Chapter
2
Flashback
After Jacques had placed the "Closed for
Lunch" sign on the shop door, he and Claude led JC into the kitchen behind
the shop. It was small and cozy. The walls were two-tone, with faded
wallpaper that had once displayed small flowers along the top and old wood
along the bottom. A rail, at about
waist height, separated the two different patterns. The walls themselves showed their age, but in no way did they
look decrepit or uncared for. There are
simply some things in life that show their age, no matter what you do to them
and most of those things actually turn out possessing quite a bit of charm from
their new look.
The floor was well-worn linoleum with a blue and
white checkered pattern. A white,
old-fashioned sideboard stood unobtrusively in a corner. In the center of the room sat a little round
table, with a blue and white checkered tablecloth that matched the floor and a
small vase as it centerpiece.
Jacques went over to the sideboard and gathered up
the plates, glasses and silverware while Claude got out the meat, cheese,
mustard and fruit from the tiny icebox.
JC asked it there was anything he could do to help,
but instead was seated by Jacques, who explained that since he was the guest,
he should relax and let them deal with the food.
Claude turned from his preparations and glanced at
JC, appearing to size him up. "How
old are you, son?"
The question took JC a little by surprise, so he
needed a brief moment to think about it.
"Twenty."
"Ever had wine before?"
"Just a little, sir."
Claude nodded.
"Then I’ll give you a glass like we give children; half water and
half wine. Then its water for
you."
JC was about to protest that he wasn’t a child, but
then decided against it.
A few minutes later, they all sat down around the
table. Claude gave the blessing and
they all dug in.
It was simple fare, but JC was in heaven. This would be the birth of his love for fine
food and wine. The cheese was pungent,
the bread crusty, and the fruit had just the right amount of sweetness to
contrast with the rest of the meal.
After he had finished his wine, JC saw the wisdom in Claude’s
actions. The wine had been very strong
and the boy now found himself a little light-headed. He gratefully accepted a glass of water and sat back in his
chair. He had so many questions; he
wasn’t sure where to start.
"Tell me sir-" he began, but he was
interrupted.
"It’s Claude."
"Okay."
JC paused for a moment to get used to the name. "What was it like during the
occupation?"
Claude leaned back a little, letting the memories
he hid deep inside to rise to the surface.
"Well, it was a gradual process.
In some ways, it was so gradual no one saw it coming. In others, it arrived with a terrifying
swiftness. My wife Marie, my son Alex
and I were living behind the shop in this little place. She was half-Jewish and as such was subject
to many rules and regulations. I didn’t
have as many, but was considered an undesirable because I was a
"Jew-lover."
"Before the fall of Paris, we would listen to
the radio each night, hearing more as the Germans moved from one land to the
next. We knew it was only a matter of
time before they arrived here, so I tried to get Marie to leave. We discussed going to England or possibly
even America."
JC, enthralled as he was, gently broke in with a
question. "Why didn’t you?"
"Money.
It cost a great deal to flee, plus Marie’s father lived with us. He was getting too old and frail to travel;
and of course, we wouldn’t think of leaving him behind. We could never have lived with
ourselves."
"When the Germans marched into Paris, I was
sickened as they were cheered by so many.
The people were blind to the fact that they weren’t here to liberate or
help us, but to subjugate or destroy. I
couldn’t believe that everyone was so blind to their true intentions."
"The regulations started almost
immediately. Jews were forbidden to go
out after dark, associate with non-Jews, shop at non-Jewish shops, use public
transportation…the list seemed endless.
Gradually, all of the freedoms were taken away, stolen from them while
they looked it in the face, yet so slyly that no one noticed it happening until
they were gone."
"Jews had to wear a yellow star on all their
clothing that read "JUDE". It
practically killed me the day Marie, her father and Alex had to put on the star
for the first time. I was exempt but a
yellow star was painted on my shop, which said "Jude Verboten". Jews were no longer allowed to shop
here."
Claude paused, then looked JC in the eye. "Did you see the faint markings on my
front windows?" He asked quietly.
JC nodded somberly. "Yes."
"I keep it there as a reminder of all that
occurred." Claude took a sip of
wine, then continued. "With the
star on my shop, I started losing customers.
The Jews couldn’t shop here and the non-Jews either couldn’t or wouldn’t
because Marie worked here. I didn’t
know that we were going to do. If it
hadn’t been for the few friends who smuggled in supplies to us, we would have
starved."
"My brother Pierre and his wife decided to
leave for England. Even with the
occupation, you could still get out if you had the money. He offered to take Alex with them, saying
that since he was childless and if anything happened to me that the family name
would go on. I told him I didn’t care
about the name, that I just wanted my son to be safe. After thinking it over for a while, I agreed. It was the hardest, yet somehow easiest,
decision I have ever had to make."
"We packed up his clothes, a few toys and a
letter which was to be read to him when he was older, in case we didn’t survive
the war." Claude paused again.
"They left on a Saturday. I would not see my son until 5 1/2 years
later. He was only two when I sent him
away.
"Monday I went down to the market to see if I
could find us a little food. When I
returned, the shop door was open, hanging off one of its hinges. I rushed in and saw all of the paintings had
been slashed, the pottery broken and scattered across the floor. The cash box was missing as well."
"At first, I could only stand there shaking
with rage. Who would do such a
thing?" I thought to myself. "Who would want to vandalize and destroy
my shop?" Then I realized that it
was eerily quiet, and that I didn’t hear Marie or her father.
