Aharon Appelfeld: Adam and Thomas

“Have you been here long?” Thomas asked.

“I got here early in the morning with my mother.The forest was still dark.”

“Weren’t you afraid?”

“No, I know this forest and everything that’s in it.” Adam repeated his mother’s words.

“It’s lucky you spotted me. I was getting discouraged.”

“Actually I didn’t recognize you.”

“I didn’t recognize you either. But that’s not saying much. To my regret, I’m nearsighted,” said Thomas.

Adam noticed the words “to my regret.” Thomas was a polite boy and often said “excuse me” and “thank you.”

“I’m glad we’re together. While I was alone, I didn’t feel good. I was sure I’d get lost. By the way, when did your mother promise to come back and get you?” Thomas asked.

“In the evening.”

“My mom also promised me she would come in the evening. The two of us will go back home together,” said Thomas, and he was glad he had said those words. “My mom sent me with too much. My pack is as heavy as a flour sack.”

“My mother also equipped me as if I were going on a long hike. What isn’t there in my pack? Bandages, iodine, aspirin, two boxes of matches, and lots more,” said Adam.

“I don’t even know what’s in my backpack.”

Adam remembered that his mother had told him, “If I don’t come by the evening, go to Diana’s house.” Strangely, perhaps because of the emotional meeting with Thomas, he had forgotten that instruction.

Diana helped his mother at home, but she was a bitter woman, silent, and it always seemed that she was about to burst out and shout.

“What are you thinking about, Adam?” Thomas asked.

Adam told him.

“My mom also told me to go to Diana.”

“Diana’s going to open a home for abandoned children,” said Adam, and they both laughed.

“I don’t like Diana,” said Thomas.

“Me neither, but there’s no choice. In the ghetto they snatch up children.”

“Let’s wait for our mothers until the evening.Then we’ll see.”

Since first grade, Thomas had attracted Adam’s attention. First, for his nearsightedness, later for his other qualities. Because of his fastidious character and his constant excellence in school, Thomas wasn’t popular. His classmates teased him, and he tried to defend himself with what he knew: the arithmetic exercises, the compositions that he wrote, the books that he read. But those efforts only increased resentment against him. The teachers tried in vain to protect him. In the end his classmates ignored him and acted as if he didn’t exist. Thomas suffered. You could see his suffering in everything he did, even the way he walked. Did Adam also take part in the general ill-treatment? Not actively, but he hadn’t stood up for Thomas.

Once Adam met him in the street and asked how he was. Thomas was surprised that one of his classmates spoke to him, and in his embarrassment he said, “What do you want from me?” Then Adam said to him, “If you don’t do so well, they won’t mistreat you.” That sentence upset Thomas, and he said, “What should I do?”

“It’s very simple. Don’t stand out. Your good grades make the other students uncomfortable.”

“Okay,” said Thomas, and he slipped away.

Right after that meeting, Adam was sorry for what he had said to Thomas. It seemed to him that he’d hurt his feelings, but he didn’t go back to him to apologize.

Since then they hadn’t spoken.

It was strange that Thomas was the one God had sent to him, the thought flashed through Adam’s mind. The religion teacher, Brother Peter, always used to say that there were no coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. If you met someone, that was a sign you were supposed to meet him, a sign that you would get something from him that you lacked. Don’t ignore those meetings. There’s a message of discovery in every meeting with people.

Not only did Adam hear the religion teacher’s words, but he also saw him standing there, dressed in his monk’s habit and different from other people. Meanwhile, Thomas fell asleep.

The sun was setting, and red lights glowed on the treetops. Adam clearly remembered this hour, when he would sit under this tree with his parents. It was always an hour of soft light.

His father, an expert carpenter, would tell them a story from his army service or a secret of his craft, or he would describe something funny about one of his customers.

The carpentry shop was next to their house, and Adam used to spend long hours there. He liked the beams and boards, the power saw, and the tools his father used to carve and smooth the wood. Adam also liked the sawdust and its fragrance.

After his father finished assembling a table, he would stand and look at it from a distance. Then he would say, “I put quite a bit of myself into this. I doubt whether the buyer will appreciate that.”

His mother helped his father with sanding and polishing and applying lacquer. Before the Jewish holidays, they would work until late at night.

Now Adam took in what he might not have taken in before, the closeness between his parents. They liked listening to each other and didn’t argue.

Thomas woke up with a start, looked around, and cried out, “Where am I?”

“You’re in the forest with me.” Adam knelt beside him.

“Sorry, in my sleep I was at home.”

“Now you’re here. Don’t worry.”

Thomas glanced at his watch and said, “It’s eight o’clock. Where are our mothers?”

“Let’s wait and see. The days are long during the summer. Darkness won’t fall until ten or eleven.” Adam tried to comfort Thomas. “I suggest that we eat supper. Our mothers will come, and they’ll find us eating. That will please them.”

“Excellent idea,” said Thomas.

There was a thermos of cocoa in Thomas’s backpack. On the lid, which was also a cup, was written, in his mother’s handwriting, “Close tightly.”

They each ate one of their sandwiches, and Thomas offered Adam a cup of cocoa.

“Excellent cocoa,” said Adam after sipping some. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Strange,” said Adam, “just last spring I sat under this very tree with my parents. Dad was taken to the labor brigade. Mom is trying to hide my grandparents, and I’m here. Everyone in a different place.”

“My dad was also taken to the labor brigade. Since Dad was taken, Mom hasn’t been able to sleep. She’s awake all night,” Thomas told him.

Darkness spread around the tree trunks, but in the depths of the forest some patches of light still glimmered. Thomas looked worried. He didn’t hide his worry and asked Adam, “Are you sure our mothers will come and get us?”

“My mom keeps her promises, and I assume yours does, too. But you have to take the danger into account. The ghetto is shut tight. The watchtowers shine bright searchlights on the area. Most of the ways out are through cellars, and they’ve posted guards over them, too.”

“Since the war began, everything has changed,” Thomas said, sounding like a grown-up.