Mother and Me (29 page)

This seemed to give Fredek food for a moment's thought. I turned away from him and closed my eyes. Pretending to be asleep would be the best way to give finality to my statement. I was delighted with my cleverness.

“Who does she pass the information on to?” My pallet mate finally asked. I could not resist answering this one. I turned back to face him. “There is a man who lives on the other side of the church. His name is Rokief. She reports to him, and whom he passes it on to is a military secret.”

There was another long pause. “What does he looks like?” The question finally came.

“He's tall with dark hair and a little mustache,” I said. “He dresses in a suit like the people in Warsaw.”

“If I see him, I'll pretend I don't know anything about him.” Fredek seemed to be reassuring me.

“That's a good idea.”

Suddenly the light from the other room dimmed and we saw that two men were standing on chairs to hang our flowered tablecloth over the archway. Then the light got dimmer still when someone turned off the overhead light. They had lit flickering candles on the table. The music continued.

“Look, they're dancing again!” Fredek exclaimed. On the flowered tablecloth in front of us there were now silhouettes of couples dancing to a fast tune.

“Yes,” I said, displaying, I hoped, total lack of interest.

The next morning there was a smell of stale cigarette smoke and it was Auntie Edna and Auntie Paula who were arguing with each other. Auntie Edna was saying that she believed my mother when she said that she didn't know the Russians were coming over and Auntie Paula didn't actually say she didn't believe that, but she was just being angry.

“Of course,” Mother was saying, “they can't just pop in when they feel like it!” She put down the knife, with which she had been slicing the bread a little too hard. It tumbled to the floor.

“Yes, the food is a big help,” Auntie Paula said, stooping to pick up the knife that had landed at her feet, “but I don't want to have to dance for it!”

“They really are quite well behaved,” Auntie Edna said.

From what I could tell, nobody was disagreeing with anyone, but everyone was angry. On the other hand, our table and the tin box that Miss Bronia had rigged outside the window for refrigeration, were again well-stocked with food.

It was decided that Mother should go see Capt. Vrushin, who was a more cultured man than Capt. Boris, and ask him to
explain to his friend that bursting in unannounced with three friends and an accordion player was not cultured behavior.

That evening Mother returned from her mission declaring it a success, and for the next two weeks or so, we saw no sign of Capt. Boris. Our supply of gift food, of course, depleted to a jar of caviar and one of herring that we saved for a social emergency.

Supplies of food in stores seemed to get scarcer as well. The foraging expeditions that the mothers carried on every day managed to put something on the table every morning and evening, but more often than not it wasn't meat. Milk, eggs, butter, and, of course coffee were not available at all, and it seemed that the adults would come home from their search later and later, and more and more exhausted every evening.

The supply of firewood that the soldiers had brought back from the train station for us, was long gone by now. Miss Bronia had discovered a peasant who, one day a week—not the same day unfortunately—could be found driving his wagon around our neighborhood with a load of wood. When she or any of the mothers came across it, they would buy as much wood as could be carried home. Capt. Vrushin had said he would let us know when another wood train came in.

Nights, we were still able to get through in layers of clothing so that the wood could be saved for cooking. But winter was coming, and, if there was a plan for dealing with the cold, I was not aware of it.

Capt. Vrushin came by one evening, by invitation. He came by himself, brought us a large piece of cheese, and had tea out of a glass.

He didn't play his harmonica this time or laugh a lot, but talked quietly with our four adults. Remembering the business of the brass button with a red star he had given me, I kept out of the way so no one would ask me what I had done with it. Fredek, who had been sick that day, was introduced and got a button too, though it was an extra one the captain had brought
in his pocket, and he didn't have to cut it off his uniform. When Fredek showed it to me later, I stressed that it came from a Russian army uniform. Fredek told me that his father had a German helmet from the Big War and what was wrong, he asked, with collecting enemy souvenirs. I couldn't come up with an answer.

