by Sharon Potts
That day, he was heading home from school when several boys from his class blocked his way.
“Hey, freak,” a pudgy, dark-haired kid named Robert said. “Is it true?”
Javier tried to get past him, but the four boys linked arms and formed a wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Javier’s voice cracked, which made it sound like he was going to cry.
“Is it true you’re a Nazi?”
Javier felt a shiver down his spine. The way Robert said the word, it sounded worse than “fuck.”
“Leave me alone.” Javier turned his head and looked around, hoping to run the other way. But three more boys had joined up from behind.
“My mom heard you and your father talking at the supermarket,” a kid with a mouth full of braces named Barry said. “She said you were speaking German.”
“So what?”
“So how do you know German if you’re supposed to be from Argentina?” Barry asked. “My mom said your dad’s probably hiding out. That he’s probably a Nazi like Adolf Eichmann.”
Nazi. It sounded so dirty.
“And what if he is?” Javier blurted out.
Javier saw their jaws drop—literally.
Just like Superman. You must never tell, his father had warned him.
And then Robert took a step closer. His face was pulsing red and his eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. “The Nazis are murderers. They took millions of innocent Jews and stuffed them into gas chambers to kill them.”
“They burned them in ovens,” a boy named Charlie said. “Millions of them. Women and children and babies.”
“They didn’t,” Javier whispered.
“They did, freak. Don’t you know anything?”
It’s a lie, he wanted to say. You have it all wrong. But he didn’t say anything. He turned, pushed past the boys, and ran. Ran and ran and ran.
That night, when his father asked him what was the matter, Javier made something up. But he couldn’t erase the boys’ words from his thoughts. The conviction in the way they’d spoken. Like they knew the truth and Javier’s whole life had been a lie.
So Javier started going to the library where he read book after book. History books, books taught in high schools and colleges. Official books, so they had to be true, right? His father was a monster, the books screamed at him. A monster and a liar.
And Javier began staying away from home, missing dinner, ashamed of the man who had once stood so tall and strong in his uniform at the edge of the dark river.
He told Robert and Barry and Charlie and the rest of them that he’d been joking that day. The truth was he hated the Nazis, too. Not just the Nazis, but all Germans. They were all responsible for the terrible things that had happened. That the language he and his father had been speaking was Dutch, which sounds a lot like German. Dutch, like Anne Frank.
Truth and lies. Love and hate. It was the work of the devil, tricking and obfuscating, turning him against his father. And when, years later, Javier finally saw through to the truth, it was too late. He could never tell his father how sorry he was. Never get down on his knees, kiss his father’s hand, and receive his father’s forgiveness. Javier was destined to live in hell until he could at least do this one thing.
He looked again at the man in the photo. “I’m sorry, Vati. I promise I’ll find her and the painting. I’ll make sure the world knows the truth.”
Javier put the photo of his father back down on his desk. Then he went to the closet and took out Vati’s small trunk.
He unlocked it and carefully removed the treasures, placing them on his desk.
There was a folder of photos—mainly publicity shots. And of course, the letter. Then there were the films, the lace doilies, the heart-shaped locket, and her hat. Vati had told Javier how he’d taken these things from her apartment, just after she ran away so many years before.
Javier lifted the hat out of the trunk and removed it from the airtight plastic cover and tissue paper. He held the inner headband up to his nose and inhaled deeply.
He remembered his father standing in the shadows, Beethoven pounding in the background, her delicate hat in his large hands.
“I loved her,” his father had said, running his fingers over the felt brim, as though he was caressing her cheek. “When I find her, I will kill her.”
19
Kali walked through the scent of incense and vanilla in the front of the store, past the shelves of candles and tinkling wind chimes, to the back room that she used for a studio. Camilla, who owned the New Age Shop in downtown Dania, had originally held belly dancing and yoga classes in here, but couldn’t make enough money to justify the cost of the space so she rented it out to Kali.
Light from four skylights bounced off the waxed blond wood floors and mirrored wall, brightening the room, and making the space an ideal studio. The incense and vanilla blended with oil paint and turpentine, and Kali felt comforted by the smell, especially after spending the last few hours inhaling hospital odors at the bedside of her semiconscious grandmother. One of the nurses, a plump motherly woman, suggested Kali take a break. That she’d call if there was a change in Lillian’s condition.
Kali dropped her satchel on the desk in the corner of the room, next to her computer. She used the computer for research and maintaining business records, and the long table beside it for her “paying job.” She’d already begun work on a couple of ideas for a new children’s book, and several watercolor sketches were laid out on the table beneath the extra overhead lights she’d had installed.
But Kali’s real passion was at the other end of the room. She slipped on a paint-stained smock as she went to the easel that held the new painting that was gradually taking form on the large canvas.
The fairy had four arms fanning out from the center of her chest. Egyptian-style arms, their rigid right angles creating an interesting contrast to the fairy’s flowing dress and hair. Long blonde curls. Blue eyes.
Kali took a step back.
Blonde curls. Blue eyes.
