17
Remembering
November 1945 — EmikaThe first day the man heard the music, he had smiled at Emika and examined the secret messages inside. The next day she watched him shuffle back and forth across the room with a walker. When her mother wound the music box for her, he stopped and gripped the walker until his fingers turned white against the metal. The third day, he maneuvered his wheelchair close to Emika’s bedside and watched as the ballerina danced.
When the song ended, he nodded his head and smiled. “I was a soldier in the war. Some bad people took me and hurt me until I almost died.”
Emika wadded up the edge of the bedding and stared at the dingy white sheet.
“They hurt my head.” He turned to the side and Emika shrank back at the sight of several ugly pink scars that ran from the
