I lay in the bath until I was totally wrinkled, and washed away all the dirt as best I could. I supposed the fat SS man was going to follow me in my dreams, but the warm bath helped me to stop thinking about him for a while. And to stop thinking about the ghetto or our mission or anything else. I blocked out the whole world. There was nothing more wonderful than thinking of nothing at all.
I kept letting water out of the tub and adding more hot water. I think I would have liked to stay there forever, make it my new home. But the most delicious smell floated in under the door. It smelled of bacon. And there was something else in the air: Was it…?
Yes! Fried potatoes and beans!
Smells from another world.
My exhausted soul would have preferred to stay soaking in the bath, but my stomach was of a different opinion and grumbled, telling my soul not to be so selfish. So I got out of my new home, promised I’d be back soon, dried off my wrinkled skin, and felt annoyed that I had to slip back into my shabby, smelly clothes, now that I smelled so good for the first time in ages. The things that annoy us as soon as everything gets just the slightest bit better!
I got dressed except for my socks and shoes—the socks reminded me too much of what had happened in the guardhouse—followed the smell into the kitchen and could hardly believe my eyes: Amos had prepared a feast for us with bacon, beans, fried potatoes, bread, and fried eggs. I was sure he must have used up all the provisions Uncle had left for us at once, but Amos guessed what I was thinking and said, “Don’t worry, Wrinkles, there’s plenty more where that came from.”
I giggled and sat down at the table and said, “You’re a wonderful husband!”
“I know,” he grinned.
“And so modest.”
He laughed even louder. “This is the beginning of a fantastic marriage.”
I didn’t just eat until I had had enough, I ate until my stomach hurt. And then some.
Amos burped and I burped even louder.
He wasn’t going to let me have the final word, though, and burped like a lion. But I was a master at burping.
When we finally gave up, Amos said, half grinning, half-sad, “Sometimes life can be so great.”
It was a thought I hadn’t had for so long, I’d almost forgotten it existed.
“It shouldn’t only be sometimes,” I answered, and looked out the window at the afternoon sun. It really did seem to like shining in the Polish part of the city.
“Come on, let’s do the dishes,” Amos said, determined to not give way to any dark thoughts.
I nodded, went to the sink and started to run the tap, and asked, “What are we going to do all day until we meet the Poles?”
“Ooh, I can think of a thing or two a couple of newlyweds might get up to.” He was smiling, teasing me.
Was he really suggesting…? Did he want to deceive Esther?
Even though he didn’t love her, she’d be hurt. Not that I liked her very much, but still.
And I would be deceiving Daniel somehow. And I was still a virgin. And I would never want my first time to be with someone like Amos …
“Don’t look so shocked,” Amos interrupted my thoughts, acting the innocent.
“What … what did you have in mind?” I didn’t want to know, and right away I wished I’d never asked. Why couldn’t I keep my mouth shut?
“We could play Rummy.”
“What?”
“It’s a game of cards.”
“I … I know that.”
“Well, why ask, then?”
“Why Rummy?” I wanted to know, relieved that he hadn’t intended anything else.
Amos pointed through the open kitchen door into the hall, and there, lying on a chest of drawers beside a vase with half-dried-out flowers, was a pack of cards.
“That is the only card game I know.”
I burst out laughing.
We played cards into the night. I got annoyed every time Amos cheated, and was really pleased when he didn’t notice me cheating as I dealt the cards. It was the most untroubled evening I had spent in a long time. It kept feeling as if I was living a normal life. Almost.
Once I’d beaten him for the seventh time, Amos stretched and announced that he was going to have a bath to get rid of the smell of bacon.
“Then,” he said, playing the just-married man so gallantly that I had to smile, “I might smell as lovely as you do, Mira.”
He went into the bathroom, and I used my advantage shamelessly. There was only one bed in the flat. But it was a real bed! And I wanted to have it to myself.
