His explanation was credible, but my suspicions were not fully allayed. “Why did you continue to correspond?”
“Because she was searching for a governess position, and my aunt was looking for a governess. I placed them in contact.”
I suddenly felt ridiculous. Why would I doubt my Johnnie? He had never shown me anything but devotion, even when I pushed him away for so long. My true concerns about him had nothing to do with his love for me, only his obstinacy with Weber and his future employment prospects. I started to apologize when he interrupted me.
“No, Dollie. You have nothing to be sorry for. I would act the same if I found a note from another gentleman in your textbook. Jealousy is a hard, unpredictable business, even if you trust your beloved implicitly. Please know that last summer, spent in the philistine, empty world of my family and their vapid friends, like Miss Niggli, made my appreciation for you grow.”
“You swear?”
“Yes, Dollie.”
“Even when your parents urge you to leave your dark foreigner and find a more suitable girl?” Once Albert’s mother realized that our relationship was not fleeting and she met me this past fall, the kind but very distant greetings I’d received in her letters last summer had turned into strident admonitions about Albert settling on a more “appropriate” partner this winter. His mother’s efforts created a knot in my stomach that hadn’t untangled. Only Maja still sent salutations in the letters Albert wrote me when we were apart. “Perhaps one like this Julia Niggli?”
“Dollie, my parents never pushed Miss Niggli or any other girl on me, no matter their misgivings about your bookish ways. They know better. They know I love only you.”
I smiled at him for a long moment. By the time I broke our gaze, I was looking into the indignant face of Mrs. Engelbrecht.
“Ah, Miss Marić. I should have known you were ensconced in the parlor with Mr. Einstein. It explains why you did not respond to the dinner bell.” I had rarely seen her so angry. But then, I’d utterly upended her order. “Misses Dražić and Bota await.”
“My apologies, Mrs. Engelbrecht. I will head to the dining room directly.” I curtsied, nodded to Albert, and hurried away. “Good evening, Mr. Einstein.”
As I left them behind in the parlor, I heard Mrs. Engelbrecht speaking to Albert. “You have become quite a fixture here, Mr. Einstein. I might have to begin charging you for the many hours you’ve spent in my parlor.”
Mrs. Engelbrecht didn’t sound as though she was making polite chatter. I paused to listen to their exchange.
It took Albert a long minute to respond. “I am sorry if I’ve upset you, Mrs. Engelbrecht. I always make certain to leave before dinner commences or visit only after dinner is over, as are your house rules.”
“You are always careful to obey the letter of the law, Mr. Einstein, but I fear you have no intention of obeying the spirit of it.” Her voice grew harder and colder; she nearly seethed. “Take heed to obey the law in its entirety as it pertains to Miss Marić. She is in my charge, and I am a watchful crow.”
Chapter 13
July 27, 1900, and August 10, 1900
Zürich, Switzerland, and Kać, Serbia
The steam from the train billowed throughout the station. For a brief second, it filled the air between me and Albert, and I lost sight of him. I felt his hand reach for mine, and we giggled at the impossibility of being invisible to one another while standing only inches apart.
The thick puffs of smoke slowly cleared from the air, revealing him in stages. The thicket of chocolate-colored curls on his head first. The mustache hiding full lips next. And finally, his deep brown eyes, beseeching me for insights, kisses, promises, everything, and nothing. I would miss those looks in the days to come.
“It will only be two short months, my beloved sorceress,” he said.
Beloved sorceress, little escapee, ragamuffin. I had become much more than just Dollie. Albert had a host of names for the bohemian intellect he believed me to be. He adored that I was different from all the other women he knew, particularly the ones with whom he’d be spending the next two months: his sister, mother, aunt, and their insipid cronies. I had tried my hardest to become his ideal, no matter the toll it took on my studies.
