Ela: Forever (Waking Forever)

by Heather McVea

  “Jacob. Please. Father is upset enough.” Rachel had attempted to soothe her brother by placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

  Her gesture had only fueled his rage, and he had begun beating on the wooden door of the house, insisting the guards let them leave. It had only been when Iwan entered the room from consoling Michelle over the loss of her mother that Jacob seemed willing to calm down.

  “What is this? You’re not an animal.” Iwan, who was a few inches shorter than Jacob stood directly in front of his son, refusing to break eye contact. “Calm yourself, and don’t pace like some caged dog.” Iwan turned toward Rachel with a wary expression. “Go comfort your sister. She’s young and doesn’t understand her mother isn’t coming back.”

  Rachel had nodded slowly. She was agreeing to something she had no idea how she was going to manage. Rachel was twenty-seven years old, and Michelle only twelve. The difference in their ages had always leant itself to Rachel being more like a mother to Michelle than a sister. Now having to console her sister, while still mourning their mother’s death herself, seemed daunting and cruel.

  As Rachel entered the small bedroom, she heard a sniffling sound, and knew Michelle was crying. “Michelle? Love.” Rachel crossed the small distance to the bed and sat next to Michelle, who lay with her back to door. “You know then that mother is dead?” Rachel didn’t know how else to say it. She had always hated when people used euphemisms to describe death. The idea that her mother was ‘no longer with them,’ though technically correct, was grotesque in its understatement.

  “Yes. Father told me.” Michelle’s voice was thick and hoarse from her crying.

  Rachel gently rubbed the girl’s back. “It’s okay to be sad.” Rachel took a deep breath. “I’m sadder than I have ever been.”

  Michelle rolled over to face Rachel. “I’m going to miss her, Rachel.”

  “I know, love. Me too.” Rachel lay down on the narrow bed next to her sister. Facing her, Rachel stroked her tear-streaked cheek. “It’s right to miss her. It means you’re remembering her.”

  Michelle nodded and wrapped her arms around Rachel. After nearly twenty minutes of quiet crying, the young girl finally drifted off to sleep. Rachel quietly slipped from the bed and walked back into the living area.

  “Is she okay?” Jacob had abandoned his post at the front door and was sitting next to their father on the small sofa in the center of the room.

  “Not really.” Rachel felt exhaustion creeping into her joints and bones. The last week had been nightmarish in its brutality, and as she sat on the wooden chair next to the stove, her hands began to shake uncontrollably. Looking at her long, tapered fingers, she saw, for the first time, the similarity between her hands and her mother’s.

  “Your hands, then?” Ela’s voice broke into Rachel’s reminiscing.

  “What?” Rachel’s brow furrowed as she considered this stranger’s request.

  Ela took Rachel’s right hand in hers, pulling Rachel closer to her. She carefully turned Rachel’s hand over and inspected the palm. “Callused enough.”

  Rachel pulled her hand back. “I beg your pardon?”

  Ela laughed. “No need to beg. I was just curious how much labor you have actually been doing in this labor camp.”

  Rachel frowned. “I didn’t realize it was a contest.”

  “Most things are.” Ela reached for another wet shirt and clipped it to the clothes line.

  Rachel looked at the tall blonde and wasn’t sure if she liked her or not. She was pushy and a bit rude. “I really can manage.” Her tone was more curt than she had intended, as was evident by the frown on Ela’s face. “I’m sorry. I’ve only talked to my twelve year old sister and my obnoxious older brother for the past six months; so my social graces may have atrophied a little.”

  Ela wasn’t certain what "atrophied" meant, but for the first time since Delia was killed, she was having an actual conversation. The fact it was slightly confrontational didn’t bother her. Ela smiled. “I understand. My mother has been my only source of conversation, and her sewing machine is out of thread.”

  Rachel laughed. “I hadn’t heard that one.”

  Ela shook her head and looked very serious. “You’ve lived a sheltered life then.” She looked up at Rachel and smiled. Again she was taken aback by her physical resemblance to Delia. “So, do you want help with this wash or not?”

