Mother and Me

by Julian Padowicz

  “Keep her upright till I’ve fixed a tourniquet,” the major was saying. “Fredek, give me your belt.” I saw Fredek pulling his cloth belt out of its loops. I was deeply envious.

  Suddenly it dawned on me. That had not been a glove in her hand. There had been no hand. That had been her hand and wrist, hanging by strands of flesh from her forearm.

  And I suddenly saw my field of view narrowing, like in a tunnel, and felt a numbness coming over my body.

  “Yulian! Yulian!” my mother was shouting. “You’re all wet!”

  For a moment I thought I had wet my pants. But I realized I was wet all over.

  “You’re all sweating,” Mother said.

  “Get off him,” I heard Miss Bronia command. “Give him some air.”

  I had a great feeling of shame. Fredek was helping to tend to the wounded woman, and I, who was six months older, who had talked so much with Kiki about going to care for the wounded, was lying here under the truck feeling faint. And I didn’t even have a belt for a tourniquet—my pants were held up by buttons on my shirt.

  Mother crawled off me. “I’ll take him,” Miss Bronia said. She put an arm around my shoulders and tried to ease me towards the back of the truck. I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to go and be taken care of while Fredek was helping take care of wounded people. I hid my face in the crook of my elbow.

  “Let’s just stay here awhile, then,” Miss Bronia said. I felt her cover me with her cardigan sweater.

  Lying there, I realized now that there were many voices crying, voices helping—Here, let’s turn him over gently … Help me lay her down … Hold your hand like this … and then, Oh, he’s dead … No, he isn’t … Where is she? What happened to her? Oh, my God! … The bastards. They’re shooting at civilians … They want to kill us all… Hail Mary full of grace …

  After a few minutes I let Miss Bronia help me back into the truck. She had me sit on the bench beside her and held her arm around me. “Here, drink some cocoa.” She held the thermos up and then wiped the mouth of it with the hem of her skirt. I took a sip. “Would you like me to tell you a story?” she asked. I was not in a mood for giants and witches, but I didn’t want to refuse her offer. I nodded my head. Then Miss Bronia proceeded to tell a story I had never heard before. It was about a toy stuffed bear and the boy who owned him and some other toy animals including a pig, a tiger, and a donkey. But there was no witch or jealous stepmother or evil king or hungry wolf in this story, and not one of the characters wanted to cause harm to any of the others—not even the tiger—except that once the bear wanted some honey that wasn’t his. I had never heard a story like that before. I couldn’t wait to tell Kiki about it.

  And then I realized that Kiki, too, may have been machine-gunned on her way to the city where we were scheduled to meet. Kiki would be coming by train. Did they machine-gun trains. Did bullets penetrate the sides of railway cars? Did they drop bombs on trains?

  The idea of something befalling Kiki on her way to our rendezvous now occurred to me for the first time. Suddenly a wave of fear moved outward from somewhere between my heart and where I believed my stomach to be.

  “Yulian, you’re shaking,” I heard Miss Bronia say, and she sounded as though she were on the other side of a closed door. I felt a blanket being wrapped around my shoulders. I realized my teeth were chattering and I was suddenly cold. And I was sweating again.

  “He’s so delicate,” I heard Mother saying apologetically. Miss Bronia was cradling my head and shoulders in her arms like a baby, and I realized I must have fainted completely. I tried to sit up, but Miss Bronia held me down. “Just rest a little longer,” she said.

  “He was just very scared,” I heard Auntie Edna saying. “You see, he’s just fine now. Bronia is a genius with children.”

  “He is all right, isn’t he?” I heard Mother ask.

  “Yes, Mrs. Waisbrem, he’s all right. He’s just very upset,” Miss Bronia said.

  “Miss Bronia, I will give you a hundred zloty if you stay with him.”

  “That’s not necessary, Missus,” Miss Bronia said. I could tell from her tone that Miss Bronia was impatient with Mother the way Kiki sometimes was. “I’ll just hold him for awhile,” she said.