"I ran into the living room. It too was in shambles. Papa’s wheelchair was overturned, the back
door torn completely from the frame. I
called for Marie, but there was no answer, nor was there any sign of her to be
found.
"I raced into the street, calling her name and
praying to God that he would help me find her.
All I felt was fear and confusion...we had followed all their rules, had
never been in any trouble with them.
Why had they done this to us? It
just didn’t seem right."
"Finally, I was exhausted and collapsed in the
street. As I knelt there, tears
streaming down my face, I saw a glint of metal and looked closer. It was Marie’s locket, the one she always
wore.
"It was then I knew, without a doubt. I picked it up, squeezing it so hard it left
an impression in my hand. I don’t know
how long I sat there, but eventually I felt my neighbor lift me by the arm and
take me back inside his house."
"I asked if he had seen Marie or my
father-in-law. He confirmed he had,
only ten minutes after I had left. He
said the Nazis had come and dragged all the Jews into the street, forcing them
to enter large trucks. He had followed
at a safe distance as they were taken to the train station and loaded onto
cattle cars. Then the train had
left."
"I found the courage to ask him where the
train was headed. He only looked at me
sadly, then said that we both knew the rumors.
They were going east."
"I remember crying out and sinking to the
floor, inconsolable. He had taken me to
a spare room, where I slipped into a catatonic state for nearly a week. Then, just as suddenly, I snapped out of
it."
Claude’s face grew hard with the memory of his
determination. "They may have
destroyed my business, taken my wife and forced me to send my son into exile,
but I swore they were not going to succeed without a fight. The very next day, I went out and joined the
resistance fighters. For the next few
years, I would do everything in my power to destroy, disturb and defeat the
seemingly unstoppable Nazi machine."
Claude stopped, taking another sip from his
glass. Jacques had been busy throughout
the story quietly clearing the table, putting food away and doing the
dishes. He had heard the tale many
times before and would hold his grandfather in the night when the man had
nightmares and cold sweats.
JC was transfixed, feeling as if he couldn’t
move. He felt a dampness on his cheeks,
and it was only then he realized he’d been crying. The boy felt like he was suffocating, overcome with the full
weight of what Claude had been through as it were his own. "I’m sorry." He whispered, barely audible. "So very sorry. How can you possibly bear it? I would’ve been crushed, could never have
found the courage to do what you did.
You’re much stronger than I could ever hope to be in a situation like that."
"No, I am not." Claude looked up at JC, the pain of his memories displayed across
his face. "I was living
unimaginable horror, doing things that to this day I pray that God will forgive
me for. In some ways, I was no better
than the very people I was fighting against."
"That…can’t be true."
"In a way, it is. The man sighed then slowly stood. "But let’s stop here.
That’s enough talk about the war.
Instead, I would like to show you something."
Claude left the kitchen, returning a few moments later
with a small, ornate box. He gently set
it on the table and opened the lid. He
lovingly withdrew a few pictures and a small locket.
The pictures showed a small child with mother and
father, a happy couple dressed formally and 3 more of a lovely dark-haired
woman. Claude held the first one out to
JC. This is the only picture of Marie,
Alex and myself together." The
second one took the place of the first after JC had studied it. "This is our wedding picture."
Claude seemed almost reluctant to give up the last
three. "These are of Marie."
JC looked at them closely. "She was very pretty."
"Yes, she was." Claude sat down in the chair again. "Marie was the gentlest creature. She had such a love for people; so trusting, so helpful. That is why it was so hard for her to
believed that people who had been her friends for so long suddenly didn’t want
anything to do with her anymore. In
some ways, I think that hurt more than when she was taken away. That was an enemy she knew, not a faceless
invader."
JC leaned forward and put his hand on Claude’s
arm. Very quietly, he asked. "What happened to everyone? To Marie, her father and Alex?"
"Survivors told me that Marie’s father died on
the way to Auchswitz. Marie
"lived" there for two months until-" Claude broke off, tears
coming to his eyes. "One night,
six guards took her to their quarters and raped her. She died of her injuries the following morning."
"After the war, I was reunited with Alex. It was hard. We’d both been through so much.
We tried to have a s normal as life as one can after all we’d been
through. He grew up and married at an
early age. Jacques was born almost
immediately. One night, I was watching
Jacques while Alex and his wife went out.
They’d had too much to drink and were killed in a car accident on the
way here to get him.
"In some ways, I blame myself for Alex’s
death. We both had too many demons to
overcome. That is why I have tried to
be a father and grandfather to Jacques."
(You’ve done a great job, grandpere.) Jacques enfolded his grandfather in his
arms, kissing him on the forehead. (I
love you.)
JC sat back stunned. The day seemed bittersweet, illuminating and heart wrenching at
the same time. He looked down at the
photographs in his hand, the ones of Marie.
To love someone so much, it must have hurt unspeakably to go on without
her. And yet, if people could learn
from the past, keep the same mistakes from happening again, than everything
that Claude and the others like him went through all those years ago wouldn’t
be in vain.
It also made JC realize how precious life was, that
nothing could be taken for granted because it could all be ripped away at any
moment. After that day, JC made a
conscious effort to take a few minutes whenever he could to make sure everyone
important in his life realized just how much they meant to him. He would hate to die letting someone think
he hadn’t appreciated them, had neglected them because his career was higher on
his list of priorities than human beings.
He vowed he would never make that mistake, no matter what it took.