JUNE 20, 1941, FRIDAY
Today. Yes today. I knew it, I felt it, that I’ll only be able to tell you. We had another wonderful evening. Two of us alone, properly alone. The sun had set and the stars started to emerge, and the moon floated up, and we sat next to each other and talked. And it was so … When we left, it was dark; we couldn’t find the way. We got lost, yes, we got doubly lost, or rather—only just found ourselves. It was all so sudden and unexpected and sweet and intimidating. I was at a loss for words and terribly mixed up. He said, “Renuśka, give me a kiss,” and before I knew it, it happened … He wanted more later, but I couldn’t, I was shaking all over.
Z said that he really liked this “intentional going astray,” he said, “We can do this again now, or tomorrow.” I feel so strange and nice. It was so light, elusive, ethereal, delicate. There was much, much more, but I’m only interested in that one thing—that he has become so close to me, the dearest person in the world, and I’m dizzy all the time … How did it happen. No more now, I need to think and dream … We’ll meet tomorrow—Z and I, and you and I. And will tomorrow also be so good and sweet…? You will help me, Buluś and God.
JUNE 21, 1941, SATURDAY12
I love those green eyes. First we wrote each other dedications on photographs. We used Latin grammar for this. It’s a scandal, that’s what Z said, that this scandal has been going on for six months already. We also went to the pines. And again it felt very good. We kissed for the second time, i.e., actually the first, because today it was reciprocal. It felt so nice too, but you know, it wasn’t fiery or wild, but somehow delicate and careful, and almost fearful—as if we didn’t want to extinguish something that was growing between us. Who would have thought we could talk so “scientifically”? You will help me, Buluś and God.
Zygu wants very much to go to a party on Monday, I don’t, but it seems I have to—I really don’t feel like it! I do not enjoy those stuffy, crowded dances. I prefer to be beneath the stars, beneath the moon in the evening’s darkness, with my grown-up Zygunio.
JUNE 26, 1941
Do you remember, on 25th of May I wrote I had a dream. I dreamed that Mom said she would come on the 25th of June. Good Lord! I didn’t know this was what it was going to be. I can’t write. I’m weak with fear. War again, war between Russia and Germany.* The Germans were here, then they retreated. Horrible days in the basement. The city has been evacuated. You remember, dear Diary, what price I paid for a short moment, today we stayed too … Grant us, Lord God, that the same thing happens now as it did then. I begged you, Lord God, for my dream to come true and it did, you saved my mother, you gave me him and the thing I’ve been waiting for for such a long time, and now this war. Give me my Mama, save all of us who have stayed here and those who escaped the city this morning. Save us, save Zygu …
Today they woke me up, I ran outside and saw his silhouette. Oh, I remember that last Saturday evening well. Holy God Almighty, save us. I want to live so badly. I’m humbling myself before You and begging on behalf of us all. Save us. Tonight is going to be terrible. I’m scared, today was horrible too. I believe that You will hear me, that You won’t leave me in this awful hour. You have saved me before, save me now.
Date … I don’t even know, Saturday, a week ago … Why, why speak, why write? God, thank You for saving me.
But my heart is now so heavy
And old thoughts are torn in two
But my heart is held in a leaden fist
And the scary thoughts are new
Now maybe I’ll see Buluś! I don’t know what’s going to happen to us. Dido, I believe nothing bad is going to happen to him. I’m terrified. Almost the whole city is in ruins. A piece of shrapnel fell into our house. These have been horrific days. Why even try to describe them? Words are just words. They can’t express what it feels like when your whole soul attaches itself to a whizzing bullet. When your whole will, your whole mind and all your senses cling to the flying missiles and beg, “Not this house!” You’re selfish and you forget that the missile that misses you is going to hit someone else.
Dear Diary! How precious you are to me! How horrible were the moments when I hugged you to my heart!