“I know, Johnnie. They will be busy ones for me, so hopefully, they will pass quickly. But still…”
Albert could afford to lounge these summer months away. By cramming with the notes I’d taken during all the classes he’d skipped, he had passed the oral final examination for his diploma; only his dissertation remained, should he choose to finalize it. But not me. The term in Heidelberg—which now seemed so silly, running from the inevitable—combined with all our extra, noncurricular research projects meant that I was one step behind him. He could move forward, look for work, or research more deeply the subjects we worked on together, while I needed to take my final exams next July when they were next offered. To make the extra time worthwhile, I had decided that I would spend the upcoming year not only studying for my exams but also working on my dissertation with Professor Weber. That way, when I finished, I would have both my physics degree and my doctorate.
“But still…” He echoed my lamentation but didn’t need to say anything more. That morning, he had listed all the things he’d miss while we were apart. The long afternoons in our quest to understand the rules of the universe. The stolen kisses and hugs when we were certain the omnipresent Mrs. Engelbrecht was occupied.
The summer months would be busy but hard for me. While he’d be hiking with his family in the picturesque towns of Sarnen and Obwalden, I’d be squirreled away studying at the Spire in Kać with only Papa, Mama, Zorka, and Miloš for sporadic company. Funny how the place I used to love above all else had become a lonely exile. My future was standing before me, and I hated to leave his side even for an instant.
The train released another pillar of steam, and we lost sight of each other a final time. I felt Albert’s arms around my waist, and in the momentary veil of fog, he kissed me. Longing surged through me, and I thought of all the nights we exercised such restraint.
“How did I get so lucky as to find you? A being as bold and intelligent and single-minded as myself,” he whispered into my ear.
I felt his hand at my back, guiding me toward the steps to my train car. I hurried to my seat, so I could get one last glimpse of him from the window. There he stood, looking sad and forlorn on the platform, bags piled all around him. His train would not leave for another three hours, but he insisted on coming to the station with me and waiting. Zürich, he said, held nothing for him without me.
• • •
“Miss Marić, dinner is served.” Our new kitchen servant, Ana, called up the stairs to the attic, where I’d been holed up for the better part of three weeks. I knew the servants thought I was strange to be reading instead of socializing or strolling like the other ladies. I saw their sidelong looks at the tomes I read and the time I spent alone.
“I’ll be right down,” I called back.
I wanted a few more minutes with the letter I’d just received from Albert. I knew my parents would ask about him, and Zorka and Miloš were sure to tease me. I needed to be calm and unruffled to withstand the assault of my brother and sister and deflect Zorka with questions about school and Miloš with queries about his favorite games. I couldn’t risk bursting into tears when they asked me about it.
Had Albert really written such upsetting lines? Didn’t he know that it would torture me to know every detail of his mother’s dramatic reaction when he told her we planned to get married? The image of his mother throwing herself down on her bed, crying hysterically at the news, and then hurling insults about me—that I would destroy his life and that I was entirely unsuitable for him—was almost unbearable. I knew now his parents wanted a Jewish wife for him or, at the very least, a Germanic one who would coddle him like his mother always had, but I
didn’t think either one of us expected this sort of tantrum. Her prejudices against me were many: my Orthodox Christian upbringing, my intellect, my Slavic heritage, my age, and my limp. Everything I suspected the first night I met her and more.
The most painful accusation, however, was her allegation that I might be pregnant. What type of girl did she think I was, and what sort of family did she think I came from? Even if we had wanted to consummate our feelings, Mrs. Engelbrecht circled us like a hawk; intimacy was an impossibility. Albert and I had naively believed that finding jobs would be the biggest obstacle to our union.
How would Albert and I ever overcome these sort of hysterical, illogical objections?
Tears welled up in my eyes. Would his mother’s prejudices and hysteria drive us apart? Surely, Albert wouldn’t allow that to happen. I consoled myself with his report that he remained stalwart about our plans in the face of his mother’s onslaught. And that he loved me and missed me. He was still my Johnnie. We would find a way.
