The Last Train: A Holocaust Story

The Last Train: A Holocaust Story — page 9
Her hair usually pulled back into a sleek bun had come loose Black strands curled around her face She had dark smudges under her eyes from sleepless nights The house was small Sometimes late at night when Paul was sound asleep Oscar could hear her crying through the thin wall between their bedroom and hers Anyu what’s wrong he repeated Paul tugged at Anyu’s sleeve I want to go outside and play No Paul she said You must stay in the house She ushered the boys to the kitchen and told them to sit at the table Paul grabbed his usual chair the one facing the sink He squirmed I have to pee Their mother sighed Please Oscar take him outside But come right back in Oscar grasped his brother’s hand and they went through the backdoor into the yard He led Paul toward the mulberry tree whose branches were furred from the first blossoms of spring Beside it stood the wooden outhouse Everything looked normal yet Oscar knew that with the soldiers arrival nothing was the same Even Paul usually talkative was quiet The boys went into the outhouse The rusty hinges of the door squeaked as it opened When they finished they trudged still silent back to the house As they entered there was a knock at the front door Stay here their mother ordered She went to the door and opened it a crack Aunt Bella Anyu’s best friend squeezed into the room The women fell into each other’s arms What is it Anyu asked 16