The House of One Thousand Eyes

by Michelle Barker

  What if Herr Dreck told about the phone call Lena had made and they punished Erich for it? She should have—what? Erich wouldn’t have wanted her to do what Herr Dreck wanted. No, he would have congratulated her for throwing up at the right time. Think it through. If Herr Dreck was angry enough, he wouldn’t punish Erich. She was the one. Jutta thought it was over, but Dreck would punish Lena. Now her egg actually was cold, and she had trouble swallowing it—see? you’ve ruined your breakfast, and all because you had to start thinking.

  “. . . to the parade on Friday? My goodness, Lena, you’re a million miles away.”

  “I’m sorry. Yes, the parade.”

  “Will you come with us then, or were you planning to go with the youth group?”

  Us? Who?

  “. . . old friends. It’s a great honor to be invited to attend with them. You might even learn something about being an upright citizen if you pay attention.” Auntie puffed herself up. If she wasn’t careful she’d pop the buttons on her dress.

  “Sure. Yes.” All Lena could think about was that if she didn’t get to sleep soon, her eyes would be swollen and red when Max came over, and she would look hideous. “How is your head today, Auntie?”

  “Fine. But it would be better if some people started listening to me.”

  Lena got ready for bed while Auntie crashed around in the kitchen. She set an alarm for one o’clock so Max wouldn’t catch her in her ugly gray nightdress and flattened bed hair. Good night, Mama and Papa. What had Erich found? Was there really another story behind their deaths, a humming-underneath sound? Good night, blank wall that used to have the important Erich’s photographs on it. Lena fell asleep remembering the times he’d come to visit in Magdeburg. Waiting for him at the train station had been like waiting for her birthday: watching the train doors, watching faces, waiting for the special one—that moment when he appeared, and caught her eye, and called her name.

  *

  Either the alarm hadn’t gone off or Max had come earlier than Lena had expected. It didn’t matter—the intercom was ringing, and Lena’s head was full of wool, and there were her skinny bare feet poking out of the dishwater nightdress, and pillow creases pressed into her cheek. No, no, no. “Yes?” she answered.

  “It’s me.” Max. “Can I come up?”

  Her heart raced. “Yes, but—can you give me a minute?”

  “I’ll walk slowly.”

  Five things happened at once. Nightdress off, toothbrush with crumbly toothpaste, somewhere a sock, warm-water splash on the face, oh God the hair, what to do about her hair? Another sock. Where was her hairbrush? Still in her coat pocket. How long before the creases on her face went away? How had her nose gotten so big? No, a matching sock. Take those hard things out of the corners of your eyes. Maybe put the hair in a—there was a knock.

  Lena checked to make sure she was wearing clothes and went to answer the door. A breathless hello, and then she peered up and down the building’s corridor. No one was there to tell Auntie later. Max came in with the chill of outside still on his coat. It was cold against Lena’s arms, but in the nicest way. He smelled of fresh air and lemon soap. Where had he gotten lemon soap? Did his mother shop at Exquisit? Danika talked nonstop about the fashions and cosmetics sold at Exquisit, but it was too expensive for Lena to shop there.

  “I woke you,” he said.

  Great. That meant she looked like she’d just gotten out of bed. “It’s fine.”

  There was an awkward moment in the hallway. Lena had never had a boyfriend before. “Can I take your coat?” She sounded like one of those people in a restaurant, the posh kind she’d gone to once to celebrate when Auntie had won a medal for beautifying the school grounds.

  Max took off his coat, and Lena stared at his tanned arms. She held the coat as if she’d forgotten why she had asked for it. She wanted to bury her face in it. Get hold of yourself. The hook on the wall. Hang it up.

  Now what? Should they sit in the kitchen? Not her bedroom. The sitting room, yes. She led him into the small room with its flowery orange wallpaper. There was the photograph of Auntie when she’d become a Party member. Soon Lena would have a similar photograph—maybe. If you don’t end up in prison. There were knickknacks and Party paraphernalia on the shelves, an entire pet store of porcelain dogs. And there was Helmut’s shrine. Don’t tell on me, Helmut.

