Read Online All the Light There Was by Nancy Kricorian - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Nancy Kricorian
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another had turned back her jacket lapel to cover hers. Thankfully, when we all entered the lycée and exchanged our outerwear for the school’s democratizing smocks, the Jewish girls looked like everyone else.
Denise and I went together to our first-period mathematics class. The teacher, Madame Bourdet, had a bonnet of short, gray curls and a long, pointed nose. She was a rigid and demanding instructor, but on this morning she seemed flustered whenever she turned from the board to face the class. She dropped her chalk several times and pulled out the hankie tucked into her sweater cuff to wipe her perspiring face.
Just before the class came to an end, Madame Bourdet declared, in her formal manner, “My dear girls, this has nothing whatsoever to do with algebra, but I cannot restrain myself from sharing with you the profound regret I experienced this morning as I witnessed the latest affront to the values of the French Republic. And to those of you who are subject to this indignity, I can only say that I offer you my sincerest apology on behalf of the vast majority of the French people. Class is dismissed.”
As we soberly filed out of the classroom, I turned back to see Madame Bourdet dabbing at her eyes with the white hankie.
Denise took my arm and whispered, “She forgot to assign homework.”
10
I WAS AWAKENED BY the sounds of muffled shouting and pounding. Pulling back the curtain, I glanced at the clock on the windowsill. It was just after six in the morning, but it seemed earlier because the skies were gray.
Auntie Shakeh sat up in bed. “What is it?”
I slid my feet into my slippers. “I don’t know.”
We pulled on our robes and went to the front hall. My mother leaned her head out the doorway while my father stood on the landing.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“They’re taking the Jews,” my father answered. “The police are in the next stairwell. They’ll probably be coming here in a few minutes. They’re taking them all, even the women and children.”
I noticed that my brother was missing. “Where’s Missak?”
“He went down to the street to see what’s going on,” my father said.
“What about the Lipskis?” I asked.
“They are packing their bags.” My father shook his head. “I told them to hide on the roof, but it would be no use. The police are searching from top to bottom.”
My mother’s face was ashen. “Joseph is concerned about Sara. He’s afraid all this will make the baby come early.”
“What about Claire?” I asked.
“Children are to go with their parents,” my father answered.
I said, “They should leave her with us.”
“
Yavrum,
why didn’t I think of that?” my mother exclaimed. “Go get her, Garabed. Bring her here and tell them we’ll keep her until they come back.”
“What should we do with this yellow-haired baby?” my father asked. “Think a minute. Who knows where they’re taking them or when they’ll be back?”
“Garabed, enough. Maral, go get the child.” My mother motioned me toward the doorway.
I looked at my father questioningly, and he nodded.
I quietly rapped on the door, and Joseph Lipski opened it, his face grimly set.
“Please come in.” He waved me into the apartment.
Two valises were sitting by the front door. In the kitchen, Sara was folding Claire’s clothes and putting them into a small cardboard suitcase. Claire was sitting on a straight-backed kitchen chair, holding Charlotte in her lap.
I said, “Mr. Lipski, my mother has offered to keep Claire until you come back. But we have to hurry. The police will be here soon.”
“It is a kind offer, but I must ask my wife.”
He spoke to his wife in Yiddish. She glanced quickly from Claire to her husband and finally to me. Her large eyes were bright with tears when she nodded yes.
Sara Lipski snapped shut the suitcase and said something into Claire’s ear, embracing the child tightly before pushing her toward me.
I picked up the
Denise and I went together to our first-period mathematics class. The teacher, Madame Bourdet, had a bonnet of short, gray curls and a long, pointed nose. She was a rigid and demanding instructor, but on this morning she seemed flustered whenever she turned from the board to face the class. She dropped her chalk several times and pulled out the hankie tucked into her sweater cuff to wipe her perspiring face.
Just before the class came to an end, Madame Bourdet declared, in her formal manner, “My dear girls, this has nothing whatsoever to do with algebra, but I cannot restrain myself from sharing with you the profound regret I experienced this morning as I witnessed the latest affront to the values of the French Republic. And to those of you who are subject to this indignity, I can only say that I offer you my sincerest apology on behalf of the vast majority of the French people. Class is dismissed.”
As we soberly filed out of the classroom, I turned back to see Madame Bourdet dabbing at her eyes with the white hankie.
Denise took my arm and whispered, “She forgot to assign homework.”
10
I WAS AWAKENED BY the sounds of muffled shouting and pounding. Pulling back the curtain, I glanced at the clock on the windowsill. It was just after six in the morning, but it seemed earlier because the skies were gray.
Auntie Shakeh sat up in bed. “What is it?”
I slid my feet into my slippers. “I don’t know.”
We pulled on our robes and went to the front hall. My mother leaned her head out the doorway while my father stood on the landing.
“What’s happening?” I asked.
“They’re taking the Jews,” my father answered. “The police are in the next stairwell. They’ll probably be coming here in a few minutes. They’re taking them all, even the women and children.”
I noticed that my brother was missing. “Where’s Missak?”
“He went down to the street to see what’s going on,” my father said.
“What about the Lipskis?” I asked.
“They are packing their bags.” My father shook his head. “I told them to hide on the roof, but it would be no use. The police are searching from top to bottom.”
My mother’s face was ashen. “Joseph is concerned about Sara. He’s afraid all this will make the baby come early.”
“What about Claire?” I asked.
“Children are to go with their parents,” my father answered.
I said, “They should leave her with us.”
“
Yavrum,
why didn’t I think of that?” my mother exclaimed. “Go get her, Garabed. Bring her here and tell them we’ll keep her until they come back.”
“What should we do with this yellow-haired baby?” my father asked. “Think a minute. Who knows where they’re taking them or when they’ll be back?”
“Garabed, enough. Maral, go get the child.” My mother motioned me toward the doorway.
I looked at my father questioningly, and he nodded.
I quietly rapped on the door, and Joseph Lipski opened it, his face grimly set.
“Please come in.” He waved me into the apartment.
Two valises were sitting by the front door. In the kitchen, Sara was folding Claire’s clothes and putting them into a small cardboard suitcase. Claire was sitting on a straight-backed kitchen chair, holding Charlotte in her lap.
I said, “Mr. Lipski, my mother has offered to keep Claire until you come back. But we have to hurry. The police will be here soon.”
“It is a kind offer, but I must ask my wife.”
He spoke to his wife in Yiddish. She glanced quickly from Claire to her husband and finally to me. Her large eyes were bright with tears when she nodded yes.
Sara Lipski snapped shut the suitcase and said something into Claire’s ear, embracing the child tightly before pushing her toward me.
I picked up the
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