by Paula Bomer
Hans embraced her; she put her head on his shoulder, inhaled him, his tart sweat, his smoky skin. Then she pulled back and stared into his eyes. It’s fitting, she thought, that the last thing we see before we die is the thing we love, is the thing that kills us. A needle, a criminal, a man, a love. Love. Is it God’s will? Is it the Devil’s? Is it the two, working together?
Hans moved away, poked at the fire, then looked through the closet.
“I’m going on a walk,” Eva said.
“So spät?”
“Nicht für lange.”
Eva pulled on a coat and stepped into Hans’s rubber boots.
“Woman, you are taking my boots?”
“Ja. I need some air after that long ride. But I won’t be gone long. You drink your coffee. Smoke a cigarette and I’ll be back.”
The moon shone over the lake now, so brightly she could see everything. The grooves in the frozen lake, the grooves in the frost, like a knife had run through it, and the sparks of snow that gathered along parts of the ice. She could see so well, until she got to the path in the surrounding woods. Then her eyes had to adjust again. The roots of the trees started to take shape in the dark and a focus came over her; her eyes felt keen, it was as if she were on a different planet, a different plane of existence. “I will die someday, God. And what will you do with me? Will I see Hugo, Mutti, Vati? Will I see Maggie there, sooner than she should be?” If life was to be lived to ensure a happy eternity, one must fight evil at all times, fight temptation. “Lead me not into temptation.” Well, that was not what she really meant. The prayer was hollow and it filled her heart with grief. “Forgive me.” Yes, that is what she really meant. If we can’t be honest with our own souls, in our own private talks with God, then what? Then what?
The boathouse lay ahead, and in the clearing, it was lit brightly by the moon. Suddenly, she was very excited. She tripped in the boots and hurt her knee, hurt the palms of her hands trying to break her fall. She opened the broken door. The lockers were gone, but the rowboats were still there. And there were containers like the ones that Hans had moved into the cellar that night.
And then he was there. He wore a heavy coat and his soft-soled shoes; he’d made no noise.
“Ach, my feet are so wet. You! Was willst du hier, Schatzi?”
“I want to know you.”
She was not afraid. But she felt lightheaded. She walked to one of the containers.
“Why can’t you leave some things alone, Schatzi?”
“Don’t hide things from me.”
He walked past her and gruffly pushed her aside and opened one of the long containers, a case similar to one that a musician friend of Hugo’s had used to carry around his large horn. Inside were guns.
“Do you know how rich I will be? It will change everything. And this is not illegal. Wirklich.”
“I see.”
“No more drugs. No more of that.” Hans closed the case. “Because of you.”
“Because of me?”
“Yes. Well, and maybe for other reasons, too.”
Say it. She wanted to ask him to say it. Her niece, whom she was supposed to protect. And Krista? She was gone. It was just one more failure in her life, a life that changed and changed and then would end.
“They are Kalashnikovs. I got them at such a good price. The Cold War is over now, Schatzi. These guns are flooding the market, but the demand is still high. And I have buyers in Serbia, and in the Middle East. I keep some here, for me. But with my partner, we have a warehouse filled to the ceiling with these.”
Eva reached out to touch one.
“Here,” Hans said. He picked one up and handed it to her. She dropped it, then picked it up, found a way to hold it. She cradled it in her arms awkwardly. And he leaned toward her again, now that her hands were full, and cupped her face there in the dark cabin. “Für dich. Alles für dich.”
“How bad are you?”
“I’m not bad. I am the one who looks after you. This is all legal! When I sell these, I am buying you a proper apartment. I’ll spend a lot of time here in Berlin. I won’t always be in Poland. You’ll see.”
Eva hoisted the gun around and pointed it Hans.
“It’s not loaded.”
“Ich weiss.”
“I’m not a bad man.”
“I am more worried about my soul than yours, Hansi.”
“Put the gun down.”
Eva put the gun down. Hansi reached over and closed the box. “Let’s go. Come, Schatzi. Let’s go back.”
He led the way in front of her, and for some reason that made it harder than when she had come out here alone. She held on to his back, a shaky hand on his thick shoulder.
“Schatzi,” he said, not turning back to look at her while he spoke, but continuing to lead the way. “It is the beginning of a new world, a better world. I will take you with me. I will show you the way.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you Marya, Mark, Stephen, Jessica, Jack, Thelma, and Greywood Arts for all your amazing help in making this book happen.