Entwined

by La Plante, Lynda

  Ruda got up, went to the window and stared out, her hands hanging limply at her sides. “She didn’t come back for three days. For three days my body burned, my head ached, I screamed with pain. I knew…I felt every single injection they gave her. They were hurting her. Eventually they brought her back, the nurse carried her in, pushed her onto the bunk bed. Her eyes were glazed, she was burning hot, and she just lay there. I didn’t know what they had done to her. Her face was bloated, her belly distended, her cheeks were flushed. They didn’t call us for a long time. I stole what food I could, slept with her in my arms, warmed her with my body…and just as she was better, able to get up, they came back for her. When they called her number, I took her place. But they knew me, and I was punished for trying to fool them.”

  Ruda covered her face with her hands, she couldn’t tell Luis what they had done to her…but what had been worse was not being with Rebecca, and each day they had promised she would see her soon. They gave her no food, and every day they administered the interminable agonizing X rays, the electrodes attached to her head, the drugs. They burned her insides, kept on asking her questions she didn’t understand, the same question over and over: “Tell us what your sister is doing, tell us…if you tell us you will be given sweets.”

  Ruda sobbed, wringing her hands. “I didn’t know what they wanted, I didn’t understand. I hurt so much, I was in such terrible, terrible pain, all I did was cry…Luis, they hurt me so much, and then…then they took me to this little room, locked me inside, all alone, nobody came to see me, nobody gave me any food…and then fresh pains began, my head, my arms, my knees were on fire. I screamed, louder and louder, begging them to stop, to stop hurting her.”

  Luis leaned closer. “I don’t understand…”

  She almost screamed it, her face purple with rage: “I felt what they were doing to her, I felt every pain. I knew what they were doing to her, because I felt it.” She gave a sobbing laugh, and began pacing around the trailer.

  “Papa was very pleased with me. They came to me then, and I was carried into another room. They gave me hot milk and cookies, and kept on telling me what a good girl I was.”

  Ruda stared from the trailer window, then pressed her head against the cold windowpane. “They bandaged my knees, put ointment on my legs and stomach, dressed me in clean clothes. Then they took me into his office, and made me sit in front of him, he had…a—” She turned back to Luis: “telephone, and he was smiling at me. They were playing music on a gramophone. He spoke to someone, told them to begin. Oh, Luis, I screamed out—my head, I said they were hurting my head, then my stomach. The more I cried out in agony, the more agitated he became, shouting into the phone, again…again, until I fell to the floor. Then he replaced the phone, picked me up and sat me on his knee, told me what a good girl I was. Then she came in…”

  “Your sister?” asked Luis.

  “No. Papa’s assistant. She came in, and he said to her: This is the strong one. Say hello, Ruda, say hello to…”

  Ruda slumped onto the bench, unable to continue. Luis reached out and drew her into his arms.

  “Did you ever see her again?”

  She whispered: “Through the glass window…they used to show me Rebecca through the glass. Her face was like a stranger’s, she was fatter, more bloated, but she still tried to smile at me. Then they would draw the curtain, and she would be gone. The nurses told me that if I was a good girl, if I could tell them what Rebecca was thinking, they wouldn’t hurt her anymore.”

  Luis held her close, his cheek resting against hers. She kept staring ahead, whispering. “You remember the silk scarves? The old magician? That’s where I learned it, Luis, they said they wouldn’t hurt her if I could name the colors, and I used to try so hard, try to tell them what they wanted to know, but they would never let me see her…”

  “But why, what did any of it prove?”

  “They wanted me to read her mind, they showed her all these color charts, cards, and…and I failed, I couldn’t get it right. So many, they wanted so many. When I failed they would burn me, make me try again, and I did, because then they didn’t hurt her; if they had, I would have known, but she wouldn’t concentrate. I’d always been able to think for her, talk for her, but she didn’t concentrate hard enough. And then one day I could see them clearly, one color after another. Papa applauded and shouted, and they let me see her. They told me I was a good girl, that I had saved my sister and if I continued to be a good girl she would not be hurt.”

