by Tony Klinger
The next day Arnie woke with newly discovered iron determination. He didn’t speak of the hard truths spoken by his mother, but she was quietly thrilled to see her son begin to flower from his own efforts. He even managed to gratify his general studies home tutor, Professor Epstein. He was a small bantam cock of a man, bespectacled, with a halo of white frizzy hair and sparkling, dancing chocolate brown eyes. No one could ever guess the man’s age, “He was probably born looking just like that, permanently middle aged!” joked Bertha. The Professor was a hard man to satisfy and Arnie suspicion that his mother had chosen the man to tutor him because he was a tough taskmaster was correct. He had also been her tutor when she was a girl and she enjoyed this tenuous link to the otherwise totally severed ties with her family. When she looked at Epstein she saw faint echoes of the men in her father’s family, now becoming just ghosts in her memory.
Epstein regarded anything less than total accuracy, objectivity and honesty as failures beyond redemption. He saw something in the blossoming young man that he considered worthwhile. After her son’s first lesson with the Professor Bertha too Epstein for a small walk to a chair in her garden. As Epstein swatted away the summer insects with his fussy little hands he listened attentively to the woman he had known since childhood. “It is good to rekindle our acquaintance Herr Professor.” Her smile was reinforced by his own, “Where are my manners, would you care for a drink, coffee, tea, a piece of strudel, perhaps a schnapps?” Epstein consulted his watch and shook his head, “I’m afraid I no longer have time between lessons I am so busy these days.” She hesitated, “Do you still see my family?” she inquired, “Only at synagogue on the High Holy Days.” Recognizing her discomfort he spoke again before she could, “They looked well, your family.” She smiled before he continued, “.... and they would have good reason to be proud of their grandson, I like the cut of the boy, he has something about him, he is going to be a fine young man.” Bertha also smiled, “You see something of promise?” The Professor took off his glasses and polished them on his large linen handkerchief given to him by the mother of another grateful student. “If he continues how he has begun he will be a credit to you, his family and his country; and perhaps we could try a nibble a little of that cake with just the one cup of tea perhaps?”
Of course Arnie knew nothing of this conversation or the extra care and diligence of the Professor’s seemingly harsh and austere learning regime. All the growing boy recognized was the mental gymnastics that Herr Epstein put him through on his way to the school he worked in, for precisely thirty minutes, and for another ninety minutes on his way home. Epstein then evaluated Arnie’s daily work and set him extra studies for the evening, which he would then ask him questions about the following morning.
During one of these morning visits, when the Professor was pushing his student especially hard, the pupil turned to the teacher and demanded, “why do you push me this hard?” Epstein took his timepiece out of his waistcoat pocket and looked at it meaningfully, “The brain is like a sponge, the more you work it the better it will respond, perhaps a better metaphor is that its like a muscle, and it gets bigger and stronger the more you exercise it, and unfortunately your brain needs extra work to catch up with where it could be, or perhaps, where it should be. Does this answer your question?”
Arnie thought about this for a while and then smiled and it was like the sun coming over the horizon, “Professor, have you never heard the expression, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?” Epstein laughed, a rare occasion for so thoughtful and careful a man, but after a moment’s consideration he studied the young boy next to him in the study, “Everything in life is a balance Arnie, too much one way and it all falls over, and too far the other way, then you have the same result, everything in moderation except learning, of that you can never have too much. Life will provide you with many opportunities to indulge yourself, and no doubt, you will seize them. Now can we continue with your studies?”
The Professor’s regime emphasized literature, mathematics, philosophy, science, history and geography. The man’s priceless gift to Arnie was to open his eyes to all the aspects of the world around him. Through Epstein the boy mentally traveled to the high Andes, and the bottoms of the deepest oceans, he took his mind to the vast steppes of the Russian Empire and introduced the boy to Kings and peasants, presidents and prime ministers, farm laborers. Arnie was amazed by the words of Shakespeare and soon realized that his father’s totally negative opinion of all things English was obviously an error. No nation that could deliver such eloquence and erudition could be entirely evil.
