Karl nodded as he continued to stare at his chattel. “All right. I have better things to do anyway.”
Elspeth smiled winningly and wondered how grateful Peter would be to her for her merciful intervention.
The answer was not at all. He did not even notice. Over time, his response to their abuse had become so dulled that, though he knew he should feel outraged, insulted, or something, he had only felt depressed. The sensation had been there for a long time, that much he recognized. The paralysis of emotion had freed itself from the constraints he had unconsciously placed on it and began to take him over. It had started behind his eyes—they had felt tired and weak and unable to focus—then it had spread through his mind like a shadow, and he had had no desire to stop it. It was not a black mood—no, that would imply too much involvement—rather it was the covering blankness of night across his perception, a gray mist enveloping his thoughts. He detached himself from his surroundings, from whatever happened to him, and withdrew behind the shield of unknowing. The leaden cloak of depression settled upon him, and he hunched under its weight, tired and resigned, unwilling to throw off its embrace.
Drugged by his despair, he did little more than carry out his work as best he could and hope his legs would heal completely. He moved through the days of his life cocooned in numbness, carrying out all his duties blindly, wanting nothing more than to be left alone. He did not realize he was fulfilling Karl’s ideal, did not know that he was fitting into his natural place in the order of things. If he had known, he would not have cared. It was too much. Somewhere, somehow, it had just grown to be too much.
He walked with his head habitually bowed, the path defined only by the broken slabs of asphalt that lined the road. He kept his eyes downcast, and when he noticed anyone approaching, he stood aside, as obliged, in the wet gutters, letting the spray from the passing cars soak him. He did not look into the face of the uniform that demanded his papers, did not react when smacked jovially on the forehead with his documents as they were handed back to him; he just tucked them away and continued his painful, mechanical pace toward the bakery.
It had rained for the past several days, and now, with the sun and the warmth, the world sprang into life. Shoots of vibrant green grass beckoned from the edge of the park, the leaves of the trees rustled softly in the gentle breeze. He noticed none of it. He did not look up, did not care to notice the emergence of new life around him; nor did he notice the woman sitting on a bench that was locatedonly a few meters away at the entrance to a pedestrian path. As he drew near, she left the bench to approach him. She seemed to be deliberately blocking his path, but he was beyond provocation and blindly stepped out of the way into the gutter to make his way past. She said his name, but he did not hear her.
Only when she nearly shouted “Peter!” did he stop short, turning around to face her.
“Peter. Don’t you recognize me?” A car sped by dangerously close to him; she flinched but he seemed utterly oblivious to the danger.
“Frau Reusch.” He wanted to say more, but was at a loss for words.
“I need to talk to you.” She motioned for him to follow as she went back to the bench and sat down.
At one time, he might have shown his contempt by walking away from her, but now he was so numb that he mindlessly did as he was told and went to stand uneasily by her.
“Sit down, so we can talk,” she suggested.
“It is not permitted,” he replied.
“Oh, you’re with me. It’ll be okay,” she said.
“It is not permitted,” he repeated.
“You didn’t used to be like this,” she commented, quite confused. After an awkward moment, she added, “You look awful! What’s happened to you?”
That penetrated his emotional paralysis—he felt oddly affronted by her question. Now was a hell of a time to feign concern! “Oh, it’s not as bad as it looks,” he finally managed to answer. “I get by.”
“Look, I need to explain what happened,” she said plaintively.
He was not sure he could stand to hear an explanation just right now, so he asked, “How did you get here?”
“I have a sister in Berlin, I’m visiting her. I knew Herr Vogel was from Berlin, so while here, I had a friend look up his address in the registry. Then I waited each day in that little park near the house until I saw you. I kept waiting to talk to you when you left the house, but you rarely left and were never alone. Finally, I ascertained your routine and realized that the only time I could see you alone was at this god-awful hour, so I’ve been waiting for you here.”
He nodded absently, distracted by a patrolman who was approaching them.
“Gnädige Frau, is this man disturbing you?”
“No, no, we were just conversing.”
“Your papers?” The patrolman studied their documents, then looked at Frau Reusch.“He does not belong to you.”
“No, as I said, we were just conversing.”
“That is not recommended, gnädige Frau.” “Nonsense!” Frau Reusch insisted. “I have . . .”
“Frau Reusch is a friend of Frau Vogel’s,” Peter quickly interjected. “She was just inquiring as to Frau Vogel’s health.”
“I see. My apologies, gnädige Frau.” The patrolman returned their papersand then leaning toward Peter said softly, “Your insubordination won’t be forgotten.”
They waited silently, watching him stride away. When he was safely out of earshot, Frau Reusch snorted, “What a man! I have every right to talk to whomever I want!”
“Perhaps. But I have no right to talk to you.”
“What did he say to you then?”
He told her.
“What ‘insubordination’? You just answered his question.”
He shrugged. “I guess he didn’t like that I answered a comment directed to you.”
“But what did he mean?”
“It means his pride has been hurt, and sooner or later, he’ll let me make it up to him.”
“How?” Frau Reusch asked, perplexed.
