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A memoir of the Holocaust
By Jacob Zylberman
The online version
© Copyright 1995, 2000, Jack Zylberman
A runaway
"Would you treat me to a doughnut?" asked the girl at the entrance to the apartment house. "Would you, please!"
"Sure," said Jacob, nodding to Adek the vendor. "I’ll make it good later. I must go now."
"Yes, neighbor," he said, turning to her. "There, young lady, eat to your heart’s content."
Upon his return, Adek and the goodies were gone, but the girl was still there, a doughnut in her hand.
"What are you waiting for?" Jacob asked.
"For you," she said, smiling coquettishly. "I need a drink, surely you will not refuse a girl a cup of coffee."
Ignoring her, he walked into the hall, taking two steps at a time, but before he opened the door to his room she was there behind him, inviting herself in.
"You are a bold, pushy young lady, aren’t you?" he said, annoyed. "Are you accustomed to frequenting men’s quarters even if not invited?"
"I am not," she said apologetically, "but you are an exception."
After a while, the aroma of the perking coffee filled the cubicle, she helping herself to a cup, dunking the cake in.
Perched on the edge of the bed, Jacob could not help but admire her trim body, emerald eyes and shapely legs.
His mind raced back in time -- scarcely more than a half a dozen years, he, surrounded by friends, teenagers trying to steal a kiss, an embrace, making the heart beat faster, and it seemed so long ago.
What a beastly metamorphosis. How much humanity had suffered hence, he thought, when her exuberant laughter brought him back to reality.
"Wake up," she said, staring at him. "Your coffee is cold, the cigarette burned out. Luxuries like these are not easy to come by today, don’t you know that?"
For a moment he thought that she was leaving, but she had other ideas. Her slick, wiry body slid past his, pressing a kiss on his lips, then she said, "Now I want to thank you for your generosity," her eyes teasingly smiling, her dainty teeth exposed.
Her bold approach left him bewildered. "Not now," he said, hoping to find a solution to this most unanticipated situation, but before long she wiggled herself out of her clothes, and jumped into the bed, falling instantly asleep.
Suddenly, Jacob felt hot, he needed a walk.
The fresh air cleared his mind, and he became determined to get rid of her, the sooner the better.
When he returned, the full moon hugging the attic window lit the room. The covers of the bed were tossed aside, her nudity exposing an alluring creation, a dark fuzzy line sprouting in the most intimate place – his eyes riveted on her – his animal desire demanding satisfaction. Lost in the desert, his mouth parched, in search for an oasis, to quench his thirst, mute, hungry, lust.
Should he – or not? An inner voice kept asking. Should he? But an unexplained power held him back.
Slumped at the table, his eyes closed, he fell into a long, deep, restless slumber. When he awoke the sun already had ushered in a new day.
The perking of the coffee awoke her, puzzled for a moment of her whereabouts. Then, facing Jacob, she boldly asked, "Why didn’t you make love to me? Don’t you like me?
"No man ever refused me but you. You were not even in bed with me.
"I wanted to thank you for your generosity, and you rejected me. You must be a fool, gay, or both. But you have another chance," she said, her eyes rolling.
Taking her hands in his, Jacob said, "Young lady, you might not believe me, but from the outset I did not anticipate all this. You were hungry, and I fed you. You slept in my bed against my better judgment, not expecting any compensation, least of all your body. But to make you feel better I admit you were tempting, I yearned for you, more than you think. But a great force, a much greater power prevented me from touching you – and I am glad. Do you know why?
"Because I felt it unclean, profane, sacrilegious, not only a violation of youth but also of purity, innocence itself.
"Which brings me to ask, are you untouched? Are you?"
"You still can find out, I am willing to prove it. And as of my age I am 17."
"You are lying. Your body betrays you, you are no more than 13, 14 at the most, you are a frustrated kid trying to grow up, rushing head-on into trouble.
