Ela: Forever (Waking Forever)

by Heather McVea

  Ela sat with her head on Delia’s shoulder on the sofa, and Luella was napping on the small cot near the stove. Delia spoke first. “Why?”

  Rilla began gathering the tattered blankets from the chair next to the sofa. “The chancellor has realized it isn’t possible to keep so many people in such a small area of the district. So he has decided to move us to a larger area outside of the city where they can get supplies in and out more easily.”

  Ela took Delia’s hand and the two women looked at each other. Ela asked suspiciously. “But why, after all this time, would he decide to do that?”

  Rilla sighed. “Ela, I don’t know, but I know if we aren’t out of this building when they sweep at noon, we will be jailed.”

  Luella stirred on the cot and slowly sat up. “What’s happening?”

  Ela got up and began gathering what few personal effects she had. “Mother, get up. They are moving us to someplace with more room and better access to supplies.”

  Luella smiled. “Of course they are. These conditions have been deplorable for too long.”

  Ela shook her head. Deplorable was an understatement. The past nine months had been nearly unbearable. The cramped lodgings and the limited supplies had been the perfect storm for the spread of disease. The four women had been confined to the one room apartment most days, unable to move about the city freely as more and more Jews were herded into the few square miles of the inner city.

  The tenement they were assigned to was a series of larger apartments that had been subdivided to hold nearly twice the occupancy they were originally designed for. The result was, in some cases, families of six or seven in a space that was previously a large bedroom. The spaces were overrun with insects and rats. With the overtaxed septic systems in the buildings, it wasn’t uncommon for human waste to overflow into the rooms, and more often than not, into other rooms.

  The situation was nearly unbearable for all these reasons, but the worst part – the part that angered Ela the most – was the complete absence of privacy. Besides the rare occasions when Luella and Rilla were away from the cramped room, Ela and Delia had very little time to express their feelings for one another, much less be together. A stolen kiss and caress was the most either woman could hope for.

  Ela looked around the small space to ensure she had gathered everything worth taking. She and Delia locked eyes, and Delia managed a slight smile. Ela hardly recognized her friend. All four women had lost substantial amounts of weight, and the lack of proper nutrition had left their hair and nails brittle and lifeless. Delia’s once vibrant green eyes were dulled by the months of little to no sunlight and a subsistence of mainly bread and water.

  Delia walked over to Ela and pulled her into a hug. Ela stifled a gasp as the bones of Delia’s shoulders dug into her. “It will be okay, Dimples. Right?” Delia’s voice was barely above a whisper.

  Ela smiled and nodded vigorously. “Yes, Peaches. This is the best thing. Fresh air, more room.”

  “Girls! Hurry.” Rilla moved back and forth, gathering the last of their clothes and what little food they had. Luella was standing near the door watching the commotion, completely unaffected.

  Reluctantly, Ela broke her and Delia’s embrace and picked up her bag. “Mother, are you ready?” She glared at Luella, who had nothing in her hands.

  “Isn’t it obvious I am, child?” Luella made a sweeping gesture with her arms.

  Ela huffed. “Where are your shoes?”

  Luella looked down at her bare feet. “They’re not on my feet.”

  “I can see that, mother. Where are they?” Ela began scouring the room.

  Delia rushed toward Luella with a pair of torn slippers in her hands. “I have them.” She bent down and lifted Luella’s foot. “Here, Luella. Put these on.”

  “Delia, let her do that!” Ela pulled Delia up by the shoulders. “You’re not her maid.”

  Delia patted Ela’s hand. “It’s okay. She needs the help.”

  Ela shook her head and turned to Luella. “Get your own shoes on your feet or you’ll be making the five block walk in your bare feet.”

  Luella bent over and began to slowly slide the right slipper on, then after several seconds of considering the left slipper, slipped it on her other foot. “Happy?” she taunted Ela.

  Ela took a step toward her mother as if to strike her. Delia grabbed her by the wrist. “It’s not worth the guilt you’ll feel after.” Ela wasn’t sure what guilt Delia was referring to. The idea of slapping her mother was the most appealing thought to cross her mind in days.

