I hardly noticed the loss. I had a new mission: Recruit my fellow resistance members to help me locate someone who had seen my family following our separation. Someone who had been in Block 11 that day in May of 1941.

“Maria, if you knew the things Hania was saying to her own brother.”

I escaped from Fritzsch’s scrutiny and returned to the present, where Izaak shook his head in admonition.

“And you’re as innocent as a sacrificial lamb, aren’t you, Izaak Rubinstein?” she answered.

“Are you related to a man named Akiba Rubinstein?” I asked, catching on the familiar surname. “The chess grand master?”

“Your friend Irena, is she related to the author Henryk Sienkiewicz?” Izaak replied.

“When I asked, I believe her exact words were ‘No, you idiot.’”

“I see. Now remind me of your question?”

“Are you related to Akiba Rubinstein, the chess grand master?”

“No, you idiot.”

I darted out of Hania’s reach and bent to scoop up more snow, but, before I could, Izaak cursed in Czech. As I straightened, he brushed snow off his arm while Hania smoothed her uniform with wet hands, composed and controlled amid my giggles and Izaak’s wry smile. Hania didn’t acknowledge us, maintaining her air of innocence until she slipped on a patch of ice and yelped.

Izaak steadied her. “You’re going to fall and break a bone, schlemiel.” He jumped aside when she attempted to smack his head in playful admonition.

“Toi, toi, toi,” she replied, making the spitting sound three times.

He scoffed. “Don’t bother warding off the evil eye. It has already caught up to us.” He indicated our surroundings to emphasize his point, and Hania narrowed her eyes and responded in French.

“Tu me fais chier.”

Izaak waved an accusatory hand toward her and looked at me. “Now she’s trying to annoy us because we can’t understand her.”

She flashed a smug smile. “Je réussis, n’est-ce pas?”

“How did you learn so many languages?” I asked.

“Our mother’s family immigrated from Czechoslovakia to Warsaw when she was a girl, and our father was from Kraków. Growing up, my siblings and I spoke Czech, Polish, and Yiddish; we studied German in school, and Judyta and I studied French together. She and I were always better at languages than Izaak.”

He laughed. “True, but neither of us were as good as Judyta. She spoke English, too.”

Hania nodded in agreement. A wistful silence fell, remaining until Izaak complained about the cold and hurried away in search of warmth. He was right; it was too cold, but I didn’t care. It was nice being able to walk without a particular destination in mind rather than rushing to the roll-call square or labor assignments. My feet crunched against the snow while Hania and I took a right at the next intersection, continuing our leisurely stroll past Blocks 6 and 7.