فصل 65

joana

We arrived in Gotenhafen at dusk, our faces red and chapped from the wind on the water. Emilia had been sick through most of the boat trip, but insisted she was fine. Her face was the color of phlegm as we walked into the port. She held on to the sleeve of the German to steady herself. We needed to find a place for her to rest, something for her to eat.

For weeks we had trekked to get to the port. Nothing could have prepared us for what we found there. Horses and animals, lost or abandoned by their owners, roamed helpless in the streets. Gray naval supply trucks zoomed about. Crates, boxes, luggage, and provisions lined the quays.

“Meta!” a woman screamed, running toward us. She grabbed my arm. “Please, have you seen my Meta? She’s only five years old.”

A lady with a blue bundle drifted by, crying. “His wet diaper’s frozen solid. Should I tug it? Will it tear his skin off?”

People screamed out for food and lost family members.

“My God, look what this war has done,” said Eva.

The wandering boy clung to the leg of the shoe poet. Even the German seemed startled.

Poet looked around. “There are so many, it could take days to secure passage. We must stay together. Let’s agree that if we get separated, we shall meet under the large clock on that building.” He motioned to the distant clock with his walking stick.

Eva stopped a shawled woman pushing a baby buggy through the snow. “What are the reports? What do you know?” she said.

“What do I know? They say Hitler’s in a bunker in Berlin.” The woman’s voice was deep, husky like a man’s. “And we’re here. Where are the bunkers for us?” She looked up at Eva. “Boy, you’re a big one, huh?”

Eva’s face clouded.

“Excuse me, is there any organized lodging?” I asked.

“Organized?” The woman laughed. “Take a look around. Nothing’s organized. It’s bedlam, stupid girl. Grab space where you can and fight for a boarding pass like the rest of us.”

The group moved closer to me. The wandering boy approached the baby carriage. His eyes widened.

“And how is your child faring?” I asked, peeking into the buggy. Tucked into the buggy was not a child. It was a goat.

“Don’t judge me,” said the woman, stepping in front of the buggy. “If I don’t take it, someone else will. I’ve got kids who are hungry.”

“I’m not judging. We’re all hungry.”

“Well, this goat’s mine. Find your own.” She then looked us over and motioned me closer. “I’m told the roof of the old movie house doesn’t have holes. Might be warmer there.”

“Thank you,” I said.

She stood, waiting. “I could have sold that information,” she told me. She snorted and shoved off, thrusting the buggy across broken stones and ice. The sound of a bleating goat echoed behind her. We stood silent in a circle, staring at one another.

Eva finally spoke. “I’m sorry, but that was the ugliest baby I’ve ever seen.”

“And for heaven’s sake, Joana, find your own goat,” Poet chimed.

“Movie house has no holes,” said the wandering boy, imitating the deep tone.

And then, from behind the group came his voice: “Careful, Klaus, you could sell that information,” said the German.

I tried not to, but I couldn’t help it. I laughed. The wandering boy started to giggle. Eva burst out laughing. And then the most amazing thing happened. The German smiled and laughed. Hard.

“Let’s find the movie house,” said Eva once we had regained our composure. We walked away from the harbor and the enormous ships. Would we be able to secure passage on one tomorrow? If so, which ship would ferry us to freedom?

Snow fell as we walked, piling atop our heads and shoulders. The German grabbed my hand and pulled me toward him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “About Ingrid.”

I looked down. Before I could respond, he dropped my hand and walked away.