And where is Zyguś? I don’t know. I believe, fervently, that no harm has come to him. Where he is, I don’t know. Good God, protect him from all evil. Zyguś, my only one, because of that farewell of ours this separation feels all the more bitter. We exchanged photographs and said that we might be separated by the war after all; you were making plans for the future, mine and yours, and I was telling you, “I don’t know—there might be a war.” All of this started four hours after the moment you blew me the last kiss up to the balcony. First, we heard a shot, then an alarm, and then a howl of destruction and death. I don’t know where Irka and Nora are, either, where anyone is.
That’s it for tonight; it’s getting dark. God, save us all, Dido, Zygu. Make it so Mom comes and let there be no more misery, God … You will help me, Buluś and God.
JULY 1, 194113
We’re all alive and well. All of us, Norka, Irka, Zygu, my friends, my family. And today I want to speak with you as a free person still. Today I’m like everyone else … Tomorrow, along with other Jews, I’ll have to start wearing a white armband. To you I will always remain the same Renia, a friend, but to others I will become someone inferior, I will become someone wearing a white armband with a blue star. I will be a Jude.
I’m not crying or complaining. I have resigned myself to my fate. It just feels so strange and sorrowful. My school vacation and my dates with Zygu are coming to an end. I don’t know when I’ll see him next. Everyone is working today. No news about Mama. God protect us all.
Goodbye, dear Diary. I’m writing this while I’m still independent and free. Tomorrow I’ll be someone else—but only on the outside. And perhaps one day I’ll greet you as someone else still. Grant me that, Lord God, I believe in You. You will help me, Buluś and God!
JULY 3, 1941, THURSDAY
Nothing new so far. We wear the armbands, listen to terrifying and consoling news and worry about being sealed off in a ghetto.
He visited me today! Do you hear? I thought I’d go mad with joy, and … confusion. He’s working at the clinic, dressing wounds, so there’s practice without theory. He’s sweet and wonderful, as always. It’s a shame he can’t go to university now. He’d be an excellent doctor. But he will be one anyway, you’ll see. We’ve arranged to meet tomorrow at the clinic. It seems a little strange, but why not? Even now that we’re wearing these armbands—the thing is to be with him.
The border is supposed to open on the 7th, ah, I want Buluś to come so ardently, with my whole heart. Buluś, come. God, bring Mama, let her be with us for better and for worse. Buluś, come. Zygmunt’s wonderful. You will help me, Buluś and God!
JULY 6, 1941, SUNDAY
Days pass … The other day I didn’t see Zygu—it was my fault, yes, my fault. Today I had work (physical, of course), one gets bread for it, I also got potatoes, that is I have had a victory in the field of provisioning. I’m very tired, but less with work than with missing Mom and Zygu. I miss them so much, I’m dying of yearning. When? You will help me, Buluś and God!
JULY 11 OR 12, 1941, FRIDAY14
One loses track of time now. Today I finally saw him. It was, however, a meeting at a distance, and Maciek was there, so naturally nothing much happened.
Z’s working at the polyclinic, changing dressings, stitching wounds and doing other horrible things; they call him doctor. He told me to come to the clinic and have him called, but I’m embarrassed again and I don’t know whether I will go.
But what news I’ve had! I learned from Z’s cousin that he took special care of my notebook with poems and did not let anyone touch it. Comical—I ran away with you and his photograph, and he with my notebook. He said this about me (just listen, isn’t it about me?), “My woman is subtle.”
Where Irka works, so does Z’s cousin and many friends from his
tenement; they all want to meet me, they know my name is Rena and that I’m “Zygu’s woman.” I’m horribly embarrassed, because I don’t like such fuss, and most of all I don’t like to be observed. I’ll try to pop over there, but I doubt whether I can make a decent impression, usually I come across as either an uncouth barbarian or an idiot. But I shall see? Still, you will always remain my friend, and Z too. You will help me, Buluś and God.