  Rachel squinted at Ela, considering her options. It couldn’t hurt to have a friend. She hadn’t realized just how eager she was for real human contact. Rachel smiled. “Yes. I would like that.”

  ***

  “Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show.” Rachel sat on the floor of the small house with her back against the sofa Ela was lounging on. Over the past three months she and Ela had grown close, and in the past few weeks Ela had taken to coming over to Rachel’s in the evenings for Rachel to read to her.

  “Read faster, I only have ten minutes until roll call.” Ela nudged Rachel with her knee. Having left school at such a young age, she had never read Charles Dickens. Hearing the words now as they sprang from Rachel’s perfect lips left her feeling euphoric.

  “Every time you interrupt me, you lose precious minutes.” Rachel cleared her throat and continued to read, before being interrupted by Jacob rushing through the front door.

  “They’re marching prisoners up to the Gorka hillside and shooting them in droves!” Jacob slammed the thin wooden front door behind him.

  Ela sat up and clutched Rachel’s shoulders. “What? Where did you hear that?”

  Jacob began pacing back and forth. “One of the guards in the factory told me today. I had noticed several of the loading dock workers were missing, and I asked him –” Jacob paused, and took a gulp of air. “And, and he just told me. Very matter-of-fact.”

  Rachel got up and took her brother’s hands to still him. “What exactly did he say, Jacob?”

  Jacob shrugged off her hand. “What I said. They are systematically marching prisoners up to the hill and killing them.”

  Ela’s eyes moved back and forth, looking at Jacob and then at Rachel. If there hadn’t been a three year age gap, they could easily pass for fraternal twins. Their temperaments were completely opposite, though. Where Rachel was calm and measured in her reactions, Jacob was hot-headed and impulsive. Ela hadn’t liked him since Rachel first introduced them. By Ela’s reckoning, Jacob still thought he lived in the affluent suburbs of Krakow. He walked and talked as is he wasn’t in the same predicament the people around him were, that his previous social status somehow mattered in a place like this.

  Rachel looked over her shoulder at Ela. “Have you heard anything about this?”

  Ela’s heart sped up, seeing the worry in Rachel’s eyes. “Only rumors.”

  Rachel frowned and turned back to Jacob. “What do you propose we do with this information, Jacob?”

  Jacob’s eyes widened as he stared at his sister in disbelief. “What should we do?” He took several steps away from Rachel. “You ask the question as if you’re resigned to do nothing!”

  Rachel shook her head, tried to reach for Jacob’s hand, but he pulled it away quickly. “Please, Jacob, don’t –”

  “Don’t what? Don’t be outraged that hundreds, maybe thousands, of people are being butchered every day under our very noses?” Jacob turned his back to Rachel.

  Rachel took a deep breath, held it, and then slowly exhaled. “Don’t put words in my mouth. I was going to say don’t work yourself up into such a state that you can’t think straight, and go running off at the mouth getting yourself into trouble.”

  Jacob turned and took several quick steps toward Rachel. “You’re no better than them for letting it happen.”

  Rachel’s eyes filled with tears, and she felt her stomach turn, pushing bile into her throat. Before she could find the words, Ela was standing beside her. The warmth of her hand on Rachel’s forea
rm was like a blanket covering her entire body. “Jacob, you’re such a horse’s ass. What have you got but a lot of hot air and talk?” Ela stepped between Rachel and Jacob, her face red with anger. “You like to pretend you’re somehow outside this.” Ela looked up at the paint peeling from the house’s ceiling. “You’re in the same shit hole the rest of us are in, and maybe worse because you pretend you have something to say about it.”

  Jacob’s nostrils flared. “Who do you think you are, talking to me like that in my home?”

  Ela laughed. “Your home? This isn’t your house, Jacob. This is a half-step up from a shack in a Nazi labor camp.”

  Jacob’s mouth was set in a scowl as he took a step toward Ela. Rachel pulled Ela back and stepped between her and Jacob. “Don’t you touch her!”

  Jacob stopped and blinked several times. “I don’t want to ever see her again, Rachel. She’s trash.”

