The Other Half of Life

by Kim Ablon Whitney

  Thomas could feel his knee shaking under the table, and he didn't dare take his hand off his chin until he regained his composure. The spectators were starting to chatter. Thomas was thinking too long for such a normal position. His mind ricocheted between the departure from his mother in Hamburg, his father's bloody face, and Priska's explanation of the difference between hope and faith. Then suddenly, a push of a knight and there was only chess. He could have been playing his father in the back room of the shop at home. The spectators disappeared. His racing mind calmed. The pieces, in their beautiful sculpted simplicity, stared back at him as if they knew no time or place. With his knight move, he had initiated an opening called Lasker's Defense. His father had taught him the move, invented by Lasker himself.

  Thomas didn't make the move quietly, as he had done in the past. He picked up the knight and moved it firmly onto the square, as if to tell Manfred and everyone else that Thomas would be the one controlling this game. For the first time since the game started, Thomas looked up and met Manfred's eyes. Manfred nodded, acknowledging the move but not deterred by it.

  The game progressed into a test of nerves and a battle of endurance. “Live to fight,” he kept telling himself. They played the next few moves quickly—Manfred making threat after threat and Thomas coolly quelling the pressure and playing for small advantages. Manfred's moves began to slow, and he let out deep breaths as the position became difficult for both sides. It looked as though Thomas might lose, but he kept finding moves to save himself for a bit longer. Finally Manfred made a move that Thomas didn't expect, and the crowd oohed. Thomas looked up and saw Professor Affeldt, who nodded at him. He looked back to the board. He needed to defend a pawn, but if he did, Manfred would be able to mount a serious and perhaps unstoppable attack.

  Then another idea occurred to Thomas. Instead of defending, he'd let Manfred take the pawn. It was his only hope, so he tossed his queen up the board, starting an attack himself—knowing that if he should fail, he would be going into an endgame a pawn down and nearly facing defeat. Manfred took the pawn, and suddenly the momentum had shifted. Now Manfred was on the defensive, and Thomas's attack kept growing stronger. Losing the pawn had galvanized him to play the game as if it were his last. He could see the lost pawn, off to Manfred's side, and he shifted in his seat to feel his father's pawn in his pocket before making his next move.

  As the game went on, Manfred kept his eyes on the board. It was the first time Manfred seemed to have to puzzle out each move, while Thomas started to play the best moves he'd ever made in his life. His knights came in with precise support from his bishops, and his queen tore open files and diagonals. Then suddenly, Thomas leaned back to see a completely won position. All he had to do was sacrifice his queen. He played it with a moment's hesitation, second-guessing his calculation but not for long enough to stop him. Perhaps Manfred had outwitted him again and Thomas was not seeing things as clearly as he thought he was. Manfred took the queen and Thomas made his next move, saying in almost a whisper, “Checkmate.”

  The crowd burst into cheers. Thomas stood up to shake Manfred's hand but before he could, everyone was upon him. Jürgen clapped Thomas on the back. Priska kissed him on the cheek.

  “Well done,” Wilhelm said.

  After accepting everyone's congratulations, Thomas searched the room for Manfred. No matter what he felt about him, he should shake his hand. His father had always told him that no matter how much he disliked an opponent, it was important to show him proper respect. But Manfred was gone.

  Professor Affeldt spoke up. “Friends, I have an important announcement to make and the timing seems rather fitting. The captain has decided we will set off for the United States tonight.”

  Another, louder cheer went up. Frau Rosen hugged Wilhelm. Even Herr Kleist was smiling. “This is better than we could have ever planned!” he said. “Straight to the United States, no waiting for our numbers to come up. This is what I've been saying we should do all along.”

  Priska was beaming too. “Isn't this great?” she said to Thomas.

  “Yes,” he said, although there was Walter to think of, waiting for him in Cuba. And his rational side knew that just because they were headed toward the United States didn't mean they would be granted entrance.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Priska borrowed her father's camera. As the ship cruised the Florida coastline, they posed for photograph after photograph: Thomas and Günther halfway up one of the masts; Priska, Ingrid, and Marianne grinning in a lifeboat.

  “Now everyone together!” Priska called. “Gather around the life ring.”

  They filled in around the life ring, which read ST. FRANCIS. “Not too close or we won't be able to see the letters on it,” Priska instructed.

  “You should be in the picture too,” Ingrid said. “Wait.” She hurried off and returned with Paul, who said he would take the picture.

  Priska handed Paul the camera and ran to join the group. She slipped in beside Thomas.

  “Smile!” Paul said.

  “Say 'America'!” Priska suggested.

  They all cried, “America!”

  Just before the shutter clicked, Thomas glanced at Priska. He knew he was caught on film that way—the only one not looking at the camera.

  Paul handed the camera back to Priska and they all gathered at the railing. Priska pointed into the distance. “Another ship.”

  When it came closer, the lettering alongside it was visible: U.S. COAST GUARD. Priska waved at an officer standing on the bridge. “They must be coming to guide us in.”

  The officer didn't wave back.

