“Here. I promised to secure it for you,” she said, regarding the gold with an unreadable expression on her face. “It’s dental gold, but I asked my friend from the Sonderkommando to melt it for you, so it won’t cause any suspicion from the locals when you try to trade it for food. Now it’s unrecognizable. They won’t ask you any questions.”
Edek stared at it, unable to force himself to take it. It was Mala who took his hand in hers, placing the gold into it and closing his fist around it with desolate finality.
“Rotten business, buying food with dead people’s dental gold. Trust me, I know. But you two will need to survive to avenge those people who perished. They wouldn’t mind. Better you two put it to good use than the Nazis.”
“I suppose.” Edek’s words were a mere whisper. He smiled at Mala in sudden gratitude. “Thank you for being so logical about it.”
“I’m always logical. That’s why so many people think me to be so heartless.”
“You?” Edek pulled back in amazement. “Heartless?” It was inconceivable to him. She was one of the most selfless people he’d encountered in his short life.
From Mala, another indifferent shrug. “Yes. Heartless. That’s what a woman called me at the sickbay after I tried to explain it to her that I can’t possibly transfer everyone to a good detail. It wasn’t even the rejection itself that annoyed her; it was the way I explained my reasoning. I had just assigned a Slovak girl to a good detail, for farm work, so it was only a matter of good fortune, and fortune had it that the Slovak girl’s number was the first on the list, so she got in and the woman didn’t.”
Mala’s face turned pensive.
“I’ve never been an emotional person, you see. My father raised me differently. He taught me to rely on my intellect first and foremost and never act out of emotions. But that’s not how women are supposed to behave in society’s eyes. We’re supposed to be compassionate, empathetic, helpful, caring… And it’s not that I’m not any of these things; it’s the fact that I don’t show it on the outside. The woman in the sickbay accused me of refusing her with such a straight face. She accused me of not being sorry simply because I didn’t look sorry. But I never understood the point of showing emotions just for the sake of showing them. What would really change if I began to cry along with her and lament our common fate and drop to my knees and beg for her forgiveness? Absolutely nothing.”
Edek discovered that he was nodding enthusiastically while she was speaking. It made a lot of sense to him just then.
“For some reason, everyone has always assumed that I don’t feel anything just because I don’t express my feelings like a girl ought to. I do feel everything very deeply, but I simply don’t demonstrate my feelings to the entire world. If a problem arises, instead of crying and tearing my hair out, I sit down and try to come up with a viable solution.”
“Like you came up with a solution to mine.” Edek’s grin grew even wider.
Mala looked at him, somewhat surprised, but then the corners of her mouth turned upwards as well. “Yes. Like I came up with a solution to yours. I’m glad you see it that way. Many people hate a cold, logical mind in a woman.”
“Well, I think you have a wonderful mind. I wouldn’t love you as much if you were any different,” he blurted out and immediately stopped in horror, realizing what it was precisely that he’d just confessed to.
At first, Mala made no reply; simply regarding Edek with a mysterious smile growing slowly on her face. In the twilight of the room, her amber eyes looked almost black.
“No need to grow so deathly pale,” she commented at last. “I like you too.”
Even though she didn’t say “love,” Edek stared at her, grinning like an idiot, the forgotten gold lying in his open palm atop the tabletop. It mattered not what word she’d used; the emotion was in her eyes. An Auschwitz veteran, Mala expressed with her gaze all the words she was too fearful to utter. Forming attachments was a dangerous business in the grim world of the camp. It was best to distance oneself from the others… until one couldn’t fight one’s heart any longer, just like they couldn’t now.
“Do you have a friend waiting for you at home?” he probed carefully, holding his breath and not quite noticing it.
“A friend?” Mala arched her brow, amused. “I have a lot of friends waiting for me at home.”
“A boyfriend,” Edek was forced to clarify.
She was laughing softly now and he discovered that so was he.
