Yesterday's Tomorrow

by Guy Rosmarin

  “Will you make yourself available for me, doc?”

  “You know I’m going to be a married man soon…gotta make good use of my free time before that window closes.”

  “Sounds like you need this more than I do. Now tell me where you’re parked.”

  “Right there, by the corner.” Nate jotted down a number on the back of a card he pulled out of his pocket before he got out of the car. “I’m sure you have it, but here’s Sarah’s number, just in case.”

  Chapter 22

  Andy dropped his briefcase on the kitchen table and pulled a two-inch pastrami sub from the brown paper bag. He devoured it in seconds and went for a second, a turkey sub, after which he was still a little hungry but chose to restrain himself. “Thanks Henry,” he said, staring at the brown paper bag after placing it in his nearly empty refrigerator. “Seems like you know me better than I do.”

  His instincts drew him to the coffee pot, still half full with cold remains from the morning. He rinsed the pot and disposed of the dirty filter, but the smell of the wet grounds reminded him he still had three ounces of espresso flowing in his veins, plenty to keep him caffeinated for this late round of evaluations. When he put the pot back, he noticed the blinking 12:00 on the coffee-maker time display. It can’t be, he panicked for a moment, but a glance at his wristwatch confirmed it was not midnight yet, only a little after nine thirty. “What’s wrong with all the digital clocks in this place,” he muttered. The answer hit him as he reset the clock. Rolling blackouts, it made perfect sense, his apartment was not excluded.

  Four hours later, Andy crossed the last name off on his student list. He let out a long yawn, with his arms stretched high above his head, and packed the evaluation sheets into a big green binder. He was exhausted. Walking to the bedroom, he could barely keep his eyes open, but when he started unbuttoning his shirt, the realization that laying his head on the pillow would grant him more than just a good night sleep sunk in.

  He had been waiting for that moment since the day began, but now that the moment was here, he wasn’t sure he was ready to go back. A look at the fresh set of sleepers he was about to put on attested to it. Going to bed in his pajamas was not an option, knowing that whatever he had on (or lack of it) made the leap with him. He needed something that would help him mix well in the crowd, not stick out, so he put his sleepwear back in the drawer and searched his wardrobe for more appropriate attire. Digging deep into his closet, he pulled out an old dark suit. He unfolded the pants and measured the waistline against his own, wondering when was the last time he wore it. He could not remember, but the fit was just about right when he put it on. Not as loose as he had expected, but not too tight either. He slapped the jacket over his white T-shirt and covered it with his wool overcoat. No need for a blanket tonight.

  He buttoned up the overcoat and tried to think of anything else he could add to his costume. “Ah-ha,” he spotted his grandfather’s old fedora hat on the rack above the hanger bar. He had to hop to reach it. All these years he kept it up there as a souvenir, something to remember his beloved grandfather by, never meaning to actually wear it someday. He patted off a thin layer of dust from the brim and put it on. He glanced at the mirror and gave it his best Humphrey Bogart posture, but the thought he was about to go to bed in this old-timer outfit called for a bitter wink. “I’m losing it,” he shook his head and looked down at his feet. “Shoes, I need shoes,” he said. But instead of finding a pair to match the suit, he slapped on a pair of comfortable sneakers.

  A feeling of skewed comfort came along with the darkness that engulfed him. For the first time, he felt like he was in a familiar place in the midst of the nothingness. When his eyesight returned, he found himself right where he thought he would be, on the steel plates connecting the two coach cars. The train was parked in a large terminal and disembarking was in full progress. Andy entered the car in front of him and followed the last few passengers out. Once he made it to the platform, he quickly merged with the exiting crowd to avoid drawing attention from the uniformed men scattered in the station.