A few days later, Mrs. Rokief came to our door looking for Mother. Everyone was out except Fredek, me, and Sonya. I was the only one Mrs. Rokief knew or who had any idea who she was. Remembering the kind way in which she had treated me, I introduced her to my friends. I had been schooled in this amenity by Kiki.

Mrs. Rokief asked if she could wait for Mother, and Sonya, equally schooled in amenities, offered to make her tea. Mrs. Rokief accepted.

She sat leaning forward in her chair, her knees and feet tight together, her hands clasped in her lap. To me she looked worried. She wore a black overcoat that was too big for her, a kerchief on her head, and her soft gray eyes were squinted into a frown.

I knew that it was up to me to entertain my mother's visitor. I pulled up a chair facing her and asked how she was feeling. Mrs. Rokief gave me a quick little smile and said she was fine. I next asked about Mr. Rokief and her daughters, and they were fine too. I wondered why she was upset, but had the presence of mind not to do it aloud.

Sonya brought a cup of tea, and I apologized for having no milk to offer, as Mrs. Rokief had done on our visit there. Mrs. Rokief said that that was all right.

I told her what a nice time I had had with Zosia and Renia the other day. Mrs. Rokief said that they had enjoyed my company as well. She picked up her teacup but her hand trembled and she had to steady it with her other one.

I asked if she thought it was going to snow. Mrs. Rokief answered that she hadn't noticed. I asked if her tea was all right, and she said it was fine, and then I racked my brain for another topic to discuss.

I saw Fredek whispering something to Sonya over by the stove. I guessed it was about Mr. Rokief's being a spy and found some pleasure in the way my fabrication had grown. Then, on an inspiration, I asked Mrs. Rokief if she wanted to see a magic trick. She smiled and said, yes, and I proceeded to make my washer appear out of her right ear, then her left, and finally disappear into thin air. I thought it was the best I had ever done it, and Mrs. Rokief smiled and said that was nice. Then she asked when I thought my mother would be back. I said I didn't know, but secretly hoped it would be very soon.

“Would Missus like to hear some poetry?” I asked.

“No thank you, dear,” she said and then changed her mind. “Yes, I would love to hear you recite.”

I must have filled the next half-hour reciting every poem I knew. I was just considering singing the national anthem when Mother and Miss Bronia finally came in the door. From the shape of their shopping bags, I guessed they had found vegetables.

“Helenka!” Mother said as soon as she saw Mrs. Rokief sitting there. “What's wrong?” She crossed the room quickly. Mrs. Rokief stood up and almost fell into Mother's arms. “Basia, Basia, Yulian has been taking such good care of me,” she cried as though that were her complaint.

“What's the matter?” Mother said.

“They've detained Roman.”

“Detained?”

“That's what they said.”

“Oh my God! What's happened?”

“I don't know. He didn't do anything. They came last night, knocked on the door, and said the commissar had some questions to ask him and they would bring him back in two hours.”

“And he's not back yet?” Mother asked.

Mrs. Rokief shook her head. I could see Fredek and Sonya whispering again by the stove.

Suddenly I remembered Fredek talking with Capt. Vrushin that evening. Would Fredek have told the captain my fib about Mr. Rokief's being a spy? No, he wouldn't have.

“I will go see Capt. Vrushin,” I heard Mother telling Mrs. Rokief. “If Roman isn't back, I will go see him first thing tomorrow. I'm sure it's a mistake of some kind.”

“Oh Basia, why would they do this? Roman hasn't done anything,” Mrs. Rokief said.

“It's a mistake. It's simply a mistake. Maybe there's somebody else with your name or who looks like Roman. I don't know. I will straighten it out. Or maybe Roman is home already. Go home now, Helenka, and see if Roman isn't home. I'll bet he is. And tomorrow morning, if Roman still isn't back, you come over here and we'll go see Vasilli together.”

