Aharon Appelfeld - Adam and Thomas

They couldn’t believe how much their lives had changed. Adam washed Miro, filled his palm with water, and put it to his mouth. Miro was thirsty and drank till the last drop.

“Thomas and I live in the forest now. I haven’t heard from Mom since we parted. I assume she’s hiding along with my grandparents. You certainly know more than I do.”

Miro looked at him with his big eyes, let out a few soft barks, and Adam sensed that Miro was moved by their meeting and it was hard for him to talk now.

Miro was a smart dog. He knew what was happening in the house, who was sad and who was sick. If one of Adam’s grandparents were sick, he would sit by the bed and sympathize with his pain. On holidays he rejoiced with everyone.

“What happened to you, Miro, since I left you?”

Thomas asked cautiously, “Can I pet Miro?”

“Certainly. Now he belongs to both of us.” Thomas bent down on his knees and stroked Miro. Miro looked at him as if to say, I’m Adam’s friend. I can’t be your friend, too.

Even though Thomas didn’t understand the language of animals, he understood that Miro was entirely devoted to Adam now. There was no room in his soul for another boy.

Adam noticed that Thomas’s feelings were hurt, and he said, “Don’t worry. He’ll be your friend, too.”

“I’m deaf and dumb with animals,” said Thomas.

“You’re wrong, Thomas. In a little while you’ll be talking to him the way I do.”

Adam carried Miro up into the nest, and that night all three of them slept there. They had a feeling that Miro brought a message from home with him. But for now he hadn’t found the right little barks to express his message.

The next day Adam sensed that Miro was ready to tell him something. Miro raced from place to place restlessly, whining with little barks. Adam hugged him and whispered in his ears, “Tell me, dear, what you want to say to me. I’m listening.”

At last Miro pulled at his collar with his hind leg again and again with nervous movements that Adam had never seen him make.

Adam took the collar off Miro’s neck, and he found a letter folded up inside it.

Adam dear, pardon me. I couldn’t come to you as I had promised. If you haven’t gotten to Diana’s yet, don’t delay. Go to her. Give her the gold jewelry I sewed in your coat and tell her that I’ll come soon and give her more. You know Diana. She’s got a temper, but she’s not a bad woman. I believe she’ll hide you. But if for some reason she refuses to hide you, go to her cousin, Christina. She’s a widow who lives near that poplar grove, and I’m sure she’ll hide you.

I couldn’t find a hiding place for your grandparents. I can’t leave your grandparents on their own. Everyone says the war is nearly over. I pray that until then God will preserve you. You’re a smart boy, and I count on your ability to make your way. Forgive your mother who loves you very much.

Adam read the letter again and again, and tears filled his eyes.

“What did your mother write to you?” Thomas approached Adam.

“Sorry, Thomas. It’s hard for me to talk now,” said Adam and pressed Miro against his body.

The next day Adam milked the cow and filled the thermos bottle. They sat near the brook, and Miro joined in the meal. Miro didn’t leave Adam’s side. He brought little barks up from inside himself. They were familiar, but Adam couldn’t decipher them. Adam knelt down and asked again, “What happened to Mom and my grandparents? When did they leave the house?”

Miro apparently knew a lot, too much to communicate what he knew to Adam with little barks. A day and a half had passed since his arrival, but he still hadn’t calmed down.

Miro wasn’t a big or purebred dog. He was black with white patches. He wasn’t particularly handsome, but he was solidly built. His jumps were powerful, and he ran with long strides. He liked to be petted, but he didn’t beg to be pampered, and he didn’t annoy you by barking for no reason. Adam’s father called him a “serious dog.”

Adam kept rereading the letter that Miro had brought him. He felt the pain between the few sentences that his mother had written to him. His father was carrying iron tracks on his shoulder and collapsing under the weight of the burden. His mom and his grandparents were somewhere in Poland. Only a short time ago we were all together, and now everyone is somewhere else.

Thomas also thought about his father, who had been taken for forced labor, and about his mother, who was watching over the grandparents.

Suddenly Thomas turned to Adam and asked, “Is God watching over us?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Our situation worries me,” said Thomas.

“My grandfathers are close to God. They pray to him and read holy books.”

“Do you feel God?” Thomas surprised him.

“When I’m with my grandparents, I feel him.”

“And you yourself, do you feel close to God?”

“Sometimes it seems like he is hovering above me,” said Adam, and wonder filled his face.

Adam’s answers didn’t bring Thomas close to God. But Thomas felt that Adam wasn’t making things up. He wasn’t exaggerating. He was trying to convey his feelings.

“Adam, thanks for sharing your feelings with me.”

“It’s hard for me to talk about secret things. I don’t have the right words,” said Adam.

“I understand,” said Thomas.

Mina hadn’t forgotten them. Once again she left them a few pieces of corn pie and some cheese. She wrapped the package in newspaper and left it near the tree.

“If only it was possible to thank her,” said Thomas.

“Nobody must see us with her. She’s living a hidden life now,” said Adam in a whisper.

“You’re right,” said Thomas, impressed by Adam’s way of thinking.

That day Thomas managed to write in his diary:

Yesterday in a miraculous way Miro, Adam’s dog, came to us. His surprising arrival strengthens my faith that the war is nearly over, and after it we’ll meet. Miro is a wonderful creature. He wandered in the forest for many days before he found Adam. Adam found a letter from his mother in Miro’s collar. His mother told him that she hadn’t been able to find a hiding place for his grandparents, so all of them would go to the railroad station. Did you and my grandparents take the same path?

Until a short time ago forest fruit nourished us, but it’s disappearing. Luckily for us we found a girl from our class, Mina, who’s hiding with a peasant. She brings us bread or corn pie and cheese from time to time, and she’s saving us from hunger.

Adam keeps saying: God sent Mina to us. It’s hard for me to say a sentence like that. Adam comes from a religious family. Faith in God was planted in him. I can’t forget what Dad always said, Human beings — only the good of human beings — is our concern. We don’t deal in conjectures.

To tell the truth, Adam and I don’t argue. We’re busy from morning to night with strengthening the nest and getting food. It isn’t easy to stay alive in the forest. Adam is a good friend and an optimistic boy. If it weren’t for him, I doubt I would have lasted.