“
Yaakov,” I heard a raspy whisper in the distance. Am i dreaming? Had the Russian liberation come to give us chocolate and women and challah? Or better yet, tell us we had been dreaming our whole lives?
“Im cold.”
I made out that it was Yossi. I could barely move my arms, much less move my legs.
“Yes, I am cold too.”
“Can you rub my shoulders?”
This seemed like a silly thing to ask in a dire situation. But this was Yossi. We had cried together, laughed together, eaten salt water soup together, and even watched people die together. He was my best friend. I was his. We were dependent on one another and the only reason we were alive.
“Sure, Yossi,” I whispered, fighting the air against my lungs.
I rubbed his bony shoulders. Pale. White. I could wrap my thumb and index finger around his shoulder blade completely. The skin was paper. Did I look like this? I stopped after a few seconds. I was exhausted.
4 INTO THE NIGHT / January, 2015
Throughout our stay in the meat locker, me and Yossi were us, breathing skeletons, accustomed to the cold, numb and shaking. I spent the whole night rubbing his shoulders whenever he asked me to. Hardly having enough energy for myself, I always managed to have some for Yossi. That night, this was all that mattered
When dawn came, the Russians had come to liberate Auschwitz.
As the Nazis were sent far away from Auschwitz, a celebration amongst the 6 million Jews, Gypsies, handicapped, homosexuals, and God could be heard. The doors flew open to the meat locker. The light shined on our lifeless flesh.
When me and Yossi gathered enough strength to look around, we saw everyone dead, except two people.
Us.