Taking a bracing breath, I went down the winding stairs from the attic. I settled into my place at the table next to Papa and said grace along with everyone else. As we sat back to allow Ana to fill our plates with ćevapi, I expected a battery of questions and a good dose of jibes, just like every other time I’d received a letter from Albert. But strangely, no one said a word. Had they not noticed the letter’s arrival?
We passed the dinner hour in unusual, uncomfortable silence. Had something happened? I couldn’t stand the quiet scrape of the forks on plates and the clink of the spoons, so I busied myself talking with Zorka about her plans for next term. A good but not stellar student, she had aspirations of studying abroad. Papa had been encouraging her to stay with me in Zürich and take a term at the Higher Daughter School to prepare her for the Matura exam. I wondered if this was Papa’s way of observing and protecting me from afar. His worry over my studies and Albert pervaded all our exchanges these days.
The very minute Papa finished his last bite of the sweet dessert gibanica, Mama ushered Zorka and Miloš out of the room with her. Papa and I were left alone.
I stood to take my leave as well, but Papa said, “Please stay, Mitza. Sit with me awhile.”
I sat back down in my chair, waiting as he lit his pipe and blew a few smoke rings up toward the ceiling.
“I saw that you had a letter from your Mr. Einstein today,” he said.
He had noticed. If he knew, then certainly the others did too. Why hadn’t anyone said anything?
“Yes, Papa,” I answered quietly, waiting to see where Papa would lead.
“He is busy securing work, I gather?”
“His search will begin in the fall when he returns to Zürich. For now, he is on vacation in Switzerland with his family.”
“Vacation? Why the wait, Mileva? A man who wants to marry must have employment.”
Ah, so this was to be the direction of this conversation. My parents had never met Albert; they never came to Zürich, and Albert had never visited Kać, although I had invited him this summer and the preceding one. Albert had always declined, pleading the need to appease his parents with the summer holidays while still dependent upon them. And I’d never pushed. My parents distrusted Albert; it was not the Serbian way for a suitor to keep his distance.
Although I could understand Papa’s concern—I would have been shocked if he felt otherwise—I sidestepped his question. Albert and I spoke of marriage often enough, but I knew he needed to ask Papa’s permission for Papa to take him seriously. I’d said as much to Albert, who maintained that he needed a job before requesting my hand.
“Mr. Einstein believes that the opportunities will be more plentiful in the fall. Most academics are on holiday now.”
“So he will keep you waiting then?” Papa pretended that he was asking a question, but he was casting judgment. He had never gotten over the fact that I’d succumbed to Albert after making the sacrifice of the term in Heidelberg, and of course, he was extremely protective of me in general. Not to mention that, as a Jewish foreigner, Albert was very mysterious to Papa.
Was Papa right? Was Albert keeping me at bay while he pursued life at his own pace? I’d always placed such faith in Albert to lead us through this bohemian wilderness. I knew he wanted me to be strong and independent, and it always seemed so weak and dependent to beg for commitment. I did my best to play the part Albert cast for me.
“I will hardly be waiting, Papa. I have to study for my final exams to take next summer, and I have my dissertation to work on as well.”
“Then you two have discussed future plans?”
“Yes, Papa,” I said with what I hoped sounded like conviction. Albert spoke often of our days after university—indeed, he had just declared me to be his future wife to his mother—but no fixed plans ever came from Albert’s lips. Regardless, I needed Papa’s backing, particularly in light of Albert’s mother’s recent histrionic opposition.
Papa’s eyes and tone softened. He leaned toward me and took my hands in his. They looked tiny compared to the meaty strength of his fist. “I want to make certain that his intentions are honorable. It’s my job to protect you.”
With those words, Papa took me back to the time I overheard the conversation between Mama and Papa about my limp and my “unmarriageability.” Suddenly, I felt rage.
