Sofia and her mother were walking together to a bakery in hopes of getting a loaf of bread when the air-raid sirens went off. Sofia did not know what to do. They had practised how to respond to air raids at school. They all went under their desks and put their arms over their heads. Sofia always liked those exercises. It got her out of doing tedious schoolwork. It was magical. All of a sudden, schoolwork didn’t mean anything. She liked being tucked up under her desk. It was as though she was giving herself a huge hug. She had always supposed the Enemy would arrive during math class. She had no idea they might come on a Saturday. Surely the Enemy liked to enjoy Saturday as much as the next person.
The bombs made everything else silent all around her. She could not hear the words coming out of her mother’s mouth. She could not hear the sound of things falling and hitting.
At that moment, there was nothing you could hear other than the sound of the bombs striking. She remembered that moment as being completely quiet. The reason was that she could not hear any of the regular noises that surrounded her.
She looked at her mother, who was yelling. But no sound reached her. No matter what her mother did with her expressions. No matter how extreme and gruesome she made them. Everyone had their mouths open, but Sofia couldn’t hear any of their screaming. It was as though everyone were trying to be a gargoyle.
There were stones falling. But when they hit the ground, they silently exploded into dust, as though they were made out of snow. She saw a car quietly roll over, as though it were a bear amusing itself.
She saw windows being smashed and the shards breaking loose. And falling like a strange hailstorm. She might as well be under water. Even when she was under the water at the swimming pool, she could still hear muted grunts and squeals from above the surface. It was hard to believe anything monumental was happening. As she was most certain that history made a lot of noise.
Her mother grabbed her by the wrist. They began running. Even though her feet didn’t make any noise as they were hitting the ground. No one waited for street lights or crossed in the proper place. She didn’t know where they were going. Her instinct would have been to run home. If you were going to die, she thought it would be best to die with a cup of hot chocolate in your own bed.
She saw a dog barking. But his barks were the opposite of sound. What if it were possible to yell and have silence come out of your throat? And your silence was louder than all the surrounding sounds.
There was a sudden cloud of dust and debris. It had turned the corner and stepped out onto the street. Sofia closed her eyes and put her hands over her face. She had no idea where she was anymore, how far they had run, or even what direction they had gone in. When the storm subsided, she did not know where she would be. She could be in the same spot, or she might be a hundred miles away. When the cloud moved on and dissipated, she found she was still standing next to her mother.
Her mother’s face was completely coated in white. It made her look like a clown. Sofia imagined she must look exactly like a clown too. She wanted to laugh, but she did not know whether they were sad clowns or jovial ones.
“You look like a clown from the Orpheum Theatre,” Sofia said.
“You look like a sugared patisserie, my dear. Let’s get away from here.”
The street was unrecognizable now. The tops of the buildings could not be seen because of the dust, and there were stones and debris all over the street. There was a woman walking in a fur coat and bare feet. There was a woman on her knees in the middle of the street. She had a carton full of eggs, and they were all broken. She didn’t want to run anymore. She just wanted to cry over the eggs.
When the sound of another fighter jet pierced the sky above them, Clara and Sofia ran into the grocer’s. He led them into the back of the shop. He locked the door behind him. There were jars of peaches on a shelf. They were inching forward to the edge of the shelf, threatening to fall off. The girl hadn’t seen peaches in a jar in such a while. There were small pots of jam everywhere. The grocer took a jar of peaches down from the shelf. It was sealed with a yellow rag that was itself the colour of peaches.
He took off the lid. He handed Sofia a fork. She stuck it into the jar and dug it into a peach. It was so full of flavour. She forgot about how much the small room was shaking. There was nothing she could do about that. But she could take the moment to enjoy her peaches.
When it was quiet at last, her mother took her hand and walked her through the streets.
“It’s important to witness everything that happens. Not everyone will be here once the war is over. It’s everyone’s duty to witness as much as they can. Because we don’t know who will survive to tell the story. Your job is to be a witness. You can’t be too young to be a witness. It’s good to be a younger witness. You’ll have the memories for longer.”
“But I’m frightened. I’m worried a bomb will drop on my head.”
Clara paused for a moment. “Me too.”
Her mother came to sleep with Sofia when there was the sound of bombing at night. Sofia’s bed was small. And there was no way they could lie in it without squishing their bodies together. She would at first feel so suffocated by her mother’s proximity. There was no longer any room for her to move her limbs and body. Her body was forced into the parameters of her mother’s body.
Her mother’s breath put her into a deep slumber. It was like an opiate. And the lingering smell of her mother’s perfume and shampoo permeated the air. Her skin smelled like tobacco—it smelled like the inside of a leather purse that was used to carry around money but also makeup, like a kit of blush with a tiny mirror that showed you a tiny version of what men see when they look at you.
After a few days’ respite, there was a brief noisy time of bombs being dropped. The opera house was destroyed. They did not know why an opera house would be targeted expressly. So they assumed it had to do with chance. There was great mourning for the building. The stone animals that had decorated the building lay murdered, in pieces, on the ground. It was after the bombing of the opera house that the country surrendered. The army was in disarray. They were clearly going to have to give up at some point. And nobody wished to see more of the buildings in their beautiful city demolished. The Capital and the country surrendered the next week.
It was almost a blessing that the decision to send the children away came so quickly. It didn’t allow the children time to panic. It didn’t allow the parents time to worry. They all had to act immediately. As long as they didn’t pause, they wouldn’t be able to allow their hearts to break.
There was the sound of little feet hurrying down staircases all over the city. They were all rushing out at dawn. They were trying to get to the train first. They were holding the hands of teddy bears. But some bears panicked and snatched on to the gate to stay behind. The children screamed back at the bears to come with them. But the bears did not. The scarves of the children flew behind them. The children blinked hard. Their eyes were not used to the morning breeze. Some of them were still dreaming. They fell asleep in the backs of cars.