JULY 15, 1941, WEDNESDAY*
Today was very eventful. Namely, in the morning I met Z, and how? I was wandering around the clinic, saw Maciek and he called for Z, who was already at home. We talked and walked for a long time (and because of Z, without armbands). Our walk almost had a tragic conclusion; a policeman approached Z, asked about his nationality and passport. Z said he was Polish and had no passport, and then they both disappeared. I heard it was to the police station, so I ran like mad there and back; hard to describe what I experienced then, the despair, the fear, the guilt etc. Everything ended well. I saw Z in a doctor’s coat (suits him so wonderfully) and rubber gloves.
This event, though it’s very distressing, is another brick in the mansion of our love.
In the afternoon I went to the clinic, brave as you like, and met Z (with minor complications). We went for a long walk and it was very, very good. Oh yes, I gave him cigarettes and sweets, a fortune these days! That Z is the most wonderful, the most lovable of all. Tomorrow we are to see each other in M’s garden. Z is to pick me up. So I’m waiting … for Z and for Mom (this is my whole life). Bye, good night and good day, Rena.
NEXT DAY, THURSDAY*
Yes, I did meet him. He came with Maciek. M left to see Julek, and Zygu and I went for a walk. It’s good to write down the details, but today I’ll try to relay a few fragments and think aloud a bit, that is on paper. I say fragments, because it is hard for me to describe a three-hour-long conversation. You know, it’s no use writing at all, it should be filmed, and on color film too, so you could see how green his eyes and red his lips are, how unwell—but wonderful—he looks.
Fragments of the film: That he doesn’t have anyone anywhere in Jarosław etc., thinks about his family, has no male friends either, and … female, “Ah, I knew this was what you meant” (well, despite everything I did not ask about the one in the photograph, but I will), later that he would certainly be able to keep me and that I wouldn’t break free from him. Then that he wants to use me to learn how to make injections and that one day he’ll do something about my nose and perhaps my height. He picked a fly out of my eye and do you know, it’s even pleasant when flies fall into my eyes if it’s Z who is taking them out. Later about the graduation exam and what “he will do with me,” and at the end—that we can die together, holding hands, and share a grave. What do you think, it’s very touching indeed, but sad. If there really was a shared grave like that, and us inside, joined in the last, but eternal embrace, and on it the words:
here lie those …
who were in love
who will not be moved
by any command
who will no longer be parted
who are joined together by death’s hand
Yes, but not now, now one still has to live, has to strive, try, has to leave something to the world. One has to, for perhaps … one creates happiness, and then come the blessings of the world, of God and people, and one departs with the sense of a duty fulfilled. Z, you probably think otherwise—more wisely. But I think in this maternal way and because, as you say yourself, I am a little too calm. Yes, I know, I’m like a fat stretching cat. Why do I feel sorrow now, a strange, vague and unfounded sorrow—ah, yes, Dido. So, apart from that, I think about them all day long, and at night I also dream of them both, Mom and him. And I know that I would give them everything, and myself, and my soul, because I feel that I love those two beings the most, I feel they’re closest and dearest to me. When I walk the distant streets with Zygu (such irony of fate, we’re uncertain if we’ll live, the city’s destroyed, war, horrible uncertainty, white armbands), I’m happy, it feels good, and I’d like to grasp, to pin down “something,” something that is, and is not—but is. I walk and look at wonderfully green eyes and listen to words, ironic at times (because we are having an ironic conversation), and that normal world that I know so much about … the horrors of war … seems a happy one to me. And this state is not only selfishness (selfishness, i.e., Zygu and I), for example: I laugh. Z says I’m laughing at him, although he knows that’s not the case, and after a minute we speak at the same time. Z, “Laugh if it gives you pleasure, and whenever you can.” Me, “I won’t laugh, because it distresses you,” and we both burst out laughing. In such a state of mind one wants everybody to be happy, wants things to work out beautifully between Nora and Julek B., Irka and Henek, Arianka and Rysiek, and every girl with her beloved; one wants all those loves to mature and turn into exemplary, loving marriages. “It’s madness to think like this today,” do you think I don’t know what you want to tell me, old friend. Yes, but lovers are always mad, because love is madness, and madness is life. So may it be good for all of us, may I soon kiss again, and may Zygu always remain the way he is now! If I could, I would sing some mighty hymn to praise God, love and the world, but I couldn’t, so I hum in my heart!
