Page 31 of Cilka's Journey

“Nineteen.”

Yelena’s brow furrows. “One day, if or when you feel up to it, please know you can talk to me about it.”

Before Cilka can answer, Yelena walks off.

On her third visit to the dying patient, a prisoner who had an accident while working outside, Cilka writes the time and the words “no pulse.” She takes a moment to pause and force herself to look at the face of the man she has just declared dead. She flicks back through the paperwork, searching for his name.

Bending down as she covers his face, she whispers, “Ivan Détochkin—alav ha-shalom.” May peace be upon him. She has not uttered these words in a long time.

Auschwitz-Birkenau, Summer 1943

“What did he say to you? We want to hear every word, and did he look at you while he was talking? Tell us, Gita, we need to hear.”

Cilka sits on the grass at the side of Block 29 with her friends Gita and Dana. Magda is resting inside. It is a Sunday afternoon, summer, with no wind to carry the ashes spewing from the nearby crematoria their way. Cilka, in her position as block leader, has been allowed some freedom of movement, but Lale is the only male prisoner they’ve ever seen inside the women’s camp. That morning he had appeared. The girls knew what to do, to lessen the risk for their friends—encircle Gita and Lale, giving them just enough privacy for a whispered conversation. Cilka had strained to hear and had caught snippets; now she wanted the details.

“He was asking me about my family,” Gita replies.

“And what did you say?” Cilka asks.

“I didn’t want to talk about them. I think he understood. So he told me about his.”

“And? Has he got brothers and sisters?” Dana asks.

“He has an older brother called Max…”

“I love that name. Max,” Cilka says, putting on a gushy, girly voice.

“Sorry, Cilka, Max is married and has two small boys of his own,” Gita tells her.

“Oh well, never mind. What else did he say?”

“He has a sister. Her name is Goldie and she is a dressmaker. I could tell he really loves his mumma and sister. That’s good, isn’t it?”

“That’s very good, Gita. You want to love someone who is good to the other women in his life,” says Dana, mature beyond her years.

“Who said anything about being in love?” Gita throws back at her.

“Gita loves Lale…” Cilka sing-songs to her friends, letting the sunlight and their friendship momentarily block out the horror surrounding them.

“Stop it, both of you,” Gita says, but she is smiling.

Exhausted by hope, the three young women lie on the grass and close their eyes, letting the warmth of the sun transport them away from where they are.

That afternoon as Cilka is putting on her coat, readying to leave the warmth of the hospital and face the freezing temperatures outside, she sees Yelena.

“Yelena Georgiyevna, I need to talk to you—”

“Cilka! I’ve been looking for you. Yes, let’s talk.”

Before Cilka can say anything, Yelena continues, “My colleagues are impressed with you. They asked if you had any nursing experience.”

“No, I told you… I’ve never been a nurse.”

“That’s what I told them. We chatted about you and we were wondering whether you would like to train to be a nurse.”

This was all happening so fast.

“I… How can I do that? I’m a prisoner here.”