Pastel Orphans by Gemma Liviero Read Free Book Online Page B

hold Robin tightly to my chest and she purrs loudly in my ear.
    A short while later Mama knocks on the door to say that we are leaving. Her voice is weak and her sentence cracks in the middle. When I come out, she is cleaning her face in the kitchen. I see that her makeup is smudged and her eyes are red and puffy. In front of the entrance mirror, she layers her makeup thickly to cover the red blotches on her cheeks, then paints her lips brightly once more. She is wearing the lovely coat that Papa bought her several years ago. It is light blue, lighter than her eyes, and the scarf around her head is patterned in the same color.
    At the door she looks at Greta and nods her head, and then turns to me and frowns, just slightly, as if she should alter something but can’t. She checks that our papers are in her handbag. She has done that four times in the last few minutes, forgetting that she has already checked. Her hands are shaking.
    “All right, children,” she says. “It is time to leave. I want bright, happy faces all the way to the train station. If anyone asks, we are going on a holiday. Now, remember about your last names. We are actors in a play. Do you both understand?”
    I nod. Once Greta sees me nod, she nods also.
    We catch the bus and Mama smiles at everyone. She sits near some people and remarks on the lovely coats of the other children and how pretty they are. It is a different Mama than I have seen, but then I remember she is now an actress, so when the people turn to me, I smile, wider than normal. We get off the bus and walk to the train. My bag is very heavy and I have to carry Greta’s as well. Mama also carries two suitcases.
    The pavement is slippery with snow and we step carefully, except for Greta, who slips and falls and starts to cry. A policeman rushes to help. He is very handsome and asks if Greta is well enough to walk.
    Mama answers for her sweetly, and the officer can’t help but smile back and asks if we are going on a holiday. Mama says yes, that she is visiting her sister but that she is looking forward to returning to Berlin, which is the best city in the world.
    The officer carries one of Mama’s suitcases and Greta’s. Mama buys some tickets. We have to talk to the officer some more while we wait for the train, and Mama lies that she is a widow.
    Greta whispers to me, “What is a widow?”
    I whisper back, “None of your business. Be quiet.”
    “What is your name?” the man asks.
    “Karolin Klaus.”
    “Well, Karolin Klaus,” he says, “I hope we meet again.”
    The officer continues to smile. Greta is staring at Mama curiously. I grab my sister’s arm and squeeze it, just in case she is thinking of saying anything that might give away our disguise.
    We climb aboard the train when it arrives; it has a picture of an eagle on the front carriage. It is filled with people, and we find some seats at the end that are not taken. Mama collapses in the compartment. She has taken off her smile and it is the old Mama again.
    The officer waves to us as the train takes off.
    “Snake!” Mama says, her teeth together. I don’t know why she doesn’t like him but this makes me laugh, and then Mama smiles and laughs, but only briefly. But any laughing is good because she does not do that as much as she used to when I was small like Greta.
    “Mama, why is he a snake?”
    “He just is,” she says dreamily, looking out the window. We watch the lights of the city disappear behind us. We watch the buildings get smaller and then there are less buildings and more trees and smaller houses. The train ride is bumpy and the door rattles and air creeps in, making a whistling sound. I breathe on the windows and this leaves a white mark.
    Mama wraps scarves around our necks. I take mine off again. Greta doesn’t. She puts her head in Mama’s lap and I watch her eyes start to droop with sleep.
    A ticket man comes and asks for our tickets and our papers. He looks at our pictures and at us. Mama has