  Then I realized that the truck was moving again. Mother crawled back to her seat over the bags. Across the way, Fredek was sitting beside his mother with spots on his shirt that I realized were blood. He made no effort to wipe them off. Nobody was talking.

  I started to sit up again. “Just rest awhile longer,” Miss Bronia said in her kind voice. I closed my eyes and let her hold me.

  Then I was sitting beside Miss Bronia again, as the truck made its wobbly way forward. Mother had sat down now beside Auntie Edna. The major’s wife and Auntie Paula, I realized, were not with us. Had something happened to them? No, I had seen them both after the attack. Had there been another attack while I was unconscious? That would have been too embarrassing. Or were they sitting up front with the driver and the major? Held tight against Miss Bronia’s side, I could not see out of our partially open door. Fredek kept lowering his face to look at the blood spots drying on his shirt.

  I was aware that I had not experienced any more feelings regarding Kiki since regaining consciousness. Kiki might already be dead, I said deliberately in my own mind. But, strangely, the words had no impact. She might have had her hand severed by machine gun bullets like that poor woman—or a foot, or a leg. I tried to make myself visualize these conditions, but, still, I had no feelings about it. That wave of fear for Kiki’s safety that I had felt before falling unconscious, I could remember it, but I could no longer feel it. Why was that? What was happening to me?

  After a while, the truck stopped again. Auntie Paula appeared at the rear of the truck. “I told Dembovski to stop here so he could rest,” she explained. “He drove all night and now all morning.”

  “That’s a good idea,” my mother said.

  “Besides which, I need my cigarettes,” Auntie Paula added. She laughed as she said it, but it didn’t sound as though she really found it funny.

  There were trees beside the road. “Everyone find a bush,” Auntie Edna was saying as we climbed down from the truck. There was a jolly tone to her voice too, and it didn’t sound any more real than Auntie Paula’s. “Fredek, stay close,” she added.

  “Yulek, stay close to Fredek,” my mother called.

  I saw Fredek heading into the trees and followed. He stopped by a large tree and began digging into the leg opening of his shorts. Not wishing to intrude on his privacy, I walked to a tree a few yards further. In a moment, I saw Fredek walk past me to a still further tree. It took me a moment to understand his purpose—he wanted to go further from the truck than I did. Unlike the matter of helping the wounded, this was only a silly game. I let him have his silly way. When I had finished, I simply turned around and walked back.

  “Where is Fredek?” his mother asked when I came back to the truck.

  “He’s going to the bathroom, Auntie Edna,” I said.

  “Weren’t you two together?” my mother asked.

  “Well, yes, but he went farther than I did.”

  “Farther?” Auntie Edna asked.

  “Well…”

  “Fredek!” Auntie Edna called. The alarm in her voice was real. “Fredek, can you hear me?!”

  “For godsakes, Edna, he’ll be right out,” Auntie Paula said.

  “Would Missus like me to find him?” Miss Bronia asked.

  “That’s nonsense,” Auntie Paula said. “He’ll come out by himself when he’s through doing his business.”

  “Why didn’t you stay with your cousin?” my mother asked.

  “I’ll go look,” Miss Bronia said.

  “There may be animals,” Auntie Edna said.

  “Don’t be stupid,” Auntie Paula said. I didn’t like Auntie Paula.

  Miss Bronia took me by the hand. “Show me where you went,” she said. I headed straight into the trees, the way we had g
one before.

  “I think it was this tree,” I said, pointing to the one I thought he had stopped at first. Sure enough, it was still wet. “I went to that one,” I said, pointing to my tree, “and then Fredek went to that one.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes.” I didn’t want to go into explanations.

  “Oh, I see,” she said. “Fredek! Fredek!” she called, “it’s time to go back!”

  We waited in vain for a response. “Fredek, I’m not playing now!” Miss Bronia called, her voice more serious than before. There was still no answer.

  “Fre …” she began again, but was cut off by the a-a-a-a-a! of Fredek’s machine gun sound behind us.

  “You’re both dead!” he said as we turned to face him. He had stepped out from behind a tree, an imaginary sub-machine gun shaking in his hands.