  The main concourse was grim and gray, no colors, no light, like the people packed inside with their children and baggage. Andy felt the devastating presence of war infused in the thick air as he searched for clues to his whereabouts. Warsaw—he finally caught sight of a big sign in German next to a smaller one in Polish. A familiar face he thought he had encountered in one of the cars while fleeing from his pursuers gave him further reassurance that he was on the right track. But with hundreds of people going in and out of the station and no sign of a skinny, dark-haired girl carrying a violin case, he knew his chances of finding her were diminishing with every passing second. It suddenly occurred to him she was carrying no luggage. She’d be the first one out. He spotted the exit sign and scrambled his way through the crowd. Once he was under the twilight sky, he parked himself in a quiet street corner overlooking the terminal main entrance and surveyed the outgoing traffic. He stood guard for ten long minutes watching the crowd dwindle along with his hope before moving on to the main street facing the terminal. Walking passed a newsstand he caught a glimpse of the papers on display. The front pages were filled with the same reports about the Wehrmacht advancements on all the fronts, but all that Nazi propaganda did not concern him as much as the date printed at the top. April 11, 1941 was yesterday’s tomorrow, another reassuring sign that the train he just stepped out of was the same one he took from Prague. He figured he must have missed his violinist by minutes. Where are you, Helena Schultz? He looked left and right as far as his eyes could see.

  To the east, the gloomy street extended into a post-apocalyptic horizon under the fading lights of the early evening sky. Apart for the stabbing red Nazi swastika banners, everything around him was painted in shades of gray. Scattered debris and blackened stumps of apartment buildings were everywhere in sight. There was no trace of the old European charm. There was only dark melancholy. He was aware of the catastrophic fate that war had imposed on the Polish capital, but even his mastery of the subject did not prepare him for the shock of witnessing the bone-chilling ravages first hand. He took a deep breath and tried to force his way out of despair, but the sight of two officers in black leather overcoats standing by the terminal entrance opened the door to more unpleasant thoughts. Now his fear of being apprehended was overshadowed by concern for the girl’s fate. He narrowed it down to two scenarios; if she made it to Warsaw, she may be well on her way by now, and she had better chances of surviving the war than she did yesterday, and he may never see her again. At best, he could remind himself to look up Helena Schultz in the department’s database and see what that brings up. But if she was captured, the odds were very much against her. He did not wish to consider that option, but he knew he had to be realistic. They would torture her to death. He locked his eyes on the men in black. The answer lies with them. He couldn’t take any chances. He had to get that answer even if it meant turning himself in.

  Less than a hundred yards separated Andy from the men when he started his approach. The shiny Gestapo insignia on their uniform pulled fresh memories of his session with Doctor Pain back to the surface. He came to terms with the sacrifice he had to make, another night of mental anguish for a chance to save her life, but he could still feel his heart pounding in his temples as he got closer. It was only a matter of seconds before he made eye contact and felt a strong impulse to break the tension and just get it over with, but right before he confronted the men, he heard his name being called. The voice was so faint, he thought it was in his head. Then he heard it again, loud and clear. It seemed to have stirred the Gestapo’s attention as well. One of them locked eyes with him. Andy froze on the spot for a brief second and looked away. He turned around slowly and began to walk in the direction of the voice.

  The pedestrian traffic was mild, and no one showed any interest in him. It seemed that everyone was walking away from the station…except for one figure, standi
ng still right at the corner where he held his lookout post minutes earlier. At first, all he could see was a shadow, but when he got closer, she stepped into the light, with her long dark her flowing in the wind and a violin case tucked against her chest. Andy’s eyes opened wide as a heat wave surged up his spine, but he kept a slow steady pace, hoping not to draw attention from behind.

  Chapter 23

  “I knew it was you,” she said. Andy nodded, twitching his lips to a smile. He wanted to hug her but sensed the confusion and uncertainty in her eyes as she looked him over.

  “The men behind me,” he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “are they still looking?” She glanced over his shoulders

  “What men?”

  “Gestapo officers in black, over by the terminal main entrance.”

  “Yes, I see them. They’re not looking.”

  “I still think it’ll be best if we get out of their sight.” Andy grabbed her hand and pulled her away from the busy street. “Just keep walking with me,” he whispered. She did not resist. Once he felt they were a safe distance away, he slowed down and let go of her hand.

  “They held the train for hours. When I saw one of them carrying the uniform...I thought they had you.” She turned her eyes to the ground for a brief moment.

  Andy shrugged and shoved his hands in his coat pockets. “Did they suspect you at all?”

