The Other Half of Life

by Kim Ablon Whitney

“I know, and we'll be in Cuba in six days, so just be patient and relax and ignore them, right? Well, I can't ignore them. Sometimes I want to fight back.”

  Thomas heard his father's voice in his head. Live to fight. Don't fight to live. He sighed, his sense of pride dulling. His father would have wanted him to walk away. Priska held out the pawn to him. “You lost this.” He nodded and took it from her. “It was my father's.” She asked, “Were you at home when he was taken away?” Thomas swallowed. He had never told anyone what had happened, but he knew that in a way he had been waiting for the right person to tell. He turned the pawn over in his hand as he spoke. “My parents decided a few nights after Reichskristallnacht that the safest thing to do was to temporarily split up. It was too dangerous for my father to stay with us. He knew that without him we would have a better chance of survival. They decided my father would go live with a cousin a few towns over, where he could hide. I hated that he had to go but I also understood why.”

  Priska's eyes were focused on Thomas as he talked. Every time he felt himself faltering, he traced the pawn's edges.

  “After he left, we got letters from him every so often and we wrote back. The letters had to go through a friend of a friend. Then one day—it had been three months since he left—my mother and I were in town doing the shopping. On the way home we walked by the train station, where three Nazis were beating a man. Usually we would have kept on walking. You don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong unless you want trouble. Perhaps it was because we hadn't gotten a letter from him in two weeks, perhaps my mother just sensed something in the air. She walked closer and I followed. The man was on the ground. He struggled to sit up and blood spurted from his nose and mouth. He didn't try to stop it, and I saw that one of his arms was hanging by his side. It must have been badly broken. It was at a crooked angle; it looked like it didn't even belong to his body anymore. I finally looked closely at the man's face. Even through all the blood …”

  Thomas stopped and looked away. His fist was clenched tight around the pawn, forcing its sharp edges into his skin.

  Priska made a small sound. Before she could say anything, Thomas kept going. “The Nazis saw us. 'Do you wish to see a Jew die?' one of them asked. My mother shook her head. She took my hand and held it very tightly, as if she was telling me not to move, not to say a word. The Nazi must have seen something in her face, or in the way we were holding hands. We hadn't said anything or even looked at my father as if we knew him. I could tell from his eyes he recognized us, of course. But he was too smart to let on.

  “ 'Do you know this man?' the Nazi asked us. His voice was softer. He wanted us to admit to knowing him; he wanted us to fall into his trap. If we admitted to knowing him, we might all die.”

  Thomas took a deep breath. His throat felt scratchy. “My mother didn't say anything. She just shook her head, turned, and, pulling me with her, walked away. That was the last time we saw him.” Thomas unclenched his fist. His skin had red grooves where he had gripped the pawn. He thought Priska would say something optimistic, as she always did. Always trying to look on the bright side so much that it could drive you crazy. It was what was charming about her, and also what was frustrating.

  But this time she shook her head and said, “Oh, Thomas. I'm so sorry.”

  “Now do you understand why you can't trust someone like Manfred?” Thomas asked her. He meant after what had happened before, with the song and the insults. But maybe he also meant after what he'd just told her.

  “Yes, I do.”

  Thomas closed his hand around the pawn again, this time more lightly.

  “And the chess piece?” Priska said. “The pawn. Not a king or queen.”

  “The pawn is the most misunderstood, underestimated piece in the game. It is the foot soldier, yes, but it has the most power. It creates the structure and the order of the game. The French chess player François-André Philidor once said that 'the pawn is the soul of chess.'”

  When he had boarded the ship and met Priska for the first time, he never imagined that she would be the one he would tell his secrets to, but now that he had started, he wanted to confess everything. “My parents were part of the resistance. That's why my father got taken away, I'm sure of it—that and, of course, because he was a Jew, and a Jew married to a non-Jew, no less. I always wondered why my parents and their friends didn't do more, like set bombs or fight back. But when I asked him, my father said you need to live to fight, not fight to live.”

  “What does that mean exactly?” Priska asked.

