Nucia shook her head. “The ground is dirty and wet. Stay standing.”
Rachel sighed but did as her sister said. Since they’d arrived at the hospital, Nucia had taken on the authoritative role in their family. Much to her surprise, Rachel didn’t mind at all. She liked having someone watching over her the way her father had.
They shuffled forward, a bit closer to the food, only to stop again. “What if they run out of soup?” asked Rachel.
“Then we don’t eat,” said Nucia. “But they’ve had enough every day so far.”
Rachel turned to see how far the line went behind them. Familiar faces surfaced as she scanned the swarm of people. Anna, a girl she knew from school… Yoram, with his pensive eyes and straight black hair… and Leah, her head bandaged where her hair used to be.
“Leah!” she called, rushing back to greet her.
The color drained from Rachel’s cheeks when she saw her friend’s face. Leah’s skin was bruised, in varying shades of purple and gray, and a raw-looking gash ran diagonally from her ear to her nose. She opened her arms and pulled Rachel into a tight embrace.
“Oh Rachel,” said Leah, loosening her hold. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right.”
Rachel looked down at her feet, riddled with shame for making it through the riots without a blemish while her two closest friends would be scarred for life. She lifted her head and gazed at Leah. “What about you? What happened?”
“Well…” Leah lowered her eyes. “A few fists and a knife ran into my face and head during the riots… I’m doing better now, but my parents are still unable to leave the hospital because of their injuries.”
“Your head… does it hurt?” asked Rachel.
“Not as much as it did.” She took a deep breath. “The worst was when they had to shave my hair off.”
“I’m so sorry, Leah.”
Tears welled up in Leah’s eyes. “Meyer is in bad shape, completely blinded during the attacks.”
“Oh no,” cried Rachel. She knew how much Leah cared for Meyer and feared this would affect or even ruin their future together.
Through her tears, Leah asked about Chaia. Rachel saw Yoram twist his head sharply to hear her reply. When Rachel explained briefly what had happened, Yoram grew pale. Leah averted her eyes for a moment before speaking. “That night… the things I saw… what those men did to me…”
Rachel gasped.
“I can never talk about what happened ever again.”
“I’ll never ask you to tell me,” said Rachel. “I’m just grateful you’re here.” She glanced ahead and saw that her mother and sister were near the front of the line. After planning to meet in the courtyard the next day, she left Leah and rejoined her family. She looked back to make sure Leah was still there, and that she hadn’t imagined their conversation. Leah was still in the same place, but Yoram was gone.
The soup tasted like hot water. There were tiny bits of cabbage that had floated to the bottom, but the broth was tasteless. And the tiny piece of bread she’d been given was hard to swallow because it was so dry.
When she placed her empty bowl in a wooden bucket piled high with other dirty bowls, she saw Sacha and his father hovering nearby. Both of them looked like skeletons of their former selves, their faces drawn so that their bones stuck out. Mr. Talansky’s hand shook when he placed his bowl in the bucket.
“We were among the first in line,” said Sacha to Rachel. “But it wasn’t enough to fill a bird.”
“I know. And I couldn’t taste any cabbage in my soup.” Rachel noticed Sacha’s eyes darting back and forth from her face to the bucket filled with discarded bowls. Turning her head, she saw Mr. Talansky grabbing bowls and holding them up to his mouth, licking the remains of other people’s soup.
“We’re both so hungry. What they give us isn’t enough.” Sacha fidgeted with his hands and looked down in shame. “I’m sorry you had to see that.”
“Don’t be. I’m still hungry, and I’m not nearly as big as you or your father. It’s all right,” she said, disconcerted by Mr. Talansky’s desperate condition. “As soon as I finished my bowl, I started counting the hours until the next meal.”
Sacha kicked at the ground. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?”
“Petersburg. My father has a sister there. We’re going to stay with her family until my father gets a job.”
Rachel twisted her braid and forced a smile. Sacha and his father had been like family to her, and now they were leaving. She might never see them again.
“Maybe your family could come too,” Sacha continued, his voice becoming earnest. “Maybe your mother could get a position…” His voice tapered off as he spoke, as if he knew what she was going to say.
“Doing what? All my mother knows how to do is cook and clean.”
“Well… she could get a job at a restaurant… or doing needlework.”
Rachel glanced at her mother who stood waiting for Mrs. Berlatsky to finish her soup. She was stooped over, as if she were sixty, not thirty-three. Her hair was streaked with gray and her face was pale, almost translucent.
“I don’t think so,” Rachel said. “My mother’s hardly spoken in days. All she does is sleep. I can’t see her making food or even doing needlework. Not for a long time; maybe never.”
“Then… maybe you could come with us,” said Sacha.
Rachel felt his eyes on her. “I can’t leave my mother or sister. It wouldn’t be right.” She looked up at him sadly. “But I will miss you and your father.” She glanced at Mr. Talansky, now sitting on the wet ground. “Will you promise to write me?”
Sacha nodded and gave her a rueful smile. She watched as he helped his father to his feet and headed back to the hospital. The Talanskys were another link to her former life that was now being broken. Little by little, her life was disintegrating, leaving her feeling helpless and despondent about the future.
Rachel and Nucia stood in the doorway to their hospital room staring at their mother. She lay motionless on her cot.
“I’m so worried about her,” said Nucia. “She’s lost so much weight and has no energy at all.”
“She hardly ate anything yesterday,” said Rachel. “And at night she’s restless, rolling around and groaning.”
“I wish we could take her away from here. Sacha and his father are lucky they have family in Petersburg.”
Rachel pushed her braids behind her shoulders. “We do have family… Father’s parents. Bubbe and Zeyde.”
“We’ve never even met his parents,” sighed Nucia.
A smile extended across Rachel’s face. “Let’s write them a letter. We’ll tell them what happened and ask if we can come.”
Nucia looked at Rachel as if she was crazy. “They might ignore a letter. They don’t know us at all…we don’t even know where they live.”
Rachel fixed her gaze on Nucia. “I know the town. We can address it to the synagogue there. We have to try. That’s what Father would say. When they hear about Father…” her voice broke, and she paused to gain her composure. “They may want to help us.”
Nucia shrugged her shoulders. “I think you’re wasting your time.”
Rachel’s eyes flashed with hope and determination. “All we have right now is time. There is nothing to lose.” She turned and strode purposefully down the hall to Rena’s office.
Rena sat at her tidy desk filling out some forms. “Rena? Is there an inkwell and pen I can use to write a letter?” asked Rachel.
“Yes, of course. Use mine.” Rena gestured to her pewter inkwell. “And here’s a piece of paper.”
Rachel sat down on the chair facing Rena, laid the paper flat on the desk, and dipped the quill into the ink.