The Choice

on.
But the envelope isn’t from Eric. And it doesn’t contain my future.
It holds my past. It holds a picture of me, perhaps the last picture
taken of me before Auschwitz, the picture of me doing the splits by the
river, the picture Eric took, the picture I gave to my friend Rebeka. She
has kept it safe for me. In my ĕngers I hold the me who has yet to lose
her parents, who doesn’t know how soon she will lose her love.
Magda takes me to the entertainment club that night. Klara and
Csicsi are there, and Rebeka, and Csicsi’s brother Imre. Gaby, my
doctor, is there too, and perhaps that is why, weak as I am, I agree to
dance. I want to show him I am getting well. I want to show him that
the time he has devoted to my care has made a difference, that he
hasn’t wasted his effort. I ask Klara and the other musicians to play
“e Blue Danube,” and I begin my routine, the same dance that a
little more than a year ago I performed my ĕrst night at Auschwitz, the
dance that Josef Mengele rewarded with a loaf of bread. e steps
have not changed, but my body has. I have none of the lean, limber
muscle, none of the strength in my limbs or my core. I am a wheezing
husk, a broken-backed girl with no hair. I close my eyes as I did in the
barracks. at long-ago night I held my lids shut so that I wouldn’t
have to look at Mengele’s terrifying and murderous eyes, so that I
could keep from crumbling to the ground under the force of his stare.
Now I close my eyes so that I can feel my body, not escape the room,
so that I can feel the heat of appreciation from my audience. As I ĕnd
my way back to the movements, to the familiar steps, the high kick,
the splits, I grow more conĕdent and comfortable in the moment. And
I ĕnd my way back in time, to the days when we could imagine no
worse encroachment on our freedom than curfews or yellow stars. I
dance toward my innocence. Toward the girl who bounded up the
stairs to the ballet studio. Toward the wise and loving mother who ĕrst
brought her there. Help me, I call to her. Help me. Help me to live