  They sat next to each other on the couch and Max put his arm around her. “When will you come to the play again?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think up an excuse for my aunt if I’m going to go alone.”

  “I promise this time I won’t forget what goes into the borscht. Dieter let me have it for that. He saw you in the audience. He knew it was why I’d messed up.” He stroked Lena’s hair so gently her eyes fell shut. “Your family name is Keller? I saw it on the buzzer.”

  “No.” Lena drifted into another world where the only thing that existed was the feeling of Max’s fingers through her hair. “That’s my aunt’s married name. My family name is Altmann.”

  “Like the writer.”

  Her eyes opened. “What?”

  “Erich Altmann. What’s the matter? Haven’t you heard of him?”

  Lena stiffened and drew herself away. “I’ve heard of him.”

  Max laughed. “Maybe you just don’t like his books.”

  “I love them. I’ve read every one of them.” That’s not smart. “I mean, they’re okay.”

  “Well, I love them. I lent my copy of Castles Underground to someone while I was in service and never got it back. I should really buy another.”

  “Good luck with that,” Lena said before she could stop herself.

  “Why?” Max’s hands were now in his lap.

  “Nothing. I’m wishing you luck, that’s all.”

  He turned to look at her. “You’re acting strange. What’s going on?”

  She wanted to tell him—right now, everything. He might be able to help. At the very least, it would make her feel better. Someone who had read the books, who knew Erich existed. You were supposed to tell your One True Love everything, weren’t you? Not everything. Does he need to know this? Really? Herr Schulmann had said not to tell anyone, but he couldn’t have meant Max.

  “We need to go outside,” she said. “Maybe take a walk.”

  He gave her an odd look. “All right.” They got their coats and made their way to the street without talking. Max wasn’t touching her anymore. Well done. You’ve blown it by being weird. It would be friends only from now on. But having Max as a friend wasn’t such a terrible thing.

  When Lena was certain no one was around she said, “If I tell you, you must promise—”

  “Lena, you can trust me. You can tell me anything.”

  How can you be sure? She stared at him as if a black mark might appear on his forehead. If only it were that easy to spot an informer.

  “I hid you in the pub,” he said. “Remember?”

  She remembered crouching beneath his legs under the table, before he’d even known her. But—“You were in service.”

  “Yes, like every other male between the ages of eighteen and twenty-six. So what?”

  “My uncle didn’t serve. I mean, he didn’t carry a weapon. He served as a construction soldier.”

  Max stopped walking. “You told me you didn’t have an uncle.”

  “I don’t,” Lena said. “But also I do.” For the next half hour she told him about Erich and how he had been erased. She did not tell him about the munitions factory, or Herr Schulmann, or the camera. Max didn’t need to know about those things.

  After she was finished, they didn’t speak for a long time. They walked, hands in their pockets, with no destination. The roads were long and wide and relatively quiet in the middle of the afternoon. The October sun played hide-and-seek among the clouds, turning the air warm, then cool, th
en warm again.

  “So,” Max finally said, “you’re telling me if I go to a bookstore or a library or anywhere and ask for Castles Underground—”

  “They’ll tell you there’s no such book. Erich Altmann? No such person. Never existed.”

  “But I’ve read the book,” Max said.

  Lena shrugged. “Not anymore you haven’t.”

  Max lowered his voice. “Have you heard from him? Has he been arrested?”

  “You don’t understand. When I ask people about him, it’s as if he’d never been born. I went to the state registry office to see his birth record and they said they didn’t have it. Yes, I think he’s been arrested, but no one’s telling me anything. They just want me to go away. Keep quiet. Move on.”

  “But you’re not going to do that. You can’t.”

  Lena didn’t answer.

