Free Mother and Me by Julian Padowicz

fender, smoking. He had on an army coat as well, but it was open and his shirt and trousers were civilian. Next to him stood a man in a proper uniform, butwithout either hat or coat. He had major’s insignia on his collar. I guessed he must be the Major Solecki someone had mentioned to Mother at Fredek’s apartment. The other man must be the driver from Lolek’s factory, wearing the major’s coat and hat to look like a soldier. I noticed the truck was painted the same funny green that they painted army trucks.
    They were doing this, I understood, to get past military barricades. But that was not right either. What they were doing was not right. What we were doing was not right. Lying to your own soldiers was traitorous. I wondered if it was a Jewish thing. Catholics would not do something like that, particularly in a time of war. I would ask Kiki when she rejoined us.
    The older woman I had seen inside the truck was standing with the two men. I guessed she must be the major’s wife. I saw her drop her cigarette butt on the ground and grind it into the dirt with her foot. They said something to each other, and then she came back to the rear of the truck. “We must get going,” she said and began to climb into the truck. We all followed. Miss Bronia pulled me up by my hands. “Up, Yulian!” she said merrily. The driver came to close the door.
    â€œJust let us get settled, Dembovski, before you close the door,” my mother said.
    â€œYes, Missus,” the man said and waited with the door.
    â€œYulek, go back to your place,” Mother said. I returned to my corner. I saw Miss Bronia tucking the blanket around Sonya, apparently asleep at the other end of our bench. Then she sat down next to Fredek who stretched to whisper something in her ear. Miss Bronia laughed again.
    â€œIs everyone settled now?” Sonya’s mother asked. There was no answer.
    â€œAll right, Dembovski,” Mother said, and the man closed the door, putting us in the dark again.
    â€œNow remember, no talking when we stop,” the major’s wife’s voice said in the dark. “And the children aren’t to talk at all.” I felt the engine start up, and the truck lurch forward.
    The darkness was not complete, I realized now. High up on the opposite wall, just below the ceiling, there was a line of little circles of light. I guessed they must be holes—air holes, I deduced. I hadn’t seen them before because of the darkness outside, but now that it was morning, the light of the sky was showing through. Occasionally, the first light, the one nearest the front would go out. Then the next one would be darkened and then the one after that, while the first light went on again. I decided that we must be passing trees. I counted the lights. There were twenty-seven of them. I guessed that there must be a similar line of holes on my side of the truck, but I couldn’t see them by looking straight up. The light didn’t come down to where we were. Maybe a little did because sometimes you could just barely make out the shapes of people in the dark.
    â€œI could use some coffee,” Auntie Edna said after a while.
    â€œI have a thermos of cocoa,” Miss Bronia said, in her melodic voice. “It’s for the children, but we can all take a few sips.”
    â€œYuck,” Auntie Edna said.
    â€œI want some cocoa,” Fredek said.
    â€œThe children aren’t to talk!” the major’s wife snapped.
    â€œHere, feel for my hand,” Miss Bronia said. “But be very careful—it’s hot.” I heard some movement on the bench beside me.
    â€œYulek, if you want some cocoa, slide over here,” she said. I would have liked some, but I couldn’t drink out of the thermos after Fredek. “No thank you,” I said.
    â€œSonya,” Miss Bronia went on, “if you want some, just slide over here.”
    â€œI had Marta make some