Paris - Chapter Two
Flashback
After Jacques had placed the "Closed for Lunch" sign on the shop door, he and Claude led JC into the kitchen behind the shop. It was small and cozy. The walls were two-tone, with faded wallpaper that had once displayed small flowers along the top and old wood along the bottom. A rail, at about waist height, separated the two different patterns. The walls themselves showed their age, but in no way did they look decrepit or uncared for. There are simply some things in life that show their age, no matter what you do to them and most of those things actually turn out possessing quite a bit of charm from their new look.
The floor was well-worn linoleum with a blue and white checkered pattern. A white, old-fashioned sideboard stood unobtrusively in a corner. In the center of the room sat a little round table, with a blue and white checkered tablecloth that matched the floor and a small vase as it centerpiece.
Jacques went over to the sideboard and gathered up the plates, glasses and silverware while Claude got out the meat, cheese, mustard and fruit from the tiny icebox.
JC asked it there was anything he could do to help, but instead was seated by Jacques, who explained that since he was the guest, he should relax and let them deal with the food.
Claude turned from his preparations and glanced at JC, appearing to size him up. "How old are you, son?"
The question took JC a little by surprise, so he needed a brief moment to think about it. "Twenty."
"Ever had wine before?"
"Just a little, sir."
Claude nodded. "Then I’ll give you a glass like we give children; half water and half wine. Then its water for you."
JC was about to protest that he wasn’t a child, but then decided against it.
A few minutes later, they all sat down around the table. Claude gave the blessing and they all dug in.
It was simple fare, but JC was in heaven. This would be the birth of his love for fine food and wine. The cheese was pungent, the bread crusty, and the fruit had just the right amount of sweetness to contrast with the rest of the meal. After he had finished his wine, JC saw the wisdom in Claude’s actions. The wine had been very strong and the boy now found himself a little light-headed. He gratefully accepted a glass of water and sat back in his chair. He had so many questions; he wasn’t sure where to start.
"Tell me sir-" he began, but he was interrupted.
"It’s Claude."
"Okay." JC paused for a moment to get used to the name. "What was it like during the occupation?"
Claude leaned back a little, letting the memories he hid deep inside to rise to the surface. "Well, it was a gradual process. In some ways, it was so gradual no one saw it coming. In others, it arrived with a terrifying swiftness. My wife Marie, my son Alex and I were living behind the shop in this little place. She was half-Jewish and as such was subject to many rules and regulations. I didn’t have as many, but was considered an undesirable because I was a "Jew-lover."
"Before the fall of Paris, we would listen to the radio each night, hearing more as the Germans moved from one land to the next. We knew it was only a matter of time before they arrived here, so I tried to get Marie to leave. We discussed going to England or possibly even America."
JC, enthralled as he was, gently broke in with a question. "Why didn’t you?"
"Money. It cost a great deal to flee, plus Marie’s father lived with us. He was getting too old and frail to travel, and of course, we wouldn’t think of leaving him behind. We could never have lived with ourselves."
"When the Germans marched into Paris, I was sickened as they were cheered by so many. The people were blind to the fact that they weren’t here to liberate or help us, but to subjugate or destroy. I couldn’t believe that everyone was so blind to their true intentions."
"The regulations started almost immediately. Jews were forbidden to go out after dark, associate with non-Jews, shop at non-Jewish shops, use public transportation…the list seemed endless. Gradually, all of the freedoms were taken away, stolen from them while they looked it in the face, yet so slyly that no one noticed it happening until they were gone."
"Jews had to wear a yellow star on all their clothing that read "JUDE". It practically killed me the day Marie, her father and Alex had to put on the star for the first time. I was exempt but a yellow star was painted on my shop, which said "Jude Verboten". Jews were no longer allowed to shop here."
Claude paused, then looked JC in the eye. "Did you see the faint markings on my front windows?" He asked quietly.
JC nodded somberly. "Yes."
"I keep it there as a reminder of all that occurred." Claude took a sip of wine, then continued. "With the star on my shop, I started losing customers. The Jews couldn’t shop here and the non-Jews either couldn’t or wouldn’t because Marie worked here. I didn’t know that we were going to do. If it hadn’t been for the few friends who smuggled in supplies to us, we would have starved."
"My brother Pierre and his wife decided to leave for England. Even with the occupation, you could still get out if you had the money. He offered to take Alex with them, saying that since he was childless and if anything happened to me, that the family name would go on. I told him I didn’t care about the name, that I just wanted my son to be safe. After thinking it over for a while, I agreed. It was the hardest, yet somehow easiest, decision I have ever had to make."
"We packed up his clothes, a few toys and a letter which was to be read to him when he was older, in case we didn’t survive the war." Claude paused again.
"They left on a Saturday. I would not see my son until 5 1/2 years later. He was only two when I sent him away."
"Monday I went down to the market to see if I could find us a little food. When I returned, the shop door was open, hanging off one of its hinges. I rushed in and saw all of the paintings had been slashed, the pottery broken and scattered across the floor. The cash box was missing as well."
"At first, I could only stand there shaking with rage. ‘ Who would do such a thing?’ I thought to myself. "Who would want to vandalize and destroy my shop?" Then I realized that it was eerily quiet, and that I didn’t hear Marie or her father."
