The Safekeep

by Yael van der Wouden

What did people who spoke of joy know of what it meant, to sleep and dream only of the whistle of planes and knocks at the door and on windows and to wake with a hand at one’s throat—one’s own hand, at one’s own throat.

They were running out of time. There still were places Isabel wanted to show Eva. That’s how she told her this: I want to show you places,

“There isn’t a version of me that could’ve looked away from you.”

I thought, Oh, she has someone waiting there who will get me and send me to the Germans. That’s what I thought! And then I thought: that can’t happen anymore. Isn’t that strange, how that works? You can think something that used to be true but isn’t true anymore but still believe it in your bones.

She was a body needing to be held but Isabel was not allowed to hold her.