She is really, really old, this Pani Jadwiga.
But everything’s all right with her head, and she remembers everything, every last tiny little bit.
They were a family of twelve.
Eleven of them perished in a black smoke of Auschwitz, and Jadzia was saved due to Russian invasion. And there was also the guard, the fat hog who decided to keep the girl for himself and was holding her back while sending people to the gas chambers. Jadzia almost forgot the guard, she was doing her best to forget him, but sometimes it just stung her from inside – fat harry fingers and it hurts, it hurts…
…never mind, she interrupts herself every time, – the crematorium must have hurt more, my poor mommy and brother Jaś, and Geszka and Maryśka, and aunty and Marek, and Ewusia, and Agnieszka… and so she sings the dirge for each and every member of her family that used to be so big. Not only when she remembers the guard – but on every holiday, and also on Christmas day, it’s a must.
On Christmas she takes twelve sips of champagne – eleven for them and the twelfth is for her, for living without tears. But she cries still. With every sip she mixes prickly bubbles with salty droplets.
And then she lives on.
She met the dog right after Christmas, on the very next day.
Not really thin but kind of scruffy, looking lost, he lay on cold wintery paving stones, and the puddle reflected a bright blue sky as it always is in Jaffa after a pouring December rain – one moment it’s soaking wet up to your eyeballs, and the next – the sun is shining up in the clear blue sky.
But the dog’s eyes were hollow, hopeless.
Jadwiga approached him, leaned over him with a groan. She saw an old, ragged collar that nearly grew into his skin, cursed under her breath and said to him firmly, “That’s enough, mister. You’re coming with me.”
The dog was so surprised that he got up, staggered and followed this strange woman in whose voice he heard a home and warm blanket, and fresh minced meat and a loving hand upon his head.
She called him Janek, Jaś, after her older brother.
Janek was the last one taken, he quickly embraced her and pushed her under the bench so she wouldn’t get noticed, and left without saying a word.
And his eyes were hollow and hopeless.
And so it was the two of them now, Jaś the dog and Pani Jadwiga.
They were taking walks, lying around on the couch, reading books and writing letters to the far-away kids in America. Sometimes they went to a cemetery, and the dog would fetch little stones which she placed carefully on Moshik’s headstone. Moshik was kind, but he was gone too soon, leaving his Jadzia alone in a new country.
Together they were also quarreling with the security guard in their building who didn’t want to let such a big dog in, afraid that he might ruffle his beloved cats. Does he take Jaś for a fool or what?! He totally ignores those cats, only lifts his lip a bit sometimes and whisper-growls, just so they know who’s the boss.
And on Christmas day he laid his heavy fluffy head in her lap and listened to an endless monotonous counting: mommy, Geszka and Maryśka, and aunty and Marek, Ewusia, Agnieszka. And after a pause: my beloved Janek.
He perked up, beating his tail against the couch: of course I’m your beloved…just don’t leave me, you’ll never abandon me, right?
And he couldn’t understand why Pani Jadwiga is laughing, choking on champagne and her tears, coughing and embracing his big head really tight, kissing his ear: my dear, beloved Jaś, you won’t leave anymore and I’ll never abandon you, everything is going to be fine…
Translated by Diana Shnaiderman-Pereira