Breaking Off Old Friendships

On Saturday afternoons I would wait at Kossuth Street at about four o'clock for Vera to finish her religious class. We beamed with joy as we caught glances of each other. Then we would go to her house and spend some wonderful time together. Together with other friends, I also visited Vera on Sunday afternoons. Our best times, however, were when the two of us were alone - we did all sorts of mischievous deeds.

One Sunday afternoon we organized a picnic tour to a place on the outskirts of town known as "treasure hill". We enjoyed a school outing there several years back and so wished to recapture the bygone happiness of our early childhood. But to no avail. Instead, a strange chill took us over.

On another Sunday afternoon I went to visit Edith, an older friend of mine. Hardly had I closed the door behind me when Edith's mother stepped in, declaring that Edith has to study. I felt humiliated and never visited her house again, except when Edith begged me to come over some time later when we were in the ghetto, and again after the war.

After this insulting incident at Edith's house I broke off my friendships with Vera and all of my other friends who attend school as well. My heart ached and I regretted this for the rest of my life, as Vera was a soul-to-soul friend. But I was too bitter at being deprived the chance to attend secondary school to maintain the friendships.

I spent most weekdays conducting business in and out of town. On Sunday afternoons I kept busy visiting another friend of mine named Edith, with whom I'd visit her married sister. They had a bicycle rental establishment. A young man who worked there had a brother in whom I was interested, but who lived in a different town. My friend Edith probably also put her eye on this very handsome boy. She always asked the bicycle shop employee about his brother, so I got to hear all the information about my secret chosen friend. I was glad to hear the answers to all the questions I myself was too ashamed to ask, especially about when a visit of his to our town was coming up. I counted the days when I would be able to see him in person. It would have been inappropriate for me to talk to a boy, but I very much hoped that he would find me as his chosen one when we reached adulthood.

One of my neighbors introduced me to a new friend, Erzse Koti. I often visited her to hear many nice songs on her gramophone.

But time was short. Soon the Nazi cruelty would close in on us. My life's spring would reach its end. During this short, last happy summer for the Jews of Puspokladany, my contentment included closing business deals, hearing about my "chosen one, listening to music at Erzsike's house, and reading books for hours on end.

One Sunday afternoon, strolling by my dear friend Vera's house with two other girls, I exchanged greetings with Vera's mother. Then she told me, "Irene, now that you've grown up, Vera isn't good enough for you anymore!" I stood silently, too embarrassed to say anything. How I wished not to neglect our friendship, but I had no inkling that she missed me at all! She was four years my junior. Everyone laughed at me because of the age difference, even my teachers. She paid me back later, in the ghetto courtyard. When I greeted her, she just turned her head haughtily. I left her at that.

© David Muskal, 2001