  She shook her head. “It seemed like it was you they were after. Like you said.” She forced a smile and stopped walking. “I’m afraid I have to go back the other way.”

  “Back to the station?”

  She nodded. “Home is another train away.” Andy looked back. “Are you coming home with me?” Her inquiry sounded more like an invitation.

  “I’ll see that you get to your train safely.”

  “It’s okay. The local trains leave from a different part of the station, but if I don’t hurry, I will miss the last one for the day.”

  The local terminal mounted to a single platform between two tracks. They stood waiting amidst a crowd of scattered refugees; rugged women clinging to their children and earthly possessions, elderly folk, and livestock. Andy tried to absorb the scents and colors as the sun set in the horizon

  “The train to Moscow?” The girl’s voice pulled him out of his pensive mode.

  “Moscow?”

  “Is that what you are looking for? You said it is safer in Russia.”

  “Yes, I did say that, and I still think Russia is a safer place for you...”

  “What about you?”

  “Me? I’ll be fine no matter what happens. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  “But where are you planning to go?”

  “I’ll find a way to pass the next five or six hours,” Andy mumbled. The girl swiftly turned away, as if startled by his words, and ran down the narrow platform.

  “Where are you going?” Andy cried after her. Is it something I said?

  “Tickets,” she yelled back. “The train is coming.”

  The steam engine whistle pierced through the ruckus as the words left her lips. Andy turned around and watched the train approaching the station. When she came back, a red blush colored her pale cheeks and her dark brown eyes glittered in the evening sun. She was smiling right at him. For the first time, he sensed genuine joy in her. He smiled back, but the heartwarming moment was bittersweet. Seeing her smile meant she no longer needed him and their time together was about to expire.

  “So, this is it,” Andy pointed his chin to the opening door of the car in front of them.

  “This is not goodbye.” The girl grabbed his hand and pulled him in with the crowd. Andy tried to resist but her grip was too firm, and before he knew it, they were in the center of the crowded aisle. He looked back at the door with confusion. The way out was completely blocked. “Here,” she waved two boarding tickets at him. “One for me and one for you.”

  “Huh,” Andy stared at the tickets with further confusion. “I can’t let you do that.”

  “Too late. Ticket is already paid for, and the train is leaving.”

  He shoved his hands into the empty pockets of his wool coat. “No, really. I have no money to pay you.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she gave him an angry stare. “What I paid for train ticket is nothing compared to what I owe you.”

  “You don’t owe me anything. I just happened to be around…”

  “Sit!” she cut him short, pushing him in to a vacant row. “Ticket was not very expensive. My station is only an hour away.”

  The steam engine announced its departure from Warsaw with two loud whistles and began to pull out of the station under the rapidly darkening evening sky. Andy noticed the calm expression on his companion’s face. She turned to him and smiled. He wasn’t sure where he was going or why, but he knew he was doing exactly what he wanted to do and there was nothing wrong with it. After all, it was his dream. He smiled back at her. There was no sign of German soldiers or any SS officials on board, and for the first time since the dream took over his nights, he felt he was not being chased or watched over. But the absence of eccentric urgency for continuous pragmatic planning imposed a new challenge; he had to come up with a way to fill the silent space with small talk.

  “So, Helena,” he said. She turned to him with a mellow smile. “Is it not your name?”

  She slowly shook her head. “No,” she said and her smile faded. “My real name is Sarah. Sarah Birrenboim. I just wasn’t sure if you…”

  “It’s okay, Sarah. I understand. I would do the same if I were you.” She clung to the handle of the violin case and tried to keep her smile up and wide, but she couldn’t help her eyes from tearing. “You said it was very special,” he said, trying to change topics. She slowly turned to him with a look of uncertainty. “The violin,” he said and glanced at the case “you said it was special.” Sarah nodded. “The way you played it last night sounded like…” Andy tried to find simple words to express his ecstatic experience, “Well, I’ve never heard anything like that.”

  “It was made in Italy many years ago.”

  “A Stradivarius?” Andy’s eyes opened wide. Sarah nodded.

  “Were you in the concert hall last night?” She slowly raised her head. Andy felt the tension in her voice.

