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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
Lust's labors
Efforts to locate Jacob’s sister were unsuccessful. Leon Shumacher found his younger brother, little Eddy his older sister, in a most unusual way; a young woman asked him for the direction to the camp, and before he could reply she recognized him, and collapsed in his arms.
Yet despite all the setbacks, Jacob did not give up, and continued the search for his Malkele, checking all possible rumors, traveling all over Germany.
He went to Hanover in the midst of the Christmas season, treading the city from end to end without positive results, another wild goose chase, one more futile search.
Disillusioned, he left, braving the cold on the outside steps of the filled train. At the next stop a handful of passengers got off, and he found himself squeezed in the middle of the dark aisle, passengers on their bundles, snoring. Leaning toward the window, he became aware of a gentle pull, an invitation to share a seat, and immediately fell asleep.
"Guten Morgen, did you sleep?" a shapely young lady asked, smiling impishly. "You seemed to be so tired I could not let you stand all night."
"Yes, thank you, what a pity, I would have rather remained awake, surely I might have had more fun," he said, offering her a cigarette, introducing himself, her hand in his.
"Who knows, you might or might not," she replied, smiling. "I am Giselle, on my way to Garmisch-Partenkirchen for skiing and fun. I’ll stay over in Stuttgart for a day, shopping."
"That’s a coincidence, I live in Stuttgart and would be glad to make it up to you," Jacob said, inviting her to his place.
Two hours later they were at the main station.
"I’d better say Auf Wiedersehen," Giselle said, and left, Jacob promptly forgetting the incident, not expecting to see her again.
But he was wrong. At dusk she was at his place, a great part of the night being dedicated to love.
The next morning she was on her way, Jacob relating to Shumacher the adventurous escapade.
"I am sorry, Jacob, not to find your sister," Shumacher said. "I really am, also for Ruth," he added in a lighter tone. "I am afraid the poor girl is getting shortchanged."
"Don’t be funny," Jacob said. "If it’s up to me, I would not hesitate to sacrifice them all, if I could only find my Malkele."
"I know that, but until then there is nothing else you can do, and no need to apologize. You are a virile stud. Carnal desire is so strong, that it crosses all boundaries. As the saying goes, ‘When love enters in front, all logic remains in the rear.’
"You like all women, and cannot refuse a piece of arse. You are like the drunk – even before he gets to the tavern, he cannot refuse a schnapps.
"But let me warn you, if you can’t help but screwing them all, at least be careful, okay?"
"Okay, my friend."
The overpopulated camp could not accommodate the many applicants, so they quartered around the periphery, modern one-family houses assigned to the DPs. Shumacher resided in one, along with two other bachelors, a married couple, and one of their sisters, all sharing the kitchen and facilities.
Shumacher’s room was large. Two tables, four chairs, an old Singer sewing machine, a couch, and a narrow iron bed.
The adjoining room was occupied by a man and a young widow, his steady companion. On the opposite side lived Mr. Morgen, a medical student, who was out during the day but returned in the evening, frequently in the company of a young lady.
But the couple and their sister had the best part of the deal; a spacious living room handsomely furnished, two big bedrooms. They entertained often, keeping their rich German friends contented.
There, Jacob met Lisa.
"Someone is at the door," said Shumacher. "Please open it."
In front, stood a glamorous dark beauty.
"What can I do for you?" Jacob stammered. "Aren’t you the famous actress, the … the Barefoot Contessa? The. …"
"No," she interrupted, a hint of disdain in her voice. "I am Miss Hoffman.
"My friends tell me that you have coffee, right?"
"Right. I have coffee, tons of it, but not here."
"I want the real kind, money is no object, but I must have it tonight."
"It is genuine Bonnen Coffee. Come to my place and I’ll be happy to accommodate you."
"Can’t you bring it over here?" she pleaded. "Be a nice boy," her coquettish smile trying to disarm him. "Please!"
"Sorry, I can’t. I have an important job to finish. If you are interested you can find me home after seven."
"Okay." She wrote down the address, and like a spoiled child not having her way left in a huff.
"You are a louse. Did you get a look at her? She is beautiful, sexy. How could you be so rude? Why can’t you be a gentleman for a change?" said Shumacher.
"Leo, don’t get excited – and I thought I was the excitable one. I agree with whatever you say, and more; but she is arrogant, conceited. She is a narcissist.
"Above all, I had a reason, a method to my madness. I wanted her to come to my place, and if she wants the stuff that badly, she’ll be there – and who knows? Maybe she’ll surrender to my charms."
"Listen, Casanova. If that is your idea, then forget it. Don’t let me discourage you, she is too rich for your blood. What she wants is coffee, not you."