  “Are you ready?” Rilla opened the door, and gestured for the other three women to follow her. “It’s nearly noon, and we still have to walk to the square.”

  Without a word Ela, Delia, and Luella followed Rilla out of the apartment and down the narrow stairwell to the street. Once outside, they were caught-up in a steady stream of people all moving in the direction of the Main Market Square. Ela recognized some of the people from her own building, and was shocked at how emaciated everyone looked. It was obvious some of her neighbors hadn’t been out in the light of day for a long time as they squinted their eyes, shielding them from the sun.

  “Join arms, or we’ll be separated!” Rilla shouted over the noise of the crowd.

  Ela linked her arm through Delia’s, then put her other arm around her mother’s waist. Rilla was on the other side of Delia. They managed to keep ahold of one another for the five block journey to the square. The stream of people rushed along and emptied out into the south end of the square. Ela took a deep breath as the air opened up and the stench of urine and sweat dissipated.

  “Keep moving! Find a check-in station and get your transportation pass!” A tall, blond Nazi soldier with a large gun slung over his shoulder yelled over the roar of thousands of people. Ela looked around, trying to find one of these stations. She didn’t see a station, but she saw what looked like hundreds of Nazi soldiers standing around the parameter of the square.

  The four women were jostled about for several minutes before Ela felt a stabbing pain in her lower back as the butt of a soldier’s rifle was jabbed into her. Her legs buckled under her. “Get up, Ela.” Delia’s voice was barely audible over the noise as she pulled on Ela’s arm.

  “You! Keep it moving!” The soldier who had hit Ela was now yelling at her.

  Ela managed to get to her feet with Delia’s help. “There’s a station over here, Ela. Quickly.” Ela was being pulled by Delia who was being pulled by Rilla. Ela looked around, not seeing her mother. Her hold on her had been lost when she was hit.

  “I’ve lost my mother!” Ela shouted at Delia.

  “My mother has her. Come on!” Delia pulled Ela along, and the four women were forced into a line of people that seemed to stretch on for miles.

  “We made it. We’re in a line. Now just hold your ground, girls.” Rilla said, trying to reassure them.

  It was nearly an hour before the four women stood at a small wooden desk occupied by a single Nazi solder and a typewriter. Another soldier with a rifle stood directly behind his seated comrade.

  “Papers!” The man shouted at Ela.

  Ela reached into her small cloth bag and produced the residency permit she had been given nearly nine months ago when they had been assigned a tenement. The man punched a small hole in the upper right corner of the permit. “Stall thirty-four!” He didn’t look at Ela as he handed her permit back to her.

  She hesitated to move for fear she would lose Delia, Rilla, and Luella. The soldier standing behind the one seated at the small table pulled his gun off his shoulder and pointed it at Ela. “Get moving!”

  Ela glanced back at Delia, who had just handed her permit to the seated soldier. Delia’s eyes were like saucers and full of fear. Ela’s chest tightened with panic, but she had no choice but to keep walking. Seconds later she was being pushed from behind. Looking back she realized Delia and Rilla were pressed up against her. Ten soldiers, all with rifles, were funneling several of the l
ines together toward a single stall.

  There was a series of loud pops and screams. Ela felt the pressure behind her build as more people pushed forward. Another round of pops and screams pierced Ela’s ears. The mass of people began to thin as it dispersed into the stalls. “What stall are you?” Ela shouted over her shoulder at Delia. Looking back Delia was still pressed to her, but her face was motionless. Looking past her, Ela saw Rilla with a similar expression. “Delia?” Ela turned toward her friend. Delia and Rilla collapsed into her, one on top of the other.

  Ela fell to the ground, the weight of both women bearing down on her. She clutched at Delia’s shoulders. Managing to turn her over, she saw blood trickling from Delia’s left ear. A wave of nausea washed over Ela as she frantically ran her hands over Delia’s head trying to find the wound. Tears began to burn her eyes, and she couldn’t catch her breath.

