Shelly Sanders - Rachel's Secret

A sea of people sat hunched over in the waiting room, their ragged clothing torn and bloody, their faces lined in sorrow. Sergei pressed his hands to his eyes, unable to witness any more despair; just then, someone grabbed the back of his legs. Startled, he turned around and saw Menahem. He picked the boy up and gave him a big hug. When he tried to put him down, Menahem wouldn’t let go.

“How are they treating you? Are you getting enough to eat?” Sergei could feel Menahem’s bony spine through his shirt.

Menahem nodded. “We go to the soup kitchen every day, and they give us bread too.”

“You and your grandmother?”

“No… she… she’s gone.” Menahem’s lower lip began to tremble.

Sergei could tell the boy was trying to be brave. “Who’s taking care of you?”

“Some of the nurses.”

“I wish I could help you,” said Sergei.

“Can I come home with you?” Menahem asked. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

Sergei’s eyes watered as he hugged Menahem tighter. He wished he could hold onto Menahem’s innocence and trust forever, and that Menahem would never see him as the enemy. “I can’t take you, but I promise I’ll visit you as much as I can.”

Menahem’s body went limp in Sergei’s arms, and he sunk his head onto Sergei’s shoulder. “I won’t be here much longer. I have to go to the orphanage soon.”

Frustrated by this news, Sergei was trying to think of something positive to say, when he saw Rachel walking toward him. Relief swelled inside his chest as she drew closer and he saw that she was physically unharmed.

“Sergei—” she said, her face breaking into a smile. Dark circles underlined her red eyes and her untidy hair hung in her face. “Who is he?” She glanced curiously at Menahem and then at Sergei.

“My friend, Menahem. Menahem, this is Rachel.”

Menahem lifted his head and looked shyly at Rachel. “He brought me here when my grandmother…” Tears streamed down Menahem’s face. He buried his head in Sergei’s shoulder again.

“I was here, the day of the… you weren’t… I went to your house but I couldn’t find anybody,” Sergei said.

“I was hiding in the outhouse; I heard you asking people to stop.” She swallowed and took a deep breath. “That was very brave of you.”

Sergei hung his head, disturbed by the thought of Rachel hiding in a smelly outhouse. “I wish they had listened.”

“My father was killed, and Chaia’s father,” said Rachel in a flat voice. “Chaia has many broken bones and doesn’t speak. She saw her father…” Her voice broke and she turned away from Sergei.

“I know it doesn’t bring anyone back, but many people have been arrested,” he said slowly, watching her reaction. “And Mikhail’s uncle and cousin are being investigated. My father finally revealed what I told him.”

Rachel sniffed and wiped her tears. “I guess that’s good news. Still, I’ve lost everything because of horrible lies. We don’t know where we’ll be in a month from now, or even a week.”

“Are you going to have to go to the orphanage, too?” Menahem said to Rachel.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Sergei looked past her at the people sprawled all over the floor. He shifted Menahem’s weight to his other shoulder. “I want to help you.”

“How?”

“With money, finding a place for you to live…”

“You don’t work… and you don’t owe us anything.” She looked back down the shadowy corridor. “I have to go now. My mother needs me.”

Sergei’s eyes followed her as she walked away. “Damm!” Rage built up inside of him like a fire fed with oil. He kicked the wall. “Dammit!”

A few patients sitting in the corridor cowered during Sergei’s outburst.

“Are you mad at me?” asked Menahem in a meek voice.

Sergei winced, embarrassed that he’d frightened Menahem with his display of anger. He crouched over and put Menahem on the floor. “No, of course I’m not mad at you. I didn’t mean to—” He bit his lip and tried to figure out the best words to say. “I’m mad at the people who hurt your grandmother and Rachel’s father.” He hung his head. “I want to make things right, but nothing I do will ever be enough.”

He felt a warm hand take his as he looked into Menahem’s hopeful eyes.

“You helped me,” said Menahem. “That was good.”

Sergei smiled and tousled his hair. “I guess that was good. Now I just need to do something good for Rachel.”

Rachel wiggled her toes to keep them from falling asleep. She’d been standing in the soup-kitchen line for almost two hours and was still a long way from the front. Just ahead of them were Elena and Esther Berlatsky with their arms around Jacob. Mrs. Berlatsky and Rachel’s mother stood silently in front of Rachel.

“At least Mother came with us today,” said Rachel to Nucia.

“Yes. This will be the first time she’s eaten since…”

“I know.”

The girls stood quietly for a few minutes as the line moved slowly forward.

“I want to sit down,” Rachel told Nucia. “My shoes are so tight I can hardly feel my feet.”

Nucia shook her head. “The ground is dirty and wet. Stay standing.”

Rachel sighed but did as her sister said. Since they’d arrived at the hospital, Nucia had taken on the authoritative role in their family. Much to her surprise, Rachel didn’t mind at all. She liked having someone watching over her the way her father had.

They shuffled forward, a bit closer to the food, only to stop again. “What if they run out of soup?” asked Rachel.

“Then we don’t eat,” said Nucia. “But they’ve had enough every day so far.”

Rachel turned to see how far the line went behind them. Familiar faces surfaced as she scanned the swarm of people. Anna, a girl she knew from school… Yoram, with his pensive eyes and straight black hair… and Leah, her head bandaged where her hair used to be.

“Leah!” she called, rushing back to greet her.

The color drained from Rachel’s cheeks when she saw her friend’s face. Leah’s skin was bruised, in varying shades of purple and gray, and a raw-looking gash ran diagonally from her ear to her nose. She opened her arms and pulled Rachel into a tight embrace.

“Oh Rachel,” said Leah, loosening her hold. “I’m so glad to see you’re all right.”

Rachel looked down at her feet, riddled with shame for making it through the riots without a blemish while her two closest friends would be scarred for life. She lifted her head and gazed at Leah. “What about you? What happened?”

“Well…” Leah lowered her eyes. “A few fists and a knife ran into my face and head during the riots… I’m doing better now, but my parents are still unable to leave the hospital because of their injuries.”

“Your head… does it hurt?” asked Rachel.

“Not as much as it did.” She took a deep breath. “The worst was when they had to shave my hair off.”

“I’m so sorry, Leah.”

Tears welled up in Leah’s eyes. “Meyer is in bad shape, completely blinded during the attacks.”

“Oh no,” cried Rachel. She knew how much Leah cared for Meyer and feared this would affect or even ruin their future together.

Through her tears, Leah asked about Chaia. Rachel saw Yoram twist his head sharply to hear her reply. When Rachel explained briefly what had happened, Yoram grew pale. Leah averted her eyes for a moment before speaking. “That night… the things I saw… what those men did to me…”

Rachel gasped.

“I can never talk about what happened ever again.”

“I’ll never ask you to tell me,” said Rachel. “I’m just grateful you’re here.” She glanced ahead and saw that her mother and sister were near the front of the line. After planning to meet in the courtyard the next day, she left Leah and rejoined her family. She looked back to make sure Leah was still there, and that she hadn’t imagined their conversation. Leah was still in the same place, but Yoram was gone.