Playing for the Commandant Read Online Free PDF

three or four was sitting beside the lifeless body, holding its hand.
    “Wake up, Mama,” the girl said. She dropped her mother’s hand and shook her by the shoulder, tears welling in her eyes. “Wake up, Mama. Wake up!”
    “Here, take this.” I handed the child page two of Clara Schumann’s Concerto. “You can color it in. These notes are black.” I pointed to the crotchets. “The other notes need coloring.” I rummaged through Erika’s bag and found a tube of red lipstick. “You can use this.” The girl’s eyes widened. She wiped her nose on her sleeve and took the lipstick.
    “Mama’s asleep.” She put a finger to her lips. “It will be a surprise.”
    It must have been midnight on the third night when the train’s wheels finally ground to a halt. A young boy who’d had his nose pressed to the grate announced we were in Poland, in a place called Auschwitz-Birkenau. The doors were flung open, and we were ordered to step onto the platform. I had longed for the sun, but after three days in the dark, the bright lights stung my eyes. It was cold, too, but the rush of clean air was a relief. Someone shouted at us to leave our bags in the train car. I pulled the C-sharp from my backpack, tucked it into the elastic of my underpants, and stepped off the train behind Erika. Father helped Mother to her feet and lifted her off the train, steadying her between us. We slipped our arms through hers and stepped into the crush of people spilling onto the platform.
    Auschwitz-Birkenau. It was an odd-sounding name for a town. And an odd-looking station, too, manned by SS guards and stooped porters in filthy blue and white rags. There were no street lamps at Birkenau, only floodlights. No wooden seats, just barbed wire and men with whips and a strange hovering smog. Something huge and heavy and black moved through me.
    A searchlight swept the platform, and I saw Michael Wollner jump from the train. He took his mother’s hand and helped her down. Her face shone with sweat; his was grimy. A soldier brushed past them, dragging a dead body after him.
    We were ordered to form two lines. Men were sent to the right, women, children, and the elderly to the left. My mother stepped to the left in confused obedience, but Father pulled her back, tears spilling onto his stubbled cheeks. He kissed her on the mouth. Then he turned to me.
    “Be brave, darling Hanna, and be careful.” He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me on the forehead. His lips were cracked; his stubble stung.
    “You said we had to stick together, Papa. You said we’d be okay as long as we —”
    “Men to the right!” an SS officer shouted, putting his gun back into its holster. Behind him a woman was slumped over her husband, cradling his bloodied face in her arms.
    His lashes heavy with tears, Father turned to Erika. “Look after each other,” he whispered, “and get home safe. And when you do, tell everyone what you saw and what they did to us.”
    And then he was gone, another pair of marching feet swallowed up by the night.
    I took my mother’s hand and stepped into line behind Erika.
    “Your nails!” Mother scolded, looking at my hands with horror. “You can’t sit at the piano with hands like that. I want your nails cut tonight.”
    I wanted to slap her. I wanted to scream,
They’ve taken Father! Open your eyes!
but it was too late; Mother had already gone. She wasn’t sad and she wasn’t scared. She was back in Debrecen and her daughters were making mischief and her husband was at work.
    One of us had made it home already.
    Erika watched the ghosts in striped uniforms unload luggage from the trains.
    “You did the right thing leaving the camera on the train,” I whispered in her ear. “Photos of this would only get us in trouble.”
    Erika didn’t answer.
    “You did leave the camera on the train?” My heart dipped.
    “Yes. I promised Papa I’d get rid of it if things got dangerous, and I did. But this —” Erika looked down,