April 1939
I rocked back and forth in my place in line at the registry office like so many other women in my position. Waiting for papers and trying to find loved ones. We got on intimate terms with waiting. I’d waited weeks to see if my application for an exit visa would be accepted. We waited for weeks to learn more about the fate of Samuel’s parents. Each time we thought we’d gotten a step closer to making real progress, there was more waiting to be done. In a way, it became comforting. No could come in a hurry, but yes took time.
I prayed silently that today would be a step forward, even a small one. Our contact at the local registry office rang the shop to let me know I should come around in the afternoon to collect information. There was no use going early, so I waited on customers and forced a smile, but all the while I wanted nothing more than to bar the door and rush to the office to learn what was in store for us.
I was finally summoned to Herr Hase’s desk. His face was grim, but that was no matter. They all made the same faces whether they were imparting good news or bad. I secretly wondered if it wasn’t part of their training.
“Good afternoon,” I said, giving him a smile that was friendly, but not overeager. If I anticipated he had good news for me, he might be put off by my presumptuousness. “I hope you’re well.” I didn’t much care if he was, but the niceties had to be observed.
“Fine, fine, thank you,” he said. “I know you’re anxious to hear more about your travel papers, yes?”
“Quite,” I said. “I’ve missed my mother quite a lot, as you might expect.”
“Indeed. I wish I had more news on that front for you. These matters are becoming increasingly difficult.”
“Naturally,” I said, plastering the smile back on again. Cruel bastard, why call me here if you don’t have news!
“I asked you here today because I managed to track down the persons that you were concerned about. The Eisenberg family?”
“Yes?” I said. “Can you tell me how to find them?”
“The older gentleman was taken to the concentration camp at Sachsenhausen. His wife and daughter to a women’s camp nearby.”
“For what possible reason? I can’t imagine they’ve done anything wrong.”
“You’d be shocked at how many people are hiding secrets. May I ask why you’re asking after these people, Fräulein? I must caution you that it’s highly irregular for a young lady of your sort to take an interest in people like these. Questions get asked and it can become awkward, you understand.”
People like these. He meant Jews. He was trying to warn me away before the wrong people took notice. “Oh, they were old friends of the family. Before she left, my mother was concerned and wanted me to send a telegram with news if ever I was able to find any. Clearly she wasn’t wrong to let the acquaintance fade.”
“Quite right. It must be quite serious if the women were taken away. From what I understand, the vast majority of those taken during the unfortunate events of November were men. Were I you, I’d tell your mother to sever the relationship and not enquire further.”
“Naturally. I’ll send her a wire as soon as possible. I do appreciate your time.”
“Always a pleasure, Fräulein Altman.”
I shook all the way back to the shop but took care not to look too downcast as I went. I tried to walk not too fast nor too slow, as either would attract unwanted eyes.
Back in the apartment, Samuel sat at the kitchen table, reading his book, but not making much progress. He saw the truth in my face before I was able to say a word.
“They’re gone?” he asked. “All of them?”
I related the sparse information that Herr Klaus had provided, knowing it didn’t provide answers to the most essential questions.
“But are they alive?” he asked. “Can we know?”
“He didn’t say one way or the other, but as he didn’t say they were counted among the casualties of the violence, it may not be beyond hope that they’re still alive.”
“Alive and languishing in some filthy camp.”
He threw the book across the room, where it bounced off a cabinet door and onto the tile floor. He buried his head in his hands.
“We don’t know anything yet. Not really.”
“Tilde, they wouldn’t have taken my mother and Lilla if they ever planned on letting them live. I know I won’t see them again.”
I wanted to tell him not to despair. I wanted to assure him all would be well, but I could not bring myself to offer platitudes when his premonition was the most likely outcome.
“I can’t bear this,” he barely managed to wheeze out in between silent gasps for air. I could well imagine the flashes of his memory running through his mind. His father, a master craftsman that Samuel had idolized his whole life. His mother in all her earnest affection who cared for everyone in her sphere as though they were family. Lilla was the cruelest blow of all. She was just getting started in life and had only just begun to show the glimmer of her brilliance.
I held him in my arms, knowing no words would be able to soothe him. He folded in half, his head buried in my lap. I stroked his hair and prayed that I’d be inspired to do something that would be of help.
No tears came, and it was this that frightened me. He was beyond grief. He shook in place, struggling for each new breath. I felt helpless as an infant and wanted to wail as though I were one. I wanted someone to rush to my side and make it all better. But no one was coming. Not for me. Not for Samuel. Not for his family.
I had no idea how long we sat at the table. I was only faintly aware of a few knocks at the shop door. They would have to come back another time.
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me,” he said after a long pause.
“About what?” I said. “I came straight from the registry office to tell you what I learned about your family.”
“Not that. The baby,” he said.
I gasped. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“You haven’t had your courses in at least two months. Perhaps longer. We’re living in an apartment the size of a shoebox and I never leave. You haven’t used your supplies, nor refused my attentions during your courses. I may be useless, but I’m not stupid.”
“You’re neither stupid nor useless,” I countered.
“Then why wouldn’t you tell me?” he pressed.
“At first because I wanted to be sure. Later because I felt you had enough to be getting on with.”
“You tell me I’m not useless, yet you treat me like a child. What am I supposed to believe, Tilde?”
“The truth. That I love you and we’re going to have a baby. And despite everything, I’m thrilled about it.”
He turned his face and buried it in the soft flesh of my midsection, breathing deeply and whispering things I couldn’t fully hear. After a few minutes he rolled to his back and stared up at the ceiling. His eyes bore an expression of utter defeat.