I went into the little bedroom, which was practically full with just an oak cupboard and the bed, stroked the feather bed with my fingers, and took off all my clothes except my underwear. I hoped that there would be a nightgown or, even better, a pair of pajamas in the cupboard for me—in the Hollywood films the heroine always wore pajamas that were far too big and belonged to the man she secretly loved. And, of course, she looked amazing.
Unfortunately, there was only a suit for Amos and a long skirt and a blouse for me. Uncle had put them there so that we would be able to walk through Warsaw without attracting attention when the time came to meet the Polish resistance and negotiate about arms. He hadn’t thought about nightgowns and pajamas.
So I got into bed in my underwear and cuddled up under the blankets. Lying in a real bed made the illusion of a normal life perfect for a blessed moment.
But the moment only lasted a very short time because Amos appeared, dressed in his shirt and underwear, and asked in an amused sort of way, “So we are going to share the bed?”
“Whatever makes you think that?” I asked.
“Well, you are lying in it.”
“You are sleeping on the floor,” I explained.
“Whatever makes you think that?” he asked.
“You’re a gentleman,” I said.
“I’m not, actually. Sorry.”
“I know that.”
“I know you know.”
“But even you would never make your wife sleep on the floor.” I smiled.
“You’d never make your husband sleep on the floor.” He grinned back and slipped under the covers before I could even say, “Don’t you dare.”
I was startled to be lying in bed side by side, and a bit surprised that Amos had kept his smelly shirt on. Why didn’t he take it off and just keep his underwear on? Was it for decency’s sake? Did Amos do decency?
I moved away so that there was as much room as possible between us. But still, here we were sharing a bed, half-naked. And, apart from the shirt, he smelled so good. Soap and Amos. I’d never noticed before, but I liked the way he smelled.
Would it be nice to touch him? As nice as his kiss? Suddenly after more than a year, the kiss in the market had leaped back into my mind. Was he thinking about it, too? But then he started to snore.
He definitely wasn’t thinking about that kiss.
I was terrified of falling asleep and dreaming about the fat pig. As long as I stayed awake, I could tell myself that everything had worked out in the end. But in my dreams, the SS man would come back and I wouldn’t be able to stop him. I didn’t want to be alone with my fear, but I didn’t want to wake up Amos, and let him know how pathetic I really was. And if he gave me a hug to make me feel better, I’d start to cry. Because of the fat pig, because of the nightmares that had been haunting me for weeks. And because of Hannah. Once I started crying, I would never stop. I’d go to pieces. Forever! And I’d never be the same again. I’d lose the strength I needed to complete my mission for the resistance.
I fought off sleep as best I could, but I lost. I didn’t dream about the fat SS man, though. Perhaps I could have handled him. Instead … instead, the Mirror King appeared.
Until now, I had imagined him to be a funny-looking man made of mirrors, the way the scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz was made of straw. But in my dream he was a huge, malformed, humpbacked monster made of thousands of razor-sharp mirrors. Mirrors of distortion!
And in every mirror, I saw something horrifying: my brother beating me, a doll raping me, being gassed, burning alive in the ovens, and more and more and more … And all the while the Mirror King shrieked, “You must pay, you will pay!”
“What for?” I screamed. “What did I do?” I howled and howled, while the monster grew bigger and bigger, and more and more mirrors sprang open. I watched the barbed wire on the wall come to life and start strangling me; I saw my own father throwing me out the window, and Ruth coughing up more and more ashes until I was buried alive.
“You know very well why you must pay,” the Mirror King bellowed.
In his face, I could see reflected eyes, Hannah’s, Papa’s, Mama’s; Ruth’s, Daniel’s, and the German soldier’s. The eyes began to bleed, and these eyes—not mouths for some reason, no, it was the bleeding eyes—all started screaming at me, “You are alive instead of us!”
I woke up screaming. Amos sat up beside me. “What is it, Mira? What’s wrong?”
There was nothing I could do, I had to cry. My dreams had defeated me. I was lost forever, and now I knew why. I was paying. For being alive!
But before I could even say, “I was meant to die,” Amos said something so surprising that I stopped crying right away, “You know what, Mira? Let’s go to the cinema tomorrow.”