Page 55 of Cilka's Journey

“No, my darling daughter. Stay with me, here and now. There are no certainties in this place. Let us have this night together. I know what awaits me in the morning. I am not afraid.”

“I can’t let them take you, Mumma. You and Magda are all I have.”

“My darling Magda! She’s alive?”

“She is, Mumma.”

“Oh… thankHashem. You must look after each other, as best you can.”

“And you, Mumma, I must look after you.”

Cilka’s mother struggles to free herself from her child’s arms. “Look at me, look at me. I am sick, I am dying. You can’t stop that.”

Cilka runs her hands over her mother’s face, kisses her shaven head. Their tears mingle and fall together onto the bed.

“What about Papa, Mumma—was he with you?”

“Oh, my darling, we were separated. He was in a bad way…”

Overwhelming waves of sadness and hopelessness threaten to drown Cilka. “No. No, Mumma.”

“Lie here with me,” her mother says gently, “and in the morning kiss me goodbye. I will watch over you.”

“I can’t. I can’t let you go,” Cilka sobs.

“You must, it’s not your decision to make.”

“Hold me. Hold me, Mumma.”

Cilka’s mother embraces her daughter with all her might, pulling her down onto the bed. The two become one.

“One day, ifHashemis willing,” her mother says, stroking Cilka’s face, “you will know a child’s love. You will know what I feel for you.”

Cilka buries her face in her mother’s neck.

“I love you, Mumma.”

The sun has barely risen when Cilka, her mother and the others in Block 25 are roused by the screaming SS and barking dogs.

“Out, out, everybody out.”

Cilka’s head rests on her mother’s shoulder as they slowly leave the room and join the others heading outside to the waiting trucks.

Swagger sticks are being wielded at those too slow or in any way resisting the final few steps onto the trucks. Cilka pauses. A stick is raised in her mother’s direction by a nearby guard.

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses at him.

The baton is lowered as Cilka’s mother takes the final few steps, Cilka still clinging to her arm.

“Mumma, no, don’t get on the truck!”

The guards watch as Cilka’s mother frees herself from her daughter, kisses her on both cheeks, on the lips and runs her fingers through her hair. One last time. She then accepts the hands reaching down from the truck to help pull her up. Cilka can still feel her mother’s lips on her face. She sinks to the ground as the truck starts up and drives away. A guard extends his hand to Cilka and she smacks him away. The truck drives on.

CHAPTER 13

“You, what’s-your-name.”

Pasting a smile on her face, Cilka turns to the voice. She will not respond, will make the nurse work for it.