward presence. "No." At least she knew that word in English.

But the boy moved closer. "Come on, doll, whaddya say? You and me?"

She shoved him back. "No!"

With her sudden movement, she revealed her necklace and the boy scoffed. "You're a mocky."

Chava frowned, grabbing at her necklace. "Don't. Please."

The boy ripped her necklace off and threw it to the ground. "Dirty Jew. Go back to your home. We don't want your kind here."

"Hey! Leave her alone!" another boy yelled.

The boy turned. "What are you gonna do?"

New boy raised his fists.

The boy scoffed. "Like you could beat me in a fight. She's not worth it. Trust me." He spit at the ground where Chava was fingering her necklace and walked away.

New boy walked up to Chava with a small smile. "Are you okay?"

Chava looked up, tears in her eyes and shook her head. "It's broke."

"We can fix it."

"How?"

"We'll get another chain if it can't be fixed." He stood and held his hand out to her.

Chava hesitated, then accepted. Slowly, she asked, "What is your name?"

"Steve," the boy replied. "What's yours?"

"Chava."

"Chava. It suits you. It's nice to meet you, Chava."

She gave a nod. "Danke. You didn't have to."

"Yeah I did. No one should pick on a lady."

"Even a dirty Jew like me?"

"That's where he's wrong. You're not dirty."

Chava let out a sigh. "I almost believe it."

"Then I'll spend as long as it takes helping you believe it."

She looked at him curiously. "Does this mean we are... pardon. The word?"

"Friends? If you'd like."

She nodded. "I would."

"Then we're friends. I'll introduce you to another friend of mine. I think you'll get along great."

Chava smiled. "If he's as kind as you, I think we shall."

So, Steve introduced her to Bucky. The three became close friends, though Chava and Steve always felt like they had the potential for something more.

And perhaps they were right.