“She’s with your mother. She’s helping the midwife, so she’ll probably stay in the bedroom until the baby comes.”
“Oh I hope it’s a girl,” Gloria said again, crossing her fingers.
“No way, we need another boy in this family,” Karl inserted. “We’re already outnumbered.”
The group looked to each other awkwardly, unsure what to do on the cusp of such excitement. “We’ll just carry on with the day while we wait,” Gerald answered the question no one had asked but all were wondering. “But you must stay down here. They need privacy upstairs.” The children complied.
Lena made breakfast for the group—poached eggs on toast and fresh fruit. She spooned a serving to each of her siblings, feeling a sense of pride at being promoted to the eldest female in attendance. They ate, every few bites interrupted by giddy giggles. Karl requested seconds—per usual—which was turned down by his father. The fever in the room climbed with anticipation.
As the children finished and began to clear the dishes—Gerald’s nerves squashed his appetite—a deep moan echoed from upstairs. It was primal, unlike anything they’d heard before. Lena gasped. Everyone froze in place, then looked toward Gerald.
“Is Mother okay?” Miriam asked, nervously.
“Yes, darling. She’ll be just fine,” he soothed her with a pat on the head.
Another loud wail reverberated through the house. The children again looked to each other for reassurance. Gloria reached for Lena’s hand as a growing sense of worry filled the kitchen. They were helpless. Helpless and a little afraid.
“Why don’t we sing,” Bettina suggested. “Remember how Mother taught us that song when we were scared of the dark?”
“Yes,” her siblings replied.
“Maybe it will make us feel better.”
Bettina began the first verse, a bubbly tune about kitten’s whiskers and woolen mittens. The children linked hands as they joined in.
They finished with lighter faces, until a cry erupted from above. But this time it wasn’t the guttural howl of a woman in labor. It was the shrill shriek of a newborn baby.
Gerald jumped from his chair, heart in his throat, and ran up the stairs two at a time. Bursting through the bedroom door, he saw Lara, red-faced with sweat beaded on her neck. A folded washcloth laid across her forehead.
Lara looked up when he entered and managed a weak smile before returning her gaze downward. In her arms, a tiny pink face poked out from a swath of receiving blankets. The baby’s eyes were open, blinking away the residue of birth. Lara stared in awe, intoxicated with love for a creature she’d known only minutes.
Gerald looked to Marlene, who sat on the edge of the bed leaning into Lara and holding her hand. Marlene’s fingers were stained crimson, and he noticed splotches of blood on her apron. At the foot of the bed was a pile of drenched linens, the after effects of the messiness of birth.
“It’s a boy, Gerald,” Marlene said. The sting of grateful tears pricked her eyes.
Gerald rounded the other side of the bed and bent down to kiss his daughter on the head. He glanced at the tiny baby, whose cry he’d heard only seconds ago, but who now was comfortably resting in his mother’s arms.
“A boy,” he said. Then looking to Lara, “Well done, my dear.”
The midwife interrupted the moment, scooching past Gerald and gently lifting the bundle from Lara’s arms. “Need to get his vitals,” she said.
They watched as Elena unwrapped the baby and placed him in a cotton sling attached to a scale. The baby’s arms shot up in reflex and his bleating cries protested the cool air of the room. Elena lifted the sling in front of her and squinted at the number.
“How is he?” Lara asked.
“He’s perfect. Just over three kilograms. A very healthy weight.”
“You did so wonderful, darling,” Marlene said, wiping Lara’s forehead with the washcloth. “You were so brave.”
Elena handed the swaddled baby back to his mother. The boy flinched and made a cooing sound as he relaxed into the cradle of her arms.
“Have you chosen a name?” Elena asked.
The three Weisses looked back and forth at one another before Marlene finally said, “It’s your choice, Lara.”
She thought.
“Erich. His name is Erich.”
Marlene and Gerald gazed lovingly at the baby. “Erich,” Gerald whispered.