"Good, I’ve forgotten already; most probably she won’t show up, and if she does, we’ll see."
She arrived, breathing heavily. "Those steps are too much, and so dark, I almost fell. I hope that my trip was worth the effort," she said.
"I am sure it’ll meet your approval, my customers love it, find it invigorating, stimulating, never failing to ask for more," Jacob said, handing her the bag of coffee.
"Oh, it’s good, wunderbar," she said, savoring the aroma, her eyes shut as if in ecstasy. Jacob wondered, if that tiny bean could get so excited, how would she react in bed?
"Is this the place you entertain your lady friends?" she commented, a foxy grin on her face as she measured the room. "It’s bad enough to climb those stairs into a place where there is nothing but a bed."
Surprised at her question, Jacob answered her in the same manner.
"It might not be suitable to you, but let me assure you that the ladies find it entertaining, exhilarating, enjoying every moment and coming back for more," he said, handing her the coffee, and walking her down the stairs.
A week later she was back for more of the roasted beans, and although it was late in the evening she was not in a hurry to leave, inhaling a smoke, Jacob on the edge of the bed, the cigarette butt burning his fingers.
She was in her late twenties with little makeup, her perfume intoxicating, a brown wool dress resembling her hair under her mink coat. Her small ears were adorned with teardrop earrings that matched her pearl necklace, her tiny breasts evoking mystery, feline eyes teasing, her long legs tantalizing.
His insides responded. He wanted her.
Like a good poker player not revealing his hand, Jacob loosened her coat, and dropped it on the back of the chair, her hand entwined in his, the other lightly caressing her silky hair … she showing no resistance.
The overture was over, the play had begun. He kissed her earlobes, her neck, one hand sliding inside her decolletage when like from a trance she awoke.
"What are you doing? Do you intend to seduce me?"
"No. I just want you to know how much I desire you. I don’t want to hurt you, but to please you. If that is a crime, then I am guilty, you are free to go and never to come back -- and tell your friends that I have no more coffee.
"Moreover, a woman is not supposed to visit a man at this late hour – people might think."
The next afternoon Jacob mentioned the incident to Leo.
"I told you, wise guy, she is too big of a chunk for you to swallow," Shumacher said, turning to his partner. "This guy thinks he can have any woman he lays his eyes on. I am sorry I did not lay a bet, you would have lost miserably."
"At least I tried, nobody can blame me for it. I needed a change of pace, Ruth is away for the holidays. I thought it would be a nice fill-in."
"And what a fill-in!" Shumacher concurred.
The day before Christmas, on the way home, Jacob noticed a girl on the steps. It was Gertrude, his "housekeeper."
"I waited for hours, fearing that you would never show up. Where were you?" she cried, embracing him.
"Don’t forget, young lady, I am not in my room all the time waiting for you, I have things to do. Then I might ask, where were you? You disappeared without a trace – showing up on Weinachten. What makes me deserve that honor?"
"I’ll tell you, let’s go inside. I am cold."
After finishing the second sandwich, and two glasses of tea, she began, her voice taking a dramatic tone.
"When I was 14, my father was killed on the Russian front. Then mother got sick and I was afraid she would die, too. After she recovered, the foreman where she worked moved in with, slowly but surely becoming the master of the house.
"A lot of things changed after that, not only to me, but also to my mother’s friend. The defeats of our armies caused him to drink, frequently quarreling with mother, beating her.
"One afternoon I returned home from school, and mother was still at work. He was there ogling me. I moved away from him and laughed in his drunken face.
"That did it. He got furious, his mouth foaming. ‘You little bitch,’ he whispered. ‘No one is going to make fun of me, I’ll show you.’ Then he threw me on the bed, pulling off my dress. I wanted to scream, but was afraid he would kill me. So I let him do it.
"If that was not enough, I feared for my mother, she would lose him. I planned to run away. After a heavy bombardment I left. When asked, I pretended my home was destroyed, and my family killed.
"In one of the places I met a young Pole, fell in love, and stayed with him until the end of the war. One morning he disappeared. Then I decided to return home.
"It was a happy reunion. My mother cried, I cried, even her boyfriend cried. For a while he didn’t bother me until one evening, he came home drunk, and I had to leave again.
"Then I met you, you were good to me, but when you left for Munich, I felt lonely, and went hoje. Mother was sick again and I could not leave her.
"After she recovered, she and her boyfriend insisted that I should stay. All was fine until yesterday, he got drunk again, beat my mother and threatened to kill me.
"He is a sadist, a maniac. I am afraid of him, and dread for my mother’s safety."
By the end of the week Gertrude disappeared again, most probably in search of greener pastures.
Thus another year came to an end, the dark, cloudy days intermingling with light snow and drizzle.
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