She remembered the cigarette card picture of the blonde-haired, blue-eyed woman she’d found in the storage room last night.
She returned to her desk and dug it out of her satchel. Leli Lenz.
Maybe Seth didn’t want to deal with the skeletons in Lillian’s closet, but Kali felt a compulsive urge to find out what she could. Even if, as Kali feared, she wouldn’t like what she discovered.
She booted up her computer and it groaned to life. She Googled Leli Lenz.
Several results popped up. Wikipedia, some “come-on” websites, and Facebook in German. In fact, many of the links were in German to German sites.
She clicked on the Wikipedia article. A brief biography and selected filmography listing three films made between 1935 and 1938 with German titles. The photo in the right-hand corner was the same one that was on the cigarette card.
Kali read the biography. It was very limited. Leli Lenz had a brief stage career in Berlin, then played fairly substantial supporting roles in three films. It sounded like she was on her way to becoming a major star, but then her story ended with no explanation.
There was nothing of a personal nature except—Kali’s heart fluttered. It had to be a coincidence. She pushed her chair back from the computer. Or was it a coincidence?
She needed an objective person to show this to before she read too much into it. Ordinarily that would be Seth, but as of this morning, the subject of her grandmother’s past had become taboo.
She looked at her cell phone. She and Neil had exchanged numbers last night, so there would be no more awkward encounters like they’d had in the storage room.
Her heart was pounding as she searched for his name and pressed Send. She thought about Seth. He told her he believed there was nothing going on between her and Neil. And there wasn’t.
“Hey,” Neil said in her ear.
She hesitated.
“Kali?”
“Yeah.
” She took a deep breath. “I was just researching Leli Lenz. I found something. Maybe I’m crazy, but—”
“Where are you?”
“In Dania. At my studio.”
“I can come by. I’m not doing anything special.”
She heard the door to the store open and voices. Camilla was in with a customer. So they wouldn’t be alone. There was no reason for Seth to be upset. “That would be great,” she said, and gave Neil the address.
Thirty minutes later, he stepped through the curtain that separated Kali’s studio from the store. He had on jeans and a button-down shirt. It was probably what he wore when doing his professor thing at UCLA.
He looked around at the helter-skelter arrangement of painted canvases on the floor and those that were resting against the mirrored wall. “Well, this is better,” he said.
“Better?”
“The studio. It looks like you. Organized disorder.” He went over to the easel in the corner of the room. “So this is your new painting.” He picked up an unopened tube of paint from the adjacent table and rolled it between his bandaged hands as he studied the painting.
He didn’t speak for a long time. Kali realized she was chewing on a fingernail. She pulled her hand away from her mouth.
“It’s very good,” he said finally.
She felt herself relax.
“But it’s also disturbing,” he said.
“Disturbing?” she asked, although she’d sensed it herself.
“The fairy seems so gentle, but something about her hands—the sharpness in the way she’s holding them. Well, it feels ominous.” He tapped the tube of paint against the several-day-old beard on his face. “Is that the effect you’re going for?”
“This may sound silly, but it’s more the effect the painting’s going for.”
He raised an eyebrow above his glasses.
“Often when I’m painting, it seems like my hands are carrying out someone else’s vision and I’m just the instrument.”
“You mean like when we were kids and the plastic thingie appeared to move across the Ouija board on its own?”
“But with a Ouija board, isn’t it our subconscious that moves the marker?”
He put the tube of paint back on the table. “Don’t you think that’s what’s happening here? That your subconscious is expressing itself?”
She wanted to explain that it felt like it was coming from outside her, but that would sound ridiculous, even to Neil. “That must be it,” she said instead. She left him standing by the painting and went back to her desk.
“I hope I didn’t sound like I was criticizing it,” Neil said, following her. “I really think it’s an amazing painting.”
“Thank you. And I do appreciate your reaction. Really.”
“I’m flattered you trust me enough to invite me here and let me see your work.” He glanced at the computer screen and the Leli Lenz card on the desk. “So you wanted to show me what you found on our mystery lady.”
“It’s probably just a coincidence. In fact, the more I think about it, I’m sure that’s all it is. I believe Leli was an actress my grandmother admired. And it would be natural that Lillian would admire someone similar to herself, right?”
Neil pulled over a folding chair and sat down near Kali. His knee touched hers, and she felt a jolt of electricity. She rolled her chair a few inches away.
“What do you mean by similar?” he asked.
“I know my grandmother’s from somewhere in Austria, and Wikipedia says that Leli Lenz was born in Vienna.”
He shrugged. “Not such an earth-shattering coincidence.”
“I know. But I was a little freaked out when I saw that Leli was born in 1916.”
Neil cocked his head. “And?”
“So was Lillian.”
Neil studied the picture on the cigarette card. “And you’re thinking your grandmother’s Leli Lenz?”
“That was my first reaction. But why would she hide something like that?”
“I don’t know.”
“So it’s probably just a coincidence. Maybe Leli was a friend of Lillian’s when they were kids and she kept the card as a memento.”