Armed with this newly discovered knowledge Arnie tried to question his father about his undiluted hatred for the people that he simply called, “the enemy!” almost spitting on the ground as he did so. But now, despite his father’s apparent indifference, Arnie’s mind was alive with a million questions as his imagination took flight with the careful prodding of the Professor and Bertha, always ready with a prompt or a question. She was delighted to see this flowering of her son, she wasn’t sure what route this journey might take, but she was excited by how alive his eyes were now, every day sucking up information as if it was food for the mind.
The time rolled by with increasing swiftness and as it did so Bertha couldn’t help noticing that her son was maturing into a handsome young man of fifteen. The Professor had warned Bertha that they wouldn’t be able to meet all the intellectual and artistic challenges this highly intelligent and articulate boy would generate.
On his birthday Bertha had arranged for his friends Tomas and Otto to visit. The drinks and cakes had become almost obligatory, as had their uncomfortable little silences, the stilted conversation and forced smiles. Arnie realized that they weren’t bad friends; it was simply that they had grown apart as they had no shared points of reference except for Professor Epstein who also taught them at the Gymnasium. But Arnie had never set foot in the place so it was no surprise to him that he and his friends were unable to make conversation. Arnie tried, he spoke of the terrible inflation and unemployment affecting their country but they appeared to either not knowing or caring about this. They offered no opinion on any subject and I had no idea of what to do next. Now that we were eating our tea they couldn’t seem to tear their eyes away from the spectacle of my mother feeding me, but what could I do, a fellow has to eat! Between mouthfuls I tried another conversational tactic, and asked, “Tomas, how’s that sister of yours?” He smiled mischievously, “You fancy Marlene? “ he asked me, I felt the redness shoot up my face in boyish embarrassment, “I haven’t seen her in years, she must be all grown up now.” Tomas was now embarrassed as Otto made an exaggerated hourglass shape with his hands, and leered outrageously, forgetting my mother was in silent attendance, I tried to cough and direct him with my eyes in her direction, but he clearly hadn’t picked up on my signals as he continued, “She’s all grown up all right.” Tomas elbowed Otto in the side and pointed at my mother who was pretending not to hear anything as she concentrated on her embroidery.
“Oh, I am sorry Mrs. Hessel.” It was Otto’s turn to turn red as he realized his gaffe, mama looked up, as if she knew nothing at all, “Sorry for what Otto?” she said, pretending not to have heard him. I was so proud of my mother at that moment, for making it possible for me and my pals to share the moment, for making us all comfortable.
The morning passed in meaningless chatter which had the result of making me realize that although insulated from the world by my handicap I still knew more about it than both my liberated friends put together who simply didn’t understand the wonderful gift of their freedom.
Before venturing outside the boys both ceremoniously handed their presents to mama for her to unwrap for me. The two unveiled packages were soon revealed to be books. From Otto a novel that was instantly forgettable and Tomas had given me a wonderful thick and oversize book entitled “Renaissance Art of Italy”. He flicked the large colorful pages contain
ing beautiful prints for me. I found it difficult to restrain my enthusiasm for the wonderful book. It was the best present I had ever received.
Later we played some football on the lawn but I could see that my friends felt they were humoring me. Both boys were now in the school team and told Arnie vivid if implausible tales of their heroic exploits. Arnie couldn’t help but notice that Otto kept looking at his fob watch and indicating to Tomas that it was time to go. Arnie could sense their boredom but had no idea what to do about it. Tomas was more generous with his time and himself, but Otto was the natural leader of the two. Arnie took it upon himself to end their mutual misery; “I have a study period now, so you two had best push off.” Otto smiled and half pushed Tomas toward the door as soon as he heard this. “It’s been smashing to see you Arnie.” He said disingenuously, “Yes, goodbye,” said Tomas, “Perhaps next week I could come over with Marlene, she often asks after you?” I didn’t need a second to think about that offer, “that would be wonderful.” I responded with alacrity. After a brief look of incredulity flashed from Otto to our mutual friend, they left. I was alone in the garden, with no lesson planned, but with time to think about Marlene. Arnie’s imagination overflowed with the exotic images and possibilities of a girl all grown up as only the mind of a pubescent boy can.
