my neighbor’s flowerpot and the same night a group of men had threatened me. My home had already been looted, destroyed, a shell of itself. I told myself that the place I’d grown up didn’t feel right because my family wasn’t there with me. What if it didn’t feel right because it’s not right anymore? Abek didn’t say he wanted to go home to Sosnowiec. He just said he wanted to go home.
“I just think it’s better for all of us to keep moving,” she repeats. “That’s all.”
“I’ll think about it,” I say. “I’ll talk to Abek.”
“Think quickly,” she says. “If I tell Ravid you’re interested, he might be able to hold off other people for a week or so. So think hard, but think quickly.”
BACK IN MY OWN BED—WHILE ESTHER DOZES ON THE OTHER side of the room, and Abek is curled up in Breine’s old spot—I toss and turn, trying to lull myself back to sleep by counting sheep, then by multiplying by twos and trying to recite countries of the world. My pillow feels hot and uncomfortable, and I can’t stop thinking that an hour ago it was Josef’s pillow my cheek was lying on. The sun is half up, filling the room with violet and then a burnt orange, and I reconcile myself to the idea that I won’t sleep any more tonight.
Across the room, a mumble. Abek. I freeze, afraid that I’ve woken him with my tossing, but then the noise gets louder. Abek thrashes in his sheets. He’s still sleeping. It’s a nightmare: The noises he’s making aren’t words but yelps, desperate and scared. Immediately, I crawl out of bed and cross over to my brother. First, I stroke his forehead, making soothing shushing sounds, but when he doesn’t settle, I shake his shoulder roughly.
“Abek. Wake up. Wake up now.” His eyes slide open, out of focus at first, scrambling for purchase in the dim room, clawing at my wrist. “You’re dreaming. You’re just dreaming.”
He shoots up, drawing in a breath. “Did I bother you? Did I say anything?”
“I barely noticed you making any noises,” I lie, my heart breaking a little at the memory of his weak little yelps. “I was awake already, actually. And Esther—” I nod to where Esther is sleeping as she usually does, head buried beneath a pillow.
“Oh.”
“And—and now that you’re awake, too, let’s get up and go for a walk.”
“A walk?” he repeats, a touch of sleep still in his voice. “Now?”
“Yes, I wanted to anyway,” I improvise, going back to my bed and looking for my shoes. Really, I just don’t want to send him back to sleep and hear him make those noises again. “Come on, I have your shoes, too.”
Vaguely, I know Foehrenwald is on the outskirts of an actual town called Wolfratshausen. Esther told me about it, how there are a few open shops, places to buy hard rolls or a cup of soup. I’ve never had occasion to walk through it, and now seems a good day to try. We don’t have a wedding to prepare for. I don’t have a dress to sew. I don’t have a brother to find. If I don’t plan something for Abek and me to do, the day will stretch in front of us at loose ends.
The sun is still rising when we leave the cottage. Abek walks behind me, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with his fist.
“Isn’t this nice?” I try as we pass the stables and the pond. “Being out, on our own? I thought that instead of going to the cafeteria for breakfast, we could go to a restaurant and have a cup of coffee. And I think there are castle ruins. We could go to those first.”
But when we get to the castle ruins Esther mentioned, I see her descriptions were generous. A plaque informs us that the castle was demolished two hundred years ago, when lightning struck a turret storing gunpowder. Now there’s nothing but a few loose rocks.
“Coffee,” I say stubbornly. “Let’s see if we can find real coffee. It’s a special occasion, I can afford it this once. And maybe a pastry?”
But this idea doesn’t work, either; we’re still too early for any cafes to be open. There’s hardly anyone else on the street. Plus, after last night’s chilly weather, I chose to wear a sweater, but now the day is unexpectedly becoming a last gasp of summer. It’s early morning, but as we dispiritedly turn back to