  “It means we have to bide our time, be careful, and then we will be able to make a difference in the fight.”

  “And do you agree with him?”

  “I don't know,” Thomas said, lowering his eyes. “What did it get him?”

  Chapter Eleven

  The next day, Wilhelm asked Thomas to play chess. After the fight with Manfred and Kurt and telling Priska about what had happened to his father, Thomas welcomed the distraction.

  “Where's Jürgen today?” Thomas said as they set up the pieces.

  “He's still feeling the aftereffects of the rough seas,” Wilhelm explained. “Back when we fought in the World War, Jürgen suffered heavy injuries. He was lucky he lived, in fact. If he gets sick now, it hits him hard.”

  Thomas straightened his last piece. With every small movement he made, he felt it in his stomach, which he'd found that morning was black-and-blue. Thomas still didn't mind the pain, though. Sometimes he moved even if he didn't have to, just to make sure the pain was still there. “You both fought in the World War?”

  “Together, in the same battalion. Hard to imagine Jews fighting for Germany these days, isn't it?” Wilhelm shook his head. He raised his finger. “Of all the laws, do you know which one made me the most enraged? The law that forbade me from flying the German flag. I risk my life for Germany and then I'm forbidden from flying a German flag outside my home? That's when I knew it was time to get out. Other people kept hoping things would get better. But when you turn your back on people who risked their life for your country, then you have lost your senses. And the latest news … you've heard, I assume?”

  Thomas shook his head. He picked up a pawn in each hand—black in his left, white in his right.

  “Hitler and Mussolini have signed a pact. If there's war, they've sworn to support each other.”

  Wilhelm won the chance to open and began with a straightforward pawn-to-queen-four opening. After the first few moves, Thomas breathed a sigh and felt his whole body relax. Unlike Manfred, Wilhelm played according to the classical rules. Thomas knew that he was, in essence, staying in his range of comfort to play Wilhelm, but his game against Manfred had left him off-kilter. For now he decided it was just fine to rebuild his confidence.

  By his eighth move, Thomas had accomplished many of his opening goals—he had gotten his king to safety, moved out his bishops and knights, and controlled a good bit of the center. Thomas sat back, pleased with himself. He was playing intelligently and he was a solid rival for Wilhelm.

  Wilhelm cupped his hand around his chin and looked at the board before making his next move. Thomas could tell he was scanning variation upon variation. He moved a pawn. A mistake, Thomas thought; now he has nowhere to hide. Thomas slid his rook down a file and announced, “Check.” Wilhelm's king stood squares away from refuge. Wilhelm shifted in his seat. Thomas could feel the momentum tipping solidly to his side. He had expected to feel satisfied that the game was going his way and he was outplaying Wilhelm. But the game with Manfred still rattled through his mind. He tried to tell himself that he had just played poorly that day and if he were to play Manfred again, things would be different. He wouldn't let Manfred distract him with talk. But deep down Thomas knew that wasn't why he had lost to Manfred. Thomas was on solid footing against a player like Wilhelm, but an unconventional player like Manfred threw him off balance.

  Wilhelm cleared his throat. It was Thomas's move. Every one of his pieces had long op
en files and diagonals due to fearless attacking over the last few moves. All he had to do now was make two more moves and he would win Wilhelm's queen. Thomas moved a piece and continued going about the last remaining work to be done, still surprised that beating Wilhelm wasn't that satisfying. Wilhelm wasn't whom he wanted to beat.

  “Good game,” Wilhelm said. “Someone has taught you very well.”

  “My father,” Thomas said.

  “I've noticed he's not on the ship with you?” Wilhelm made his statement into a question to be polite, Thomas thought.

  “No. He was taken to Dachau.”

  “I'm sorry,” Wilhelm said.

  Thomas felt heat gathering behind his eyes. If his father were here, he could ask him how to play Manfred. Without his father, he had no one to turn to. And there was so much more he needed his father for than chess. Thomas succeeded in pushing away any tears. He checked to see if Wilhelm had noticed his pain. Wilhelm was looking at him with kind eyes, and Thomas asked, “Have you ever played someone who doesn't look to control the center?”