  “You won’t tell me what you’re doing.” Max stared at his feet. “You don’t trust me.”

  “What would you do? I’ve already said more than I should.”

  Max pulled her under a tree, brushing the branches above them and sending a shower of freezing water onto their heads. He kissed her hard on the mouth, his hands cupping her face. Then his lips were at her ear. “We’re getting out. The three of us—me, Dieter, and Bem. You should come with us.”

  “To the West?”

  “You see? I’m trusting you. I’m telling you my biggest secret.”

  He’s more of a fool than you realized. A secret like that should never be told. “You put on quite an act for Peter’s father. A career in the military and all.”

  “Now you see why. We don’t want anyone to suspect. That’s why we’re doing that terrible play, and going to all our youth group meetings, and to the parade on Friday. We’re going to live in the West, where people don’t get erased—ever. Come with us.”

  Lena looked into his brown eyes, then at the dimple, the faint stubble on his cheek. “What about the people you’re leaving behind? Don’t you have parents here? Or siblings?”

  “My parents have given me their blessing.” He stroked her cheek. His fingertips were cold. “They want me to have a better life. I don’t have any brothers or sisters.”

  “I can’t. I couldn’t. My aunt. And if I’m on the other side I can’t help Erich.” Herr Schulmann needed her here, at her job, gathering evidence.

  “What if your aunt wanted you to go? Like my parents.”

  Lena chuckled. “Auntie is a Party member. She doesn’t understand why anyone would want to leave the Republic. Anyway, I don’t want to live in a place where there’s crime, and people are unemployed, and the State doesn’t care if you don’t have a place to live. I don’t want to leave.” But was that true? She remembered the giant tree she’d imagined planting in the courtyard, how she would climb to the top and take flight. Flight! The thought of it created a breeze on her cheek.

  He kissed her softly, his tongue exploring hers. Then he whispered close to her ear: “Maybe I’ll help you change your mind.”

  Time shrank and expanded at once. Everything was this moment, but this moment was huge. They kissed for minutes on end, oblivious to the people passing them on the street. Lena had never understood before how a kiss could contain a whole world, how lips and tongue could be everything a person needed. How a kiss could possess her entire body.

  “How long before you leave?” she whispered.

  “Soon. Two weeks, maybe. There’s a new tunnel near Bernauer Strasse. The soil is good there, and the tunnel entrance is hidden in the basement of a house. The people who’ve organized it have a system. They’ve already gotten two groups out that way.”

  She touched his face. “It sounds dangerous. Won’t the border guards know about it by now?” People didn’t use tunnels to escape much anymore; the guards had caught on to that trick. They’d installed metal bars and sensors in the sewers, fitted train tunnels with alarms. According to Erich, the guards had even placed a chain-link fence across the canal to block underwater escape routes.

  “That’s why we’re waiting,” Max said. “Our contacts have promised not to use the tunnel again until it’s our turn. We won’t go unless it’s safe. I don’t want to do prison time, thank you. In the meantime, we’ll perform stunning renditions of Factory: A Love Story to full houses and standing ovations.” His smile created the dimple on his cheek, and Lena kissed it.

  They headed back toward her building holding hands. Such an ordinary thing, two human hands entwined—and yet, Lena had never felt a man’s strong calloused hand hold hers, and with such gentleness. Erich and Papa didn’t count. And now Max would leave, to the West, and she would never see him again. All the men in her life seemed to disappear—except for the one she wanted to disappear.

  “Will you really go?” she asked.

  “If it’s safe. If we can—then yes. And maybe you’ll come.”

  Lena shook her head. “I won’t.” The thought of being stuffed in a tunnel, like an elevator, like the principal’s small office at school— It meant she’d have to savor every moment with Max, or not start anything in the first place. He squeezed her hand and she imagined letting go, walking away. No, it was too late for that.

  When they reached the building entrance, he leaned in to kiss her.

  “Not here. Someone will see, and tell Auntie, and then I’ll be in trouble.”

