final giggle from Aunt Miriam.
Once we had moved our belongings into the corners of the rooms, things seemed better. The apartment was still crowded, but at least we had space to move about. We even made a schedule for bathroom use.
The rest of the building was also a hive of activity. People were going in and out of the different apartments. Doors slammed. The cry of a child came through the wall. Ervin and Gabor went to help neighbors move while the rest of us unpacked what we could.
By suppertime we were tired. Grandmama had prepared bean soup and a spicy potato-and-noodle casserole with paprika. The delicious aroma made my mouth water.
“So nice to be together,” my aunt said. “Now if only Laci and Aron were here.”
“Just one letter,” Mother said. “Just one letter – that’s all I ask for.”
“They’ll write soon. They will, I know it!” Aunt Miriam’s voice was determined, as if she were willing them to write to us. There had been no word from Uncle Laci either.
“Both of you worry too much,” Grandmama said. She put her arm around Mama’s shoulders. “I’d know if anything was wrong with Aron. I’d feel it. Aron is fine, and so is Laci.”
The three women exchanged unhappy glances.
“Are there other kids our age on this floor?” I asked Ervin.
As if in response to my question, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. Judit Grof and her brother, Adam, were standing in the hall.
Judit and I stared at each other in complete shock before falling into each other’s arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“We moved into Mr. Deutch’s apartment down the hall,” Judit said. “I had no idea I’d find you here! We just came over to introduce ourselves.”
“And I didn’t know you’d be here! Isn’t it wonderful? We’ll be able to spend all of our time together.”
I drew her into the apartment and we settled down on the sofa.
“Careful! You’re in my bedroom,” Gabor said, laughing. “I feel cooped up. Let’s go out!”
“Great idea! We’ve been moving all day. I want to have some fun,” Judit said.
“It’s such a nice evening. Let’s go for a walk by the river,” I suggested.
Aunt Miriam’s apartment was around the corner from awide promenade that ran alongside the Danube. Before the Occupation, we went there often. The cafés by the river sold delicious ice cream and pastries, and lively music wafted out of the hotels. White wooden deck chairs were rented out to people who gazed for hours on end at the romantic sight of the Royal Castle and the Fisherman’s Bastion across the river. Throngs of chattering people of all ages strolled up and down the wide walkway. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of the pretzels the street vendors were hawking.
“We can’t go on the promenade! It’s too dangerous,” Gabor said.
“Gabor is right. The entire area is full of Arrow Cross, SS, and Hungarian soldiers,” Aunt Miriam explained. “You won’t see a single yellow star in the crowd.”
A heavy silence oppressed us.
“It was a lousy idea anyway,” I finally said, as cheerfully as I could. “Who wants to see the murky old Danube again? I’ve seen it a million times already and so have the rest of you. How about playing cards instead?”
Mama gave me a grateful glance. “What a good idea,” she said. “We’ll leave you in the kitchen and drop over to Judit and Adam’s apartment to visit their mother.”
I was cutting thick slices of heavy rye bread for breakfast when I heard somebody banging on the front door. I found Adam in the doorway, a ripped white notice in his hands.
“I was playing catch with my friends when the police tacked this on the lamppost out front,” he said. “I tore it off and took it to my mama. After she read it, she told me to show it to you.” He handed it to me and turned away.
It was an official document, a new set of rules and regulations that Jewish citizens living in Budapest had to follow. I read the
Once we had moved our belongings into the corners of the rooms, things seemed better. The apartment was still crowded, but at least we had space to move about. We even made a schedule for bathroom use.
The rest of the building was also a hive of activity. People were going in and out of the different apartments. Doors slammed. The cry of a child came through the wall. Ervin and Gabor went to help neighbors move while the rest of us unpacked what we could.
By suppertime we were tired. Grandmama had prepared bean soup and a spicy potato-and-noodle casserole with paprika. The delicious aroma made my mouth water.
“So nice to be together,” my aunt said. “Now if only Laci and Aron were here.”
“Just one letter,” Mother said. “Just one letter – that’s all I ask for.”
“They’ll write soon. They will, I know it!” Aunt Miriam’s voice was determined, as if she were willing them to write to us. There had been no word from Uncle Laci either.
“Both of you worry too much,” Grandmama said. She put her arm around Mama’s shoulders. “I’d know if anything was wrong with Aron. I’d feel it. Aron is fine, and so is Laci.”
The three women exchanged unhappy glances.
“Are there other kids our age on this floor?” I asked Ervin.
As if in response to my question, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. Judit Grof and her brother, Adam, were standing in the hall.
Judit and I stared at each other in complete shock before falling into each other’s arms.
“What are you doing here?”
“We moved into Mr. Deutch’s apartment down the hall,” Judit said. “I had no idea I’d find you here! We just came over to introduce ourselves.”
“And I didn’t know you’d be here! Isn’t it wonderful? We’ll be able to spend all of our time together.”
I drew her into the apartment and we settled down on the sofa.
“Careful! You’re in my bedroom,” Gabor said, laughing. “I feel cooped up. Let’s go out!”
“Great idea! We’ve been moving all day. I want to have some fun,” Judit said.
“It’s such a nice evening. Let’s go for a walk by the river,” I suggested.
Aunt Miriam’s apartment was around the corner from awide promenade that ran alongside the Danube. Before the Occupation, we went there often. The cafés by the river sold delicious ice cream and pastries, and lively music wafted out of the hotels. White wooden deck chairs were rented out to people who gazed for hours on end at the romantic sight of the Royal Castle and the Fisherman’s Bastion across the river. Throngs of chattering people of all ages strolled up and down the wide walkway. The air was filled with the tantalizing aroma of the pretzels the street vendors were hawking.
“We can’t go on the promenade! It’s too dangerous,” Gabor said.
“Gabor is right. The entire area is full of Arrow Cross, SS, and Hungarian soldiers,” Aunt Miriam explained. “You won’t see a single yellow star in the crowd.”
A heavy silence oppressed us.
“It was a lousy idea anyway,” I finally said, as cheerfully as I could. “Who wants to see the murky old Danube again? I’ve seen it a million times already and so have the rest of you. How about playing cards instead?”
Mama gave me a grateful glance. “What a good idea,” she said. “We’ll leave you in the kitchen and drop over to Judit and Adam’s apartment to visit their mother.”
I was cutting thick slices of heavy rye bread for breakfast when I heard somebody banging on the front door. I found Adam in the doorway, a ripped white notice in his hands.
“I was playing catch with my friends when the police tacked this on the lamppost out front,” he said. “I tore it off and took it to my mama. After she read it, she told me to show it to you.” He handed it to me and turned away.
It was an official document, a new set of rules and regulations that Jewish citizens living in Budapest had to follow. I read the
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