  “Delia! Say something. Where are you shot?” Ela parted Delia’s hair and found the small hole in her friend’s head. Ela heard hysterical screaming. She finally realized the high pitched wail was coming from her. Delia was dead, and Rilla must be too, because she lay motionless on top of Delia’s legs. Ela clung to Delia and began to shake so violently she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly she was being lifted up from under the women.

  Ela looked down at the two women who lay motionless; she blinked repeatedly, not comprehending the excruciating finality of it. A woman who had been like a mother to her - dead. Her childhood friend, the woman she loved more than she had words to say, had simply disappeared. In her place was a lifeless body that held none of Delia’s laughter, warmth, or love. Ela began clawing at the arms around her chest that were pulling her backwards.

  “They’re dead! They’re dead, Ela! Come on!” Luella’s lips were pressed to Ela’s ear yelling. “Nothing can be done about it.”

  Ela’s sobs ripped through her. “Let me go, you bitch! Let me go!” Ela swung at her mother with closed fists. “I won’t leave her!”

  Luella deflected her daughter’s punches and continued to pull her away from Delia's and Rilla’s bodies. As they reached stall thirty-four, Ela wasn’t even aware of her mother pulling her up the steps into a slate gray bus that looked as if it were already loaded beyond capacity. Luella forced Ela down the narrow center isle of the bus and sat her down on a seat where two other women sat shoulder to shoulder.

  “I’ll stand. You look like you need to sit down.” Luella talked over the bustle of the noisy bus. As the vehicle lurched forward, Luella clutched Ela’s shoulder to steady herself. “Hold on.”

  As Ela sat on the cramped bus, she felt herself shattering into a thousand jagged pieces. Her yearning for Delia and Rilla was ripping through her, and she was being swallowed up by it. She was broken, betrayed, and abandoned.

  ***

  “Would you look at my hands, Ela?” Luella held her callused right hand out in front of her. “My mother always said you could tell a woman’s age and station in life by the condition of her hands.”

  Ela stood several feet to her mother’s right, silent in the stifling heat and humidity of the Krakow Labor Camp’s laundry facility. She was folding what was, by her reckoning, the two-hundred and fifty-third hand towel of the day. The coarseness of the fabric constantly rubbing against her thumbs and fore fingers had formed blisters on the tips of her fingers.

  Luella and Ela had arrived at the camp nearly a year ago. It was what Ela imagined must be hell on earth. The camp was built on an old Jewish cemetery, and its function had not changed. The death rate in the camp was very high. Many prisoners, including people Ela had known from her neighborhood before the tenements, died of typhus or starvation. Executions were carried out daily and seemed completely arbitrary. Ela and her mother had managed to keep a low profile by doing exactly what they were told when they were told to do it. Ela knew this was no guarantee they would survive, and there were days when it hardly seemed worth the effort.

  Ela moved through the chaos of the camp daily, frequently lost in the background noise and constant jostling that occurred because of overcrowding in the camp. She drifted between roll calls and work, lost in her grief, and no matter how she tried to redirect, to change course, the sadness would find her. Underneath the sadness and grief was the undercurrent of resentment and anger. Over and over in her life, the people she loved left her. It hardly seemed relevant to Ela how they left, just that in the end she was alone, wondering at the end of each day why she made it through.

  “Are you listening to me, child?” Luella interrupted Ela’s thoughts.

  Ela laid the last towel down on top of a pile she had been adding to for the better half of the morning. “Yes, mother. You’re old and broke.” Ela smirked as she lifted a stack of towels into the laundry cart. “I heard you.”

  Luella shook her head. “You’re an awful child.”

  Ela nodded. “And don’t forget wicked, mother. I’m awfully wicked.” She pushed the now full cart toward the loading dock doors adjacent to the laundry facility. Luella ignored her and returned her attention back to the examination of her hands.

  “You done with that?” Berti was an older man with thin gray hair. Ela thought he must be nearly sixty years old, but considering the prisoners existed on moldy bread, rancid horse meat, and watered down soup while being continuously worked, it was possible Berti was in his forties.

  “Yes.” Ela let the laundry cart go as Berti took it from her. He proceeded to push it through the large wooden doors leading to the loading dock.