He walked around to Marlene and she rose to embrace him. They stood, side by side, their arms around each other’s waists, looking down at their daughter and grandson. Lara stroked the newborn’s check with the pad of her finger.
“Hello, sweet boy,” she said. She’d never experienced such bliss. This was heaven.
“I’m so glad it’s over,” Gerald said to Marlene.
“Darling,” she replied, with a gentle touch to his forearm, “this has only just begun.”
Eight
Present
In the year since his birth, Lara had watched her son grow into a smart little lamb. He crawled early, and easily followed instructions, even shaking his head “no” when he knew he wasn’t supposed to do something, like touch the log pokers that hung near the fireplace.
With each milestone Erich reached, her heart overflowed with quiet maternal pride. She’d been present for all the big things: when he first sat up unassisted, his first taste of baby food, when he learned to crawl, and most recently, as he practiced taking his first steps.
He knew her—loved her—even if it was as a sister.
Erich’s arrival brought fresh elation to the house, which was greatly welcomed after the stress of the family’s immigration to Switzerland. He was a true joy; always cheery and quick to placate on the rare occasion he was sour. Entering such a large family, it was as though he knew he’d have to be easy-going, always along for the ride to wherever his mother or siblings were headed.
The tagalong, they called him. As if he had any other choice.
Erich melded right into the fold of his siblings’ close bond. Each morning before the children set off for school, they’d plaster Erich with kisses, and he’d chortle as they nuzzled their faces into the rolls on his chubby neck.
Lara wasn’t shy with her affection either, showering the baby with love, yet never uttering the words she longed to say. Every time her lips touched her son’s smooth skin, her heart broke a little more. Naturally, her feelings for Erich were different from the rest of her siblings’. They all doted on him, but Lara understood love on a deeper level. She’d jump in front of a train if it meant sacrificing her life for his.
The love she felt for him was ingrained to her core. Boundless and eternal.
Erich was her child, her flesh and blood—even though no one outside her parents and Felix knew the truth—and with the passage of time, the lie became more painful. She wondered if she could bear it much longer.
Lara rolled a small ball across the braided rug that covered the center of the living room floor. On the opposite side, Erich waited for the toy to get close, then lunged for it and missed. The rubber ball hit his shin and bounced off. The boy grabbed it before it was out of reach. He looked to Lara.
“Throw it back,” she instructed. Erich tossed the ball one handed and it landed only inches from where he sat. Lara laughed. “Good try,” she said. He crawled forward and picked up the ball again, determined to throw it farther. Their game of catch went on a bit longer, until Erich’s attention dwindled and he became distracted with another toy.
Erich crawled across the rug to where Lara sat cross-legged, her shoulders slumped forward. He climbed into her lap and she gave his bum a pat.
“Want to do Patty Cake?” she said, grabbing his hands and clapping them to the tune. Erich grinned, wide mouthed, and as he giggled a trail of drool trickled from the corner of his mouth.
Marlene entered the room with a basket of dirty laundry on her hip. She stopped and smiled at Lara and the baby.
“There you are,” she said, dropping the
basket to the floor. She arched her back for a good stretch.
“Mama!” Erich pointed a stubby finger at Marlene. Lara’s stomach clenched. She cringed every time she heard this address. It had been a year, but she still hadn’t gotten used to her parents being referred to as Erich’s mother and father.
It’s just a title, she tried to convince herself early on. But it was no use. The name held power.
“Hello, sweet boy,” Marlene said. Then to Lara, “I have to go to the store. We need more formula for Erich, and I’m going to pick up some fresh strawberries. Do you need anything?”
“No, thank you.”
“Want to come along?”
“That’s alright. I’ll stay here with Erich if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.” Marlene watched adoringly at the pair playing on the floor. With Erich’s dark hair and blue eyes, he looked so much like Lara, who in turn got her looks from Gerald. The physical similarities made their ruse even more believable. To strangers, Erich and Lara had a striking sibling resemblance—nothing more.
