Day After Night

When Nathan wandered in a few minutes before the meal, Shayndel nodded at him but didn’t bother to ask if he knew where Tirzah was.

He watched her work for a few moments and said, “Apple-baum and Goldberg will be taking care of those firing pins tonight. So all in all, it was a good thing we had the extra day.”

“I am not so sure Uri and Bob would agree with that.”

“Those two behaved like amateurs, letting themselves get ambushed like that.”

“Aren’t we in trouble without them?” Shayndel asked.

“Don’t be so sure we will be without them. It will take everyone to pull this off. That includes you and your comrades, as well.”

“As long as you don’t involve Francek.”

Nathan shrugged.

“Oh no. He’s such a hothead,” Shayndel said.

“Maybe, but he can get people to follow him—as we’ve seen.”

“He could have screwed things up for everyone with that show he put on today.”

“But he did not,” said Nathan. “And of course you will be a great help, starting tomorrow night after dinner.”

Shayndel put down the spoon and turned toward him. “Yes?”

“I’m not supposed to say more until tomorrow, but you are such a good girl, such an inspiration for your efforts during the war.” He took her hand in his, tracing the lines on her palm with his finger. “I see a long life line and much romance.”

Shayndel pulled away and crossed her arms.

Nathan shrugged. “You can’t blame a man for trying. As for tomorrow, you will need to select three girls from your barrack to act as your lieutenants. I suppose you’ll pick that pretty little French girl who is your friend. And the tall, good-looking blonde, yes? Your barrack has the prettiest girls, Shayndel.”

“If I ever do meet your wife, I will be sure to tell her how friendly you have been.”

Shayndel knew she was a bad liar and worried about keeping her new secret from Leonie and Zorah, both of whom saw through her easily. As she served lunch, she found reasons to keep running back into the kitchen. When she finally did sit down, she kept her mouth full and tried to imagine how the girls at her table would fare under the pressure of the escape.

“Tedi,” Leonie said. “Tell Shayndel about your boyfriend.”

Tedi blushed and shook her head, so Leonie took up the story. “In the infirmary today, one of the Iraqi boys took a look at our friend here and fell in love at first sight! He actually sang her a song. Aliza told me that his name is Nissim, which means ‘miracles.’ Isn’t that lovely?”

“It’s foolishness, that’s what it is,” Tedi sniffed and grabbed the pitcher. “I’m going to get some more water.”

“He’s very handsome, very dark,” Leonie confided after she left. “But at least three inches shorter than her. They would make a strange couple.” Shayndel nodded, suddenly ambushed by an image of Tedi in bed with Nissim, his legs wrapped around her hips, their contrasting skin and hair flashing black and gold, ivory and silver. She imagined their children; an entirely new species of Jew, with blue eyes in a brown face, or black eyes beneath a flaxen curtain. Not European, not Moorish; sturdy and graceful, tough and sentimental, and altogether beautiful.

When Tedi returned, Leonie said, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I used to hate it when the old ladies matched up boys and girls and talked about how lovely their children would be. Here I am doing the same thing and I’m not even twenty yet.”

“Twenty,” Tedi repeated. “Isn’t it strange that twenty seems old to me?”

“That’s because we’ve seen so much death,” said Shayndel. “Usually, people are much older—fifty or sixty at least—before they know more dead people than living ones. To become young, we will have to have babies.”

“I’m not the maternal type,” said Tedi.

“Me neither,” Leonie said. “I don’t think I ever played with dolls.”

“It doesn’t matter,” said Shayndel. “We’ll marry and the babies will come and they change you. I’ve seen it. Even women with numbers on their arms, the ones who never used to smile, even for them, I see the light come back to their eyes when they hold a baby.”

“That puts a terrible burden on the children,” Tedi said.

“I don’t think so. Kids don’t understand,” said Shayndel.