“Why? Wondering if there are any vacancies?” Mala teased again, suddenly all playfulness. “Even if there is a position available, what’s the point? You’ll just run out on me in a few months.”
“If you just say the word, I’ll stay,” he said, surprising himself with the determination in his voice and realizing that he actually meant it.
Mala slowly shook her head. “I would never keep you from freedom.”
Rising from his seat, Edek stepped toward her. “But don’t you understand?” With utmost gentleness, he placed his hands atop her arms. “Since I met you, I haven’t been free. And you know what? It’s the best non-freedom one can ask for.”
He leaned in and kissed her gently on her cheek, but as soon as he was about to tear himself away, Mala wrapped her arm around his neck and pulled him close, pressing her mouth against his. He tasted every unspoken word in that kiss, every hidden emotion trapped under the silk of her skin, every promise she’d made without uttering a single word. Intoxicated by the honey of her lips, the room spinning around him, he drank from her greedily, without restraint, and for the first time in years felt hope stir in him that nothing was yet lost as long as he had her to come back to.
Twenty-One
As soon as Edek had learned that Antoni Szymlak, their civilian Polish connection, would be working on the women’s camp hospital’s new bathhouse, he immediately bribed the Kapo to get himself and Wiesław into the bathhouse fitters’ Kommando.
The old man appeared genuinely glad to find both comrades alive and well, greeting them with a cordial handshake. For the first half of the day, they didn’t have a chance to talk, aside from exchanging work-related remarks—the proximity of the Kapos and their fellow inmates made it impossible—but when the sound of the gong announced lunch hour, Edek promptly took his food bowl to the corner where the old man was eating his homemade ham sandwich. Upon seeing him approach, Szymlak broke the sandwich in two and handed the second half to Edek without another word. In turn, Edek divided it in two as well and shared his half with Wiesław, who had followed him to Szymlak’s corner, carefully balancing his own soup bowl in his hands.
No one paid them any heed; Poles were known to congregate together, civilian workers and inmates alike, not raising suspicions as Jews making contact with Poles normally would. Making use of such lax discipline, Edek almost instantly broke into urgent whispers.
“We have an Ausweis and, soon, we’ll have a uniform as well. Is your offer still open?”
Before answering, the old man, who had finished his half of the sandwich by then, produced a tin of tobacco and proceeded to roll three cigarettes.
“When are you planning to go through with the enterprise?” he asked at length.
“In May or June.” Edek nodded his gratitude for the cigarette but didn’t light it, sticking it behind his ear instead.
Wiesław did the same and proceeded to polish off his soup bowl with what was left of the bread.
The Polish tiler nodded sagely as he twirled his thick mustache. “That’s wise. The forests are much thicker in summer. Plenty of places to hide.”
Something in that remark caused Edek to glance up at him in alarm. “Yes, naturally… We’ve already discussed it. We’ll avoid all major roads and will stick to the forests after we leave your place.”
He searched Szymlak’s face as the old man smoked, staring pensively into space. Edek suddenly found it disturbing that the tiler was avoiding meeting his eyes.
“You’ll still help us the very f
irst night, won’t you?” Edek ceased to breathe altogether as he awaited the old Pole’s verdict. “You said we may stay in your cellar and use your clothes. You haven’t changed your mind, have you?”
Szymlak shook his head absently. “No, of course not. May or June then.” He appeared to be working things out in his mind as he chewed on his lip under his mustache. Suddenly, as though remembering himself, he looked at the two friends brightly. “In the meantime, is there anything else I can do for you? Smuggle a letter to your families perhaps? Or would you like some more of this?” He pointed at the empty newspaper, which still bore the faint tantalizing smell of the ham sandwich and homemade bread. “My daughter makes them for me.”
The blood suddenly drained from Edek’s face. “Your daughter?” he repeated, his head ringing as though in some bad dream. “I thought you said you lived alone.”
