5. Healing
The building was magnificent and tragic, all at the same time. The day was one to be celebrated, but not joyfully.
Most museums celebrated the triumphs of humankind. This one paraded its tragedies.
She looked to the line stacking up at the door. Every European had voluntarily come to the christening of its opening, but none did it without a little "invitation" from Israel.
On each of their faces, she could see their shame, their guilt. And she would do nothing to relieve it.
They deserved this torture. Everyone of them had turned a blind eye to the worst crime in history. Now they would reap what they sowed. They would be forced fed the results what they could have prevented
She had thanked only one nation for coming. Denmark had been a light in the dark during the war, doing his best to protect his Jews.
"They are my children too." And she made sure to thank him for his effort. Only he would hold his head high today.
Her eyes continued down the line, eyeing every nation in line. Everyone of them… Everyone of them had been complacent, giving up scores of her children to the roving packs of wolves who all but ate them alive. And now they would fully intake just what happened to those they had thrown to the wolves.
And of course… so would the wolf.
Germany kept his head low, but that did not keep him hidden from the Jewish woman's hawkish gaze. "Yes Germany… you look and see what you have done. See the scar that will never heal, your shame that will never be cleansed. Look and never forget it."
"Work will make you free…" Six million times over she had walked through those gates.
Now it was their turn… "Truth will make you see."
They were here for enlightenment.
And one… she looked to the companion at her side…
One was here for closure.
America stood, but he slightly trembled. She saw the back of his neck slightly break out in a cold sweat. And from the look in his eyes, she could tell he was a million miles away from Washington D.C. right now.
In his mind, he had returned to the camps. Just from where she stood, Israel knew he was walking through it all over again. He was seeing the torture rooms she had been brutally punished within, the experimenting tables she had been cut open on, the gas chambers that exterminated her like an infestation, and the furnace she had been fed to like firewood. What he had thought were weapon factories ended up being his introduction to the true evil the world was capable of.
Israel reached out her hand, and gently enclosed it around his balled fist. The action registered in his mind. Seeing him look down at her, Israel couldn't tell how he saw her right now. Did he see her as she was right now, or did he see that skinny, soiled child that was no more than a skeleton when he pulled her out of the cage in the ground all those years ago?
"Israel," he tiredly whispered.
Either way, she could tell he was starting to come back to Earth.
She bit her lower lip. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.
They were still across the street outside of the building, and already he was starting to have one of his episodes. The last one was years ago. She thought that maybe this would help heal him for good. Maybe it was just tearing open the wound once again.
Because he was so strong and powerful, she sometimes forgot how young of a nation she was dealing with. Still he put on a brave face for her, trying not to look scared as she knew he was.
Like Egypt's whip, Hitler's "final solution" had left a scar on her that would never fully heal. She also knew America's witness to the crime had done something irreversible as well.
She looked back to the line and then considered something: What if he lost himself to a flashback while they were inside? What if he attacked Germany?
"Or hurt himself?"
"A-America," her voice caught for a moment. "Let's go somewhere else."
His half-diluted eyes narrowed in confusion.
She smiled brightly as she could. "Let's go see the Smithsonian."
He always loved space and rocket ships… perhaps it was just better to keep this buried.
His breathing softened for a moment and closed his eyes. Then he shook his head.
"No." He looked again to the large building before him.
Her grip slightly constricted around his arm and her smile fell. "…Are you sure?"
He slowly nodded. He was still nervous. He was still shaky on facing his old fears. But still…
"I have to do this. I have to put this to bed… or I'll never move on."
Brave indeed…
She now pulled herself flush against his arm. "I'll be right here with you…"
You can lean on me if you want.
He gave a tired laugh. "You're the one who suffered, yet YOU'RE comforting ME?" he sighed, clearly somewhat disgusted with himself. "This is pathetic."
"No," she answered assertively. "I know it hurt you too…"
"Not as badly…" he mumbled.
"It still did…" she whispered.
And you're so much younger too…
By now, the line to the door had died down, and the memorial and those it honored seemed to call the former liberator and victim, calling them to cry their final tears and to move forward with life.
Together, America and Israel walked across the street to the United States Holocaust Memorial.
"Rule number twelve America…" she softly cooed to him. "One step at time… just one step at time."
He acknowledged with a nod.
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To be continued…
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