But when Lara looked at her son, she saw the truth: the crinkle in the corner of his eyes was all Rubin. Certain expressions—the look of resolve when he was absorbed in play, or when his nose wrinkled at an offensive smell—reminded her of the man who’d once charmed her.
Marlene buttoned the toggle clasp at the neck of her cloak. The Peter Pan collar only accentuated her well-preserved youthfulness. She hurried out the front door, tote over her shoulder. At the base of the front steps, Karl was teaching Miriam and Gloria how to play hopscotch, while Bettina sat on the stoop with a thick book in her hands.
“I’m headed to the store. Lara is inside if you need anything,” Marlene said, to which the children agreed and sent their mother off with a wave.
Back in the house, Lara cuddled Erich in her arms. Swaying back and forth, she hummed a lullaby. Erich sat still, perfectly content in the moment. When they were alone, she imagined what it would be like to live outwardly as his mother. She envisioned a small cottage in the country, modest yet cozy. Chickens roamed the yard and they’d play barefoot in the grass until the sun went down. But in her fantasies, it wasn’t just the two of them—Rubin was there, completing their perfect family. She pictured their life together. Rubin would prop his boots by the fire in the wintertime, and she’d hang laundry on the clothesline in the summer. It was a simple existence, far from grand, but to Lara it was ideal. It was utopia.
Such daydreams plagued her regularly—in the shower, during her lessons with Frau Zimmermann, as she set the table for dinner. She relished in them, letting the fantasies evolve and grow from something bitter to something beautiful. Like caterpillars, Lara’s dreams always blossomed into butterflies.
But then she came back to reality with a smack. And the truth was even harder to swallow.
“Ba-ba,” Erich said, touching his mouth with his palm. Lara stopped humming and looked down to his little face.
“You thirsty? Want some milk?”
Lara stood and carried him to the kitchen where she warmed a cup of water and mixed in a scoop of white powder to make formula. She handed the lidded cup to the boy, who took a long sip.
When Erich was born, Elena had suggested he stay with Lara for only the first day.
“Once your milk comes in, he’ll be able to smell it,” she told Lara. “And he’ll fuss if you don’t give him your breast.” Marlene looked to her daughter with concern, waiting for Lara to protest.
“Oh, I didn’t think of that,” Lara said.
“I’m not sure breastfeeding every other hour fits into your cover story. You’ll need to get some infant formula. But don’t worry, he’ll take it fine.”
“What will happen to me?”
“If you don’t nurse the baby or express your milk in any way, it will eventually dry up,” Elena explained. “It’ll take several days, and might be a bit painful, I’m afraid.” Then to Marlene, “Make sure you have cold compresses to help with her discomfort.”
Marlene nodded, listening intently to Elena’s postpartum instructions. She felt inept, having never bore a child of her own. Elena sensed Marlene’s concern and left the house with some final reassuring words.
“Feed the baby and make sure Lara rests. That’s it. I’ll be back to check on everyone in a few days.”
After that, they were on their own.
Lara spent a week in her room recovering. Her body was sore and swollen, and she struggled to find a comfortable position. Once, she’d made the mistake of using a hand mirror to look between her legs, only to be shocked and horrified by what she saw. She was mangled. Prickly black stitches poked out from her tender flesh.
Shocked by the effects of childbirth on her body, she crawled back into bed, wondering if she’d ever look normal again.
To explain her absence, Gerald told the children Lara had been struck with the flu, and they were happy to keep their distance. Lena bunked up with the younger girls for two weeks, not wanting to risk getting sick. By that point, Lara could at least walk without waddling, and her tummy had already shrunk by at least half.
It was almost as if nothing had even happened.
During the first few days following Erich’s birth, Marlene checked on Lara regularly, helping her to the bathroom and massaging her belly—as instructed by Elena—to contract her uterus back to size. On the fourth morning, she opened the door to find Lara weeping.
“What is it, darling?”
“I just can’t stop crying. It’s like I have a never-ending supply of tears.” Lara pressed up in bed to sit and Marlene noticed two wet circles on the front of the girl’s night shirt.
