The Auschwitz Photograph: A WWII Historical Fiction Novel by Julie Tulba

Author:Julie Tulba [Tulba, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Readmore Press
Published: 2023-10-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 18

Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania

2006

“Do you forgive them?”

After their initial meeting, Adam’s mom called Becky the following week, inviting her to tea. Too surprised and caught off guard by the invitation to say anything else, she had accepted. Nervous about going, about spending time with his mom alone, she was immediately put at ease when Minah (as she insisted Becky call her) took her hand and led her to the dining room table. There before her was a scene that made Becky think of one of her favorite books from childhood, The Secret Garden. She half expected to see the characters of Mary Lennox, Martha and her brother Dickon, and of course Colin appear at any moment for how lovely and how very British everything looked, like it was from another time. Minah revealed to Becky that growing up in her small town in Poland before the war, she had desperately wanted to go to England, to be British in fact, and that her most prized possession as a child had been a porcelain doll-size tea set an over-indulgent and doting grandfather had bought her for her eighth birthday after bartering with a traveling peddler.

Minah didn’t drive anymore so Becky had come to her house again, although this time she had brought with her refreshments, freshly baked sfogliatelle she had picked up earlier that morning, which the women enjoyed with cups of coffee. A light dusting of crumbs on the plates were all that remained of the delectable orange-flavored Italian pastry which both of them had greedily devoured. Becky wasn’t planning on “going there,” on talking about the past, a past tied to her, but the words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

“Yes.”

Becky hadn’t said whom she was referring to when she asked if Minah forgave them, but Minah knew. Minah knew exactly what Becky was talking about.

“Why?” Becky asked, a slight note of pain in her voice. “After all that happened, all that you went through, I mean, the loss of your ENTIRE family, how could you ever forgive the people who did that?”

“Because forgiveness doesn’t mean I could ever forget-forget what happened to my family, to my home, to my people, forget what I went through. But not forgiving, it would have just led to more hatred in my heart, hatred that would have grown into something bigger, ruining my life, but also ruining the life of my children who were born from the ashes from the death and destruction I endured. My girl, trust me when I say I’ve known too many survivors who were never able to leave behind the camps, the ghettos. They physically survived, but mentally, emotionally, their hearts and souls died all those years ago.”

There was silence then, neither woman speaking.

“Something is troubling you,” Minah said, saying this not as a question but rather as a statement. “I could tell from the first time we met, although I don’t think it has anything to do with my son, with your relationship with him.

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