  “Not very friendly, is he?” she said as the ship motored alongside them. “But President Roosevelt is a wonderful man and Vati says he's sure to let us in.” She dug into her pocket. “I've been working on a letter to Eleanor Roosevelt too.” She held the paper out to Thomas. “What do you think?”

  Before Thomas read the letter, he glanced again at the Coast Guard ship. Why hadn't the officer waved back?

  Dear Frau Roosevelt,

  Have you ever had to leave your home against your will? Can you imagine leaving your school, your friends, your cat? Worse than that, many of us had to leave family behind: mothers, fathers, grandparents, cousins. But we carried on because we had faith. Faith that we would soon be in a place where our parents could smile and laugh again. Where we would not be scared of a knock at the door, or of going into town and never coming back. We hoped to find that place of refuge in Cuba, but now we turn our eyes to your great country. You have children of your own and are a compassionate woman. Please help us. Please give us a place where we can be safe and happy again.

  Yours truly,

  The children of the St. Francis

  Thomas was aware of her eyes on him the whole time he was reading. He kept looking at the paper after he had finished, not wanting to meet her gaze. The hum of the Coast Guard ship rattled in his ears, giving him a bad feeling.

  Finally he said, “It's well done.”

  “Thank you,” she said, smiling.

  She waved again at the officer on the bridge. “You can wave back!” she called out, but her voice was lost in the noise of the engines.

  Before dinner, Thomas found Professor Affeldt. “The U.S. ship that's running alongside us … it's not guiding us in, is it?”

  He rubbed his forehead. “No. It's keeping us out.”

  “They don't want us either? Don't they understand we'll be sent back?”

  Professor Affeldt moved his hand from his forehead to his chin. “I'm going to be honest with you, Thomas. I worry that this whole trip was a ruse on the part of Germany—to say they tried to let us go and treated us properly. So they could point to this ship as an example to the world and say, 'See, no one wants those Jews in their countries either. Not Cuba, not even America.'”

  “But what about the captain? I thought he was a decent man—why would he have ever gone along with that?” Thomas asked.

  “I'm not s
ure he had any knowledge of what was going on. Either that or he had no choice.” Professor Affeldt put a hand on Thomas's shoulder. “Don't tell her yet. We're still pleading our case. I don't want her to know until she absolutely has to.”

  Thomas nodded. He thought of Priska waving to the officer on the bridge of the Coast Guard ship. Her voice fading into the sound of the engines. The last thing he wanted was to tell her.

  That night Thomas and Priska met on deck. The moon was nearly full and it lit up the deck.

  “What a moon!” Paul said, leading Claudia out to the railing not far from Thomas and Priska. A moment later they were no longer looking at the moon.

  “All they do is kiss, those two,” Thomas said.

  “Is that so bad?” Priska asked.

  “No,” Thomas admitted.

  Priska wrapped her arms around herself as if she had just gotten a chill. “Did you hear Lisbeth had her baby? A girl. Emma Cohn. She and the baby are both healthy.”

  “That's wonderful,” Thomas said, but he knew his voice sounded distracted. He couldn't get the conversation with Professor Affeldt out of his head. He wasn't sure how much longer they could keep what was happening from Priska.

  Priska continued, “She didn't name her after the ship— so much for tradition.”

  Thomas was looking at Priska but he could no longer see her face. Only moments before, the deck had been brightly illuminated almost as if it were day; now it was dark. The moonlight was gone. Thomas felt overcome with a sickening feeling.

  Priska noticed the darkness too. She looked at the sky. “Where did the moon go?”

  “Let's go inside,” Thomas said. “You're cold.”

  “I'm fine,” she said. “But the moon—”

  Thomas tried to take her hand and lead her inside. But she shook him off and headed down the deck. As he went after her, he hoped the moon had just snuck off behind a cloud. But they emerged onto the port side to find it lit up as the starboard side had been moments before. And there was the moon above them, as if it were mocking them, playing games at their expense. When really Thomas knew that it was not the moon that had moved in the sky but the ship that had reversed course.

  “We've turned around,” Priska said flatly. “We're going back to Germany.”

  Thomas braced himself for her tears. He tried to think of what he could say to console her.

  She stared out at the sea, not crying, her eyes wide.

  “Priska,” he said gently.

  “Go ahead. Tell me you knew it all along.” She turned to him and brushed her hair from her face. “This whole time you thought I was an idiot or a baby who couldn't see the truth. I knew as much as you. In Germany, my parents fought all the time. They were both having affairs. My father, I think, just because he was so sad and lonely, but my mother … she was in love with another man. If we go back … you see, this was our only hope. A new start, a new home. This was our chance to make it work somehow. If we go back, they'll divorce. I'm sure of it.”

  Thomas felt as if he were seeing a whole new Priska. A Priska who was not innocent or carefree. Who knew everything but chose to see things the way she wanted to. Yet if she were as worldly as she claimed to be, she would see that going back to Germany meant much worse things than her parents divorcing. Most people on board wouldn't have homes to return to. Many would be taken back to camps. War was surely imminent. Then again, perhaps she knew as much, and her family's happiness meant more to her than even her own life.

  “I wanted us to make it too,” he said. “You have to believe that.”