In spite of himself, he smiled. She seemed so incredibly naive. “He and his friends will probably drag me into an alley and beat the shit out of me.”
“You’re not serious! They can’t do that!”
“Oh, they can and they do.”
“I won’t let them.”
“And how long are you going to sit here?” he asked cuttingly.
She thought a moment. “Well, don’t you have any recourse?”
“To whom?”
“I don’t know. Herr Vogel, perhaps.”
“No, he’d probably approve. At least as long as they didn’t do any permanent harm.” He added under his breath,“He saves that privilege for himself.”
“How can you be so calm about it all?”
“I’m not! It makes my gut ache. But what can I do?” And his gut did ache—a visceral pain that warned him that he was losing his protective numbness.
“Oh, Peter, we had no idea. Certainly there must be some way to protect your rights.”
“Rights? Rights? I have none! It’s there, in black and white! No rights! None!” He brought his tone under control. “Didn’t you know that?”
“No, I mean yes, it’s just that . . .”
“It’s just that you never bothered to find out what it all meant. Just like before.” He stared at the tree behind her so he didn’t have to see the hurt look on her face. “Do I need to quote you the law? Read it someday, find out what’s done in your name.”
She opened her mouth to say something, but decided better. He stared remorselessly at the tree; the pale green leaves of spring spread in a fine lace against the blue sky. He was beginning to regret his outburst. He felt uncomfortable with the emotions that were threatening to return.
“Peter,” she begged, “I want to tell you what happened.”
“You sold a slave. No crime in that,” he murmured.
“We had no choice.” She rushed on before he could interrupt, “Do you remem
ber a stranger coming into the shop after hours a few weeks before . . . before you left? That was Herr Vogel.”
He nodded, he remembered it well. It was a Saturday afternoon, well after shop closing, but the store had been busy and Herr Reusch had decided to stay open. Peter was at the cash register waiting for the last customer, a fragile old woman, to disentangle her money and sort out her change. He saw the stranger approaching the shop, but since Peter was in the middle of a transaction, there was little he could do. The man picked up several items, almost randomly it seemed, and approached the register. Peter was at a loss as to what to do. He knew that he should not sell anything to somebody who was not a regular, trusted customer, but the stranger had clearly observed the previous transaction.
As the old lady walked off, the man placed the items on the counter and looked expectant.
Peter hesitated, then said, “I’m sorry, the shop is closed, it’s well past two.”
“But you just sold that lady some groceries.”
“That was a transaction begun earlier, before closing.”
“Before closing? It’s twenty till three!”
Peter shrugged. “Would you like to talk to the manager?”
“No, I want to talk to you. Why are you handling money? Why are you alone with this cash?”
“I don’t know, mein Herr, perhaps you’d like to talk to the manager.”
“Well, I only stopped in to get directions. How do I get to the Central Hotel, by the train station, from here?”
“I believe the bus out front goes to the center of town.”
“I’m in a car, you idiot!”
“My apologies, mein Herr, I don’t know. I don’t leave the estate.”
“No, I don’t suppose you do. Let me see your papers.”
“I’ll get them for you,” Peter had replied, feeling an overwhelming sense of foreboding.
“You don’t have them on you?”
“They’re just in the back room. I’ll be back in a moment.”
He returned with his papers and handed them over. The stranger studied them for a long time, then said, “Will you sell me these items now?”
“I’m sorry, you’ll have to ask the manager.”
“Then fetch him for me.”
After a few minutes, Peter located Herr Reusch. He happily instructed the stranger on the best route into the center of town and then told Peter to sell him the items he had selected. Once the stranger had left, Herr Reusch turned to Peter and said, “What an odd man! And what a fuss over nothing! Why didn’t you just sell him the things in the first place?”
“I guess I should have. My apologies.”
“Well, let’s close up, at last.”
The occurrence had stuck in Peter’s mind, and he had not failed to recognize Herr Vogel when he returned several weeks later. Yes, he remembered.
Frau Reusch continued, “He knew that we were violating the law. He had proof. And, of course, if interrogated, our customers would corroborate. It would be easy for him to make trouble: he’s very high up, you know. Lots of power. Well, he came back and told Ernst he would turn him in if we didn’t sell your contract to him. The fines would have done us in! And Ernst might even have had to do prison time. You know, that would have killed him.”
“Yes, I’m sure it would have been very difficult.”
“And he said we would lose you in any case. He said you would be taken away and could end up anywhere. He told us that you would be considered guilty as well for having worked after hours. It didn’t make sense to us—you were just doing as we asked, but he insisted that that was the case and that you would be punished. When he realized that we cared about what would happen to you, he told us all the horrible things that were possible. Then he promised that if we sold him your contract, you would live with them. That you would be safe.”
“So why didn’t you tell me what was going on? Why did you leave me in ignorance?” Peter demanded. “I felt so betrayed,” he added unwillingly.
“We were afraid. After what happened to our son, we couldn’t bear to think what you might do. We thought you might try to escape and then you would be caught and tortured or killed. We didn’t think you’d understand. We thought it’d be best for you not to know.”
“So you made my decision for me.”
“Yes.”
