“It’s a German piano.” She stepped even closer. “German music is meant to be played on it. Keep your hands away from it.” Her voice was no more than a snake’s poisonous hissing now. “And if I see you near it ever again, I’ll come to your room and chop your hands off with a butcher knife. See how fast I do it and see how the Amis won’t even punish me for it. There are far too many of you wandering around. There’s only one me.”
Tadek looked at the entrance long after her steps disappeared somewhere onto the grand central staircase. He found himself furious and powerless. He wanted to scream and throw things around and weep on all fours on the floor but the camp had long taught him to keep his emotions under control. In the camp, weeping would certainly earn one the lash, not the guards’ sympathy. In the camp, he had learned that the only way to get on the SS’s good side was to make oneself indispensable. In the camp, even the lowliest guard was corrupted and if an inmate could “organize” enough things for any such guard, the mutually-profitable relationship soon flourished, even between the worst Nazis and the Jews, who loathed those Nazis the most.
In Tadek’s mind, Morris’s words kept repeating themselves like a broken record – when pushed to desperation, people befriend even their enemies. She needs a friend, Tadeusz. Someone to trust. Someone to tell things. An ally…
From behind the curtain, the sun changed its position and was now spilling its light onto Tadek’s cocked head, onto the piano’s radiant top and Tadek still stood and thought about the past long and hard. Along with the onyx of the piano, warmed by the golden flood, his eyes lit up as well.
An ally. He knew how to be a friend and an ally. One didn’t survive Auschwitz if one couldn’t make himself such an “ally” to an SS guard.
He looked up, more confident now and walked out of the room, flew up the stairs and, before he’d lost his resolve, knocked on the gray, ornate door.
From behind it, Gerlinde’s muffled voice came. “It’s not eleven yet!”
“It’s me, Tadeusz.”
Silence; his heart beating itself to death in his chest. Then, suddenly, a creak of the bedframe and barely audible steps – not heavy enough to express the anger she’d wished to put into them. He stepped away as soon as the door flew open, half-expecting a slap for such insolence.
“I have something to offer to you.” Hastily, he began the well-oiled speech, dusted-off and almost unchanged from the camp days.
Gerlinde’s room also basked in the light. She stood against the sun, which formed a halo around her blonde head, gilding a few errant strands that had come loose from her, whilst lying in bed. It was neatly made but the duvet still bore the shape of her body; Tadek saw it behind her slim frame. With the best will in the world, he still couldn’t bring himself to look her in the eye.
Her ire turned to mild disdain. Leaning against the doorframe, she arched her brow. If it was his former superior Voss in her place, Tadek would expect him to lift a cigarette to his lips and light it with one elegant, languid motion. Gerlinde only snorted softly. “What can you, a displaced person who lives off my household, possibly offer me?”
“Books.” It was important to sound convincing.
The sneer dropped. She narrowed her eyes slightly. “I have a full library downstairs; in case you haven’t noticed.”
“The library, which you aren’t allowed to enter,” he countered, carefully measuring words. “But I am.”
She wasn’t leaning on the doorframe anymore. “Have you come here to rub it in my face?”
“No. I came to say that I can smuggle a couple for you.”
Another long pause. Tadek had long grown used to holding his breath during such pauses.
“The Amis will punish you if they find out.”
The camp Gestapo will skin you alive if they find out about the missing gold, other words rung in his ears.
He gave the same answer he’d given to Voss that day:
“They won’t find out.”
Gerlinde’s gaze fell toward the staircase, calculating the odds.
“What’s in it for you?” Suspicion was back in her voice.
“Nothing. I know how important books are, to keep one’s sanity in circumstances like these. I was in the camp, after all. We were allowed to read, our Kommando. Without books, I would have killed myself a long time ago.”
“If I wanted to kill myself, I would have done it before that lot downstairs showed up.” She was putting on airs for him, to save face but her knuckles, that had turned white on top of the doorknob, told another story. Tadek could tell she was ready to kill for that couple of promised books.
“I only thought you would like to read something between the interrogations.” He shrugged and made a move to leave.
“Wait!”
There it was.
“Yes?”
Almost white with the shame of having to ask a Pole and a former inmate for a favor, she quickly muttered, “Medical Encyclopedia, all three volumes, if you can,” and slammed the door shut.
A rather odd choice, Tadek thought but found the books and brought them to her. Gerlinde snatched them from him and hugged them to her chest. “It doesn’t change anything. You still aren’t allowed to touch the piano.”
“As you say. It’s your house. Thank you for allowing me to live here.” He bowed slightly and walked away, hiding a triumphant smile from her. Gerlinde Neumann didn’t know it yet but he had just won his first little battle.
Upon hearing his report later that day, Morris could not stop smiling and patting his shoulder, congratulating Tadek on his first small victory.
4
It poured that morning. The wall of
