by Wendy Lawton
The music seemed to carry her. Her dance welled up from deep inside her. She worried for a moment that Frau Mueller-Lee would be angry about the improvised steps, but the dance overtook Anita as her body moved to the music.
When the dance ended, she seemed to wake. The audience stood to their feet and clapped. She could only make out shapes, but the applause went on for the longest time. She put her hand to her lips and blew a pretend kiss toward where she imagined Mutti sitting. Anita couldn’t wait to see her mother backstage.
“Brava!” Mutti hugged her daughter tight, crepe paper and all. “You danced your very best ever.” She handed the excited dancer a rose. “If only money would allow an armful of roses, but there’s time enough for that. This is from Tante Käte’s garden.”
“Danke, Mutti.” Anita put her face into the petals and breathed the rose scent.
Hella laughed. “Hothouse roses don’t have any smell, so our ballerina got the best rose after all.”
Anita hugged Hella. She wished she could hug the whole of Breslau tonight.
Later, as they walked to the streetcar, Anita listened to the rustle of her crepe tutu under her coat. The stars were brighter and the air clearer than she could ever remember. “I just love Germany,” she said, spreading her arms wide. “Aren’t we the luckiest people in the world?”
Neither Mutti nor Hella answered.
The next morning, Mutti gave Hella a coin she had saved to buy a newspaper. The music and art editor had been at Century Hall last night.
Hella hardly got in the door before Anita took Teddy by the arms and began jumping up and down. “Read it, Mutti. Read it!”
Mutti opened the paper and ran her finger across the article until she came to a familiar name. She began to read, “The dance was beautifully performed by six-year-old Anita Dittman. Her skill and grace at ballet far exceed her years. Nevertheless, we Germans no longer wished to be entertained by a Jew.” Mutti blinked as if suddenly struck across the face.
The very air seemed to go out of Anita and she looked smaller than ever. Before Mutti or Hella could reach out to her, Anita took Teddy and wedged herself into the shadows between the bookcase and the wall. Anita may have only been six, but she knew last night was her last performance.
Mutti and Hella came and sat near her on the floor.
“No one can take last night away from you, Mein Liebling.” Mutti ran the back of her fingers down Anita’s cheek. “No one who attended will ever forget you. Hitler may have decreed that Jews cannot dance on German stages, but he cannot stop your dancing spirit.”
Never Leave, Never Forsake
Anita played outdoors as often as she could. The three rooms of their apartment made for close quarters. When Vati had stopped sending money, they learned to get along on public assistance and whatever Mutti could earn.
When Hella asked why they no longer got letters from Vati, Mutti pressed her lips together. It wasn’t until they took the streetcar to the house of Oma—Vati’s mother—that the girls learned about Vati. Oma had asked Mutti to let the girls visit, but Mutti hated to send them all the way to south Breslau. When Oma finally sent the carfare, Mutti reluctantly agreed to let them go.
Oma looked older than they remembered, but she still stood ramrod straight and spoke her mind. “Your father will not send another penny to your mother after what she did.” Oma looked over the top of her glasses at Hella and Anita as if they were the ones responsible for whatever Mutti supposedly did.
The girls sat quietly, never knowing when they should speak in their grandma’s presence or when she expected them to keep still.
“You do know where your Vati is, don’t you?” Oma poured hot chocolate from the delicate Bavarian pot into two matching china chocolate cups.
“No.” Hella opened her napkin onto her lap. “We haven’t heard from him.”
“I don’t doubt that. He’s in prison.”
“Prison?” Hella jumped up, letting the napkin slide to the floor. She grabbed her grandmother’s arm. “Why, Oma? Why is Vati in prison? Is he all right? When will he be out?”
“You should ask your mother.”
Anita saw the anger on her grandma’s face. It reminded her of Vati, when he had made up his mind about something. “Mutti doesn’t know anything about Vati. She hasn’t heard from him.”
“Your mother turned Fritz in to the authorities. She knows exactly where he is. One of the prison guards told your father it was your mother who gave evidence against him. That’s what convinced your father to complete the divorce.” Oma crossed her arms over her chest.
“No, Oma,” Hella said. “Mutti would never do that. She even told us not to mention Vati for his own safety.” Hella sat back down and managed to retrieve the napkin and put it back over her knees without ever taking her eyes off Oma.
Oma seemed to consider that possibility. “Perhaps it’s a ploy of the Nazis to get your father to put aside his Jewish wife … but, no matter. What’s done is done. Drink your chocolate. It’s so very hard to get these days.”
Anita looked at her chocolate. There was nothing she loved better, and she hadn’t had it for such a long time, but … “Is Vati all right?”
“Ja. You know your father. That one will always land on his feet. He turned his newspaper over to the Nazis and they will need him to train the new people. I think once he’s severed all ties to your mother, he ’ll be released.”
Hella took a sip of chocolate, but she never said a word.
“When your father gets out, you can come to visit him here at my house once in a while.” Oma poured herself a cup of chocolate and settled in to tell the girls about her cat, her aches, and her neighbors.
Anita listened without speaking. She knew Mutti hadn’t turned Vati in, but she knew it wouldn’t matter. The three of them would make it without his help, somehow.