“I did, back when we had that conversation.” Szymlak smiled uneasily. “Now that the Soviets are pushing closer and closer, she and her children came to stay with me. It wasn’t safe where she was.”
Dazed, as though from the sharp, physical blow, Edek tried to process the news and what it could mean for their plan… but couldn’t.
Feeling himself on the verge of some terrible emotional collapse, Edek sought out Mala first thing after the evening roll call was finished. The night had descended upon the camp, spiritless and deathly still, enveloping the barracks in its dark shroud. Even the lights appeared dimmer to Edek. Or, perhaps, it was his hope that was dimming before his eyes, dissolving slowly, melting into the night just like the snow under his feet.
He even left his own dinner portion to Wiesław; the food didn’t interest him any longer after Szymlak had broken the news about the arrival of his daughter and grandchildren. Edek didn’t mind accepting help from a sympathetic Pole living by himself and willing to do his utmost to help the inmates. Szymlak had made it understood that he had lived a long and good life and didn’t mind dying a good death for the cause. But how could Edek possibly, in good conscience, risk the lives of Szymlak’s daughter and her small children? If the Gestapo uncovered the fact that it was Szymlak’s family that aided him and Wiesław, they’d throw them into Auschwitz without any further ceremony, and Edek knew far too well where children ended up upon arrival—the gas chambers or Dr. Mengele’s experimental block, where they’d be measured and prodded and injected with all sorts of poisons until their young bodies succumbed to one of Herr Doktor’s pseudoscientific experiments. He couldn’t possibly have their deaths on his conscience.
Running his hand over his shaved head for the umpteenth time, he marched forward in exasperation, unsure of what to do. He desperately needed to talk to someone, to hear much-needed words of comfort, meaningless promises that everything would turn out just fine. But when he found Mala near the Schreibstube building where the lights were still on and two other runners waited with her, when he saw her drawn, pale face and the dark half-moons under lusterless eyes, he suddenly couldn’t bring himself to burden her with his troubles.
“Are you still working?” he asked softly, throwing a concerned look at the two girls who were watching the couple with natural curiosity.
“They have begun the construction of a new ramp,” Mala explained. Even her voice was dull, utterly devoid of all emotion. “It’ll be round-the-clock production. They have some deadline they have to meet and for a reason which I can’t even bring myself to consider. We runners will be working in day and night shifts from now on. The SS really do want this one done as soon as possible.”
As though on cue, the door flew open and a warden appeared on its threshold holding a paper of some sort. “Mala! Get it delivered to the chief engineer.”
“Jawohl.” Mala saluted the SS woman.
The warden was staring at Edek like a hawk. He felt heat coming from the opened door mixing with the heat rising in his cheeks at the possibility of being discovered. It was fortunate that he had thought of taking his toolbox with him.
“What do you want?” the warden barked, narrowing her gaze.
“Kapo Jupp sent me.” Edek swiftly produced a credible lie. “In case I was wanted on the new ramp.”
“A fitter, on the ramp?” the warden snorted with disdain. “Has he completely drunk himself blind?”
“I’m also a carpenter,” Edek supplied yet another explanation, his face betraying nothing. “I can work on the ramp. That’s why he sent me. I have several qualifications.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mala’s tense face relax with relief at his swift response and quick thinking.
“Oh.” After measuring him from head to toe, the warden finally shrugged. “Well, doesn’t concern me one way or another. If Jupp wishes to be so helpful, go to the ramp and inquire if they can use you. Mala shall take you. She’s going there herself anyway.”
For some time, they walked silently side by side, their hands brushing as though by accident every now and then, sending a rush of excitement running through them. Only when the office building disappeared from view completely and in front of them lay only the vast expanse of the camp did Edek catch Mala’s hand in his, kissing it ardently.
Reluctantly, as though not wishing to offend, she pulled it away. “Not now. The guard towers…”
Edek nodded. Of course. The blasted guard towers, sweeping the compound with their searchlights like demented lighthouses, seeking out lost ships just to obliterate them with their machine guns.