“You’d both be better off without me,” he said.
“We both need you,” I said, running my fingers through his hair. “Don’t say such things.”
“You blend in. You have a good German surname. Even if the baby looks like my spitting image, no one will notice until he’s older. If I stay, you’ll never get out of this damned city.”
“Don’t say such things,” I said. “I won’t leave Berlin without you.”
He pulled his head up from my lap with a jerk and left the sofa. He rummaged in the bedroom for a while and emerged carrying a small suitcase and dressed for travel.
“What are you doing?” I asked, folding my arms over my chest. “It will be dark soon.”
“I won’t see you and the baby tossed in some camp on my account. I’m leaving.”
“I’ll go with you,” I said automatically. “We can find a way out of Germany.”
“I’m not leaving Germany. I need answers about my family,” he proclaimed.
“Answers from whom? I’ve told you all I know. I don’t think the man at the registry office knew anything that he didn’t tell me already.”
“Maybe he doesn’t. But the guards at the camp do. I’ll go myself and ask to see my mother and sister. Beg for their release. Whatever it takes.”
“Don’t be foolish, my love. You’d be walking straight into the lion’s den. You won’t be of any use to them if you get yourself arrested in the process.”
“I’m of no use to them here, either.”
“You’re of use to me. Of use to our child.”
“Sitting up here while you work? Unable to do anything to care for you and the baby? I don’t see how you find me anything other than a burden.”
“Samuel, you’re alive and well. That’s as much as I need from you right now. It’s enough for now.”
“I cannot live with myself, Tilde. Not now that I know where they are. Not knowing there’s a minuscule chance I might be able to save them. And I can’t stay and put you at risk.”
“There’s a far better chance you’ll end up in a camp yourself. Or worse. You’re not being rational.”
“I’m not a lawyer at heart like you are. Being rational means nothing right now. I have to do something to save them.”
I knew the desperation in those eyes. I’d seen it the day my father asked my mother for a divorce to save his own hide.
“You made a vow to my mother you’d protect me. You swore to her you would. Did that mean nothing to you? We’ll get some help. Lawyers. Officials of some kind. We’ll find someone to help us.”
“Tilde, they might still be alive. Who knows how long that will be true. Lawyers take time. I have to do this now.”
“Then think of your child, Samuel.” I held my hand to my belly, which was now just visibly swollen in fitted clothes. I’d have to resort to ruffled smocks and bold prints before long. “Do we mean nothing to you?”
“I couldn’t look my own child in the face if I didn’t try to right this. I wish you understood, Tilde.” He stood as if daring me to contradict him.
I wish you understood, Tilde. The very same sentiment my father had used. I gritted my teeth. I found it scarcely less infuriating coming from Samuel. At the root of it, they were both selfish. Samuel loved me. He would love the baby. But not so much that he would swallow his grief and stay alive for our sake.
“You made a vow before God you wouldn’t abandon me and that’s exactly what you’re doing. You told both our families a bald-faced lie. I thought you were better than that.”
He dropped his head under the weight of my words. “I hope, in time, you’ll come to forgive me.”
“If you come back alive, perhaps. If you don’t, I’ll spend the rest of my life angry with you for being so selfish. If you go now, what good will you be able to bring about? Hitler and his goons are too big for one man to take on. What is it you plan to do? March into the concentration camp screaming? Barge into the Führer’s very office and demand answers?”
“If I must,” he said. “I need to know what happened to them.”
“No one knows yet, Samuel. But you know in your heart the news can’t be good. If they’re alive and in a camp, you attracting attention to them will not do them any favors. If they’re gone, this is all in vain. They wouldn’t want you to do this.”
“I have to, Tilde,” he said, turning to the rack to fetch his hat and coat. “I wish it could be different.”
“It can be, but you won’t let it. You’re leaving me alone so you can go off and die to no purpose. You’re leaving our baby without a father. You’re leaving me to live the rest of life alone.”
“Then may it be long and full of happiness and health, my darling. And trust that I will love you until my last breath.” He leaned in to kiss me, and all of me wanted to melt into him as I usually did. To lose myself in him as we’d done so often in the past months to help ease the pain we felt from the world around us. As much as I wanted to return the kiss, I pushed him back.
“And how many hours from now will that be? I never pegged you as a fool, Samuel.”
“Go to your mother’s and live a happy life. Spare a kind word about me to the baby if you can manage it.”
I grabbed him by the shoulders as if to shake some sense into him. But I just held on to him. I clenched my fingers around his arms, wishing I were strong enough to hold him there forever. Wishing that he could see the folly of what he was about to do. Barring that, I wished I could see some purpose for his sacrifice.
But I could not.
The sobs and the screams were trapped in my chest. I just stood there, holding him. Silently imploring him to see reason. After what might have been a few moments, or perhaps full minutes, he broke free. He kissed my cheek, opened the apartment door, and descended to the shop without another word. I listened for the bell to ring as he exited onto the street below. I walked over to the sink to wash the dishes, but slid to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest and letting the pain wash over me like the relentless licking of flames at my feet. He’d chosen the ghost of his childhood family over the certainty of a future with the baby and me.
Certainty was the wrong word. But at least there was possibility.
It seemed like something to live for. Wasn’t it?
And I knew in my heart that our baby would never have the chance to know for himself how wonderful a man his father had been. Finally, the sobs broke free from my breast and as I lay on the floor, I let them have me.