“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone loves me, Papa? That someone might want to marry me, even with my deformity?”
Mouth agape and eyes wide, he looked aghast at my volume and my words. I had never spoken to him this way before. “Oh, Mitza, that’s not what I—”
“Really? I know you and Mama think of me as ‘deformed.’ Unworthy of love. That’s why you’ve always encouraged my studies. You assumed I’d live my life alone.”
By emphasizing that hateful word—“deformed”—I wanted him to know that I’d overheard him and Mama all those years ago. I wanted him to comprehend that, no matter how hard I’d tried to bury their beliefs and embrace the modern views prevailing in Zürich, their label had never truly left me.
Tears trickled down his cheeks, and I knew he understood. “Oh, Mitza, I’m so sorry. I love you, my little Mitza, more than anyone in the world. My pride in you and your accomplishments fuels my days. I know you are capable of anything and that your limp would never stand in your way—in work or love. I was wrong to try to shield you from the world, to think that your limp somehow made you weaker or more vulnerable. Or less lovable.”
I almost cried. Seeing tears in my stoic Papa’s eyes and hearing the kindness in his words, I nearly buckled with the exhaustion of always acting so strong and of always needing to prove myself worthy. I wanted to fold into his arms and be little Mitza again instead of the strong and independent person I’d had to become.
Instead, I stiffened my spine and clenched his hand in a gesture of confidence. After all these professions of strength, it was hardly the time to show weakness. “It’s all right, Papa. I understand now.”
He wrapped me in a hug. From deep within his arms, I heard him ask, “Is it wrong to want the best for you, Mitza? To want a husband for you who will appreciate and protect and love you as I do?”
I peeked up. “No, Papa, of course not. But please understand that Mr. Einstein will be that husband.”
With his finger, Papa tilted up my chin so he could see my eyes. “Are you sure?”
I met his gaze square on. “Yes.” And then I smiled. “Papa, he too encourages me to be a mudra glava.”
Chapter 14
February 4, 1901
Zürich, Switzerland
The fanciful dusting of snow over the spires of Zürich did nothing to lighten Albert’s mood. Even when I speculated that we might just have enough snowfall by the next morning for a sled ride on the Uetliberg, Albert only grunted. Nothing I could offer, not even the gifts of nature itself, could rouse him from his d
ark humor.
“I know Weber is to blame for this,” he grumbled again, puffing on his pipe and sipping from the weak coffee they served at the Café Sprüngli, known primarily for its bakery. I longed for the rich Milchkaffee from Café Metropole, but Albert found it too perilous to visit our usual haunt, because we might run into one of our old classmates and we’d have to talk jobs. Which Albert didn’t yet have. “He must have sent scathing reports about me to the universities with positions. I should have never asked him for recommendations. He agreed only to blackball me.”
“I know you believe so,” I said again. What else could I say? Albert would tolerate no soothing or encouraging words. I had already tried.
“Why else would I have a pile of rejection letters sitting here before me? When every other one of our classmates has been working in their new positions for months?” Albert asked. I’d heard one variation or another on this diatribe for weeks if not the months to which he’d just referred.
Like a deck of cards, he spread the rejection letters out across the café table. But this was no game—this was our future splayed out before us. With my degree in the balance until I sat for the exams in July, we were entirely dependent on Albert’s ability to secure work so we could make plans to marry.
“I can think of no other explanation other than Weber,” I said, even though I only half believed this sentiment. Professor Weber’s dislike of Albert was real enough, but I didn’t think that his refusal to pen glowing recommendations for Albert was the sole reason for his rejections. Most of our classmates—indeed, most Polytechnic graduates, not only those with physics degrees—secured their positions through the advocacy of professors and alumni, and none of the other professors seemed inclined to extend themselves for Albert either. His flagrant flouting of classroom attendance rules and his brashness with the professors when he actually chose to make an appearance made him unpopular among our instructors.
The Other Einstein Page 11