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Later at home,Jan hovered in the kitchen, waiting for a chance to grab something to eat when his mother or Nacha had their back turned.So far Mama had slapped his hand twice and chased him out of the kitchen with a dish towel once.
“I don’t know what is going on with this gravy,” Mama said, frustration deepening her voice.“It won’t thicken the way it usually does.”
Nacha leaned over and studied the pan.“Hmmm…it does look a bit strange.”
Jan poked a finger into the gravy and then shoved it into his mouth even as Mama slapped at his hand.“Janek Kostanski!”
He frowned.“That doesn’t taste like gravy.”He spat the offending mixture back into his hand.
Mama gasped.“It must be bad if you’re spitting it out.”
She turned off the stove and wiped her hands on her apron.“I wonder…” She marched to the pantry and tugged the heavy bag of flour out into the kitchen.Then she opened the top of the sack and pushed the flour back with one hand.“Well, I never.”
Jan peered into the sack.“What is that?”
“I believe it’s cement mix.”
Jan rushed to the kitchen tap, poured a glass of water, and rinsed his mouth, spitting into the sink.“Ugh.No wonder it tasted bad.I can’t believe they fooled us like that.”
Mama closed the top of the sack again.“Never mind.We’ll take it back to the market tomorrow and trade it on.”
“Mama!”he said, his brow furrowed.“We can’t do that.”
“We don’t have a choice.We have a lot of mouths to feed.Come on—you can help me by carrying it to the front door ready for the morning.”
He picked up the sack and set it on his shoulder, then marched to the front door, hot with anger.He understood why they’d done it—people were desperate.The war had made criminals out of many of them.Things they’d never dream of doing had become commonplace.But it was frustrating when it happened to his family.And tomorrow, they’d do the same to another family.
With the sack leaning against the front door, he returned to the kitchen and took a seat at the table as Mama and Nacha served the meal onto plates.There weren’t enough seats at the table for everyone, so Nathan, Danuta and Jadzia sat on the floor in the living room to eat.
“You know,” began Antoni as Mama spooned potatoes onto his plate.“When I was a boy, we often sat on the floor to eat.We were poor, and there were so many of us in my family—cousins, aunts and uncles.Everyone would get together after synagogue for Shabbat.The adults would drink a sweet wine, and then my grandfather would pray.
Blessed are you, Lord our God, King of the universe, who brings forth bread from the earth.
“And then we’d eat challah.It makes my mouth water just to think about it now.”He laughed as Mama sat beside him in her chair and held out a hand to him.He squeezed her hand, then raised it to his lips to kiss it.The red of Mama’s cheeks deepened as she drank him in.Then she released his hand, and they both cleared their throats.
“I’m so grateful we all get to be here together,” Mama said.“Nacha wanted to make challah for us all, but unfortunately the flour we bought was no good.Never mind.We will manage without.”
“And we will be grateful for everything we have, rather than what we don’t,” Antoni added with a wide smile.“Let us pray.”
