Read Online The Other Half of Life by Kim Ablon Whitney - Free Book Online
Authors: Kim Ablon Whitney
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women in Prague? All the clothes she wears are her own design.”
Thomas smiled, marveling at Priska.
“Did either of you have a girl back home?” Priska asked. Though she had asked them both, Thomas felt her eyes on him.
“Me?” he said. “No.”
“There were a few but it feels so long ago now,” Günther said casually.
Thomas wasn't sure whether he believed him. Günther asked Priska the question Thomas was eager to know the answer to: “And what about you?”
Priska shook her head. “There was an older boy who lived in our building. He always said he would marry me when I grew up. But then a few years ago he stopped saying that. In fact, he wouldn't even wave to me anymore or say hello if he saw me in the street.”
“Because you are a Jew,” Thomas said.
Priska nodded a little sadly. “Everything changes so quickly. I didn't really notice that much at first. Marianne and I went to a Jewish school, so we didn't have to leaveschool like I've heard some others had to. It was
Reichskristallnacht
when I really began to understand. The windows of every Jewish store in our town were smashed. All the goods stolen. After that my father said we had to get out. No more waiting for things to blow over.”
Günther said, “They took my father that night. They broke down our door, ransacked our apartment, and took my father away—just like that. I thought I'd never see him again.”
“What has your father told you about being in a
Konzentrationslager?
” Thomas asked.
At first Günther didn't answer and Thomas worried he'd asked something too private, overstepped boundaries. But he desperately wanted to know what the
Konzentrationslager
was like. They heard rumors all the time but it was impossible to know what was really true.
“They made them work, building something—my father wasn't sure what it even was. They had to carry heavy bags of cement up endless stairs. They were given practically no food and no water, and they were starving and getting sick. My father said it was as if the Nazis were hoping they would die.”
They were quiet for a few moments. Thomas wondered if they were waiting for him to say something about his own father. But he didn't want to, and finally Priska said, “Well, enough gloominess. We're the lucky ones. We made it out. Come on, let's go play skittles.”
“Good idea,” Günther said.
“I don't think I'll come,” Thomas said as images of his father bowed down under a bag of cement trampled through his mind.
“Why not?” Priska asked.
Thomas shrugged.
She shook her head and grabbed him by the hand. “You've been taken prisoner. Let's go.”
Thomas managed a halfhearted smile and he went with them. But especially after what they had just shared with him, Priska's careless words reverberated in his head.
You've been taken prisoner
. Nothing was innocent anymore, not even a casual, joking remark.
Chapter Seven
T homas returned to the smoking room often, hoping to find Wilhelm or Jürgen or others playing chess. One day he came in the midafternoon—the time when most people took tea or rested in a deck chair— and the smoking room was near empty. Thomas sat at a table, twiddling his lone pawn through his fingers and imagining it marching down an open board.
“Looking for an opponent?”
Thomas glanced up to see Manfred. “No, just a game to watch.”
“How about you and I play?” Manfred asked.
“No thank you,” Thomas said immediately.
Manfred frowned. “Do you have other plans?”
“Well, I …” Thomas looked around the room. An older man was slumped back asleep in his chair, his mouth gaping open.
“You want to play. I can tell.” Manfred leaned closer and said, “What will the other passengers think of you playing one of us?”
Thomas glanced at the swastika on his armband. He knew Manfred meant others would judge him for playing a Nazi, not just a crew member.
“We're all on this ship together … might as well make the most of
Thomas smiled, marveling at Priska.
“Did either of you have a girl back home?” Priska asked. Though she had asked them both, Thomas felt her eyes on him.
“Me?” he said. “No.”
“There were a few but it feels so long ago now,” Günther said casually.
Thomas wasn't sure whether he believed him. Günther asked Priska the question Thomas was eager to know the answer to: “And what about you?”
Priska shook her head. “There was an older boy who lived in our building. He always said he would marry me when I grew up. But then a few years ago he stopped saying that. In fact, he wouldn't even wave to me anymore or say hello if he saw me in the street.”
“Because you are a Jew,” Thomas said.
Priska nodded a little sadly. “Everything changes so quickly. I didn't really notice that much at first. Marianne and I went to a Jewish school, so we didn't have to leaveschool like I've heard some others had to. It was
Reichskristallnacht
when I really began to understand. The windows of every Jewish store in our town were smashed. All the goods stolen. After that my father said we had to get out. No more waiting for things to blow over.”
Günther said, “They took my father that night. They broke down our door, ransacked our apartment, and took my father away—just like that. I thought I'd never see him again.”
“What has your father told you about being in a
Konzentrationslager?
” Thomas asked.
At first Günther didn't answer and Thomas worried he'd asked something too private, overstepped boundaries. But he desperately wanted to know what the
Konzentrationslager
was like. They heard rumors all the time but it was impossible to know what was really true.
“They made them work, building something—my father wasn't sure what it even was. They had to carry heavy bags of cement up endless stairs. They were given practically no food and no water, and they were starving and getting sick. My father said it was as if the Nazis were hoping they would die.”
They were quiet for a few moments. Thomas wondered if they were waiting for him to say something about his own father. But he didn't want to, and finally Priska said, “Well, enough gloominess. We're the lucky ones. We made it out. Come on, let's go play skittles.”
“Good idea,” Günther said.
“I don't think I'll come,” Thomas said as images of his father bowed down under a bag of cement trampled through his mind.
“Why not?” Priska asked.
Thomas shrugged.
She shook her head and grabbed him by the hand. “You've been taken prisoner. Let's go.”
Thomas managed a halfhearted smile and he went with them. But especially after what they had just shared with him, Priska's careless words reverberated in his head.
You've been taken prisoner
. Nothing was innocent anymore, not even a casual, joking remark.
Chapter Seven
T homas returned to the smoking room often, hoping to find Wilhelm or Jürgen or others playing chess. One day he came in the midafternoon—the time when most people took tea or rested in a deck chair— and the smoking room was near empty. Thomas sat at a table, twiddling his lone pawn through his fingers and imagining it marching down an open board.
“Looking for an opponent?”
Thomas glanced up to see Manfred. “No, just a game to watch.”
“How about you and I play?” Manfred asked.
“No thank you,” Thomas said immediately.
Manfred frowned. “Do you have other plans?”
“Well, I …” Thomas looked around the room. An older man was slumped back asleep in his chair, his mouth gaping open.
“You want to play. I can tell.” Manfred leaned closer and said, “What will the other passengers think of you playing one of us?”
Thomas glanced at the swastika on his armband. He knew Manfred meant others would judge him for playing a Nazi, not just a crew member.
“We're all on this ship together … might as well make the most of
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