“Oh, sweetheart. Here, let’s put these under your top.” She grabbed two cloths and helped Lara place them into her soft, cotton bra to soak up the leaking milk.
Lara blushed. “This won’t stop either,” she cried, pointing to her breasts. “Every time I think of him, I get the strangest feeling and before I know it, my shirt’s all wet.”
“Remember what Elena said. It could take several days for your body to adjust. It’s normal.”
“I know, but it’s all just so hard to grasp.”
Marlene didn’t know what to say. She’d been the one to form this entire scheme from the beginning, and rarely did a day go by when she didn’t wonder if they’d made the right decision.
Despite Elena’s suggestion to separate the baby from Lara at the beginning, Marlene couldn’t do it. The thought of Lara alone in her room, recovering from the trauma of childbirth crippled her. She couldn’t keep Erich away—what kind of heartless person could? So she often took to sneaking Erich into Lara’s room that first week for short visits.
Lara would prop him up on her bent legs and pore over his delicate features: long, silky lashes, pudgy toes, and skin covered in peach fuzz. She was, quite simply, amazed. I created this. He came from me. She breathed in his newborn sweetness, rocked and swaddled him, but never took him to her breast.
The lies continued, and Lara remained hidden, but no one thought twice—not when there was a newborn in the house on whom everyone’s attention was focused. Babies, much like clumsy puppies or furry kittens, have the mysterious ability to hush all other worldly noise.
Once Lara’s body healed, she emerged from her room a ghost of the person she had been. She was somber and quiet, trying to adjust to her new unwanted role. What was her place? How much—or little—should she contribute? When Erich cried, intuition told her to soothe him. Maternal instincts haunted her brain, but she resisted, instead allowing Marlene to step in.
It was agonizing.
Nonetheless, Erich thrived under the constant care and love of his family members. And for that Lara was grateful.
Weeks turned into months, and Erich quickly changed from a fragile newborn to an adorable, bouncing infant. His body filled out with so much soft baby fat, Marlene once joked that Erich had more rolls than the local baker.
“Mmmm...and you’re even more delic
ious!” she’d poke at his chubby legs.
He was happy, well-adjusted. The family settled into a comfortable routine with a little one, and the children were thrilled to have a new sibling. They were all content—except, of course, for one.
With each passing day, Lara thought her spirits would lift. They never did. What’s wrong with me? she thought. I should just be thankful. She’d gone along with her parents’ plan with blind trust. Yet, as time moved forward, the resentment she carried grew.
***
As Erich’s first birthday approached, the family planned a celebration to mark the special occasion.
“You only turn one once!” Marlene chirped as she strung a banner across the bay window. Gloria and Miriam helped Marlene bake a chocolate cake and piped the boy’s name on top in shaky white letters—the E and R taking up most of the space, so that the remaining letters had to be squeezed in.
Later, they laughed when Erich dove headfirst into the slice on the tray of his highchair, grabbing handfuls of deep brown crumbs and bringing them to his lips. By the end, more frosting landed on his face than in his mouth.
“What a mess! I hope that was good, silly.” Marlene lifted him from the chair to give his naked body a wipe down.
“Time for presents!” Gloria squealed as she dashed from the room. Miriam and Bettina followed, more excited for Erich’s gifts than the unaware one-year-old.
Fresh and clean in a t-shirt and diaper, Erich crawled into the den. Marlene placed a small box in front of him, and he tore through the paper, sending shreds into the air. Gerald watched from his recliner, lovingly amused. Inside the box was a pale blue bonnet embroidered with little yellow ducks. Marlene placed the bonnet on Erich’s head.
“You look positively handsome,” she said, giving the bonnet a pat, before the boy ripped it off and threw across the room. He picked up a piece of the wrapping paper from the ground and crunched it in his fist. Paper: much more interesting than a bonnet.
Lara handed Erich another box. She helped him hold onto the tail of the ribbon and showed him how to pull to untie the bow. He opened the lid to find a creamy, white sweater with small, ivory buttons.
All That Shines and Whispers Page 6