When Auntie Paula and Auntie Edna came home later, Mother said, “They've detained Roman Rokief, that lawyer from Krakow that I met.”

Auntie Paula and Auntie Edna looked at each other. “Detained?” Auntie Edna said.

“Well, that's what they call it. I don't know exactly what it means.”

“What did he do?” Auntie Paula asked.

“I don't think he did anything.”

“Then why would they arrest—or detain—him?” Auntie Paula asked.

The next morning Mrs. Rokief came back, more upset than she had been the day before, and she and Mother went to see Capt. Vrushin.

“He said I should go see the commissar, a Colonel Bawatchov,” Mother explained to Auntie Edna and Auntie Paula that evening. “He said he has no idea what it's all about, but the colonel will like it that I speak Russian so well. He said to be sure to tell him I've been to Paris. This sounds like I should go without poor Helenka who's likely to cry. Vasilli said he could get me in to see him tomorrow.”

“No,” Auntie Paula said suddenly. “You can't go to see the commissar.”

“What do you mean I can't go?”

“You want to go,” Auntie Paula said, “speak Russian to him, tell him you've been to Paris, and invite him here for vodka and dancing. Then, if Sonya doesn't want to dance with one of his officers or Fredek pretends to shoot him in the head, he has us all arrested and sent to Siberia.”

I had heard of Siberia. It was the coldest place on earth and criminals were sent there for punishment.

“This isn't our problem,” Auntie Edna said. “We don't even know your Roman Rokief.”

“They're my friends. They've been very kind to me.” Mother was speaking angrily now.

“They may be your friends,” Auntie Edna continued, “but you're involving all of us. You're putting us all in danger.”

“How am I putting anyone in danger? I'm just going to talk to him. Vasilli says he's a reasonable man.”

“Don't you see, Basia … ?” Auntie Edna began again, but Auntie Paula interrupted her. “No, she doesn't see. She doesn't see because she doesn't want to.”

“No, you're the ones who don't see. You don't see because you're afraid to see. You're afraid to do anything to help yourselves. You're two old Jewesses afraid to do anything to help yourselves because it means taking a risk. To save my dear friends, or to save my son, I'm not afraid to take a risk.”

Suddenly, my mother was sounding like one of the poems Kiki had taught me. Except that the part about the old Jewesses had really surprised me.

The next morning I saw that Mother had taken a diamond brooch of hers out of the jacket lining where she had hidden it that day on the farm. She had on a gray wool suit that I hadn't seen her wear for a while, and she used the diamond brooch to make her décolleté lower so that you could see the line where her breasts came together.

“No, Basia, you can't do that!” Auntie Paula almost shouted. “This is a man far from home with total power in this town. You can't tease him like that.”

I expected Mother to make another brave speech about not being afraid, but she let herself be persuaded to take off the brooch and to bring me with her.

“A beautiful woman with a little child would be much more compelling,” Auntie Edna said. “Maybe he has a child at home.” Auntie Edna and Auntie Paula were sounding as though they didn't want Mother to make any more speeches.

Capt. Vrushin's office was in a palace. I had no idea there was such a place in Durnoval, this town of low, gray, and mostly dirty buildings. The hallway had moldings painted gold, and large dark blue rectangles in the lighter blue walls. The dark rectangles weren't all the same size and I wondered what sort of design scheme that was. Frankly, I didn't find it
very attractive. There were designs and angels painted on the ceiling. Only the floor, inlaid with different kinds of wood, was scratched and muddy. I was reminded of the slippers they made you put over your shoes when you went into the Royal Palace in the park in Warsaw.

Capt. Vrushin's office was on the ground floor, and he wasn't there. But a soldier had been instructed to take us upstairs to the commissar's office. As he walked ahead of us, back down the hall toward the stairs, I could actually see the marks that his metal heels were making in the wood floor. They looked like large fingernail clippings. He climbed the stairs two at a time, then waited at the top for Mother and me to catch up.