The following week passed by in a flash but Arnie neither saw nor heard anything from Tomas. He reconciled himself to the probability that his friend was just being kind when he told him that his sister had any interest in him. Why should any girl have any interest in a person like him? The best thing he could do was keep his head down, not get in anyone’s way and scrape up some kind of living in the future. As ever no one except mother seemed to be aware of Arnie’s deep disappointment but even she couldn’t do anything about this, his first adult hurt.
Another few days passed without incident and Arnie was kicking his football against the wall of the house in the bracing air that foretells of snow soon to fall. He saw someone watching him from the trees in the middle distance. Now that he had an audience he began to perform his full repertoire of tricks and flicks. Out of the corner of his eye Arnie could see that the person watching him from the trees was a girl of about his own age. She made no move to come out from her semi-concealed position as he continued to hit the ball against the wall. Being a boy he didn’t realize that his ball control would be the very last thing that might impress any girl. Convinced she was spellbound by his virtuosity with the ball he now kicked the ball ever higher on the wall, turning with alternate bounces, moving further from the wall, readying himself theatrically to kick the ball over his shoulder with a flying airborne kick which he thought he could achieve whilst landing on his feet. Unfortunately Arnie’s ambition outweighed the realities of gravity and he landed with a bone-jarring thwack in an inglorious and humiliating heap on his ass. He heard the girl laugh before he opened his eyes. As he did so he saw her approach in a halo of sunlight, realizing that she was more of a young woman than a girl, but her laughter was delightfully girlish and unrestrained by the conventions of the mature.
“Would you like me to help you up?” she asked solicitously, but still giggling. “No” Arnie replied, “Marlene, you are Marlene aren’t you?” he continued, “How did you know?” she asked him, impressed by his powers of deduction. Arnie managed to stand up with as much grace as he could muster, “Just a lucky guess.” He responded, she moved slightly closer. It was at this moment Arnie was to remember, that he fell hopelessly, totally and forever in love with her. In his eyes everything about Marlene was perfect from the rich cascade of her blond hair to the tiny feet encased in her sensible lace up boots. Her dress, although properly modest served to emphasize the promising curves of her slim body rather than conceal them, but it was her face that truly captured his heart. Open, honest and happy, with a slightly pointed chin, wide set frank powder blue eyes, a button nose atop a cupid’s bow naturally red lipped mouth always slightly parted in her warm and engaging smile revealing even perfect teeth. Marlene was Arnie vision of an angel and he silently swore to himself that she would be his partner for life whatever else would happen.
He bowed slightly from his waist, “How do you do?” he asked, “My word, you sound like a gentleman from a previous century.” She said, laughing gaily, her voice surprisingly and pleasingly husky and mature. Marlene seemed totally unaware that Arnie was in awe of her. She reached down and placed his lifeless hand in her own two hands, she squeezed it before gently releasing her grip. “It’s good to meet you at last,” she said, “Would you care to sit down?” Arnie asked, “I only have a short time’” she answered, after just a moment’s hesitation, Arnie hooked his foot under the leg of a chair and pulled it towards her, “Please then, for a little time.”
Marlene and Arnie sat down. “How is your family, I expect Tomas to call?” Arnie said this, rather than the words he would like to have said if he dared, wanting desperately to tell the girl how he loved her and wanted to kiss her beautiful lips. Instead of which he nodded politely as she responded to his question, “Everyone is well, Tomas sends his regards but couldn’t come himself because he has to revise for his end of term examinations, if he fails them again this time father will tan his hide!”
