CHAPTER 10Flight
I come home from the park with Marianne on May 19, 1949, and
Mariska is weeping.
“They arrested Mr. Eger!” she whimpers. “He’s gone!”
For months we have recognized that our days of freedom were
numbered. In addition to running Béla off the road the previous year,
the Communists have by now seized Béla’s business, conĕscated our
car, bugged our telephone. Our fortune safe in the boxcar on its way to
Israel, we have stayed on, waiting for our travel arrangements from
Bricha. We have stayed because we couldn’t imagine leaving yet. And
now I risk raising my daughter without her father. I will not accept it. I
will not. First I must turn off the worry and fear that gather in me. I
must shut off the possibility that Béla is being tortured or that he is
already dead. I must become like my mother the morning we were
evicted from our apartment and sent to the brick factory. I must
become an agent of resourcefulness and hope. I must move like a
person who has a plan.
I give Marianne a bath and eat lunch with her. I put her down for
her nap. I am buying myself time to think and making sure she gets all
the nourishment and creature comforts she can. Who knows if we will
sleep tonight, or where? I am living minute by minute. I don’t know
what I will do next, only that I must ĕnd a way to get Béla out of jail
and to keep our daughter safe. I gather everything that might come of
use without arousing suspicion. While Marianne sleeps, I open my