Goodbye is not Forever- Short story

            It had been only two weeks since we went into hiding, but to me, it felt like an eternity. I had just turned sixteen the month the Nazis came into our country, Poland, and started rounding up the Jews. My older brother Rafael and my father, I had been hiding in our uncle’s house and so far we hadn’t been discovered.

            I was sitting on the floor playing chess with my twenty-one year old brother one day. We both have the same dark brown hair and brown eyes. He had a twisted, but friendly smile and had always been my greatest protector.

             “How much longer do you think we will have to hide, Rafael?” I asked, moving one of my chess pieces. “I am so tired of staying indoors all the time.”

            “I do not know, little one,” Rafael replied. “Uncle David says it is still dangerous for us.”

            I sighed. I wanted to be free as a bird, free to fly! I didn’t want to have to wear a yellow star on my clothes or have a “J” on my identification papers. I guess I really just wanted things to go back to the way they were. Unfortunately for us Jews, that wasn't possible...

            Rafael made a skilled move with his chess piece. “We have nothing to fear at the moment,” he said, looking me in the eye. “Ah-ha! Checkmate.”

            Just in time too, because Uncle David called, “Tzipporah! Rafael! It is time to eat!”

            We joined Papa and our uncle in the small kitchen and sat down across from them. Papa said a prayer in Hebrew and after he finished, Uncle David told us that he had news for us. “But, I don’t think it was what you were hoping for,” he said. “The Nazis are getting closer to us and I fear that our worst nightmare is going to become reality.”

            I looked at Rafael and then at Papa. “Papa, What are we going to do?!” I asked.          “I do not know, Tzipporah,” he said, putting his head in his hands. “I do not know.”

            Later that night I sat in front of the window, gazing up at the starry night sky. It seemed so still that night, so perfect. Suddenly, I heard shouting and loud noises coming from the kitchen. A Nazi officer burst into the room and grabbed my arm, pulling me out with him. Another solider had Papa firmly in his grip. I remember seeing Uncle David on the ground with blood all over his chest. He wasn't moving and I guess that the Nazis had shot him for trying to stop them from finding us in the inner room. They took us out to a wagon where there were other people they had taken and I noticed some of them weren't even Jewish. I was very frightened and drew close to my father for comfort. “I’m scared, Papa,” I whispered.

            The journey to the camp is a blur now but I clearly remember being separated from my father when we reached it. “Papa!” I screamed frantically as two Nazi soldiers pulled me away from him. “Papa!”

            “Tzipporah, I love you!” he yelled back as they forced him over with the other men. “I will see you again, child! Whether it is here or in Heaven.”

            “I love you too, Papa!” I cried, as I lost sight of him in the crowd.

            There are no words to describe what the camp was like. We were in a labor camp and all had to wear the same thing. They shaved our heads when we got there, but the worst of all was having an identification number tattooed on my arm. I remember several Nazi guards having to hold me down as I yelled.

            Our barracks weren’t the nicest either and there were lice and rats. They were cramped and the bunks were hard and wooden. We got to eat occasionally and when we did, it wasn’t very substantial. Many of the prisoners grew weak and when they did, the guards took them away and we never saw them again. I can remember late into the night, crying out to God for deliverance like it came for my ancestors in Egypt. Would it come for me?

            When I had been in the camp for at least two weeks, the doors to our barracks were thrown open late one night. We were forced out into the cold night and I guessed we were going to be made to go on a march. I was wrong and found myself standing at the front of the crowd. I saw two Nazis standing with a male prisoner between them and I was confused as to why they had a male prisoner in our section of camp since it was the female section.  He had his head down and his hands were bound behind him. One of the officers who ran the camp stepped forward and grabbed the prisoner’s hair, pulling his head up before saying, “This young man thought he would be spared from the same fate as you. But in fact he was wrong...no one can escape from us. We must do what is necessary.”    

            I shuddered. The guards had struck terror into each one of our hearts since the beginning of our time at the camp. I had seen them beat prisoners, torment them, and kill them. They were not to be messed with, and you learned that from the beginning.

             The guards shouted for us to get back into our barracks and we all hurried inside. I sat on the floor by one of the bunks and hugged my knees to my chest, trying to make myself as small as possible. I could hear the guards hitting and kicking someone. I guessed that it must be the prisoner and I felt pity for him.

             A few minutes later, the doors to our barracks opened again, startling me. The guards tossed the prisoner in and then shut the door. He scrambled quickly into the far corner and kept his head down. They had unbound his hands and he was rubbing his wrists which looked very sore and chafed.

            I looked left and right before slowly approaching him. I knelt down in front of him and he slowly lifted his head. His face was bloody from the beating he’d received from the guards, but I recognized those brown eyes. It was Rafael, my brother. I gasped and stuttered, “What….how…?”

             “Tzipporah?” Rafael whispered in shock. “Is it really you?”

            I nodded. “Why are you here?” I asked, still stunned. “I thought they shot you.”

            Rafael lowered his gaze and then said, “I betrayed you and Papa.”

            “You did what?” I asked.

            Rafael tried to wipe the blood from his face and looked me straight in the eye. “I told the Nazis where you were,” he said.  

            I was speechless and didn’t know how to react. At last I managed to quietly ask, “Why, Rafael?”

            He looked at me. “I was afraid, little one,” he tried to explain.

            “You were afraid?” I asked.

            He nodded. “I was afraid of the Nazis and what they would do to us if they caught us,” he said. “I thought that if I told them where you were, they would let me go free and I would be safe.”

            I looked down at my hands. My own brother, my own flesh and blood, had betrayed me.

            Then to my surprise, Rafael began to weep. He wept so hard that it sounded like his heart was breaking. I took him into my arms and he cried into my shoulder as his whole body shook with sobs.

            “I am so sorry, Tzipporah,” he cried. “It wasn’t supposed to end like this.”

            “I know, Rafael,” I replied.

            He sat back up and I paused before saying, “Rafael?”

            “Yes?”

            I took a deep breath and said, “I forgive you.”

            “What?” he asked. “I turned you and Papa in.”  

            I nodded and repeated, “I forgive you.”

             I scooted next to him and laid my head on his shoulder. He laid his head on top of mine and let out a sigh. “Rafael?” I asked.

            “Yes, little one?” he replied.

            “I am glad you are here with me,” I told him.

            He kissed the top of my head and replied, “So am I, Tzipporah.”

            I closed my eyes and Rafael began to softly sing in his strong tenor voice. For a short moment, I found peace amidst chaos.

       *                                                               *                                                          *

             It was a few weeks later when they came and took Rafael away. I clung to him and he held me in one final tight hug. “Goodbye is not forever. I will see you again!” he said, kissing me quickly on my forehead. “I love you, little one.”

            The Nazis roughly pulled him away from me. “I love you too, Rafael!”  I cried out to him before he taken was out of sight.

            A few moments later, a gunshot rang out, echoing across the still camp. I sank to the ground, knowing what it meant as silent tears ran down my cheeks.

            Rafael was right; I will see him and Papa again in Heaven.