  She pressed the heels of her hands to her forehead. He moved to her and put his arm around her.

  “What will we do, Thomas? What will we do if we're sent back? At least you have your mother waiting for you ….”

  Thomas shook his head. “I'm not going home.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She's better off without me.”

  Priska's face was pinched tight. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

  Thomas shrugged. “It doesn't matter.”

  “You'll come with us,” she said, perking up.

  Thomas smiled faintly at her. “No.”

  “Why wouldn't you go home? I don't understand.”

  He swallowed hard. He didn't expect her to understand what he was about to say. How could anyone understand who had not lived through what he had lived through? But still, he felt he needed to try to explain it to someone. “I should have done something. I just let them take him away. I didn't even tell him how much I loved him.” If Thomas had had the choice, he would have gladly sold his soul to the devil, as Faust had, in exchange for his father being allowed to escape.

  Thomas waited for her to call on all the arguments he had marched through his head many times before: You would have only made it worse for him. You would have risked your life and your mother's life too. You had no choice. He knew you loved him. He was proud of you for what you did. For how you stayed strong.

  Instead of saying any of those things, which never helped when he told them to himself, she took his hand and squeezed so hard it hurt.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Professor Affeldt stood under the portrait of Hitler. He waited patiently, looking out over the social hall until the packed room was quiet. He cleared his throat and began, “I am here to confirm that the United States, Canada, and the many other countries we contacted have denied our request for admittance. We are heading back to Europe.”

  Next to Thomas, Elias called out, “Europe or Germany?” People turned to see who had spoken.

  “Right now we don't know,” Professor Affeldt replied. “The plan and the hope is that we will not go to Germany. We are traveling slowly so the Joint can continue to negotiate on our behalf.”

  “Is there a plan, or only a hope?” Oskar said from where he stood next to his brother.

  “We are running out of hope,” Elias added.

  “What did the United States say?” Frau Rosen asked.

  Oskar jutted out his chin. “Yes, what reason did they give for not taking us?”

  “They said it was a matter for the Cuban government, not the United States,” Professor Affeldt replied. “We need to be patient. We on the committee are doing the best we can.”

  Elias shook his head. “I say we do what we should have done a long time ago—take matters into our own hands.”

  A few passengers mumbled in agreement. “Hear, hear,” someone said.

  Elias continued, “If we go back to Germany, many of us will go straight into camps. Perhaps they'll send us all.”

  “He's right,” another passenger called out.

  Professor Affeldt raised his hands to quiet the grumbling crowd. “Mutiny is not the answer.”

  “Then what is?” Oskar demanded. “Tell me, tell us, what is?”

  “We are composing radiograms to send to influential public figures. If anyone would like to contribute money to send the radiograms, it is greatly needed.”

  Oskar raised his voice. “I say enough! We have no money left, and no patience. Anyone who feels as my brother and I do, meet out on the deck.”

  Oskar and Elias stormed out of the room. A few of the younger passengers followed. Professor Affeldt waited until the crowd had quieted again. “Friends,” he said, “rashness will get us nowhere.”

  When Professor Affeldt finished his speech, he tried to move through the crowd to where Thomas stood with Priska. Thomas saw him studying Priska, searching her face to see how she was holding up. People swarmed around him, asking more questions, and he couldn't make it across the room. Priska slipped outside and Thomas followed her.

  “Don't try to cheer me up,” she said. “That's all my father tries to do.”

  “Me? Cheer you up?”

  Priska smiled faintly.

  “I actually need your help,” Thomas said.

  She looked at him. “With what?”

  “Holz. I'm going to get his cane.”

  She l
et her gaze drop to the deck. “I'm all done with pranks. Plus, what does it matter anymore, Thomas?”

  “This isn't a prank. This is a mission. We can stop him. If we do nothing else, we can stop him from taking that money back to the Reich.”

  “Money we don't even know actually exists. Just because he stole an old lady's cigarette case …”

  “I'm sure about this. And I wouldn't ask if I didn't need your help,” Thomas said. “I need the key to his stateroom so I can sneak in when he's asleep. I've thought about it over and over, and the only person who can get the key is you.”

  “How?” She raised her eyebrows, as if she could hardly imagine herself as useful, let alone crucial.

  “As captain's steward, Manfred must have a master key. You go to his room late, tell him you've managed to lock yourself out and your father will kill you if he finds you out so late at night. You ask to use his key.”

  Thomas knew that what he was asking Priska to do was dangerous. What if Manfred tried to have his way with her? It would be late at night, with no one around. But he saw no other way to get the key.

  “Will you do it?” Thomas asked.

  “Yes,” she said.

  They decided to wait a few days, hoping things would settle down on the ship. For after the United States turned them away, people went further into despair, some even threatening suicide. Oskar and Elias pushed for mutiny. Rumors trickled down that the captain might try to run the ship aground off the coast of Britain. Due to a food shortage, the meals on board were reduced to a fixed menu. During this time, Thomas concentrated on Holz, keeping track of him and especially studying his nightly routine. He typically turned in at nine, and not once did he reemerge after going into the stateroom he had all to himself on A Deck, an apparent perk of being a delegate of the Nazi Party.