Chapter 4

When Bruno finished his breakfast, he went searching for Maria. He needed to know what happened to his family. Where were they?

"Maria," he called out through the empty house. "Where are you?"

"In your room," came the answer, and he went up the stairs.

Maria was dusting the furniture when he entered. A cloud of dust turned in the air.

"Maria, I finished breakfast."

When she neglected to respond, Bruno urged her further. "Can you tell me what happened with my parents?"

Maria continued dusting as if he had never spoken. Bruno felt himself grow more irate and impatient.

"Maria!" he said sharply, and Maria turned around.

"Alright, Bruno, alright! Just give me a moment to gather my thoughts."

You had yesterday to organize your thoughts, thought Bruno, but he remained silent, waiting for her to begin.

"You were gone for quite some time," she began, sitting down on the bed and motioning for Bruno to do the same. When he did, she continued.

"At first, everything was fine; well, as fine as things could be while there was a missing child. Then, about a year after your disappearance, your sister -"

"Gretel," Bruno interrupted, pleased that he could actually remember her name.

"Yes," said Maria, smiling sadly, "Gretel, began to adopt weird habits. We'd take her to her room and wait until she was asleep to leave, and the next morning, she'd be in your room, with no memory of how she got there. Sleepwalking, the doctors said. They told her to get a lot of exercise and eat healthy, which is what all doctors would say. And for a while it worked. But a few weeks later, she started up again. She began skipping meals, saying that she ate. And I believe," Maria said, her voice sad, "that Gretel knew what had happened to you. She went to your father and said that you had met a Shmuel, and that you were in the concentration camp," Maria paused, apparently waiting for a denial. Bruno smiled ruefully. Gretel was always very bright, always knew it all.

Maria sighed and continued, "However, your father dismissed her guess as desperation, and when she pressed the matter, he sent her to her room, only, she didn't go. She ran down the stairs to the gates of Auschwitz yelling for you. It took the combined strength of Kotler and your father to pry her fingers off the gates. After that incident, she really didn't speak much. Your father and mother tried very much to get her to speak to them, and eventually she did, but her answers were very short. She never slept in her room anymore. She slept in yours, because your parents had given up on keeping her out. Then one morning, she wasn't there."

"She ran away?" Bruno felt the first rush of grief flood through him.

Maria shook her head. "No. We found her sleeping next to the gate. Your mother nearly died of shock when she couldn't find Gretel.

"After that, things went downhill. The dinner table was always silent, and if it wasn't, it was because your mother and father were arguing. Gretel stopped coming down to dinner altogether, and when she did, it was with a look of utter contempt and loneliness. Your mother began to blame your father for destroying the family, for making you run away and Gretel go half insane. Things finally got so bad that your mother packed up and left with Gretel. Your father stayed here and continued to oversee the concentration camp. And it's been like this for four years now."

Bruno looked down at his feet, unable to meet Maria's eyes. Gretel had figured it out, and it had practically killed her.

"Why didn't Father believe Gretel?"

"Should he have?" Maria answered, her eyes searching. Bruno stood abruptly, and began to pace back and forth.

"It's true then. You were in a concentration camp." Maria stood and took hold of his shoulders to stop him from pacing.

"Auschwitz-Birkenau."

"God." Maria released him and sat down wearily upon the bed. She hid her face in the palms of her hands.

"I'm okay, Maria," he said, hoping that would keep her from crying, because he never liked it when people cried. It made him feel helpless, and he'd had enough of that at Auschwitz.

"And what's your definition of 'okay' Bruno? Thin as a pole, starved to death?" Maria's voice rose.

"Alive," answered Bruno simply. Maria let out a shuddering sigh and shook her head.

"You seem so old, Bruno. You aren't okay. You're malnourished and you've seen things that not even some soldiers have seen. Experienced things that most people don't even think about in their dreams."

"I know. But I'm alive, and that's enough for now."

"Tell me, Bruno," whispered Maria. "Did you forgive them?"

"Who?"

"The soldiers."

Bruno, who always tried to be honest with himself, thought for a moment. Did he forgive them? Maybe. For Shmuel? "No," he answered, "No, I don't forgive them. I don't know if I ever will, but I'd like nothing more than to watch them suffer."

"I agree." There was a dark look glittering in Maria's eyes. " I agree."

"Maria," asked Bruno tentatively, "did you know anyone in Auschwitz? Other than me?"

"No." She stood up quickly and went to the door. She turned, began to say something, seemed to think better of it, and left Bruno to his thoughts.

Pavel, thought Bruno. She knew Pavel. What happened to him? Bruno shook his head and dismissed the thought. It was Maria's business, after all. Another thought popped into his mind.

Why hadn't Maria asked for details?

She knew I wasn't ready, Bruno answered himself. He decided he'd go exploring. He hadn't done that in a while, and it had been so long since he had been in the house that there must be something he couldn't recall subconsciously to memory.

His first destination: Father's study.