Page 9 of The World That We Knew

She would be Lillie Perrin, a Catholic accompanied by her cousin Ava. Jews were no longer issued visas or allowed to travel outside the country, and if asked she must remember an unfamiliar prayer to prove her identity.

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen.

That evening they shared the last pot of Hardship Soup. It was made only of cabbage and water, for there were no longer any spices. Ava lifted Bobeshi from bed and carried her so she could sit at the table, something she hadn’t been able to do for more than two years.

Bobeshi kissed Ava in gratitude. The kiss was sweet and pure. “She is the one,” Bobeshi declared.

“Why is she so strong?” Lea asked her mother.

“Because she needs to be,” Hanni told her daughter.

In the midst of the heartbreak of what was to be their last dinner, Hanni took out a small paper box. Inside was a gift she’d planned to give her daughter on her thirteenth birthday. Now she understood that they would not be together on that day.

Hanni had considered this gift carefully, ordering it before the Jewish jewelry stores had been closed down, forced to turn over their gold and silver to the government. The charm she’d had fashioned was a silver triangle marked with Lea’s birth date and three Jewish stars. On the back there was the mystical letter hey, the most mysterious symbol in the Hebrew alphabet, which in the ancient world could mean thread or window or fence or behold. It was made up of three lines to represent the three aspects of humanity: the physical world, the spoken word, and the soul. It was one of the names of God. It was protection, it was love, it was a secret, it was the beginning, it was the end.

Hanni clasped the necklace at her daughter’s throat. She must keep it hidden to ensure that no one noticed the Hebrew letter, but one day, when she was at last safe, when there were no more soldiers on the streets or murderers knocking at the doors, she must unlatch the necklace, open the charm, and do exactly as she was instructed.

“You cannot debate or make up your own mind. You must do what I’ve written. Do you understand me?”

Lea didn’t understand the way the soldier had touched her, or the demons in the trees, or why the dark-haired woman sat at their table. She didn’t understand why her mother would give her such a beautiful gift when Lea had caused Hanni to become a murderess. There was still blood on their shoes. Their visitor had taken it upon herself to clean them, wiping the leather with warm water, then using a stiff wire brush to get rid of the last of the stains.

“My dearest,” Hanni said. Mein Kind, mein Schatz. Heart of my heart, love of my life, the one loss I will never survive. “Make me this single promise and I will never ask you for anything else.”

“Yes,” Lea said. She had decided not to cry, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t broken inside. “I will do as you say.”

To say goodbye is a terrible thing, made even worse when you don’t know why you are being sent away.

“We can’t give up,” Bobeshi whispered as she hugged Lea. “We have to save the next generation so that one day you can rescue people, as your father did. We love you more than we love our own lives.”

Their embrace lasted a long time, long enough for Bobeshi to tell Lea the story of the last wolf in her village. It was the middle of winter, when the whole world was white, and a wolf and her cub had been chased as far as they could go. There was no escape, at least not for both. When the mother wolf ran to attack the hunters, all they saw were her claws and her fangs. While they shot her, the cub disappeared into the snow. That was the moment when its coat turned from black to white so that it was forever after invisible to hunters.

“That is the way a mother triumphs,” Bobeshi said. “All you have to do to is survive and your mother lives through you.”

Lea kissed her mother, nothing more. She did none of the things she wanted to do. She did not lock herself in the closet or throw the suitcase across the room.

“I will always love you,” her mother told her. “Wherever you are.”

Lea knew this was true, but Bobeshi had told her a harder truth. The wolf turned white in the snow. It managed to live, but it went on alone.

She was in the hallway with the stranger, her suitcase in hand. It was difficult to take a breath because something inside her chest was burning, but she went down the stairs and she didn’t look back.

Do not cry, do not weep, do not beg, do not demand, do not ask why, do not hold on to her waist, do not throw yourself upon the floor, or hide beneath the bed, or lock yourself in the closet, and spit out words you will regret. Pack your bag and kiss your mother and know what she has done, she has done for you. Kiss her again, that is fine, and tell her you will miss her, you can do that, too, and then turn around and walk out, even if you hear her crying, even if your heart is telling you not to go. Her triumph depends on this. Her triumph is you.

In the courtyard, Tante Ruth was collecting weeds to boil into a mixture even more bitter than Hardship Soup. The weeds were poisonous and she had been waiting for the right time to pick them. She was ready for the World to Come, and had already lived too long, so she had decided to take matters into her own hands. This was the day. She had the cooking pot on the stove and the water was boiling. When she saw Hanni’s daughter and the golem, she was grateful to have lived long enough to see a last miracle. The old woman’s gaze fell upon Ava with compassion, and with something that was as close as she could get to love on the last day of her life, when Azriel was waiting beside her bed with the book he always carried, at last opened to her name.

As they walked to the station, Ava reached for the suitcase; it was her duty to do such things, but Lea wouldn’t let go of it. She didn’t trust the stranger, and what was more, she didn’t trust herself. She had the scissors in her pocket. She remembered what it felt like to bite down on the soldier’s hand, and when she ran her tongue over her broken tooth she felt a chill. All she had witnessed in the past days had left something sharp inside of her. She kept one hand on the scissors in her coat pocket. She could feel the wind on the back of her neck.

“I should help you,” the golem said. “The suitcase is heavy.”

Lea didn’t answer. If she had to hate someone, it might as well be Ava. The hatred tasted sweet in her mouth. She rolled it over her tongue and her broken tooth.

Ava had been given directions to the Pulitzerstrasse Station, but she had no need of them. She instinctively knew which route would keep Lea safe. She saw the path they must take as a crow sees the earth, from a distance but with complete accuracy. At the station, she kept one hand on the girl’s wrist as they made their way through the crowds. Lea’s pulse was racing.

“Let go of me,” she said.

She had been between girlhood and womanhood, looking forward to her thirteenth birthday. Now she was nothing, a changeling, half of each and nothing of either. Tall and awkward, someone who had been beautiful until she told herself that being beautiful was a crime. Now she was a pale, gawky girl. She did her best to pull away, but her mother had told her that Ava was strong and she was right. There was no possibility of eluding her grasp, not unless Lea wanted to reveal herself for the wolf that she was. That could wait until the time was right.

No Jews were allowed out at this hour, still the station was mayhem with so many Germans leaving the city. The crowds opened for Ava, perhaps because of the way her gaze settled onto people, as if she could see inside of them. Some wept when she drew near, some stopped speaking, some realized they had forgotten how to love. Some, like the girl she was with, were frightened of her for reasons they didn’t quite understand.