Chapter 1
SERGEI VOLKOV
19 JANUARY 1933
Dear Diary,
Today’s my 13th birthday! Mama told me I could visit Andrzej, my sweetheart! However, I think she would do anything to get rid of me. The
“Sergei, are you coming? I said dinner is ready!”
There he was, his angelic voice finally reached my ears. His golden locks perfectly framed his soft, rose-dusted cheeks, the candlelight made him look like a saint. My messiah, my truth, my inspiration. And I was his disappointing sidekick.
Realising my short daydream, I shoved my diary under some scraps of paper, before scrambling to my feet.
“Of course, I was just… finishing something.” I had no reason to hide anything from him, but I would rather melt into a puddle than let him read anything I’ve written,
The wooden stairs creaked under my feet as I slowly made my way down to the dining table. Everyone’s eyes were on me as I loaded my plate with a vegetable salad – I wasn’t sure whether it was because everyone had already finished eating, or if it’s because I was a Russian. I don’t blame them at all for hating us. Most of us hate ourselves – thank Stalin for that. They mumbled between themselves, as if trying to figure out a way to approach me, as if I were an endangered animal, or an artifact. The endangered animal would make the most sense. I believe I’d been wearing the same dusty, red jumper and now-yellowed button up shirt for the past week. My mud-brown curls had seen hell and more, I’d given up on trying to control them. But we were all a group of Jews around a dinner table, it’s not like I was a stranger to them.
Andrzej. Oh Andrzej, my angel. His gentle hand rested on my coarse, ink-stained ones. His eyes were gentle, too, like a kitten’s. I have no idea what he saw in me. I have no idea why he would risk his life to pursue me. I gave him a small half-hearted smile, before stuffing my face with the salad, I didn’t want to trouble his parents any more than I already am. A small bow, a quiet “dziękuje*” and I was off. Back to hiding in Andrzej’s room, sitting upon his soft, burgundy sheets and staring at the inky mess I had created on his desk. My mess. My mess was entering his life.
Quiet footsteps pattered towards me and Andrzej emerged into the room with his sweet smile.
“Everything alright, misiu**?” And with the click of the door closing, he was by my side, rubbing my back and pressing his lips to my forehead.
“Of course, why wouldn’t I be? I’m just stressed with everything… Your family doesn’t like me.”
“My family? They’re sceptical, but they don’t hate you. You’re just… Russian.”
Sceptical wasn’t much better, but I decided to drop the topic, nuzzling my nose against his doughy cheek. We sat there in comfortable silence, before leaning back. My eyes met his, before quickly darting away to look at anything else.
“I was thinking of travelling, for more inspiration. I might go to Germany.”
I turned over after saying those words and went to sleep.
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The stars awaken in your presence;
Shimmering like glitter.
They always ask to see you,
But life is bitter. You are bitter.
Those stars will die and see you soon.
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Translations
*dziękuje – thank you
**misiu – (small) bear