The Family Behind the Walls

7. Jordanna

SEVEN

JORDANNA

JULY 28TH, 1943 – HAMBURG, GERMANY

It must be a nightmare. Please, let this all be a nightmare. I want to wake up in my bed to the sound of Mama humming in the hallway, and the scent of fresh bread baking.

A fog of smoke burns my eyelids and I can’t move. I blink repeatedly until my vision clears. I’m outside and the heat is still as blisteringly hot as it was yesterday. Even worse, I’m on a woolen blanket, sweating while Lilli’s overheating body is curled into a ball under my arm. I sit up, feeling an ache in my ribs. We’ve been asleep on a road alongside a building, and I don’t know what time it is. The clouds are so dark above us. Max is awake, sitting behind me, and Alfie is awake next to him.

“Where are we?” The words bleed out as memories from last night dangle in front of me, just out of reach.

Max places his hand on my shoulder. “We’re still within Hamburg. The Gestapo wanted to get us away from the active fires last night. The smoke is just masking everything around us—nothing looks familiar. That’s all. The three of you have been asleep for hours since we got here,” he says. I remember the Gestapo hollering at us last night while we walked past collapsing buildings and growing fires. It was hard to breathe, and my head was heavy. Everyone stopped walking at once last night and I must have collapsed because I don’t remember much more.

I glance around, finding only more children surrounding us on a city block.

“Alfie, are you feeling any better?” My words are nothing but a rasp that causes me to cough up soot. I watch him for a response, hoping the shock or whatever was happening to him last night has worn off.

“He still can’t hear anything,” Max utters.

“What do you mean?” I ask, keeping my scratchy words quiet so Lilli stays asleep longer.

Max stares at me with mirroring hazelnut eyes to mine. Lilli is the only one of us who ended up with blue eyes like Papa. His lip quivers and he bites down on it, hard. “He, ah—I think?—”

“What? What’s going on?”

“You remember just before we went into the bunker, when Alfie was separated from us?”

“Yes, of course,” I say.

“After you and Lilli fell asleep last night, he tried to talk. He was confused because he couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he managed to tell me he thinks he was too close to the explosion that took down the building on the corner. We were just out of range, but he was too close. He said he felt a lot of pressure in his ears. Instead of the air being sucked out, it was pressed in. After that his ears popped like a balloon. Now every sound is very soft and muffled.”

Max’s explanation sends a wave of nausea through my stomach. As if there wasn’t already enough to be terrified of, Alfie’s hurt and it’s obvious there won’t be any medical aid to help him, not with the amount of injured people still scattered along the roads. My chin trembles from the ache in my heart. I must hold myself together.

Since I can’t move from my spot on the blanket because of Lilli’s position, I twist around as far as I can to see Alfie. The tremble in my chin returns so I bite the inside of my cheeks. He’s staring straight out into the road where other children are shuffling around. I lift my hand to get his attention. It can’t be permanent. His hearing will come back. It must.

He doesn’t look at me, no matter how hard I try to get his attention. I drop my hand to the edge of his knee, and he jolts. The moment his eyes meet mine, tears well, trickling down my cheeks, one at a time, leaving a cool sensation behind.

I press my hand to my heart and mouth the words, “I’m here.”

His chin trembles and his nostrils flare. He gasps for air and presses his head back against the building. “He’s terrified,” Max says.

“Did he tell you that?” I ask as if it’s not already obvious from the look on Alfie’s face.

“He was confused when he woke up, started talking but realized he couldn’t hear himself. He kept talking until he broke down. He kept mumbling that he was scared. I think he had forgotten about his hearing.” Or he thought it was all a horrific nightmare just as I did.

Alfie holds his hand up from the cobblestone, just enough for me to see. He tucks his thumb into his palm and straightens his fingers, gesturing a salute. Then, he curls in his fingers, all but one and slides it across his throat.

I don’t understand what he’s trying to tell us.

“Those with disabilities are not accepted as citizens,” Max whispers. “They may not have physical proof that we’re Jewish, but it’s clear he’s deaf.”

His words spark an anger that rages through me. I could be fooled into believing a lifetime has passed since the start of this war, and the brutality and hatred only grow worse every single day.

“No one must find out,” I seethe.

I reach back to touch Alfie’s knee so he’ll look at me again. He’s sluggish about it, but does. I point at him, then Max, Lilli, and me, then interlock my fingers to show in any way I can that we’ll protect him. I cross one wrist over the other and shake my head. I point to him. I need him to understand me. He looks confused.

I search my body for a way to be clearer when I notice soot smeared across my arm. I drag my finger through the thick black dust and spell out the word protect on the stone between us. I point back and forth between Max and me, point to the word, then again at Alfie. I mouth the word: “Always.”

Lilli squirms against my lap and presses herself upright. “What’s happened?” she asks, her voice squeaky and tired.

“We’re staying here where it’s safe from the fires,” Max tells her.

“What about Mama and Papa?”

Lilli stands up and looks down at her feet, her body covered in black ash. She glances at me and again at Max and Alfie. Her chest bucks in and out and her bottom lip pouts before she begins to cry.

“I’m sure they’re fine, Lil. The police needed their help last night. That’s all.”

Max holds his arms out for Lilli, and she runs to him, dropping herself into his lap. “You’re not alone. We’re together. Always.”

“Now we’re like Alfie?” she asks.

I close my eyes, taking in the harshness of her question, the truth neither Max nor I want to assume.

“Not exactly,” Max says. “You don’t need to worry.”

“Alfie, do you think you’ll see your Mama and Papa again?” Lilli has never asked Alfie this question. She also doesn’t realize he can’t hear her, but she’s about to find out. “Alfie?”

He doesn’t budge, keeping his head resting against the building, avoiding us all.

She leans over and slaps his arm. He startles and flashes his eyes to her, wide and surprised. Lilli holds her hands out to the side. “I asked you something.”

Alfie stares at her. “I’m fine,” he says, not answering her question.

“That isn’t what I asked,” she presses.

Alfie glances between Max and me. “I don’t think he wants to talk about his parents right now,” Max tells her.

“That’s not it,” she says. “Alfie, can you hear me?” She leans toward him, bringing her face closer to his. “Remember how he was covering his ears last night?”

Alfie lifts Lilli out of Max’s lap and brings her to his, holding her head against his chest, lowering his cheek to her head. “I’ll be fine,” he utters.

“Alfie,” she cries. “Can you tell me where it hurts?”

“He can’t hear you, Lil,” Max says. “The big explosions hurt his ears.”

“But will he be able to hear us again?”

“We aren’t sure,” I tell her.

“Oh, no. No,” she whimpers, reaching up and placing her hand on one of his ears. A tear slips from Alfie’s eye and a silent sob follows. “I love you, Alfie,” Lilli says. “You have us.”

Her words, which only we can hear, break my heart.

“All Jewish children, line up!” a Gestapo shouts from the street.

“Don’t move. Just stay still,” Max whispers. “They might not know who we are. I don’t see the Gestapo who brought us here.”

I try to swallow the knot forming in my throat, watching the Gestapo scan the area. “Jewish children of Hamburg, line up!”

“It’s all right,” Max says.

I drop my stare, not wanting to make eye contact with the shouting Gestapo, but only seconds have passed before I hear the clacking hard sole boots coming toward us. “You four children too, up, get up, mach schnell, and form a line behind the others,” he says, pointing directly at us.

Why are they sending us too? We haven’t told anyone we’re Jewish and we have no papers…