Be merry, friend, and laugh
embrace the passersby
feel good enough to cry,
“I’m living,” that’s enough!
And a strange crowd crept out
From cellars hot and damp
A swarm of pale gaunt faces
eyes shone like a lamp
a starving swarm that faints and sways
crept from the rubble, and see
They all fell into a strange wild craze
and laughed in a hysterical haze
and … felt happy
see the one who sat on a pile of rubble
he has no kids, no wife, no home
he poured the vodka in his mouth
and puked his blood out in wild laughter
he clung to every passerby
and howled, “I live, that’s what I’m after!”
JULY 18, 1941, FRIDAY
A meeting. Again, another one similar to all the other ones, but still separately wonderful. Zygu almost kissed me in Maciek’s presence, and Maciek—in Zygu’s. I will point out that Z was very angry. He dismissed Arianka, dragged me upstairs (so beautiful in that white coat), and then we went for a walk.
As usual, we talked of the war, of medicine, compliments and eyes. I know we’re both still waiting, this can be surmised from his various allusions. I’m an awful coward. I try to overcome it, but it is very hard. Z is sulking that I don’t trust the strength of his arms and his protective wings. We also spoke about the future. We always do, and we mean by it, although vaguely (at least I do), our shared future. I blurted out one very spiteful thing, i.e., that he wants to get rid of me with his nervous yawning. Then he drew me to himself so strongly, and so close, that … I don’t know. But when I told him that my cousin was coming, well—he got very embarrassed. In the past we had a place but we didn’t know how, and now we know how, but we haven’t got a place; and I’m certain we are both waiting. You know, it’s so idiotic, I am suffused with happy meetings, I string them on the gray thread of my life like wonderful, gleaming pearls, I string them all, equal, smooth, round, and sometimes they grow and strive, strive tirelessly toward that main one, the huge, most beautiful one. It’s true what I told you, I’m incurably sick, and you know full well what with, Zygu, because you didn’t ask me about it, only laughed, and how—divinely, charmingly. There is something wonderful that one can’t write about, it’s just what I feel and what I try to express with words in vain, because I’d distort it. Z adores children, he introduced me to this little, sweet thing he frightens with injections. I am grateful to God that Zygu exists and grateful to Zygu that our love exists, and grateful to love that she sets hearts on fire, grateful to hearts that they can love. And you see, e
verything comes down to this enchanted word: love. We are to see each other on Monday, “even if there’s a downpour.” Ah, if only Mom could arrive before Monday, oooh … You will help me, Buluś and God!
NEXT DAY, SATURDAY! (JULY 19, 1941)
Those accidental meetings are rather unpleasant. Was it not better only on Monday? How much better? I wouldn’t have been in this mood, there would’ve been no tears and the heart wouldn’t have ached so. I feel better now, because I’d vented a little before I told you—but earlier, a while ago, I was squirming in the sort of pain every loving and every jealous girl suffers. And I myself broke the string I was so joyfully filling with pearls. The “happy company” broke it, that Lidka who imposes herself on him with her sweetness, and his whole behavior, and Maciek saying that he wants to move to dentistry on her account (you don’t know her and I don’t know her, but she hasn’t played any part in my life yet and I hope she doesn’t) and my stupid, scandalous behavior.
Yes, I am stupid, I was punished for being so happy, for screaming happiness. It’s better now and there’s less bitterness in my writing, but I remember, remember how much it hurt. The whole fault lies with me and the jealousy, which I will try to eradicate. All this compensated me a little for Irka’s desires and that she kissed Zygu’s hand and that he is to feed her. God sent me this little creature as a consolation … I don’t know when … I’ll see you. Lida is horrible. You will help me, Buluś and God!
Renia's Diary Page 15