"I ran into the living room. It too was in shambles. Papa’s wheelchair was overturned, the back door torn completely from the frame. I called for Marie, but there was no answer, nor was there any sign of her to be found.
"I raced into the street, calling her name and praying to God that he would help me find her. All I felt was fear and confusion...we had followed all their rules, had never been in any trouble with them. Why had they done this to us? It just didn’t seem right."
"Finally, I was exhausted and collapsed in the street. As I knelt there, tears streaming down my face, I saw a glint of metal and looked closer. It was Marie’s locket, the one she always wore."
"It was then I knew, without a doubt. I picked it up, squeezing it so hard it left an impression in my hand. I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually I felt my neighbor lift me by the arm and take me back inside his house."
"I asked if he had seen Marie or my father-in-law. He confirmed he had, only ten minutes after I had left. He said the Nazis had come and dragged all the Jews into the street, forcing them to enter large trucks. He had followed at a safe distance as they were taken to the train station and loaded onto cattle cars. Then the train had left."
"I found the courage to ask him where the train was headed. He only looked at me sadly, then said that we both knew the rumors. They were going east."
"I remember crying out and sinking to the floor, inconsolable. He had taken me to a spare room, where I slipped into a catatonic state for nearly a week.
Then, just as suddenly, I snapped out of it."
Claude’s face grew hard with the memory of his determination. "They may have destroyed my business, taken my wife and forced me to send my son into exile, but I swore they were not going to succeed without a fight. The very next day, I went out and joined the resistance fighters. For the next few years, I would do everything in my power to destroy, disturb and defeat the seemingly unstoppable Nazi machine."
Claude stopped, taking another sip from his glass. Jacques had been busy throughout the story quietly clearing the table, putting food away and doing the dishes. He had heard the tale many times before and would hold his grandfather in the night when the man had nightmares and cold sweats.
JC was transfixed, feeling as if he couldn’t move. He felt a dampness on his cheeks, and it was only then he realized he’d been crying. The boy felt like he was suffocating, overcome with the full weight of what Claude had been through as it were his own. "I’m sorry." He whispered, barely audible. "So very sorry. How can you possibly bear it? I would’ve been crushed, could never have found the courage to do what you did. You’re much stronger than I could ever hope to be in a situation like that."
"No, I am not." Claude looked up at JC, the pain of his memories displayed across his face. "I was living unimaginable horror, doing things that to this day I pray that God will forgive me for. In some ways, I was no better than the very people I was fighting against."
"That…can’t be true."
"In a way, it is. The man sighed then slowly stood. "But let’s stop here. That’s enough talk about the war. Instead, I would like to show you something."
Claude left the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a small, ornate box. He gently set it on the table and opened the lid. He lovingly withdrew a few pictures and a small locket.
The pictures showed a small child with mother and father, a happy couple dressed formally and 3 more of a lovely dark-haired woman. Claude held the first one out to JC. "This is the only picture of Marie, Alex and myself together." The second one took the place of the first after JC had studied it. "This is our wedding picture."
Claude seemed almost reluctant to give up the last three. "These are of Marie."
JC looked at them closely. "She was very pretty."
"Yes, she was." Claude sat down in the chair again. "Marie was the gentlest creature. She had such a love for people; so trusting, so helpful. That is why it was so hard for her to believed that people who had been her friends for so long suddenly didn’t want anything to do with her anymore. In some ways, I think that hurt more than when she was taken away. That was an enemy she knew, not a faceless invader."
JC leaned forward and put his hand on Claude’s arm. Very quietly, he asked. "What happened to everyone? To Marie, her father and Alex?"
"Survivors told me that Marie’s father died on the way to Auchswitz. Marie "lived" there for two months until-" Claude broke off, tears coming to his eyes.
"One night, six guards took her to their quarters and raped her. She died of her injuries the following morning."
"After the war, I was reunited with Alex. It was hard. We’d both been through so much. We tried to have as normal as life as one can after all we’d been through.
He grew up and married at an early age. Jacques was born almost immediately. One night, I was watching Jacques while Alex and his wife went out. They’d had too much to drink and were killed in a car accident on the way here to get him.
"In some ways, I blame myself for Alex’s death. We both had too many demons to overcome. That is why I have tried to be a father and grandfather to Jacques."
("You’ve done a great job, Grandpere.") Jacques enfolded his grandfather in his arms, kissing him on the forehead. ("I love you.")
JC sat back stunned. The day seemed bittersweet, illuminating and heart wrenching at the same time. He looked down at the photographs in his hand, the ones of Marie. To love someone so much, it must have hurt unspeakably to go on without her. And yet, if people could learn from the past, keep the same mistakes from happening again, than everything that Claude and the others like him went through all those years ago wouldn’t be in vain.
It also made JC realize how precious life was, that nothing could be taken for granted because it could all be ripped away at any moment. After that day, JC made a conscious effort to take a few minutes whenever he could to make sure everyone important in his life realized just how much they meant to him. He would hate to die letting someone think he hadn’t appreciated them, had neglected them because his career was higher on his list of priorities than human beings. He vowed he would never make that mistake, no matter what it took.
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