  “A player like Nimzowitsch?”

  Thomas brightened. “Exactly.”

  Wilhelm clucked. “Not really.”

  “Well, if you were to, how would you play him?”

  “One would be tempted to succumb to his type of game, but you would need to stick to what you know best. You need to respect his way of playing, yes, but be even more confident in your own.” Wilhelm started to clean up the board.

  Thomas motioned for him to leave the pieces. “I'm going to practice.” He reached across the board for the black pieces but stopped and gritted his teeth against the pain in his stomach.

  “Are you all right?” Wilhelm asked.

  “Fine,” Thomas managed.

  “Oh, really?”

  Thomas closed his eyes while the wave of pain passed. He opened them to find Wilhelm still looking at him.

  “Stomachache?” he said, raising his eyebrows. “Or did your smart tongue get you into trouble?”

  “Maybe,” Thomas admitted.

  Wilhelm smiled. “You're young. You're bound to be headstrong. But be careful. Be smart.”

  Thomas nodded.

  The door opened and Priska breezed in. “Thomas, there you are.”

  Thomas looked up and smiled. If anything, he felt that what had happened with Kurt and Manfred had brought them closer.

  Priska looked at Wilhelm. “I'm sorry … am I interrupting?”

  “No, we just finished up.”

  “Who won?” she asked.

  Wilhelm put on his hat and started for the door. He said with a smile, “He put an old man in his place.”

  The door closed behind Wilhelm, and Priska scooted into his vacated seat.

  “How's your stomach? Does it hurt?”

  “A little.”

  Priska sighed. Before she could tell him once again how stupid he had been, he said, “Want to play?”

  “I don't know how. You'd have to teach me.”

  “I've never taught anyone before.” Thomas had always been the student, and he wasn't certain he was comfortable with the roles reversed.

  She said, “I'm sure you'd be a great teacher.”

  “No one ever taught you to play? Not your father?”

  “My grandfather tried to but I was too busy with friends and school.”

  “Did your grandfather stay behind in Dresden?”

  “No, he died, a year ago now, I guess it is.”

  “I'm sorry,” Thomas said.

  “We wouldn't have been able to leave if he hadn't died. He was too sick to travel and my mother wouldn't leave without him. If it hadn't been for him, my father would have had us out a long time ago. With my grandfather gone, my mother was out of excuses.”

  Priska picked up a knight. “I remember that each piece moves differently but I can't remember the particulars. Teach me?”

  “Now?”

  “What else do we have to do that's so important?” He nodded, acknowledging that she had a point. Sometimes time felt endless on the ship. He picked up the pawn. “Pawns can move forward but can only capture diagonally. The pawn can move two steps on the first move but only one step at a time for the rest of the moves.” Priska nodded.

  “There's one other thing about the pawn,” Thomas continued. “When the pawn reaches the end of the board, it can change into any piece you want except for a king. The pawn is the least valuable piece, so if you trade it for something, you'll be in better shape.”

  “Do most pawns get to the end of the board?”

  “Most don't make it. But the ones that do are more valuable than any of the other pieces.”

  Next Thomas picked up a knight. He moved it along the board to demonstrate as he explained, “The knight moves in an 'L' shape, either two squares up or down and one square to either side, or two squares sideways, one square up or down. The knight can also jump over pieces. My father taught me that the way to remember that is because the knight is a horse—that's why it can jump over the other pieces.”

  Thomas went on to explain how the bishop, rook, queen, and king moved. He wasn't sure Priska was really paying attention, but he liked being there with her nonetheless, so he kept going. When he finished, he said, “All right. Do you remember how the bishop moves?”

  Priska smoothed back a piece of her hair. “Not really.”

  “Diagonally, as many squares as it wants.”

  “I remember how the knight moves.” She picked one up from the board. “I like the knight because it doesn't move anything like the other pieces. These other ones keep getting in each other's way, and I like how the knight can just move past its obstacles effortlessly.”

