Awake

Wojciechowski shut the door to his cell, he now shared it with Sidorov. The Russian was a clean and quiet man, Wojciechowski could tell that he'd seen things he hadn't wanted too, that he'd been places he never wanted to revisit. Wojciechowski was tried, it had been a long day, and excitement hurt his old joints more than the arthritis that was slowly creeping into his knees. He sighed, huffed and puffed to his cot and lay down. He missed his wife. But there wasn't any of her he could really miss anymore. She had turned into a tooth-pick, the color had drained from her cheeks and her eyes had turned from dancing fire to empty hallows. His two sons were dead, they'd died in the war. Most of his friends were in the camps or dead as well. 

Sidorov lay on the cot adjacent to Wojciechowskis. He too, thought about his family. But he didn't want to. Everytime one of their long fingers curled around, prying open the door he'd tried to close he shuddered and forced himself to focus on medecine. Sidorov couldn't remember his wife's death, but he could remember the death of his son. His son had been rolling the wheelbarrow, but he hadn't been fast enough. The officer had started to whip him, causing him to fall, the barrow tilted over and with it's metal rim, slammed into the young man's back, snapping his spine in half. He'd jerked around on the floor, twisting and flipping around helplessly like a fish out of the water, until about five minutes later when someone had found a gun and shot him in the head. Sidorov concentrated on the sound of Wojciechowskis breathing to escape the memory. 

"Are you always awake so late?" He asked all of the sudden. A normal man might have asked how he'd known that he was awake, but Wojciechowski knew exactly how. He had been listening for a change in Sidorov's breathing, and hadn't found it to be slowing. Both doctors were awake and aware of it. 

"Sleeping isn't easy here." Wojciechowski said. "Even though it would be wonderful if it was. It's too dark to have nightmares."

"You're right." Sidorov said with a small laugh. "I hope somebody shoots me soon."

"Because you're russian." Wojciechowski said. 

"Maybe." 

"Polish people don't want to die. Russian people seem to want to die." Wojciechowski noticed. "I think pain and suffering is Russia's true name."

"Germany is equally pained."

"But not forever and not since always."

"I agree. Russia will always remain a sad country." 

"But it's also beautiful."

"Definitely, it's the most beautiful place in the world! And the women are something else."

"What I wouldn't give for a twenty-year old Masha right now." Wojciechowski joked. But he was half-serious. He missed affection, kisses, love-bites and nights under the stars.

"I'm afraid all you have with you is a fifty-year-old Sidorov."

Werner was stuck with the forty-year old Nikolai who was drunk and slowly sobering up. He was stretched out on Werner's cot, playing with the buttons on his coat. Werner suspected his friend of being gay; not the kind of gay that people are who are homosexual and like men, but the kind of gay that comes from being sex deprived and just wanting to fuck anything. Werner was uncomftorable. As much as he liked Nikolai, he didn't want to engage in intercourse with him. But he shouldn't have worried; Nikolai didn't wish to either. Of course, if you are as free-minded as Nikolai you think about things, and Nikolai had thought about railing his young friend several times, but it wasn't a wish or dream it was only a quick and random thought. 

"Darya called me today. She shouted at me, saying: Vitya you were lying the school here is terrible! She said she was taking the children out of it and going to homeschool them..." He'd accidentally said his real name, but he didn't realize it. Werner, however, caught it. Vitya. That was Nikolai's real name. "I'm done with that woman. Or rather: I'm done with Auschwitz. A woman like that needs time to be with and convince of things...she can't...whatever. I'm off to go take a walk. Do you want to come? Or are you staying here and thinking of Marie?" His tone lightened and his eyes shone at the last part. Werner shrugged. He'd walked enough that day, but at the same time he wanted to recount what happened in the lab. 

"I'll come with, I have things to tell you."