That was John's last good day.
The days to come were far less peaceful. Sometimes I couldn't stay by John's side in fear that I would let my fear get the best of me. Every day I waited to see if it would be his last, and every night I would sit by the side of his bed and watch him as he struggled for breath. I watched John fight for every moment, and I could see how tired he was becoming. He wanted to live for me, but I knew deep down he was tired of fighting. I was selfish for wanting him to fight harder, but I wanted the time I felt I deserved with him. I didn't understand how one day he seemed better, and the next, he couldn't even sit up. Edith told me a story one day about her grandfather. She said the day before her grandfather died, he got up out of bed and cooked dinner for her grandmother, and then the next day he was gone. It seemed to me like it was a sick joke that God was playing on me. The stubborn child raging inside of me refused to accept what was happening, but the woman I was becoming, forced me to face it. My strength was wearing thin. No matter how many times I told John I would be okay, It felt like a lie, but it was a lie I knew John needed to hear.
At night I roamed the cold, vast halls of the hospital. Sometimes the moans of the sick made the hospital seem haunted, and it reminded me of the barracks back in Aussichtslos. Most nights there, I would hear some of the women crying themselves to sleep. Some of them would simply sit in their beds and cradle themselves, trying to soothe their tired bodies, but so many nights seemed to pass like that, and soon their cries and their moans became like a twisted lullaby.
I prayed, hoping God would hear me. At that point in my life, I was still trying to figure out what I believed. I had been told to trust God with everything, but I felt as though every time I trusted God, I lost someone I cared about. John trusted God. He always had, ever since we had been children. His faith always seemed unwavering. It was a faith that I envied. In those days, I felt lost. Like I was just bobbing up and down in the middle of the ocean, waiting to be rescued by anyone who could hear my screams. No amount of talking seemed to ease the guilt, or the loss, or the regret. So I would pray to God, hoping that at least he would hear me and help me, and keep me from drowning.
John had begun to sleep more and more and had grown even thinner than before. His face was pale, and his fever was extreme. His breaths were shallow, and I could hear the wheezing sound he made every time he breathed in.
"Hello," Edith said as she walked up beside me one morning.
"Hello," I answered back tiredly.
"I brought you some coco. George got some as a gift and gave some to me, so I made you a cup," Edith said with a smile, handing me the mug.
"Thank you," I said weakly, taking the mug from her. The coco was rich and creamy, and the heat sent a chill down my spine. I missed coco. It was one of my favorite drinks as a child, and it had been years since I had had chocolate.
"How's he doing today?" Edith asked, looking at John.
"Not well," I answered, taking another sip from my mug.
"You should really try to get some rest. It looks like you haven't slept in days," Edith said, sounding concerned.
"I'm okay," I answered weakly.
"Beth, you are going to make yourself sick if you keep doing this to yourself," Edith said sternly.
"I'm not tired, Edith. I'm okay," I answered back, sounding like a small, stubborn child.
"You need to sleep. I will sit by John and let you know if he wakes up," Edith said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
I took a moment before I stood. Edith wasn't wrong; I hadn't really slept for days. I had managed to rest for a few minutes here and there, but I could hardly consider that enough to be healthy. I was too tired to argue with her, and I slowly walked back to my bed. Edith and I had been moved downstairs close to George's office. He said the beds were almost always empty because the hall where they sat was slightly damp and drafty because of the damage done to that part of the hospital, but we didn't mind. He let us stay there because we had nowhere else to go, and because he knew I wouldn't leave John. I think he also wasn't willing to risk never seeing Edith again. As I slowly walked down the stairs, I felt as though I was walking in a haze. I had a bad habit of watching my feet when I walked, and I was so exhausted at that point, I was also trying not to fall.