  “Did they continue to torture you?”

  She nodded. “Not so much—but they would not let me hold her. I was kept all by myself, but you know, I knew she was being taken care of, so it was all right. But then, I got so tired I couldn’t, I couldn’t do it. They took her away, it was my fault.” Her voice was hardly audible. “They hurt her…but all I could feel was her terror.”

  Luis felt so inadequate, he held Ruda tightly. “You listen to me. From now on, when something hurts you, when you remember, you tell me. Because no ghost is going to touch you. I love you, Ruda, do you hear me? You have done no wrong, you have done nothing wrong, you can’t blame yourself, you were just a child.”

  She broke from him, and gave him a strange look. He could feel her mistrust.

  “It’s true, Ruda, you have done nothing wrong! You have to believe that!”

  She reached the door leading to the small hallway. “I had better rest before tonight.”

  “You sure you will be all right?”

  She nodded. “I do care for you, Luis, you know that. I think I always have. Maybe, in my own way, I…”

  She couldn’t say the word.

  “Ruda, maybe it’s taken me a long time to realize just how much I need you, that I’m nothing without you…but I understand that you need me too, Ruda, and it makes me feel good.”

  “Don’t tell anyone what I have told you.”

  “As if I would…but, remember, you have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She gave him that look, her eyes slightly downcast. “I didn’t tell you all of it, some things you can never tell anybody. You know why? Because nobody could really believe it ever happened.”

  “May I ask you something? Did you know Kellerman at the camp? Was he at the same place?”

  “Yes, Kellerman was also at Birkenau. I didn’t know him there…he had it bad, they made him fuck dogs for their entertainment—and you thought it was funny to make jokes about the size of his dick, didn’t you? See, look at you, you don’t really believe it, do you? Kellerman the clown, haw haw…they degraded him, defiled him, and treated him like an animal, haw haw. Kellerman was not a clown, not in his heart.”

  “You did see him, here in Berlin. Didn’t you?”

  She looked at him straight in the eyes, without a flicker of hesitancy to indicate she was lying. “No. I suppose he came to try and squeeze money out of me, but I didn’t see him. Look, I’d better go and rest, then I’ll check on the animals.”

  She closed the door of her bedroom. Grimaldi put her half-finished mug of hot chocolate in the sink, then strode across the trailer and rapped on her door. She pulled it open. “What?”

  “That little prick of an inspector was here, he wanted to know about the night Kellerman died, something about a pair of boots, the ones he’d seen outside.”

  She shrugged, gestured to her closet. “He can take whichever ones he likes. Is that all you wanted to say to me? I got a lot to do…”

  “I’ll go and check the props—and Ruda, if you still have Kellerman’s hat, get rid of it. They asked about that, a leather trilby…Mike borrowed it, he said that you had said it was mine. Get rid of it, Ruda.” Grimaldi slammed out of the trailer.

  Ruda kicked her door shut. “Damn!…Damn!”

  She paced up and down. She had gotten rid of everything, she was safe, they couldn’t link her to Kellerman’s murder. Then she realized maybe the police had not made the connection, but Grimaldi had. She s
tood with her hands clenched at her sides. “Damn!” She calmed down, ordered herself to remain calm.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Torsen hovered around the bus station, checking his watch. He had to get back to his apartment, bathe and change, and collect Freda; he wouldn’t make it if the bus didn’t come soon. There was a sound of a car backfiring, and Torsen looked out. He hurried toward the driver as he slammed the door shut. “Eh, you’d better be careful, slam it too hard and the engine’ll fall out.”

  Torsen smiled. “Could I have just a word?”

  The driver nodded, but said he would have to make it quick since he was late. Torsen produced the leaflet. “Can you look at this, it’s not a proper photograph, but it’s a good likeness of the person we think may have been the passenger on your bus the night the dwarf was murdered. Remember we spoke about it?”

  Again the driver nodded. “You know it’s been a while now. I dunno if I can remember her, let me see…” He squinted at the picture.

