A girl and her camera

Chapter nine

Eventually, Michael had to tell Vera of his job offer. He'd sworn Martha to secrecy, until he could find the time to tell her himself. But after two days, Martha could tell that the pressure was taking its' tole on Michael. He was nervous, easily irritated, and more impatient than he usually was. Those were the signs, Martha thought, that to her, gave away his guilt. And due to how heightened they seemed, her brother must've felt extremely guilty. Not just because of his secrecy, but his final decision.

So Martha decided that now was the time for her take control. If Michael couldn't tell Vera on his own, the Martha would have to stand by her brother, and help him to do it. She would hold his hand, coax him to talk, and whatever Vera would respond, Martha would look him in the eye, to remind him that she was there. Every step of the way. She would support him, as he had supported her during their childhood. She would take the role of the supportive sibling for a change. And let him, for once, lean on her.

It was a Friday night, when she, Michael, and their mother all sat down in the living room. They'd just finished their dinner, when Martha proposed a 'family talk'. And so they sat, waiting for at least one person to break the awkward silence, and start talking.

"Michael has something to tell us, mama." Martha prompted, "Some news."

"Well, spit it out Michael," Vera pushed him, "Come on!"

"I..." He looked to Martha, who squeezed his hand for reassurance. "The Commandant, he has offered me a job."

"Another promotion?" Vera exclaimed, "Well, that's wonderful! I-"

"Mama, you don't understand." He sighed, "A position has opened in one of the prison camps, near Krakow. Well...it's more of a death camp."

Vera's' proud grin immediately vanished. She knew which camp her son was talking about; it was one of the most infamous camps in Poland. Auschwitz. A year ago, she'd heard a story of two, former school-friends, a Jewish couple, being called up for deportation. She didn't know the extent of their ordeal; except that they were sent to a place called Auschwitz, and that they were never seen, or heard of again. Yes, Vera knew all too well what that place was like. But to imagine her own son, going to work there? It was too unreal for her to comprehend.

"Auschwitz," She whispered, in a hoarse, choked voice. "That's where they're sending you, isn't it?"

"Mama..." He could feel her disappointment, radiating from where she sat. "Like I said, he only offered me a position there. If I take it, I'll get better pay, but...I won't get to see you two very often at all. I'll be lodging there; which means I'll only get to visit every few months."

As Martha looked back and forth, between Vera and Michael, she tried unsuccessfully, to decipher what they were feeling. But Michael had inherited the gift of passiveness from his mother; a plain, emotionless expression that gave away absolutely nothing. A poker-face, in other words.

"And do you intend to take it?" Vera asked him, quietly.

"I don't know yet," He admitted, "I've got until Sunday to give him my decision."

"Well," Vera stood from the armchair she was sitting in, shaking off the non-existent crumbs from her apron. "Do tell me when you make your decision. I want to know whether to rent out the spare bedroom if you're going."

And with that, Martha and Michael were left alone in the living room, by themselves.

"She's disappointed in me," He said, sulkily. "She thinks I'm going to turn into a monster, like them."

"She doesn't think that," Martha assured him; despite wondering whether or not that was true. "It's just a bit of a shock, that's all. She'll be in better sorts by the morning."