If Wishes Could Fly

He Would Not Betray Me

(Based Around Night by Elie Wiesel)

The cold walls of the warehouse did nothing to keep out the burning horrors of Buna. Cries of men, women, and children played endlessly in my mind, trapping me in this terrifying wasteland. Nothing seemed certain, nothing seemed safe, there was nobody to trust. Germans marched around me, Nazi's and Jews alike. Often, I wondered how they decided, how they placed so much hate on people who had done so little to deserve it. I was so naïve to think they had a reason, so naïve to think they had a right. There was only one day that made me realize how cruel these people truly were. It wasn't the body burning. Or the beatings. Or the marching. Or the constant threat of death hanging above our heads. No, it was much simpler than that. Maybe even to simple. It was a boy.

We often worked beside each other in the warehouse, me a forced labor inmate and him a Jewish prisoner. I could sense that he thought we were one in the same, but he knew better than to make things worse. For he did not know how much I truly knew. I kept my mouth shut, I acted confused, I acted innocent and kind, and I never let my true self show. But, he was so much more than the façade I had built, I could see the glimmer of hope in his mournful eyes, and the slimmer of true bliss he could still look back on. He was only a boy. Only a boy trying to take care of his father. I saw him with his father sometimes, exchanging food, whispering, escaping from what was truly around them. But, I kept to myself. He couldn't be trusted. There was just too much at stake. Too much on the line. Too much for us to die for.

I had given up hope that anyone was trustworthy enough long ago, and I spent my days working in the warehouse, almost to content with my secret identity. It was another 'normal' day in the warehouse, almost normal. The boy was nowhere to be seen. I had slowly learned his name was Eliezer. A beautiful name indeed, and I was worried for the boy with the beautiful name. A grunt and a yelp came from not far from the warehouse, and I dashed to the window to see what had happened. The Kapo name Idek had pushed somebody to the ground, letting out all the anger he had built up on the poor soul. In fact, the soul looked familiar. Too familiar. I stifled a gasp as I recognized Eliezer struggling on the ground, doing anything he could to stay quiet. But that only fueled Idek's rage. The hits came harder and harder, finally I had to look away. I rushed back to my post, my mind in a flurry. Glancing around, I made sure no one saw when I reached down into the folds of my skirt and clutched a small crust of bread. Almost as if on cue, Eliezer dragged himself inside, pushing his blood-soaked body into the smallest corner he could find. Quietly, I hurried over to him, trying my hardest to wipe the blood from his forehead. Oh, how I longed to speak to him. To give him just a few words of hope. Just a few. But, I was terrified. And he sensed it. I continued to wipe away the blood and shove the crust of bread I had saved into his trembling hands. He had done nothing. He had simply walked towards the warehouse to do the Germans bidding, had I been so naïve not to see this before? And in that moment, I realized what I must say.

""Bite your lips, little brother...Don't cry. Keep your anger, your hate, for another day, for later. The day will come but not now...Wait. Clench your teeth and wait..."" (Wiesel 53)

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It was years before I saw Eliezer's hopeful eyes again. It was years before I remembered I wasn't the only one who had survived. I was sitting at the Metro, waiting for nothing in particular. Minding anybody's business but his own, a man came and sat next to me, a questioning look plastered on his face. He smiled as I look over at him, waiting as though we were longtime friends. After a moment, his smile faltered and he looked sadly at me.

"Madame, do you recognize me?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry." I was beginning to feel uneasy.

Who was this man?

"1944, Buna in Poland. Weren't you there?"

"I-I was, but how..."

"We worked at the depot. A warehouse, for electrical parts."

"Yes," My voice faltered, it couldn't be. "I remember."

We were swept away by awful memories and a sweet one as well, and our night ended on a café terrace. Sitting together, looking out over Paris. After hours of reminiscing, it was time to part and move on. But, he requested one more question. I already knew what it was.

"Yes," I smiled as his eyes showed the hope they had shown so long ago. "I had false papers, and I passed as an Aryan. And I was stuck in the forced labor unit for that. Nobody knew I spoke German when I was there, too much suspicion to be awoken. But, I knew I had to speak to you. I knew that you would never betray me..."

And with those last words, all memories of that terrible life seemed to fade. They all seemed to disappear along with his footsteps as he left me on the terrace in the city of lights.