Arnie smiled at the delightful girl, he found conversing with her progressively easier. “How are you doing at the school, you are at senior school yes?” he said this trying to discern her age. Marlene smiled, immediately realizing his ploy. “Yes, of course, I’m almost the same age as you Arnie, my birthday is in March. Actually I am nearly top of my class,” then revealing her youth, she continued, “there’s only Greta Wirtmuller ahead of me and she just memorizes everything like a parrot.” She finished the petulant little outburst with an alluring, entirely feminine pout. “I don’t see Tomas so much anymore.” Arnie said, Marlene quickly changed the subject, “how is your family, tell me about what you do all day?”
Arnie smiled again, he wasn’t used to the social niceties, “My mother still nags me and my father still ignores me with ever growing passion, he hates me almost as much as he detests anything not German, especially the English, the French and especially the bloody Yanks!”
It was Marlene’s turn to smile somewhat nervously, she hadn’t anticipated such as direct, no nonsense answer to her innocently asked question. “Oh I think you’re exaggerating, your own father couldn’t possibly hate his own son like that.” She reprimanded him.
“I know what you’re thinking’” he added hastily, “he doesn’t hate me just for being a cripple these days, I don’t even think that enters into his thinking. No, it’s my politics, that makes me the spawn of the devil, especially as I disagree with his disgusting views.” She tried to lighten his mood, “I don’t know anything about politics, and don’t care to do so, but this only provoked Arnie to become even more heated, “What!” he exploded in outrage, “You don’t care how your life is to be run and by whom?”
Marlene recoiled in her seat slightly, “I didn’t say that exactly, besides which I know who runs my life almost entirely, mother, father and the school.” Arnie, forgetting how much he wanted to be connected to this wondrous girl continued his attack, “It is everyone’s duty to be involved.” She paused, allowing him time to calm down, “OK,” she said, “Tell me what you believe in, and convince me.” Arnie was thrilled with this invitation, no one ever listened to him discuss politics, not even his mother.
“I’m an international socialist.” Arnie solemnly explained, “What’s that,” she asked, “Some kind of super Communist, or a follower of Trotsky?” now it was his turn to recoil, outraged at the suggestions she had put forward, “I am beginning to suspect you might know a bit more about politics than you said.” He volunteered. “I didn’t say I was a Communist, I believe in both a world without borders and ownership of the means of production and distribution by the proletariat.” Arnie began to feel that this conversation was slipping a bit out of hi
s control, “that sounds impossibly grand, international socialism,” she rolled the term across her tongue experimentally, “But what will it mean exactly, to you and me, in our lives, now and in the future?”
Arnie was becoming ever more defensive, his well rehearsed arguments being questioned and prodded by this girl who admitted no political knowledge. It wasn’t right. “Now you’re sounding rather like my father, I would appreciate your not patronizing me as if I was an idiot, my arms don’t work but my brain does thank you young madam!” he regretted his words almost the instant he said them, “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you, that was entirely inappropriate.” She flushed with quick anger of her own, “stop apologizing!” she ordered him, “What’s said is said.” She stood, ready to leave, but before she could take a step Arnie also stood and on impulse he planted a kiss full on her mouth. It cut off her protests, and, after a long moment she stepped away from Arnie. He could see from the high color on her flushed red cheeks that she was as confused and aroused as he was. He smiled tentatively, but couldn’t decipher the expression on her appealing face, he didn’t know if he would be kissed or smacked in return, this was new, grown up territory for both of them. “I believe what’s mine is yours and what’s yours is mine, but my mind, that’s mine.” Marlene laughed which somewhat eased the tension, she touched her lips with her tongue, “You shouldn’t have done that.” She said, “Your mouth is saying one thing, but you mean something else, I have read that women say one thing and mean another, and I never understood it until now,” he answered.