When I reached the bottom floor, I looked up, and Rolf stood before me. He was just standing in the entryway of the hospital. For a moment, he didn't see me, his eyes were focused on his feet. I could hardly believe my eyes, I thought my father had killed him. But there he was, standing in front of me, alive. When he looked up, our eyes met for the first time since Aussichtslos, and I felt as though the floor I was standing on was turning into quicksand. Rolf quickly approached me and wrapped his arms around me. I didn't say a word, but before I knew it, my arms were wrapped around his neck, and I was crying into his shoulder. Although I was furious that he had lied to me, the relief I felt in that moment consumed me more than my anger did. I was too tired to be angry with him, I simply held onto him as tightly as I could, afraid that if I let go, I would sink onto the floor in exhaustion and tears. I didn't know what to say or the right way to act now that I was no longer a prisoner, and he was no longer a guard. It was strange to see him out of uniform, he looked tired and worn out.
"Rolf?" I heard someone say from behind me. I turned and saw George standing in the hallway, looking shocked.
"George," Rolf said, letting me go and quickly embracing George. George seemed taken aback by this, but promptly returned Rolf's embrace.
"What are you doing here? Is it safe for you to be here?" George asked, pulling back and giving Rolf a good once over.
"Yes, it's safe," Rolf said reassuringly.
I felt light-headed and quickly reached for something to hold onto so that I didn't fall over. "What is going on here?" I asked, feeling confused and disoriented.
Both George and Rolf turned to me.
"Beth," Rolf said hesitantly, "This is George, my brother."
I looked at them with disbelief, finding it hard to process. I simply stood there staring at them, wondering how much more shock I could take. Before I could do or say anything, I slipped to my knees. The room had begun to spin, and both George and Rolf quickly came to my side, grabbed my arms and lifted me off the floor. I can't describe how I was feeling exactly. I was too tired to feel much of anything except my tiredness. George and Rolf carried me to my bed, and the last thing I remember saying to Rolf was, "You lied to me," and then I blacked out.
When I woke up, the sun had gone down, and I could feel a cold draft coming in through the part of the hospital that had been destroyed. I had a blanket over me, and the hospital was quiet. I always felt uneasy when an extended silence passed over the hospital. I wasn't sure why, it just seemed too empty. I slowly sat up and looked around, looking for any sign that what I had seen before I passed out was real. I knew I had a history of hallucinating when I was exhausted. It had happened many times in my father's camp, and every time it happened, it scared me to death. I slowly got up from my bed and walked upstairs to John's bed. When I reached the second floor, I saw Rolf sitting next to John. I watched them for a moment, trying to understand, wanting to know why.
"Feeling better?" I heard George say as he walked up behind me.
"I suppose," I answered tiredly, "How long was I asleep?"
"Since yesterday afternoon," George answered calmly.
"You should have woken me," I said coldly.
"Edith insisted on letting you sleep, Rolf insisted as well. I'm afraid I was outvoted," George said, trying to ease the apparent tension.
"He's your brother," I said without looking at George.
"One of them, yes," George answered calmly.
"There are more of you?" I asked bluntly.
"Only one more," George answered, "But Rolf was the brother I told you about."
"That's why he brought John here, he knew he would be safe with you in charge," I said, feeling dazed. I was hardly talking to George and more talking to myself and thinking out loud.
"Yes, I suppose," George said.
George and I stood in silence for a moment as I tried to process the information that had just been given to me. I didn't know whether to be mad at Rolf or be happy to see him alive and well. I hadn't quite figured out how I felt about Rolf.
A part of me had let him in more than I had expected. He had done more for me in the camp than anyone, and had somehow gotten John out of the camp into a hospital where he would be safe. But he had also lied to me about John's death, and even though he had done so much, he was still a Nazi.
"I didn't realize you knew him," George said softly, "If I had known…" George stopped.
I ignored George, knowing I had no right to be upset with him, but I also knew I had nothing left to say. I walked over to John's bed, and I stood in front of it for a moment, not saying a word. I didn't know what to say to Rolf, it had been nearly a year since I had last seen him, and I never believed I would see him again. Rolf's blue eyes looked at me through a haze of emotion and loss for words. When he stood, he looked like he was about to say something, but then he seemed to change his mind. John lay still in his bed and was fast asleep, and I didn't want to wake him.
"Have you two talked?" I asked, wishing I could think of something better to say.
"For a bit. He isn't doing very well," Rolf said, never taking his eyes off of me.
