Valentines Day 1978, Switzerland

Joe's Story, Part 2

Jonas was scared.

At six years old he found it difficult to understand what was going on, found it difficult to figure out why, earlier in the day, most of the adults had been screaming and running and shaking in fear while others seemed tall and strong. Why were some people kind and helpful and others kinda grumpy?

And how could his day have changed so much anyway?

This morning he was holding his Mom's hand with his teddy safely in the other. They were waiting to get on the bus in the village, they were going to have a fun day. Now he was cold and hungry and confused.

And sad.

He'd left his coat on the bus and dropped his teddy when the fire started and his Mom wouldn't let him go back for them. He missed his teddy, didn't think he'd be able to go to sleep without it.

He listened to the sounds around him. His Mom was snoozing, as were plenty of others. He could hear the rustle as people were turning and twisting, trying to get comfortable on the ground. He opened his eyes and looked around. Some people looked like bundles of rags, huddled up together under their coats. Other kids were sitting in their parents laps while mothers and fathers tried to get them to sleep.

The tiny baby was crying again, it had barely stopped at all.

The really old people looked like they were getting smaller before his eyes.

The man and woman who had been arguing all day were still at it, but they were at least a bit quieter now.

There was still a little brightness in the sky, just a tiny bit, but he was glad of it. Afraid of the dark at home at least he had his teddy to hold onto. But out here he had nothing.

He heard a sound. Looked around. Two eyes stared at him from a distance away. They reminded him of his dog back home but this one seemed bigger.

He rubbed at his arm where his friend Joe had cleaned the cut earlier. Washing off the blood under the waterfall Joe made it seem like a huge adventure in the process. Jonas's eyes nearly popped out of his head when Joe pulled off his own jumper, followed by his shirt.

He blinked but stayed quiet.

He thought it was odd that the man had so much dark hair hidden underneath his shirt but knew he shouldn't really look at someone else's body. He saw some of the ladies stare though. They obviously thought it was strange as well. One of them seemed to turn a bit pink and kept looking at Joe's front which Jonas thought was a little rude. Joe was his friend and people shouldn't stare. He knew that at six years of age. How did the moms not know, he wondered.

He watched agog as Joe ripped the sleeve from the shirt and wrapped it around Jonas's arm.

'There you go, buddy', he said in his funny accent. 'Try not to get that wet and if the blood comes through you just call me and I'll get something fresh alright?'

'Won't your Mom give out to you, for tearing up your shirt?' Jonas asked.

'We won't tell her', Joe whispered, making Jonas laugh.

'What about your wife, um, if you have one', he ventured. Normally he wouldn't ask adults such questions but Joe was different, he was his friend, not just an adult.

'My wife won't mind either. She'd want you to take care of it, though, and try to keep it as clean as you can', Joe replied, 'and don't take it off with telling me or your Mom, alright?'

Jonas nodded. Taking the task seriously he'd tried hard all day to keep the material as clean as he could and checked regularly that the red blood wasn't peeking through.