  Thomas shook his head and smiled. It was just like Priska to personify a chess piece.

  Before Thomas could quiz Priska on how the rook moved, she said, “Only four more days until we're there. Can you believe it? It seems like we've been talking about leaving and waiting since forever. What's the first thing you'll do in Havana? I'll have a pineapple. I've never had a real pineapple, straight from the tree.”

  “I'll telegram my mother,” Thomas replied. If he had had enough money, he would have telegrammed her already, as others had done for their families. He would have let her know that the journey was almost over and that he was safe. That was all she wanted—to see him safe. “Can you imagine living in a place where we can walk around without curfews?”

  Priska grinned. “We can go to the pictures again! I'm going to go right after I have my pineapple.”

  “They'll be in Spanish,” Thomas pointed out to her. “You won't understand a thing.”

  “Oh, I don't care.” Priska put the knight back on the board. She straightened it so it sat right in the middle of the square she had placed it on. “Did you hear about the big party? It's customary on ocean liners two nights before docking. It's going to be a costume ball.” Priska's face lit up as she continued. “I wonder what people will dress up as. My mother said we could go to the beauty salon and get our hair done again. The first thing we did when we came aboard was to get our hair done. Of course, we haven't been allowed in beauty salons for years. Back in Dresden a woman in our neighborhood who used to have her own shop did hair in her home, but it's not quite the same as walking out of a salon with your hair just perfect.” Priska sighed. “Although it doesn't matter how perfect my hair is because I'm not allowed at the ball—only grown-ups.”

  Thomas looked at the board. “Do you want me to explain checkmate?”

  Priska shrugged. “I think maybe I learned enough today. Just trying to keep the pieces straight is a lot. You can teach me more some other time.”

  “All right,” Thomas said, although he was pretty sure she didn't have the patience for chess.

  Thomas returned the chess set. They went outside and walked around the deck. A lone gull flew overhead, and Thomas wondered where the bird had come from and where it was going. The gull swooped down closer and then, as if disinterested
in what it had seen on deck, soared back to the sky.

  Thomas saw Manfred walking toward them. He didn't know whether he should warn Priska, and then it was already too late and Manfred was passing them. Thomas made certain to meet Manfred's eyes, to try to tell him with a single look that he must never bother Priska again and that Thomas was not scared of him. That at any moment he was ready to finish what they had started. Thomas put his arm around Priska, as he'd seen Paul do with Claudia.

  Priska held on to his other arm tightly, and Thomas felt her steer him away from Manfred. “Only four more days and we'll never see him again,” she said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Since the pool had been put up, they had swum at least once a day. The weather became milder the farther south they traveled. The bruise on Thomas's stomach had faded to a faint yellow, but Thomas still dove right in so that no one would notice. Günther jumped in too, sending up a giant splash that soaked Priska and the benches that lined the pool.

  “You're all wet now, so you might as well come in,” Günther called to her.

  Priska made a face at him and slid in.

  The pool was small, perhaps the size of the sitting room in the apartment in Berlin, and Thomas only had to swim a few strokes to reach Priska. She wore a bathing cap and Thomas missed seeing her curly hair.

  Priska splashed Thomas and he splashed her back. A few of the others joined in, and they had a splashing fight until Marianne got water up her nose. Then Priska suggested they dive for coins. Ingrid went to fetch some coins from her mother, who sat nearby reading a book in the shade of a striped umbrella. Thomas and Priska treaded water next to each other.

  “Don't splash again,” Priska said.

  “I won't,” he promised.

  Ingrid reappeared with a handful of coins.

  As they swam to the side and pulled themselves out of the water, Thomas whispered to Priska, “I've been thinking more about the Ortsgruppenleiter's cane.” He had been thinking about everything they knew about Holz, going over all the facts. He used a cane but had only a minor limp. His cane was very important to him. He detested Jews and was a Nazi official but didn't seem to care if they had to take the whole ship of them back to Germany. He was a thief.