  Rachel shook her head, the tears from earlier spilling over. “From where I stand, she’s not the trash, Jacob.” Keeping her eyes on Jacob, Rachel reached back and found Ela’s hand. Rachel spoke quietly to Ela. “I’ll walk you back to your barrack.” Rachel pulled Ela behind her, through the door, and out into the cool night air.

  “You should have let him hit me.” Ela said as she followed behind Rachel. “I could have held it over his head forever.”

  The two women were between barracks when Rachel stopped suddenly, causing Ela to nearly run into the back of her. She quickly turned, taking Ela’s face in her hands, she crushed her lips to Ela’s in a searing kiss. Her hands moved to the small of Ela’s back, pulling her tighter against her body. After several seconds, Ela was able to focus, having lost her breath at Rachel’s initial onslaught. The softness of Rachel’s lips and the persistence of her embrace caused Ela’s stomach to tighten and her knees to feel weak.

  Rachel pulled back tentatively, her breath coming in gasps. “Should I have done that?”

  Ela opened her eyes, lifting her hand, she gently stoked Rachel’s cheek. “A few weeks ago would have been better.” She rested her forehead against Rachel’s.

  Rachel smiled and tilted her head back to look at Ela. “I’ve wanted to do it for longer.”

  Ela narrowed her eyes. “For how long?”

  Rachel laughed. “Longer than a few weeks ago.” She wrapped her arms around Ela’s shoulders and pulled her closer. The intimacy of the moment was shattered as a group of prisoners rounded the corner of one of the buildings. Ela and Rachel quickly moved away from each other.

  “I have to go.” Ela felt hollow as she spoke the words. “Roll call is in a few minutes.”

  Rachel nodded. “I know. We –” Her mouth suddenly felt dry, and she wet her lips with the tip of her tongue. “We can talk later?”

  Ela took Rachel’s hand. “Yes.”

  Ela slowly backed away from Rachel and thought what a strange turn her day had taken. She had found this wonderful woman in the worst possible place, and along with her, the happiness that had eluded Ela for most of her life. Walking back toward her barrack, the elation of the past few minutes was replaced by the realization her and Rachel could never be happy here. As she trudged through the mud and muck that was a permanent part of the camp, Ela began to formulate a plan that would at least give her and Rachel a chance for happiness.

  ***

  “Sure, I can help, but it will cost you.” Ivan was a tall dark haired man, with a large barrel chest that spoke in a gruff, baritone voice. He was at least sixty years old.

  Ela bit her lower lip, not sure what Ivan had in mind, but fearing the worst. She glanced around the laundry facility’s loading dock, then moved over toward a narrow alcove near the exit. She gestured with her finger for Ivan to follow her. She tried to look as seductive as she could, even though she wasn’t sure what that entailed.

  “What?” Ivan’s face turned several shades of red. “Oh – wait – you misunderstand.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “God, I’m old enough to be your father.”

  Ela’s hand fell to her side, and she walked quickly back toward Ivan. “Then what?”

  “You work in the mess hall, right?” Ivan looked around to ensure they weren’t being overheard.

  “Yes.” Ela whispered.

  “If you can manage three roasts, I’ll help you and your friend.” Ivan smiled.

  Ela shook her head. “Let me get this straight, Ivan, you’re willing to risk your life and help my friend and me escape in your laundry truck for three roasts?” Ela looked at him incredulously. “Seriously?”

  Ivan looked down at the ground, and shuffled his feet. “Do you have any idea what it’s like out there right now? There’s hardly any food. Supply lines continue to be strained, if not altogether blocked.”

  Ela’s face softened. “I – I assumed the worst was in here.”

  Ivan shook his head. “No ma’am.”

  Ela pursed her lips as she contemplated the payment. “Okay, I’ll do it.” She knew it would be next to impossible, and that sex with Ivan may very well have been easier than getting three full size roasts out of the guards’ mess hall undetected. She also knew if she failed and was discovered, or even if one of the other prisoners turned her in to curry favor with the guards, she would be shot on the spot.

  To further complicate matters, Ela had not broached the subject of escape with Rachel. Ela couldn’t be certain she would agree to a plan that could very well leave them both dead, or leave Rachel without her family.

