Displaced Persons Read Online Free PDF

them onto a valuable scrap of paper. Chaim was looking at her. She is in Palestine, Fela added. That’s why I know she—I believe she—of course maybe she has heard something—her address I always remember. I remembered it everywhere.
    So write to her, said Chaim. Don’t let me disturb you.
    If you don’t want to disturb me, eat.
    I have heard nothing. Who else has written to you?
    Are you reading my letter?
    No, no.
    You look like you are reading it.
    She got up to pour him more coffee. Pavel said he would try to find sugar from someone. Do you know where he will get it?
    I can guess, said Chaim. He leaves this area, that’s certain. Did you see at the end of the street? There’s a row of rubble, then half a house, just open, no roof, no upper floor. Yet in our row of houses it looks as if nothing has happened.
    Fela pushed her letter to the side of the table. I don’t want anything to stain it.
    What do you tell her?
    Nothing. I tell her nothing. There is nothing to tell her. Just like you. Nothing to tell.
    Chaim got up from his plate. I told Pavel my name last night. Traum. We don’t have to be brother and sister now.
    All right, said Fela.
    I’m going to wash, he said.
    Fela shook her pen. Still a little ink. She wanted to write: Do you remember Sieresz, who bought leather on credit from Father every Christmas? I saw his brother. He asked me: For what did you come back? That to me was worse almost than—
    But instead she would be brief. I lost Moshe , she wrote. I am alone.
     
    I N J UNE P AVEL ORGANIZED a second bicycle. The German girl who sold it to him had tied a wooden crate onto a piece of metal above the back wheel. She used the crate as a basket to carry food back from the market. He could see on the girl’s face her regret at giving up the bicycle; but hunger was bigger than regret. So she would walk! He had the girl ride alongside him until half a kilometer away from the house. He gave her an extra tin of pork for her trouble, and in the look on her face he saw not just gratitude for the food, but relief. Yes, they were still a little afraid, these Germans who had lived near the large camp during the war. Now that the armies were here, ready to condemn and to hang, these Germans were afraid of the Jews.
    Pavel presented the gift to Fela in the garden. He called out to her from the front of the house, near the kitchen window. He stood in between the two bicycles, his face somber. He did not want to look too arrogant to her. Still, look what he had done in an hour at dawn! A good piece of craft, this little thing.
    But she looked skeptical when she saw him.
    He felt offended. For you, he said. I didn’t steal it.
    No, no. Her neck flushed; a red spot appeared on each cheek. I do not know how, she said.
    No? Pavel smiled.
    My father never permitted us, she said. But I always loved the way it looked, a group of young people, especially the girls, with their skirts floating over the wheels. It was always the very sophisticated ones in the town who went off on outings. They knew how to ride so as not to entangle their clothing.
    I will teach you, said Pavel. It is very easy.
    She unbuttoned the lowest button of her dress, so as not to rip the cloth over the metal frame. He could see she was unsure about letting him touch her. He let her lift herself onto the seat of the bicycle. One foot, on tiptoe, still touched the ground.
    Don’t worry, he said, walking behind her. I have you. He held the basket at the back of the seat steady. His arm did not even brush her dress, which fluttered a bit at the waist. Look, even if you lift your foot, you won’t fall.
    She pedaled hesitantly, one meter, two meters, the bicycle shaking under her weight. Pavel stepped quickly after her, right hand gripping the crate. He could see his forearm tensing. Yes, his arms and hands grew thicker and stronger every day.
    Oop! she cried. And dropped her foot down to brake herself.
    Good! said Pavel. Very good.
    No, no, said Fela.