A heavy silence hung between them. Finally Peter said, “I really must go, I’m already terribly late.” He turned to leave.
“Peter.”
“What?”
“It took me longer to find you than I expected. I’m leaving today.”
He nodded, his back toward her.
“Peter.”
He turned and looked at her. She looked so forlorn.
“Will you forgive me?”
His lips trembled. As much as he wanted to, he could not say yes. Instead, he said, “You never told me your name.”
“Magda,” she responded, surprised.
“Magda,” he repeated. “Good-bye, Magda.” He started to walk away, then decided to add, “Thank you for telling me all this. It means a lot to me.”
He held on to her kind words and the sense of humanity she left with him as he returned to his routine and his life, and even though he struggled to maintainhis distance, there were now cracks in his cocoon; the numbness was wearing thin.
54
“LOOK, DAD! ABUTTERFLY!” Joanna exclaimed excitedly.
The fragile creature fluttered over the stream, wove its way up into the air, and then brought itself down to settle on Joanna’s shoulder.
“Hold still,” Adam advised. He looked admiringly at the peaceful image of his daughter, bathed in dappled sunlight, the butterfly delicately balanced on her shirt, her little legs hanging over the edge of the rock, swinging back and forth as she tried to contain her excitement and not move her upper body.
Joanna carefully turned her head to look at the creature. “It’s beautiful!” she whispered. The butterfly fluttered its wings as if in farewell and flew away.
Adam put his arm around his daughter and held her close. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered into her silky, golden curls.
“Dad?” Joanna turned her face up to her father with that I’m-going-to-asksomething-important look.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Will you and Mommy have another baby? Please? I want a sister!”
“How about a brother?”
“That’d be okay, too!” Joanna exclaimed.
“You do realize that whatever we have, it will be a baby and won’t be able to play with you for months, or even years?” Adam warned.
“That’s okay. I’d help out with the baby. I really would,” Joanna promised.
Adam smiled at his daughter. “Okay,” he said, to Joanna’s obvious surprise. “Let’s go see if we can’t convince your mother.”
“Aunt Zosia! Congratulations! I’ve just heard the news!” Stefi enthused as she hugged her aunt in greeting.
“So, you’re here.” Zosia smiled in response.
“Yes, am I ever glad to take a break from those lunatics! Arghhh. You wouldn’t believe . . . Well, I won’t go on about it all right now. After all, this is your party, not mine!”
“Yes, Adam insisted on a party to announce the pregnancy. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”
“You know these people—any excuse will do. How far along are you?”
“Nearly two months,” Zosia answered. “Maybe it’s still a bit early to celebrate.”
“Nonsense! Anyway, I’m glad to hear you’re knocked up. Still, you have a ways to go to catch up with my mother!”
“Ah, nobody can keep up with her!” Zosia laughed. “At least not any woman who has better things to do with her life than be a brood mare.”
“Tch, tch, tch,” Stefi chided. “You know she’s just doing her duty.”
“Is that what it’s called?” Katerina interjected as she came into the room.
“Ach, Mother Goose herself,” Ste
fi commented.
“No respect,” Katerina muttered, shaking her head. “This lack of respect is intolerable.” It was unclear whether she was joking or not.
Zosia hugged her, trying to dispel her bad mood. “Aren’t you happy for me and Adam, Auntie Katje?” she cooed.
“No! Adam, yes. He’ll continue his work just like before, but for you, no,” Katerina growled. “Let others have children, you have too much to do here.”
Zosia released Katerina from her hold and waved her hand dismissively. “Ah, the work will get done. And Joanna is such a wonder, we felt it was time to repeat the experiment.”
“Yes, Joanna is a darling,” Katerina admitted somewhat less sourly, her eyes straying to the corner of the room where Joanna was playing with several other children. “But, Zosia, don’t throw your life away. Promise me this will be your last!”
Zosia shook her head. “No, I won’t do that. I want children. I want someone to carry on for me.”
“It’s ideas that are carried on,” Katerina argued. “Fight for our ideals. Let that be your legacy.”
“Ideals are no good without people to hold them,” Adam commented as he joined the little group. He handed out glasses and began pouring shots of vodka in each. “Here’s to our future!”
“Your future is with your cause,” Katerina objected.
“Ah, you’re just pissed off because all your people are dead. Don’t wish that on us,” Adam retorted.
“Adam!” Zosia breathed.
“Colonel Firlej,” Katerina responded, clearly rattled, “maybe one day you will learn the value of . . . Zosia, what is it?”
Zosia was leaning forward slightly, holding her arm across her abdomen, a look of dismay on her face. “No,” she murmured, shaking her head as if she had been asked a question.“No.”
“Zosia?” Adam and Stefi both asked in alarm.
Zosia turned and fled the room. Adam and Stefi followed her out. Katerina remained behind, staring after them in sorrow. She recognized exactly what had happened, and her heart went out to Zosia even as her thoughts retreated back in time to a young girl whom she no longer recognized as herself. Then it had been malnutrition that had caused her to lose her baby; today, in theirivory bunker, isolated from the misery outside, it was probably nothing more than bad luck.
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