"I'm sure he was glad to see you again," I said, softly stroking John's face.
"I'm not sure about that, but I was glad to see him. I know you must be angry with me, but I don't regret bringing John someplace safe to come and die," Rolf said with severity.
I was surprised by his tone, it was far less soft and patient than it had once been. I didn't know what to say, I could see the intensity in his eyes and the pain he felt. For a moment, I saw my father in him. I could see his regret that seemed to also collide with fear and anger. He was not the man I had known, and I could feel the wall that separated us. His anger didn't seem to be at me, but I knew he saw my father in me, and I knew that Rolf hated my father as much as I did.
"Are you okay?" Rolf asked after the silence became too much for either of us to handle.
"I'm okay," I said simply, staring at Rolf, unable to stop.
"I'm glad," Rolf said, retaking the seat beside John.
I felt a suffocating lump begin to form in my throat, "Rolf?" I said, trying to breathe. "I…I'm sorry."
Rolf looked at me with surprise, "Why are you sorry?"
"I understand why you lied about John. Even though it hurt me, I understand. You deserve my gratitude, and all I have ever been able to give you is pain. I suppose…I'm more like my father than I like to admit," I said, fighting for breath and holding back the pain I felt.
Rolf stood up, he hovered over me like a hill and looked down at me. The intensity in his eyes had softened just a bit, but his voice was stern. "You are nothing like your father. You are good, kind, and gentle. Your father doesn't even understand what those words mean."
We stared at one another for a moment, but then I broke his gaze and looked down at John, who was just waking up. I quickly took his hand. His eyes looked weak and tired, the fever was taking its toll on his body. His weakness didn't stop him from squeezing my hand and smiling, he took a moment to form the words. Even though it wore him out, he refused to stop talking to me as much as he could.
"Hello... love," John said weakly.
"Hello," I answered.
"Don't…don't be mad at…at Rolf, okay?" John said wincing.
"I won't," I promised, I would have told him anything to give him peace.
"Trust Rolf, Beth…he is…is a good man…Mr. Becker would…would have liked him," John said, fighting for each word.
"I know, I know," I answered softly, caressing his warm face.
"Help…her," John said, looking at Rolf, his eyes saying more than anything he could possibly think to say.
"I will try," Rolf answered.
John looked deep into my eyes, "I…I will always…love you," He weakly smiled and then grimaced. "I need…need you to be…okay," He said, struggling to breathe.
A tear slid down the side of my cheek, "I will be. I promise I will be," I said, knowing I had to let John go.
"You're a bad…liar," John said with a smile.
I slowly leaned down and kissed John's lips, trying to stop my body from shaking, "I'm going to be okay," I promised again.
"It's okay John, I will look after her," Rolf said, standing behind me.
John looked at Rolf and nodded, "I…I know…you will."
"I love you more than you could ever know," I said, hardly able to contain the pain I was feeling.
John closed his eyes, "I'll…say hello to…to Mr. Becker for you."
I smiled through my tears, "Okay," I said, squeezing his hand.
"I'm going to…be alright," John said in almost a whisper.
I nodded, unable to speak. I felt as though my heart would burst from my chest. Rolf went on the other side of John, and knelt down next to him.
"I'm so sorry John, I am so terribly sorry," Rolf said, looking desperate for forgiveness.
John took Rolf's hand and squeezed it gently. Rolf and I kept our eyes on John for a long while that night. We sat in silence, John continued to breathe, but lost consciousness. After about an hour, I felt John's hand go limp in mine. His chest stopped moving, and in an instant, he was gone.
I rested my forehead on his, and in a whisper, I said, "Goodbye, my love."
The memory of John's passing sends a sting of pain straight into my chest. A pain I hadn't felt in years. It still felt so fresh in my mind, the first boy I ever loved taken from me once again. The familiar ache feels like a long lost friend that you never thought you would see again. I always knew it would be a scar that would remain in my soul forever.
"I wish I had known him," James said, "Although I suppose if I had. I never would have been born."
I look up at him with surprise and then quickly realized that he was right. "You would have liked him."