  “I’m sure I’ve seen this before…”

  “But is it of the woman on your bus that night?”

  “I have definitely seen this woman’s face before, but whether it was her or not, I couldn’t honestly say. I just took her fare, I didn’t have a conversation with her. It could be, but I couldn’t say it was.”

  Torsen slipped the picture back into his wallet. “Thanks for your time. Have a good night!”

  He returned to his car, was unlocking it as the bus drove past. On the side of the bus out of Torsen’s sight was a large poster—Ruda Kellerman’s face about a foot high was posted up on the wall of the bus terminal.

  Torsen threw up his hands. So much for a valued eyewitness. He drove back to his apartment. On the way he called in for messages by radio, and stated that he would be using the patrol car that evening. Rieckert radioed back to Torsen asking if he could pick him up. There was just his girlfriend and himself. Torsen snapped that he thought he was giving the tickets to his wife and kid. Rieckert laughed. “Na, they hate the circus…see you about seven, over and out!”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Mama Magda’s was empty when Vebekka walked in. She called out and, receiving no reply, descended the dark unlit staircase. She passed through the arch with the beaded curtains, called out again, and walked toward the office. Eric opened the door.

  “I came to see Magda.”

  Eric squinted in the darkness, unable to see her face clearly.

  “I want to talk to her.”

  “That would be very difficult. Who are you?”

  Vebekka introduced herself, and Eric opened the door wider.

  “Please, it is very important I speak to her.”

  Eric gestured for her to come in. “You’re twenty-four hours too late. She died last night.”

  Vebekka leaned on the doorframe. “Oh no…no please, no!”

  Eric offered her a chair, but she refused.

  “Can I be of help? I’ve taken over the club…sit, please sit.”

  “She called me Ruda…”

  Eric saw how distressed Vebekka was. “Look, I’m sorry I can’t help you.”

  Eric watched her leave, then remembered the purse. If she was who she said she was maybe she could cause trouble. He opened the drawer, picked up her purse and ran after her.

  “You left this last night, your purse…no money, there was no money in it, okay?”

  She stared at the bag, disinterested. Eric thrust it toward her.

  “It’s yours, eh, are you okay?”

  She took the purse. She seemed close to tears. “It was perhaps just a coincidence, you see…Ruda, Ruda was my sister. The big woman called me Ruda.”

  “I can ask around for you, what’s her last name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Eric backed away; she was a nut. “Well I can’t help you then, good-bye. Any time you’re passing, drop in…”

  He made his way back, and heard a screech of tires. She had walked out into the street and a car had narrowly missed her, but she kept on walking, not even turning to the shocked driver.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Helen turned to see the baron, who was out of breath, having run up from the reception. “She came to the hotel, went up to the suite, and then took a taxi. The driver has just come back. He said Vebekka went to ‘Mama Magda’s’ and he’s waiting to take us there now.”

  When they reached the club, Eric explained that the baroness had been there; he swore he had returned the handbag she left there the previous evening.

  “We are not interested in that, all we want to know is where she went.”

  Eric explained she had come asking about her sister, someone called Ruda, and the next minute she had almost got herself killed walking across the street, straight into the traffic.

  Eric followed them out to the sidewalk, and watched them as they, too, ran across the street amid blaring horns. He shook his head. Crazy foreigners, all crazy.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Vebekka walked on, bumping into passersby. She turned into a churchyard, unaware of where she was going. Fragmented pictures kept cropping up in her mind. She walked into the church and sat in a row at the back. Rosa used to take her to church on Sundays, but her adopted father never accompanied them. Vebekka closed her eyes, remembering. She used to call Rosa “the woman”—she didn’t know the name of the woman who worked at the hospital where they had taken her after the camp was liberated.