"So be a good girl, go back where you belong, and stay there. Do it for your own sake and those who care for you."
"No! No! I will not!" she cried. "I can’t go back to the orphanage. I hate it, I hate it!
"When I was 12 years old," she sobbed, "I lost my mother. Alone, nobody to take care of me, I wound up in that place. At first I liked it, the boys were vying for my attention, but after a while the trouble started. Men, their hungry bloodshot eyes, began ogling me. I was repeatedly raped by the headman, paying me off with extra rations of bread, butter and chocolate. More than once I ran away, but after a while I returned, and as always he was there waiting with pockets full of sweets.
"Yes," she said, tears streaming down her pretty face, "I am 14, but feel like 40. How I wish to be ugly, not to be desired by men for my body only. I want someone to take care of me, treat me nice, love me. I don’t want to go back to that awful orphanage."
But there was nothing Jacob could do. Having her in his room overnight in itself was extremely foolish. He was very lucky, it could have turned out quite tragic for him.
Faced with this unfortunate situation, he reflected at the mess humanity is facing, an offspring of the Third Reich, a child of the superman, the pure Aryan race attempting to take hegemony over the globe – offering herself to a member of an inferior race, a survivor of an ethnic group a quivering relic they tried so hard to annihilate, almost succeeding.
Thus, if this should vindicate the wrongs, the trauma one experienced, then it was against his upbringing, his lofty morals. That girl was just a victim of warped, deranged, sick minds. It is they who bear the responsibility.
Overwhelmed with disdain, anger, yet sorrowful for all mankind, Jacob handed her a couple of marks, he bade her goodbye, and wished her good luck.
A fortnight passed, he wondering what happened to that sleek kitten – Simon the butcher providing the answer.
"There she was, the green-eyed beauty exchanging her body for bread, sharing my bed for seven days, the many tricks she performed," he said, his mouth salivating.
"I know you have many girls visiting you, I have seen them. Not once did I try to coax them into my house, but these sophisticated Frauleins treated me with contempt.
"But let me tell you, they are not only too smart, but old compared to her. All the time she was locked in my house eating to her heart’s content, but when I came home she was ready for action, displaying her treasures not only for my eyes, my friend – not only for my eyes.
"After a week I had my fill, and had to let her go. I didn’t want to press my luck, and though she was developed, what I mean is her body was like an 18-year-old, I could swear she was no more than 14."
"Then why did you do it? Didn’t you have any qualms? Aren’t there enough older ones to satisfy your appetite?"
Turning abruptly, his red cheeks ashen, he shouted, "Listen, you smart alec, you asshole. Who are you to sermonize me for my acts? I don’t have to apologize, nor get approval for my deeds. What I did is my business.
"Yes, if you really want to know – sure I had my doubts, and second thoughts, but they dissipated, crumbled, completely vanished – and do you know why?
"Let me tell you of an incident, if it has any bearing, of an ugly event still causing me nightmares.
"The day the Germans occupied the town I come from was a bad omen for many," he said haltingly, "especially fateful for my family. The soldiers went on a gory binge, burning, raping, causing panic, bewilderment, death. Father locked the doors, fastened the shutters, and Mother gathered the children in the cellar. When the danger finally subsided, one of my sisters was missing.
"I ran outside, searched the streets and places she frequented but she was nowhere to be found, when I noticed the rigid body of Janek the janitor’s boy – pointing to an old barn – and there I found her.
"My beautiful 13-year-old sister was on the floor, in a puddle of blood, a lump of blond hair clenched in her fist. Her eyes wide open, her lovely little mouth in a twisted, agonizing, harrowing grimace – dead.
"And you dare to criticize me for screwing that little bitch. I did not solicit her, I didn’t force her, she offered herself willingly. I did not kill her," like an old man, he in convulsive spasms walking to his quarters, Jacob helping him climb the stairs, crying along.
Once again in sympathy for his little sister, Jacob’s sister, and all the sisters not around anymore.
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