“Maybe.” He looked at the Wikipedia article. “She was in three films.”
“Yeah. And I found a website that actually sells the movies.” She clicked on germanfilmsinc.net. WELCOME TO YOUR GERMAN FILM STORE IN THE U.S. In smaller letters, it said, German Films Inc. is based in Ohio. Shipping will take only a few days to anyplace in the United States.
“I was thinking about ordering the films Leli was in,” Kali said. “I can’t really tell from this picture if there’s a resemblance to Lillian or not. Maybe I’d have a better idea from the actual films. And if it isn’t Lillian, then Leli Lenz is probably a dead-end lead.”
“That makes sense,” Neil said.
She clicked on the “Add to cart” box near one of the Leli films in DVD Format. Then she ordered the next film, then the next. She couldn’t explain the anxiety she felt as “Check out now” appeared on her screen. Like competing forces were trying to get her to order and not order the films.
She started typing her name and home address, but stopped in the middle, remembering Seth’s hostile reaction to her looking into Lillian’s past.
“What’s wrong?” Neil asked.
“I’m not sure it’s a good idea to have them sent to my house.”
“Why not?”
“Seth’s gotten a little weird about my grandmother. I think he’s afraid of what I might find out about her.”
“So he’d rather you don’t even ask?”
“Something like that.”
“And you? You’re not afraid?”
“Maybe a little. But I have to do this. I need to know who she is. Who I am.” She touched her abdomen. Who my child will be, she didn’t add.
“Use my mom’s address. Have them ship the videos there.”
“Thank you.” She typed in Neil’s name and address of the house next door to her grandmother’s. She stopped at the credit card info.
“What? Seth checks the credit card statements?”
She nodded.
He reached into his wallet and handed her his card. “Use this. You can give me the cash.”
“Thanks.” Kali took the card.
“Where are you planning to watch them?”
“Home, but maybe not. Could be awkward if Seth finds them.”
“Change them to videocassettes and you can watch them at my mom’s house. She never got a DVD player.”
Kali nodded. Her grandmother also had a videocassette player, so Kali didn’t have to make any decisions now.
She changed the order and entered the credit card info. Then she printed out the receipt, folded it, and put it in her satchel with the cigarette card, irrationally feeling that some force, stronger than a Ouija board, was driving the whole process.
20
Beeping, beeping, incessant beeping. Lillian wanted to plug her ears but she couldn’t find her hands. Then a lovely, floral fragrance filled her lungs. Ahhh. Better. Much better.
Leli held the bouquet of flowers up to her face and inhaled deeply. They reminded her of the wildflowers she used to pick when she and her family would hike up the mountains near Baden bei Wien for a summer picnic. How she missed her parents and brother. She hadn’t seen her mother and father since she’d left Vienna to become an actress three years before, in the summer of ’35. Her brother had helped her get fake papers with her stage name, then had accompanied her to Berlin. The two of them had shared a small apartment on Lietzenburgerstrasse until he left unexpectedly one day. Leli had been sad and worried to find him gone, though not surprised. Joseph had warned her that his activities might require him to disappear. And although she had begged him not to do anything dangerous, her big brother had tickled her chin and told her he could take care of himself.
Leli took another deep breath of the fresh perfume, then cradled the bouquet in the crook of her arm
.
Dr. Altwulf’s lackey, Graeber, was watching her with an expression that always sent warning sparks down her spine. Her first impulse was to move the flowers in front of her white satin gown, blocking Graeber’s view of her breasts, but instead she held her shoulders back and raised her chin. She could tell he was mesmerized as the lights from the marquee flashed on the sparkling tiara that sat in the nest of blonde curls atop her head.
“You were wonderful,” Graeber said. He was young, maybe even younger than she, with thick, straight blond hair, a square jaw, and broad shoulders. He had a nice nose, broad forehead and pale green eyes, but she would never have called him handsome. There was an oblong discoloration in his right iris, like a drip of blood, and his face was often twisted in an ugly grimace that made it seem as though his features had melted.
He smiled at her and the side of his mouth drooped. “A perfect role for you.”
“Thank you.” She glanced around at the crowd of men and women in evening clothes who were exiting the theater and heading toward their waiting cars and limousines.
Leli had made her apologies to the film’s director for being unable to attend the after party, and although he seemed unhappy about it, he had simply nodded. Of course, she was still only a supporting actress, so it wasn’t absolutely necessary that she go to the party, but once she became a leading lady, Leli wasn’t sure what she’d do.
“It pains him that he can’t accompany you to the openings himself,” Graeber said, “but he doesn’t want to do anything that might compromise you or your success.”
“Yes, I know. He’s told me.” Leli lifted the skirt of her gown off the pavement and began walking toward the street where Graeber had left the car. Her white ermine stole slipped off her shoulder revealing the dress’s low-cut back.
People smiled at her, nodding in recognition. She smiled back.
“Wonderful performance, Miss Lenz,” a gentleman in top hat and tails said, bowing.