Aharon Appelfeld: Adam and Thomas

“Are we going to stay in the forest for a long time?” Thomas asked.

“As long as we have to, until the ghetto calms down. Maybe the war will be over in the meantime.”

“I’m afraid,” Thomas admitted. “Why am I always afraid?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of. The forest has everything. We’ll learn how to find the good things in the forest. Yesterday we took the first important step. We built a nest.”

“You say that building the nest was the first step?” Thomas asked.

“That’s right,” said Adam. “When you have a base, you can move forward.”

“Adam, your way of thinking surprises me.”

They went out to look for berries.

“It’s great to eat berries that you picked yourself,” said Adam.

They didn’t have to go far. Right nearby there was a clearing full of little wild strawberries. First they picked and ate them. Then they took handfuls and went back to sit under the tree.

“What luck,” said Thomas.

“My mom says that God provides food for every creature,” said Adam.

“Is your family religious?”

“We go to synagogue on the holidays.”

“Is a religious person different from a regular one?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t think so,” Adam answered. “My grandpa says everyone was created in the image of God.”

“Can you see God?” Thomas persisted.

“You’re not allowed to see God. You have to do what pleases him.”

“What pleases him?”

“To love your parents. To love your grandparents and people who need help.”

“You surprise me, Adam.”

“How?”

“I didn’t imagine that you went to synagogue. I was sure that only old people went to synagogue.”

They picked some more berries, and Thomas remembered painfully that his mother had promised to come to the forest and get him.

“Our mothers are doing what they can. They’re probably busy hiding our grandparents,” said Adam.

“True. I have to get over my egotism,” said Thomas.

“Forgive my ignorance. What’s ‘egotism’?” Adam said.

“Loving yourself too much.”

“Thomas, you know a lot. You won’t only be the best in our class, but the best in the school.”

“My father’s the best, not me,” said Thomas, sidestepping the praise Adam showered on him.

“Let’s do something useful. Let’s gather branches and fix up the nest.”

They gathered branches of various sizes. Adam climbed up into the tree, and Thomas handed him what they had collected. Adam spread out the branches and leaves and finally spread a blanket over them.

“Thomas. You won’t recognize our nest. Tonight we’ll sleep like kings,” said Adam from above.

Thomas climbed up carefully and right away he saw: wider, more stable, and pleasant to lie on. They both lay down and stretched out their legs, pleased at the thickness of the nest.

“We’ve hardly been here for a day and a half, and it seems as if we’ve been here for a long time. Do you have the same feeling?” Thomas asked.

“I don’t think about my feelings.”

“You’re lucky,” said Thomas.

“Why?”

“Sometimes feelings are oppressive,” Thomas told him.

While they were talking, they saw a white dog in the distance, borne lightly on long legs. “Hey, beautiful dog,” Adam called out, but the dog didn’t stop; it disappeared.

When he was younger, Thomas wanted to adopt a dog, but his mother refused absolutely. That refusal made his childhood miserable, and every time he went outdoors and saw a puppy, his heart would go out to it. Once he found a puppy in the yard, and after he played with it, he brought it home. When his mother saw the puppy held against his chest, she screamed. Thomas dropped the puppy, but his mother kept screaming, and the puppy ran for its life.

That night, before he went to sleep, after she had read a fairy tale to him, his mother looked at him and said, “I want to apologize.”

“For what, Mom?”

“For not letting you adopt a dog. It’s my fault. When I was a little girl, about your age, there was a sweet puppy in the neighborhood where I grew up, and everybody played with it. One morning the rumor spread that the sweet puppy was infected with rabies, and we were all taken to the hospital for injections. I swore to myself that I’d never touch a dog again. When I saw the puppy up against your chest, I got very frightened. I shouldn’t have screamed so loudly and frightened you. Forgive me, Thomas. I don’t know if you can forgive me now, but I hope that one day you will,” she said and burst into tears.

“Mom, I forgive you now.”

“Thank you. It’s been bothering me all day long.”

Now Thomas saw his mother very clearly, sitting next to him. It seemed as if she were still tormenting herself because she had screamed, and Thomas wanted to repeat, “I forgive you with all my heart.”

“Thomas, don’t forgive me so easily. I don’t deserve it,” she said and disappeared from his sight.

For a long time he expected to see her face again, but it didn’t return.

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

“About my mom.”

“Did she speak to you?”

“Yes, but it’s complicated. It’s hard to talk about now. I’ll tell you some other time.”

“There’s time,” said Adam calmly.

“Will we stay here for many days?” Thomas was afraid.

“I don’t know. My grandpa says, ‘It’s in the hands of heaven.’”

“I never heard that expression. My dad says: ‘Everything is in man’s hands,’” said Thomas.

“Every house has its own expressions,” said Adam. “Hasn’t the time come to trade sandwiches? I’ll give you mine, and you can give me yours.” Thomas spoke in a lively way.

“Good idea,” said Adam.

“The school year is nearly over. It’s two o’clock, and everybody is going home. Just we two are out in nature. Do you understand what’s happening to us?” Thomas spoke with concern.

“It’s very simple. We’re in hiding.”

“You call the place where we are ‘hiding’?” asked Thomas, emphasizing every word.

“I can’t think of a better name. Our hiding place is big. You can walk around in it, climb trees, and drink water from the stream, but it’s still a hiding place.”

“I have the feeling that since the ghetto, nothing makes sense. They send away the old people. Why are they sending away the old people? Why are they sending away children? What harm did the children do? What harm did the old people do?” Thomas spoke emotionally.

“They’re Jews,” Adam answered quietly.

“Because they’re Jews, they have to be sent away?” “You know, Thomas. People don’t like Jews.”

“I can’t figure that out. Apparently I have to experience and learn more,” said Thomas, and then he stopped talking. He took a bite of Adam’s sandwich and said, “Your sandwich is very tasty. It has black olives.”

Then they climbed down and drank from the stream, picked berries, and remembered the tall, white dog that had run quickly through the forest and disappeared.

“Will it come back?” Thomas wondered.