  The woman had been very gentle. She had explained she was just examining her, to see if she needed any medication. She asked her if she remembered her name, but Rebecca was too terrified to speak; any moment she expected them to stick needles into her arms. When the needles didn’t come, she lived in terror they would bring the electric pads, and she hid beneath the sheets for long periods of time. The woman would come every day with little presents, but Rebecca would refuse to take them. She knew it was a trick. After a few weeks, maybe even months, she began to believe she was safe; until they had taken her to the X-ray department, and she had screamed and screamed.

  Rebecca had spent six months in the hospital before she was sent to an orphanage; she had yet to speak a word, but she had begun to get used to the nice woman’s visits. The woman had explained to Rebecca that she lived in Berlin with her husband, that she was not a doctor, just helping in any way she could. She had held the frightened girl’s hand, saying she wanted to help her, and that she would come to the orphanage to see her, if Rebecca wished. Rebecca had slowly nodded her head.

  In the orphanage, the older children would steal her things, and pinch her. She was so fat—they called her a pig, a fat pig. They were too young, too bruised themselves to know she had been injected and tortured, to know that they had all suffered. Rebecca rarely spoke. She missed her sister, cried for her every night. Then, one day, the nice woman arrived with her husband. She asked Rebecca if she would like to live with them.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  There were many children to choose from, but Rebecca had touched Rosa deeply; she was also outwardly the most healthy of the children, and Rosa was confident that, in time, Rebecca would be able to overcome her terror.

  They had tried to trace Rebecca’s family to no avail; she could not remember her last name. They knew her first name only because one of the children told them. Rebecca left with the Goldbergs a year and a half after her release from Birkenau, but it was months before she started to believe they were not going to hurt her.

  Rosa made the decision never to speak of Birkenau. What she had heard about the camp was too much for her to accept and she felt it was better for Rebecca to forget the past. They had a plastic surgeon remove her tattoo, and although the doctors and nurses had terrified her, Rebecca recovered remarkably quickly.

  Three years after the adoption, Rosa was beginning to despair. Rebecca still hid food, peed on the floor, and wet her bed every night. She remained suspicious and noncommunicative, retreating into sulking sil
ences for so long that Rosa began to despair. And she had suffered from nightmares: Virtually every night Rebecca woke screaming hysterically and would let no one near her.

  At school she disrupted classes, had no friends, fought, spat, and kicked. She stole children’s toys and lunch boxes.

  She alternated between refusing food for days on end and gluttonous horrific binges; Rosa would find her sitting on the kitchen floor eating everything in sight—mustard, jam, raw eggs—anything her hands could reach she would stuff into her mouth.

  Rebecca wore Rosa Goldberg down. No care, no love seemed to break through to her. She was as cruel and vicious to pets as to the smaller children at school. The Goldbergs began to think they had adopted a monster.

  Therapy sessions followed, and partly helped; through therapy they discovered she had a twin sister.

  Rosa had tried to trace Ruda in a desperate bid to help Rebecca, but it was a long, fruitless, financially exhausting search. Ruda, it was presumed, had died in the camp. There was no record of her leaving Birkenau, no record in any orphanage; she had, like thousands of others, perished.

  David Goldberg was at his wits’ end. Under the strain of caring for Rebecca, Rosa became a nervous wreck. As a last resort, when they arrived in Philadelphia, Rosa arranged a session with a hypnotherapist.

  For the first time Rebecca calmed down. Rosa soon read every book she could find on the subject. She trained at a local hypnosis clinic so that she could hypnotize Rebecca at home. Gradually she began to erase from the child’s mind the memory of the past.

  Rebecca did not change overnight. There were setbacks when she remembered Ruda. But Rosa found a solution: She talked Rebecca into locking her sister away, so she would not come out and would not make her do bad things. She would lock her away and lose the key. From then on Rebecca was able to study and she caught up with the other children.

  Vebekka sat back, staring at the altar. She understood now why she had been so afraid for her babies, afraid they would be born with two heads, born twisted, with ropes. She had been too young to know about umbilical cords. She had seen the twisting baby ropes cut with rusty knives. With the fascination of a young child she’d watched the skeletal women deliver. She saw once again the hundreds of rows of jars containing deformed fetuses in the hospital.