  Ela had been in the laundry facility since before dawn. It was required they arrive early, but even if it hadn’t been, she would not have waited too late into the day. By eight o’clock in the morning, the large metal building’s temperatures could reach over a hundred degrees because of the industrial sized washers and dryers.

  “I’m leaving, mother. Are you coming?” Ela removed the cloth she had tied around her head to catch the sweat and wiped at her face.

  “You go ahead. I’ll catch up.” Luella responded casually as if she was being asked to take a leisurely midmorning stroll.

  Ela rolled her eyes and proceeded to the exit at the far end of the facility. She was scheduled to arrive at the mess hall within the hour to begin the afternoon meals for the guards; so even though her mother’s meandering manner annoyed her, she was grateful for the time on her own.

  As she rounded the south corner of the laundry facility, Ela’s breath caught and she came to a complete stop. Looking to the far end of the building, she saw Delia hanging clothes from a makeshift clothes line strung between two light polls. Without thinking about how impossible that was, Ela begun to quickly walk toward her friend, pushing past several other prisoners.

  “Delia!” Ela shouted over the low hum of the washing machines and grabbed Delia by the shoulder. “Delia!” The smile that had radiated from Ela only seconds before quickly faded as the woman in front of her came into focus.

  “Sorry – no. I’m Rachel.” The young woman, who bore a striking resemblance to Delia with her chestnut colored hair, pale skin, and piercing green eyes, looked startled.

  Ela stepped back. “I’m sorry. You look like someone I know – knew.”

  Rachel nodded. “It’s okay.”

  Ela marveled at the similarity between Rachel and Delia. For the first time in nearly a year she felt the stirrings of interest and curiosity. “I’m Ela.”

  Rachel smiled, and Ela was again amazed at the resemblance. “Nice to meet you.”

  “Can I help you with this?” Ela grabbed one of the wet shirts from Rachel’s cart and flung it over the clothes line.

  “Oh, no – that’s okay.” Rachel put her hand on Ela’s forearm. Both women looked at each other and smiled.

  “I don’t mind. I have time before I’m expected at the mess hall.” Ela slowly moved her arm away from Rachel’s hand and continued hanging the shirt. “Which barrack are you in?” Ela asked, trying to pretend they had met casually in a laundromat, not in a Nazi la
bor camp.

  “I share one of the small houses with my father, brother, and sister.” Rachel finished hanging the last of the wet clothes.

  Ela’s hand froze over the clothes pin she was clipping the shirt up with. “House? Are you a –”

  Rachel held her hands out in protest, and shook her head. “Oh, God no. I’m not a German. My father is an engineer; so they use him in the factory. My brother too. It affords us favors, I suppose.” Rachel bit her lower lip and looked down. She had not interacted a lot with the other prisoners, but suddenly was overwhelmed with guilt over her family’s good fortune.

  Ela leaned against the folding counter and crossed her arms over her chest. “What do you and your sister do?”

  Rachel swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. The woman in front of her looked angry, and Rachel didn’t want to start a scene. On the other hand, she had been in the camp for nearly six months with very little contact with anyone outside her family and was feeling a little desperate for the interaction. “My sister and I work in the garment factory building. We repair guard’s uniforms and sew new ones.”

  Ela considered the woman for several seconds. “Let me see your hands.”

  Rachel lifted her eye brows, confused by the request. “Sorry. What?”

  “Your hands. Let me see them.” Ela extended her own hand toward Rachel.

  This was one of the stranger requests Rachel had received since arriving in the camp. Her father Iwan had chosen to leave their home on the outskirts of Krakow for the camp willingly. The area had come under mortar fire, and Iwan believed cooperating with the Nazis would make the duration of the war easier. Rachel’s mother had been lost during a particularly intense round of bombing. It had been nearly two days after they arrived in the camp before the family had received word she was dead.

  Rachel’s brother Jacob had been enraged at his father’s decision to give themselves over willingly to the Nazis. “They’re pigs! Pigs!” Jacob had yelled from inside the small two room house he now occupied with Rachel, Iwan, and his youngest sister, Michelle.