  “That’s not funny, Fredek,” Miss Bronia said. It was the first time I had heard her disapproval. “Do an about-face right now and forward march!”

  Fredek turned on his heel and began marching back toward the road. As we saw him walk out into the clear, I felt Miss Bronia squeeze my hand a little. “What were you doing, Fredek?” she whispered in a shrill little, make-believe cry, just for me to hear. “I was so worried!”

  Immediately we heard Auntie Edna’s voice. “What were you doing there? We were all worried something had happened to you!” Miss Bronia and I both laughed silently. I laughed out of happiness because I knew now that Miss Bronia didn’t really like Fredek more than me.

  When Miss Bronia and I came out of the trees, Auntie Edna was leaning with her back against the truck and her fingers against her forehead. The other two mothers had their backs to us and were saying something to her. Fredek was just disappearing inside the truck.

  The road was full of people, as before, with wagons and people on foot, all moving at the same rate, and in the same direction as we were pointed. In the distance there was the now-familiar pop-popping of guns or bombs or both. A man in suit pants and an undershirt passed by at a brisk walk holding a suitcase on his head. I couldn’t help laughing. He looked at me reprovingly as he hurried by. I saw Mr. Dembovski, our driver, checking something on one of the rear tires of the truck. He had a cigarette between his lips. I wondered what had become of the major and his wife.

  Suddenly, I saw Mr. Dembovski jump onto the running board of our truck. In an instant he had opened the door and was inside the cab. The truck rocked slightly, and then Mr. Dembovski backed out again. He was pulling someone with him. He had the man by the coat lapels, and he dragged him out onto the dirt and almost into the drainage ditch. Had the man been trying to steal our truck?

  Lying on the ground now with Mr. Dembovski kneeling over him, the man held his hands up in surrender. He was breathing hard and I thought he looked very frightened. Mr. Dembovski got to his feet shaking his head. The other man didn’t try to get up. He had on a gray tweed suit with knickerbockers and high socks, a common fashion at that time. He had a longish face and straight dark hair parted on one side and pomaded in place. Now some of it hung over one eye, not unlike the pictures we had seen of Adolph Hitler, except for the little mustache. I saw that he was talking quickly. Our driver said something and jerked his head to one side in a gesture clearly directing him to leave. The man got to his feet, pulled a cap of the same gray tweed from an inside jacket pocket, placed it on his head with both hands, and proceeded to brush off his knickered trousers. He said something more to the driver, who made the same head-jerking gesture as before. The man said something again, and I saw our driver make a fist and shake it at the man.

  “What is it, Dembovski?” I heard my mother’s voice behind me. She and Auntie Edna were standing by the back of the truck. I saw Fredek and Sonya standing together and laughing.

  The man in the knickerbocker suit turned his head towards my mother. He whipped the cap from his head and quickly walked towards her. “My name is Herman Lupicki, Missus, and I am the second assistant manager in the Shoe Store of Goldfarb,” he said. “I thought your truck had been abandoned. I simply desire transportation with you, esteemed ladies, because my home, as well as the store have been bombed.” He spoke quickly, without pause, as though afraid of providing an opportunity for a negative response. “I have no money to pay for such transportation, but I can provide additional protection, since there are unscrupulous people who are forcing their way into vehicles along the way.”

  “Who is this man?” Auntie Paula asked. She and Miss Bronia had just come up.

  The man turned to face them. “My name is Herman Lupicki, Missus, and I am the second assistant manager of the Shoe Store of Goldfarb,” he repeated. “I desire transportation with you in your vehicle. I will sit up front with your driver and provide added protection against ruffians who are right now forcing their way into slow-moving vehicles and taking them over.”

  “I was sitting up front,” Auntie Paula said.

  Mr. Dembovski, I saw, was standing by the front of the truck, lighting another cigarette and keeping a watchful eye on this Mr. Lupicki.

  “It is really dangerous for fine ladies like yourselves, and with small children, to be traveling in such a truck with just one man to protect you,” Mr. Lupicki went on. “They see just one man, and they try to take advantage. I, myself, thought your truck had been abandoned.” The women were surrounding him now, and, crushing his cap in both hands in front of his chest, he turned from one to the other as he spoke.