  “Was it last night? It feels like it was years ago. I took advantage of the outfit I borrowed and I snuck in to see the show,” Andy smiled, but quickly noticed she was not amused by his jest. “Well, I can only say that your playing was brilliant and I was truly touched by it.” He sobered his tone. Sarah forced a smile and gave another nod. Andy did the same. His attempt to break the ice was not working. Better keep your mouth shut. He let his smile gradually fade and slowly turned away.

  “This is our station,” Sarah broke the long silence when the train came to a stop. Andy was somewhat hesitant to continue imposing his intimidating presence on her, now that it was clear she was safe on her own, but Sarah did not give him much choice. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of his seat when he refrained to get up on his own. He could see the blush on her cheeks and spark of joy in her eye as he followed her out, but he didn’t have the confidence to jump-start their conversation.

  They were the only two to get off at the station. The train howled away into the evening, leaving them on a desolate platform lit by a lonesome lamppost. The light was frail, but it was enough to expose the exhilaration that shone off of Sarah’s face. She closed her eyes and breathed in the sweet chilled air. “Home,” she whispered, cradling her violin case like it was her infant child. But her moment of rejoicing was disrupted by the sound of heavy boots clunking against the station platform. She instantly grabbed Andy’s hand and charged into the darkness. Andy tried his best to keep up as she scurried up a winding dirt road he could barely see. There was no light to guide their way apart from a slender crescent moon and few stars tha
t peered through the clouds, yet Sarah kept her steady pace. Even when the climb turned steep, she did not slow down. Andy could sense her struggle as she gasped for air with every step. Only when the gradient turned into a plateau did she finally allow herself to stop and catch her breath.

  “Something is wrong,” she whispered. “It’s too dark.”

  Andy stepped in from behind and stood next to her. “It could be a curfew.”

  “Curfew? No. The village is deserted. It’s not that late. Maybe nine. There’s no life in this place…” Sarah stood motionless, looking straight into the dark void.

  “Is this your house?” Andy tried to change the subject, pointing in the direction she was facing.

  “Do you see the house?”

  “Straight ahead, at the end of the road.”

  “Yes, that’s where it should be,” Sarah mumbled, then took a step forward, and another, and another, picking up her stride to a run.

  Chapter 24

  The lonely stone house stood at the edge of a precipice a distance away from the rest of the village. Even with just a splash of starlight, the view of the valley below was spectacular. But the house was stark and bleak, with nothing but cold darkness creeping through its windows. Andy walked through the broken gate and stopped a few steps behind Sarah. She stood on the stoop staring at the doorknob. She seemed more terrified than when she had a gun barrel pointed at her head the night before. Andy’s presence stirred her. She turned the knob. The door was unlocked. She pushed it open and disappeared inside.

  Andy knew better than to follow her in. He stood waiting outside, listening to her rapid footsteps clunking against wooden floors, going up and down stairs. “Mama? Tata? Gittel?” he heard her crying repeatedly until her voice died out. He stood by the door, waiting for her to come out or call him in, but when the minutes stretched and there was still no sign from her, he ventured into the darkness. A broken mezuzah dangling off the doorframe caught his eye. That can’t be a good sign. He froze. What little hope he had of finding anyone inside was gone. “Sarah,” he yelled. It was too dark to see, but he sensed the room was completely wrecked. The floor was covered with broken glass, scattered books, and debris. A band of silhouettes dancing on one of the walls to a flickering soft yellow glare stole his attention. “Sarah?” he cried out again. The shadows on the wall bounced to the beat of dull footsteps, but there was no response. He walked towards the display with cautious steps, trying not to step on anything that was once valuable. The light was coming from a stairwell shaft. Andy reached the ledge and looked down. A ghastly shadow grew bigger on the wall surrounding the stairs as the light grew brighter and the steps got louder. A light-spewing lantern came to view, nearly blinding him. He put his hand above his brow. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the blurry figure climbing up the stairs facing down with a bent back. He let out a sigh when he realized it was Sarah. She instantly looked up. Startled by his unexpected presence, she nearly lost her footing, but Andy was quick to catch her.