side down the road. My skin tingles; something dances deep inside.
One day, Heniek finds me alone outside the barracks, and he takes my hand.
In such a place, Heniek takes my hand. I have never before been touched by a man; I had thought that if I touched a boy, I would get pregnant. But standing outside the rough-hewn barracks of a slave-labor factory, with no one around, so no one can see, Heniek takes my hand, softly, firmly, and it feels as though I have been shot through by lightning. I feel Heniekâs touch along every inch of me. I feel luminous, alive, radiant with desire.
Our courtship lasted several months. Heniek would wait for me to finish my shift at the factory, and I would catch sight of him standing there at the bottom of the factory stairwell looking up for me, searching me out among all the women finally
released from their labor. After twelve numbing hours drilling metal, Iâd see Heniekâs face, at once eager and assured, and suddenly there would be this little throbbing inside me, a delicate, pulsing warmth running in my veins. That feeling! The thrill of it! Twelve hours at the machine, and then Heniek as my reward.
He would tell me how beautiful I was, how sweet my eyes, my skin, he said, like the petals of a roseâand I would run back to the barracks at night to find my reflection in the dirty glass of the window, hoping to see what he saw, hoping to discover that beauty, that sweetness for myself. I thought if I could glimpse the beauty he so admired, I might be assured of his love; I might know that there was something lasting there, something that couldnât be taken away.
Â
Â
Â
Heniek told me one day he intended to take me dancing. I shouldnât worry, he said; he would see to everything.
A refined and elegant gentleman asks his young girlfriend on a dateâa rendezvous in town at a small local restaurant, where there is polished cutlery on the table and perhaps a candle to set the mood. Waiters in suits come by to set down plates with thick hunks of meat robed in a glistening sauce; the potatoes taste of butter. At the far end of the room, a man in a bow tie plays at an old upright piano, and the couple pauses from their meal and walks hand in hand to the center of the floor. The man places his hand on the small of his ladyâs backâshe is such a delicate thing, he can feel each of her ribs under her loose-fitting dressâand he presses her gently toward him as the pianist plays his tune. And the young lady
rests her head on his broad shoulder and feels his strength under the softness of her cheek.
Heniek took me dancing. It feels like a dream. My head forgetsâhow did we manage to leave the compound without being noticed? How did we manage to walk through the streets of Radom and eat at a Polish restaurant and not look like the Jews we were? I donât know these things. But the body remembers when the mind forgets. I remember in my body, in my bones, the feeling of my night out with Heniek, dancing with Heniekâhis hand on my back, my cheek pressed against his chest, the quiver in my legs.
I had removed my armband. Heniek had taken off his policemanâs cap. He told me not to be frightened. We danced as if getting caught wouldnât mean our death.
I was petrified.
I was in love.
Â
Â
Â
Everything Heniek and I shared was secret, all our time together stolen. Yet nothing could have felt more sanctioned or ordained.
I was in love with Heniek Greenspan, and for a short time, I was not alone.
4
HENIEK ASKED ME TO GO WITH HIM TO ARGENTINA.
By this time, I had been working in the kitchen for six months or more. It was one of Heniekâs many gifts to me to get me added to the kitchen staff; I donât know how he managed it. But Heniek had some prestige, and not only among the women. He was liked; he had friends. Maybe he called in a favor; maybe he paid someone off; maybeâmaybeâsomeone thought to do
One day, Heniek finds me alone outside the barracks, and he takes my hand.
In such a place, Heniek takes my hand. I have never before been touched by a man; I had thought that if I touched a boy, I would get pregnant. But standing outside the rough-hewn barracks of a slave-labor factory, with no one around, so no one can see, Heniek takes my hand, softly, firmly, and it feels as though I have been shot through by lightning. I feel Heniekâs touch along every inch of me. I feel luminous, alive, radiant with desire.
Our courtship lasted several months. Heniek would wait for me to finish my shift at the factory, and I would catch sight of him standing there at the bottom of the factory stairwell looking up for me, searching me out among all the women finally
released from their labor. After twelve numbing hours drilling metal, Iâd see Heniekâs face, at once eager and assured, and suddenly there would be this little throbbing inside me, a delicate, pulsing warmth running in my veins. That feeling! The thrill of it! Twelve hours at the machine, and then Heniek as my reward.
He would tell me how beautiful I was, how sweet my eyes, my skin, he said, like the petals of a roseâand I would run back to the barracks at night to find my reflection in the dirty glass of the window, hoping to see what he saw, hoping to discover that beauty, that sweetness for myself. I thought if I could glimpse the beauty he so admired, I might be assured of his love; I might know that there was something lasting there, something that couldnât be taken away.
Â
Â
Â
Heniek told me one day he intended to take me dancing. I shouldnât worry, he said; he would see to everything.
A refined and elegant gentleman asks his young girlfriend on a dateâa rendezvous in town at a small local restaurant, where there is polished cutlery on the table and perhaps a candle to set the mood. Waiters in suits come by to set down plates with thick hunks of meat robed in a glistening sauce; the potatoes taste of butter. At the far end of the room, a man in a bow tie plays at an old upright piano, and the couple pauses from their meal and walks hand in hand to the center of the floor. The man places his hand on the small of his ladyâs backâshe is such a delicate thing, he can feel each of her ribs under her loose-fitting dressâand he presses her gently toward him as the pianist plays his tune. And the young lady
rests her head on his broad shoulder and feels his strength under the softness of her cheek.
Heniek took me dancing. It feels like a dream. My head forgetsâhow did we manage to leave the compound without being noticed? How did we manage to walk through the streets of Radom and eat at a Polish restaurant and not look like the Jews we were? I donât know these things. But the body remembers when the mind forgets. I remember in my body, in my bones, the feeling of my night out with Heniek, dancing with Heniekâhis hand on my back, my cheek pressed against his chest, the quiver in my legs.
I had removed my armband. Heniek had taken off his policemanâs cap. He told me not to be frightened. We danced as if getting caught wouldnât mean our death.
I was petrified.
I was in love.
Â
Â
Â
Everything Heniek and I shared was secret, all our time together stolen. Yet nothing could have felt more sanctioned or ordained.
I was in love with Heniek Greenspan, and for a short time, I was not alone.
4
HENIEK ASKED ME TO GO WITH HIM TO ARGENTINA.
By this time, I had been working in the kitchen for six months or more. It was one of Heniekâs many gifts to me to get me added to the kitchen staff; I donât know how he managed it. But Heniek had some prestige, and not only among the women. He was liked; he had friends. Maybe he called in a favor; maybe he paid someone off; maybeâmaybeâsomeone thought to do
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