“Now, tell me what’s wrong,” Mala demanded, her voice suddenly full of strength.
Edek looked at her and, in the wavering light of the overhead lamps, saw her steely determination to help. At once, his heart swelled in his chest. Utterly exhausted and pale with worry, she still thought of others before herself. His Mala.
He had just opened his mouth to recount his troubles with Szymlak and the unexpected reappearance of the Pole’s daughter, but ended up shaking his head instead. “Nothing. Just wanted to take a walk with you under the moon.”
Mala scowled faintly; she looked as though she didn’t quite believe him. Then, it was her who caught his fingers in her cold and slender ones. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said.
“I wouldn’t want to be any place else.”
“Not even outside?”
“Not even outside. Here, with you is where I belong.”
Mala looked at him and something shifted in her gaze. “Come to the Schreibstube on Sunday, like last time. Germans don’t work on weekends, deadline or not. But this time, stay, will you?”
Edek nodded very slowly as the meaning of the words hit him full force. There was some unspoken promise hanging in the frosty air between them just then, invisible and yet almost tangible, and at that moment, Edek swore to himself that he would never part with her; not against his will at any rate.
Every Sunday for the next two months, Edek began sneaking into Mala’s quarters. Wiesław had long given up on trying to persuade his best friend to stop it with their amorous excursions—it was not the place or the time—and turned his concerns into a joke.
“Are you staying out again then? Good; I’ll be sleeping by myself again. Like a king. No obnoxious tossing and turning of yours.”
The block elder didn’t ask any questions; simply took his bribe—a lemon or a piece of salami—and looked the other way when Edek slipped outside under the cover of the night. As long as Edek was back for the morning roll call, he cared not on whose pillow “the blasted Romeo” was resting his head.
And Edek didn’t rest his head at all. He ate his dinner and tried not to cringe when Mala would slip more molten dental gold nuggets into his palm. He sat next to her on the floor beside the bed for the next few hours, laying out breadcrumbs for the mouse that was growing more and more comfortable with the oddly generous humans. And he spoke to Mala about things that no longer were and things that would hopefully, one day, be once again.
With unmistakable longing in her voice, Mala told him all about her first job at the ma
jor Antwerp fashion house Maison Lilian, where silk cascaded in waves around the measuring tables and where she sometimes stood for hours on end while designers pinned and stitched the material on her slender frame whenever one of the models called in sick and needed a replacement. Her eyes grew wistful when she recalled the camaraderie among her colleagues at her second job as a linguist-secretary in a small company in the diamond trade and how they did anything possible and impossible to shield her from the Nazis when the German troops had marched into Belgium and having a Jew working in one’s company was suddenly a crime.
In exchange, Edek told her about his maritime school in Pińsk and the pranks they played on their superiors and the size of the dormitory’s bathrooms they had to polish with toothbrushes in punishment for those very pranks. He shared his past with her the same way she shared her food with him, without holding anything back and soon, somehow, his memories became hers and hers became his and he discovered that he knew Belgium without once traveling there and loved Mala’s father without once meeting him, just like he’d grown to love Mala’s adopted Auschwitz Papa of whom she often spoke with great fondness.
“Do you think he would approve of me? Your real father, that is?” he asked her once, only half in jest. According to Mala, Auschwitz Papa approved of him already, solely because Edek made his adopted daughter smile in a place where tears were a much more common occurrence.
“I strongly suggest you ask him that yourself.”
“Just how would I go about that?”
“Well, I assume, you’ll have to get out of here first, obtain a white stallion, then ride back into this camp with the Soviet Army and save this damsel in distress.” She pointed at herself, keeping her poker face intact throughout the entire exchange. “And then deliver me, in the same manner, to my familial house, where you may request my hand in marriage from the patriarch of the family directly.”
The Girl Who Escaped from Auschwitz: A totally gripping and absolutely heartbreaking World War 2 page-turner, based on a true story Page 18