The Vacation

I really shouldn’t have been looking out the window, but this was the first time I ever traveled by train. Two days ago, when we boarded the train, Mom and Dad told me it was a surprise vacation, that we were going somewhere special. They made me put on a blindfold so I couldn’t guess where we were going. The blindfold itched. My sister, Esther, complained about how itchy it was, but Mom said it was important and to keep it on.

Every so often I could hear my parents snoring, and that’s when I knew it was safe to pull down the cloth and take a peek. I couldn’t see over the seats, and Mom and Dad blocked the aisle exit. Esther sat immediately to my left, and I was lucky enough to sit next to the window. I gazed outside. The meadows and wildflowers seem to zip by so quickly, while the ominous mountains in the distance moved at a crawling pace.

Mom started to shift in her seat, and I didn’t want to get caught without my blindfold. I put the brown cloth back over my eyes and thought about my birthday dress. I was still wearing it, even though Mom and Dad gave it to me three days ago. They said they were going to wait until my birthday next month, but since we were going on this vacation, they wanted me to have it now. I love it so much! It’s bright and yellow with a floral pattern of daisies that look too real to be fabric. Mom said it made my eyes pop like wild bluebells in a field of golden wheat.

When we boarded the train, I only took one suitcase with me. Although I could have changed dresses, I didn’t want to. This was my favorite gift they ever gave me. It was a little dirty after three days, but Mom didn’t seem to mind. She was just happy that I was happy.

Traveling by train was not at all like traveling by car. It seemed like every hour or two we would stop to get more passengers. Two days of stopping and starting began to make me nauseated. The passengers were all quiet. Sometimes, I would hear whispers. Perhaps they were quiet because they were tired and nauseated like I was. Some of the passengers smelled really bad. When my parents started snoring again, I was able to sneak another view of the meadows outside my window. Two hours had passed since the last stop and it seemed like we were slowing down again.

As our approach slowed to a crawl, a man at the front of the car projected a loud voice with a thick accent. “Passengers, this is the last stop; the end of the line. All passengers will depart here. Gather your belongings and prepare to step off the train in an orderly fashion.” The brakes of the train hissed and screeched like a hot skillet hitting cold water. The train came to a complete stop, and Dad took my hand. I asked if I could take off my blindfold, but he said not yet. He guided me through the aisle. Mom carried my small suitcase. When we stepped off the train, the air was brisk. I could smell smoke, like someone had a campfire going all night. There was a lot of grumbling and confusion from the group on the train. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, but they didn’t seem too happy. Dad let go of my hand.

I reached for him but he wasn’t there. I called out, but no one answered. Not him and not Mom. I felt someone pull at my blindfold and take it off. I thought it was Dad, but when I turned around to see him, it was someone else. Standing in front of me was a clean-shaven man in his thirties. He had sharp features and dark, slicked-back hair. He had bags under his eyes like he’d been awake all night. Mom and Dad looked like that for the past few months. They didn’t sleep very well anymore; they always seemed worried. The man asked me my name. “Ruth,” I told him. “That’s a beautiful name, dear. How old are you, Ruth?” “I turn ten next month. Can you help me find my Mom and Dad?”

He smiled at me and looked into my eyes. Well, he wasn’t really looking into my eyes – not like Mom and Dad did when they told me they loved me. It felt like he was studying my eyes.

“Of course, we can help you find your parents. They couldn’t have gone far. You have brilliant blue eyes, Ruth. They are the color of the sky. That color is called azure. Do you know that word, azure?”

“Thank you, sir. No, I don’t know that word,” I said.

“Please, Ruth. No need for formal courtesies. People at work call me sir, but you and I will be friends. My name is Dr. Mengele, but you can just call me Josef. OK?”

“OK,” I replied. He seemed like a nice person. His coat was decorated with two metal lightning bolts on either side of his collar. I didn’t know what they meant, but a lot of people in charge were wearing the same symbols.

He gently took me by the hand. “Why don’t you come with me, Ruth? I have something special to show you. After that, I can help you find your Mom and Dad.”

I turned around one more time to see if I could find my parents and Esther, but they were lost in a shuffle of bodies. In the dust of brown and gray, I caught a glimpse of a yellow dress – the same as mine. “Esther!”, I shouted. She met my gaze and ran over to Josef and me. She huffed and caught her breath as she gave me a hug.

Esther stood by my side. “Josef, this is my sister, Esther. Can she come with us until we find our Mom and Dad?”

Dr. Mengele looked at the two girls – mirror reflections of each other; identical twins. He grinned from ear to ear.

“Of course, Ruth. We can all go together. This way, now.”

He took both girls by the hand and they walked into the void of the Holocaust.