  “Where, then?”

  She opened the door and they stepped inside. The foyer was dark and empty. “Quickly.”

  They tucked themselves into an alcove and he leaned against her, pressing her back to the wall, pressing himself against her so that his chest, his legs, his shoulders were touching hers. As soon as he began to kiss her, the thought of quickly melted onto the floor. Nothing mattered. If someone should walk in, even if it was Auntie, Lena didn’t care. The weight of him against her was strong but not heavy, powerful but not forceful. She could have kissed him like that all afternoon.

  Lena heard the door open and shut a few times, but vaguely, as if in a dream. She had no idea how long she and Max had been kissing until the sound of the front door buzzer made him pull away. Max stroked her cheek. “It’s getting late. I’d better go. I’ll see you soon.”

  She stood where he had left her, unable to move. Her lips felt swollen. But it was nothing compared to her heart, which felt as disheveled as an unmade bed. Danika walked in as Max walked out, turning to look at him as he passed. The door shut behind her. Then she spied Lena.

  “Mein Gott, that was him. I forgot my stupid key; thank goodness my brother is home. Did he kiss you? Mein Gott, he did, I can see it on your face. He’s so cute. Is he nice? Do you like him?”

  Lena was bursting—she had to talk about him to someone. She had to say his name out loud. Linking arms with Danika, she told her about Max’s dimple, and the way he smiled. As they climbed the stairs, she talked about the lemony scent of his soap, and what it felt like to hold his hand.

  “Please don’t tell anyone,” Lena said. “If it gets back to my aunt, I’ll be in for it.”

  Danika hugged her. “I won’t tell. I think it’s wonderful.”

  She watched Danika climb the stairs to her floor, not thinking about how late it must be if she was already coming home from work. Not expecting, when she unlocked the door to her apartment, that the door had already been unlocked once before. There stood Auntie, still in the rubber galoshes she wore over her shoes to protect them from puddles. Meaning she’d walked in not long ago. Meaning she’d seen Max and Lena in the foyer.

  “Where have you been?”

  Think fast. It was difficult to control the rush of heat that came to Lena’s face, so she busied herself with taking off her coat and hanging it up with extra care. “I went to check on the swimming pool. I thought maybe our petition—”

  Auntie tsked. “It’s too soon for results. We haven’t even recei
ved a letter back yet. You should have gotten some sleep instead of wasting your time with such nonsense. Well, you’re up now. You can help me prepare a banner for Republic Day.”

  Carrying banners on Republic Day was encouraged. But you couldn’t just make up a banner and bring it to the parade. You had to choose from one of the Party’s pre-approved slogans. “Protect peace by making socialism stronger” was the one Auntie had decided on.

  Peter was supposed to show Lena his radio that afternoon. She was trying to work out when she might go over to his apartment while Auntie bent down awkwardly to remove her galoshes.

  “I’ll have to write to the building manager about the young people in our foyer, carrying on as if they were in a bedroom.”

  Lena stifled a cough. “Oh? Who was that?” Take off your shoes, Mausi. Slowly. Concentrate on the laces, the pattern of the linoleum. Peter and his radio would have to wait for another day.

  “I don’t know, do I? A young man and some Monika. In our building, of all things. I couldn’t see the girl, but my goodness, some people have no shame.”

  I’m not some Monika, Lena wanted to say. The Monikas hung around the train station at Friedrichstrasse and rented rooms by the hour, even though everyone knew there was no prostitution in the Better Germany. And anyway, how about you and your naked bricklayer?

  Another part of her savored the secret. It was me, Auntie. Me! Next time, though, they’d better be more careful—or that would be the end of Lena’s freedom. Chain-link fence across the canal, nothing. The border guards hadn’t met Sausage Auntie. Lena boiled water for Auntie’s tea and concentrated on the banner spread across the kitchen table, biting her lip as the memory of Max washed over her again and again.