  Ela crossed the camp, the smells of burning wood mixed with rotten meat and sewage hardly noticeable after a year of living with them. She walked into the barrack she and Luella shared with over fifty other women. It was a chilly fall afternoon, and the temperature in the metal building was dropping. In spite of this, Luella would be in her bunk napping before she had to be at the mess hall for dinner service.

  Ela walked over to the sleeping woman and stared at her mother, trying to remember who she was. The woman on the bunk hardly resembled the woman she had grown-up with. Luella had lost at least thirty pounds since they had arrived at the camp. Her hair was thin and her skin sallow. This left Luella weak, and Ela had to compensate for her in both the laundry facility and the mess hall because the frail woman could barely manage to lift a wet pair of pants much less a basket full of fifty pairs.

  “Mother. Wake up.” Ela nudged her mother’s shoulder. The woman didn’t stir. Ela was suddenly at her father’s bedside, trying desperately to wake him. Ela collapsed on her knees next to her mother’s bed, but unlike the sadness that had ripped through her body as she had clung to her father, Ela felt a tremendous wave of relief. She was free. She wasn’t obligated to anyone except herself and Rachel.

  “Why are you crying, child?” Luella’s raspy voice hit Ela like a slap in the face.

  Ela jerked her head up. “Mother. I –”

  “Get my slippers.” Luella sat up and slowly put her feet over the side of the bunk. “Be useful. The only time you do anything is when I tell you to. Take some initiative.”

  Ela began laughing as tears rolled down her cheeks. She could feel the vice like grip of hysteria closing around her throat, but she couldn’t stop laughing. Luella wanted her to take initiative. Ela became very still, her face stoic as the idea took root in her gut. “Mother, there has been a surplus of meat in the mess hall. The guards have to get rid of it before the inventory, or otherwise they will be reprimanded for ordering too much.” Ela wiped at her face with the back of her hand, as Luella stared down at her. “You will need to take three roasts to the loading dock in the laundry facility and leave them in the cart marked with the letter D.” Ela reached under the bed and retrieved her mother’s slippers and slipped them onto Luella’s blistered feet. As Ela stood, she felt like she was floating, the wind blowing her back and forth.

  “The laundry? Why on earth would I take roasts to the laundry?” Luella stood up and began wrapping her head in a tattered scarf.

  “The guards are trying to keep i
t a secret from their superiors so they don’t get in trouble. The meat is being taken out of the laundry facility because – as you correctly point out – why on earth would there be roasts in the laundry?” Ela turned Luella around and tied a knot in the scarf at the base of her head.

  “What’s in it for me?” Luella asked.

  Ela always imagined this question was at the root of all of Luella’s decisions. “Increased rations for the next week.”

  “Fine. I’ll go now, before my shift.” Luella started to walk toward the door.

  “Not yet mother. Two days from now.” Ela smiled reassuringly at the woman whose death she had just set in motion.

  ***

  “I want to leave this place when mama dies.” Ela said this while folding her hundredth towel that day, and the ten thousandth one since she came to the camp.

  “Are you serious? Where would we go?” Rachel stopped folding laundry and looked at her friend in shock. “Besides, don’t talk about your mother dying. It’s bad luck.”

  Ela let out an exasperated sigh. “Love, it’s easy for you here. You have your family – with the exception of your mother – God rest her soul. I don’t have anything but work. You have it easy here.”

  Ela immediately regretted her comment when she saw the hurt expression on Rachel’s face.

  “How can you say that to me? My father barely speaks, my brother is angry all the time, and Michelle has reverted back to childhood to avoid the reality she lives in.” Rachel flung the shirt she had been folding on the table. “That was a mean and thoughtless thing to say to me!”

  Ela grabbed Rachel by the upper arms, and pulled her close. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She moved her and Rachel toward the other side of the large washing machines that lined the wall. There was a narrow space between the machines and the metal wall of the building. It afforded the two women some privacy. She buried her face in Rachel’s neck and began to gently kiss her. “I want a life with you, away from this place. Sometimes that takes up so much room in my heart and head, I don’t realize what I’m saying.” Her lips found Rachel’s, and she kissed her. The nearness of Rachel was pushing the pressure and pain out of her chest.