  “We had another man with us,” Mother explained, “an army major even, but he was under orders to report to Lublin.”

  The man waited patiently while Mother spoke, but went on again as soon as she had finished. “Just my presence in the front seat, Missus, will be a deterrent. I am also skilled at driving an automobile. I can assist your driver, and in the event of a burst tire I can be of quite valuable help as well.”

  “Where is it that you want to go?” Auntie Paula asked him.

  “Esteemed lady, I want to go where everyone is going, far enough from the city to be out of the way of the bombing. They are bombing the cities, you know, to make people leave and fill up the roads so the army can’t travel. They bomb and strafe us along the way to keep us moving. Your truck can’t move any faster than people on foot right now, which, of course, is exactly the goal the Germans want to achieve. But when you get further from the city, you will be able to roll faster, and you can eventually get to where you are going. And you, esteemed ladies, can drop me anywhere along the way that you wish or, if you desire it, I shall stay with you to your final destination. As I said, I have no specific destination of my own.”

  “If he sits up front with Dembovski…” Mother said. “He’s right. People will see him through the window sitting there. And having a second man along can always help.”

  “How do we know we can trust him?” Auntie Paula asked.

  “Esteemed lady, I am the second assistant manager of the Shoe Store of Goldfarb. I am accustomed to serving the feet of fine gentlemen and ladies. I assure you of my total benignity.”

  “I think it will be all right,” Mother said.

  “I no longer own anything except what I carry about my person,” he quickly added. “I had a suitcase, but I had to drop it when the German Stukas came and we ran for the woods. And when it was over, my suitcase was gone.”

  “All right,” Mother said. “Go sit up front with Dembovski.”

  “Basia, you shouldn’t have done that,” Auntie Paula said when the man had gone. “I don’t trust him—he doesn’t look right to me.”

  “Eh, it’s wartime,” Auntie Edna said, with a wave of her hand. “Nobody looks right.”

  “Well, it’s done,” Mother said. “So shouldn’t we be on our way again?” We climbed back into the truck.

  “We need to talk about how we make decisions,” Auntie Paula said when we were moving again.

  “Not in front of the children,” Auntie Edna said.

  “It won’t hurt the children to hear
this,” Auntie Paula said. “We are three adult women, mothers, each with a child to take care of, and there is a war going on. None of us knows what’s going to happen next or what’s the best thing to do about it.”

  “Yes, but please not in front of the children, Paula.”

  “It’ll do them good to hear this. It’s a lesson about life.”

  “What Paula is trying to say,” my mother said, “is that she wants to be the one to make the decisions.”

  “Please, Basia,” Auntie Edna said, “we’ll talk about all this later.”

  “I heard you complaining about how Mrs. Solecki was giving all the orders,” my mother went on, ignoring Auntie Edna. “Mrs. Solecki is the wife of a major and she’s lived through one war already. But Paula couldn’t stand Mrs. Solecki giving directions.”

  Even though Auntie Edna didn’t want us to hear what they were saying, I understood that this was a grownup conversation and they had a right to their privacy. I was rather proud of reaching this conclusion and tried not to listen.

  But that was hard to do. I heard Auntie Paula say to my mother, “You think you’re a princess because everyone has always treated you like one. Well, this is a different world.”

  “For heavensakes, Paula!” Auntie Edna said.

  For a while, nobody said anything. Though I had decided to give the mothers their privacy, I could not help thinking about how much nicer Auntie Edna, who didn’t want to argue, was than either Auntie Paula or my mother.

  “He’s got a gun,” I heard Fredek say.

  “What did you say?” his mother asked.

  “He has a gun,” Fredek repeated.

  Auntie Edna looked at Auntie Paula, then at Mother.

  “Who has a gun?” Auntie Paula asked.

  “That man, Mr. Lupicki. I saw it inside his coat. It’s very small and has a white handle.”

  “You didn’t really see it,” Miss Bronia said with a little laugh in her voice. But I could tell by her tone that she wasn’t really sure.