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clanking, my
fingers were turning purple. Could I have killed those animals?
    Finally I reached my home and found the front door
open. Had I left it open? I sneaked in and up the stairs hoping and praying to
not be seen or heard by anyone. I reached my room and threw myself on the bed,
exhausted, completely drained.
    Then I fell into a deep and heavy sleep.
     
    My oldest brother Leon
woke me up. I was confused and startled. He wasn’t alone. He had o ne
of my other brothers with him.
    “Wake up, little brother,” Leon said poking me. “You
have slept all day.”
    I sat up with a grunt. The light from outside hurt my
eyes. I felt horrible. Completely worn out. I had muscle pain in both legs and
arms.
    “It’s almost evening,” my second brother Isaac said.
“Mom wants you to at least come down for dinner.”
    I sighed and rubbed my head. It felt like I had
needles inside of me, my insides made of glass that had shattered overnight. “I
can’t,” I moaned. “I feel terrible. I’m not hungry at all.”
    I knew it had to sound strange in those times when
everybody was starving and there wasn’t enough of anything. But I felt no
hunger whatsoever. Not even a little bit. Leon picked up my shirt and trousers
from the floor and threw it at me.
    “Get dressed. You’re coming down for dinner. Father
and Mother want you to be there, so you better obey.”
     
    My mind drifted while
thinking about Catalina during dinner. I recalled the look in her eyes as she was taken away in the black car and felt a sadness grow inside. Even though
I had only known her for a few hours I felt so connected to her. I wondered
with fear what had happened to her afterwards. I had heard the stories that my
brothers told me about camps that no one ever returned from.  
    The war was the subject of this dinner conversation as
well, as usual. Ever since King Carol II had abdicated in September and gone
into exile in Mexico he had left this country in the hands of the pro-German
administration of Marshal Ion Antonescu and his brutal Iron Guard. That meant
very hard times for all minority groups in Romania, among them the Jews and the
Romani-people, often referred to as the gypsies. My brothers were discussing
this development during dinner with my father.
    “We need to stand up for our rights,” my brother Isaac
said. “They are killing people all over the country in brutal massacres and no
one is doing a damn thing about it.”
    “What do you want to do?” my father said. “It’s
happening all over Europe. The important thing is to stay safe.”
    “And hide like cowards?” Isaac said. “When we should
be fighting? We should be helping these people, our people.”
    My father sighed deeply while eating his soup slowly.
He had lost a lot of weight the past few months. His cheekbones were showing
and when he lifted his spoon I noticed his collarbone was a lot more apparent
than it used to be.
    “We’re up against powerful forces here. I don’t think
there is much we can do,” he said. “You’ll only risk your life and the whole
family’s as well. If we stay here on our property and not bother anyone then
they’ll leave us alone. Then we will be safe.”
    Isaac snorted. “We should wait for them to come for
us? Is that all you want? Cause they will come for us. They will throw us out
and deport us to one of these camps or they will just kill us here on the spot.
It’s only a matter of time, Father. We have to at least defend ourselves.”
    I sighed and looked at my soup. Vegetables and water.
No meat, I thought disappointedly.
    “Does anyone know where they take the Jews who are
deported?” I asked.
    Everyone around the table stopped eating and stared at
me. I hardly ever spoke anymore and I never ever showed any interest in
politics or the war. I didn’t care much for their discussion, but I did care
about what happened to Catalina and where they had taken her.
    Leon shook his head. “No one knows,” he said.
    “Some have