What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank: Stories

Cover What We Talk About When We Talk About Anne Frank: Stories
This from Agnes Brown, seventy-six years old, standing behind Josh’s chair in the dining hall and addressing the back of his head.
Josh turns to her. She is not alone. She is never alone—Arnie Levine, seventy-eight, is at her side. “You both know,” Josh says, “Rabbi Himmelman is gone. I am the director—I’ve been the director all summer.”
“You’re too young to be the director,” Arnie says, her defender.
“And you, Arnie, are too old to be at camp.”
“It’s Elderhostel,” Agnes says.
“Is there instruc
...tional swim?”
“We can,” Agnes says, “have a swim lesson in the lake.”
“Any place with instructional swim,” Josh says, definitive, “is camp.”
He holds her gaze, staring eye to eye, though he sits and she stands. She is shrinking, his Agnes. Every summer, the old people grow smaller as the children grow big. Josh has decided that there is only so much height in the world and the inches must change hands.
He turns back to his lunch in time to see it carried off by one of the girls brought in from Poland to do the kitchen work.
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