carried him home, so the Nazis, thank the Lord, never captured him," Hania explained."He got pneumonia, though. We tried to nurse him back to health, but his lungs gave out."
I was lost in my heart for Andrzej. Wandering the streets of Tylicz, I found my way to the village graveyard. I could not place anything on his headstone because it was against German law for a Jew to put flowers on a Gentile's gravethat would be considered desecration; I would be shot. I could only water the flowers which had already been placed there with my tears, thinking of the boy I used to say 'Hi' to on my way to school, thinking how there was no one in the world to hold my hand or greet me on that hill anymore.
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After Andrzej died, the law was passed expelling all Jews from towns within thirty kilometers of the Polish border. They were allowed to take with them only one loaf of bread and one change of clothes per person. The Kornreichs lost all of their belongings, their house, and their land. Forced out along with the other Jews of Tylicz, they moved to Florynka and forfeited what Gentile allies they had left. They rented one room from a local farmer and slept on the floor, on straw mattresses. Rena had gotten special permission to bring their cow, but if she was late for milking, the farmer would steal the milk and pretend that their cow was dry. There was not as much sewing to do in this new town because very few people knew the Kornreichs, but every few weeks Tolek would show up at their door with almonds from Slovakia. Rena and Danka would take the almonds to the town of Grybow
*, where they could sell them to the local Jews and make a meager sum which Tolek insisted they keep for themselves. In spite of all of these troubles and hardships, Rena was simply grateful that they were together. She felt useful and knew that her parents depended on Danka and
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her to take care of those things they were no longer able to do for themselves .
News spread rapidly through the neighboring communities that several Jewish girls had been raped by German soldiers in a nearby town. The memory of the soldier who had stormed into their attic looking for Rena surged back into their lives .
Late into the night Danka and Rena listened to their parents' hushed voices discussing their fate. In the morning they woke to see Mama's tear-streaked face .
"Uncle Jacob cannot take you, so both of you must go to Zosia, in Bratislava. Things are still good in Slovakia and she knows many wealthy Jewish families there who are aware of the situation here. They will take you in and give you a place to work where you can be safe."
"I'm not going to leave you again." I hope to weaken her resolve.
"Yes you will, Rena, because if you don't I am going to go somewhere and just die. I never want to see my girls raped." My arguments dry up in my throat. I have never seen such defeat or dismay in Mama's eyes. "And I need you to take care of Danka, Rena."
"We will go, Mama."
In the morning Tolek arrives with a sleigh. "We will have to camp off the border tonight because of the full moon, but we should be close enough that the walk won't be too strenuous tomorrow night."
His friendly face is a comfort amid so much strangeness. It occurs to me that he does not think of us as Jewish, but as friends. I wonder why the rest of the world cannot see things the way he does, the way I do.
Danka and I hold Mama very close to us. She seems so small, as if she is shrinking under the weight of the world. My parents have
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always seemed ageless, but overnight they have aged visibly. I am struck by Mama's frailness and Papa's white hair.
"Maybe you and Schani will be getting married after all." Mama tries to lighten our mood, allowing her eyes to twinkle for just a moment. "You are good girls. We are so proud of you."
Folding blankets around our feet and shoulders as if we are still young children she is tucking into bed, she speaks