One of the first things Mutti had done to help ease the burden was rent out one room to a German seamstress and the other to a working girl. That meant they had only one room for cooking, eating, and sleeping. That’s why Anita played outdoors at every opportunity.
Even though she no longer danced or took calisthenics, her body remained lithe and athletic. She jumped rope longer, ran farther, and walked faster than most of her friends. When the sun shone, Anita played.
One afternoon she sat on the low fieldstone wall near their apartment, waiting for two of her school friends. Waiting always made her antsy, so she jumped up and began walking along the wall, pretending to be a tightrope walker like the Russian performer she once saw in a book.
“Get down, Judenfratz.” A group of six girls came toward her.
Anita remembered what Mutti had told her. With her head down and eyes averted, she continued walking the wall.
“I said, get down!” The largest girl grabbed one of her braids and yanked hard, pulling her off the wall. The rough stone scraped the side of her leg as she fell.
These girls could not be ignored. When Anita looked up, she saw six girls, including her two friends. Both of them looked away.
“Stop sniveling, Judenfratz,” the same girl shouted as she grabbed Anita. One of the Dittmans’ neighbors turned the corner carrying a bag of groceries. When she saw Anita and her tormentors, the neighbor looked down at the street and crossed over to the other side.
The more Anita wriggled to get out of the girl’s grasp, the more the bigger girl pummeled her. The others landed a few punches as well.
“There. That’ll teach you to think you can play with Aryans. You need to keep to your own kind.” The girl spat on the ground. “And don’t think you can tell anyone. We are members of the Hitler Youth. If you tell, we’ll have your mother arrested. We can do it, you know.”
Anita didn’t answer. She knew they could do it.
“Get up and clean yourself off. You look a mess.” The girl laughed and all the others laughed with her. As they walked away, they continued to mock Anita and laugh.
She felt like staying right
there, but she knew that she must not draw attention to herself. Teddy … I’ll play with Teddy. She stood up, brushed herself off, and went inside.
Not everyone practiced those kinds of cruelties. True, there were Nazi families all around the Dittman apartment, including the apartment right above, but there were others like Frau Schmidt and the Menzels.
Frau Schmidt wore a smile that seemed to crinkle her whole face. The best thing about her was that she always seemed to cook too much food. Many a night, she’d knock on the door after dark with a pot of noodles cradled between two potholders or a half-loaf of bread.
Mutti said that knowing German women like Frau Schmidt reminded her that all was not lost. “Remember Frau Schmidt, girls, when you are tempted to think all Germans agree with Hitler. They may not be able to disagree openly, but their small acts of kindness take as much bravery as outright rebellion.”
The Menzels lived in their apartment building as well. All three of their children still played with Anita and Hella. They were Germans and Catholics, yet, despite the danger, they welcomed the Jewish Dittmans into their home and into their lives.
One Easter, Frau Menzel invited Anita to accompany the family to Mass. Anita already knew about Jesus and about Christians. Despite Hitler’s campaign against religion, for some reason he’d not yet stopped religious instruction in school. Anita went to religion class every week and learned about God and Jesus, the Lutheran Church, and its beliefs.
Mutti didn’t mind. She’d long since left the Jewish faith behind. When she and Vati were students, it became fashionable to either become an atheist like Vati—believing there was no God; or a theosophist like Mutti—believing there was a little bit of truth in all gods.
So Mutti didn’t mind Anita joining the Menzels on Easter Sunday. “Tell me all about it when you come home, Anita,” she said as she smoothed Anita’s hair and tucked a strand back into her braid.
Gunther Menzel led the way as they walked to church. Anita’s excitement made it hard for her to stay back with his two sisters, Ruth and Krista.
“Run up ahead, Anita,” Herr Menzel said. “You and Gunther can join the procession first.” Everyone knew that Anita’s and Gunther’s ages made them the closest playmates. Besides, as he often told Anita, she could run and jump and climb as good as any boy he knew.
“What’s a procession?” It sounded like fun to Anita.
“You will love it,” Gunther said. “The priest leads us into the church. He wears beautiful white vestments for Easter. After the Mass, he tells us about the passion.”
“The passion?”
Frau Menzel said, “It’s the story of Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection. When you go into the church, look at the stained glass windows. Each one tells part of the story of Jesus’ life. You will see.”
“I love stories,” Anita said as she skipped alongside Gunther.
Gunther hadn’t told her about the music. As they joined the march into the church, the sound of the organ swelled and the notes seemed to vibrate in Anita’s chest. Many people held candles. Incense mixed with candle wax scented the whole church. It felt like another world to Anita.
Before they took their seats, the Menzels kneeled. Anita couldn’t help but compare the quiet act of kneeling, head bowed, to the defiant “Heil Hitler” that filled every courtyard.
As the Mass began, many of the words confused Anita.
“It’s Latin,” whispered Gunther.
When the priest began telling about Jesus’ life, Anita understood. Like Frau Menzel suggested, Anita followed the story in the stained glass windows as the priest talked. With the sun shining through the vividly colored glass, the images in the window seemed alive. Some of the glass pieces were cut like prisms and sent rainbows across the pews. The church building and Anita’s friends seemed to fade as she heard the words and saw the outstretched hands of the Messiah. Just as the notes of the organ penetrated her very chest, the Jesus of the stained glass windows seemed to come right into her heart.
When the priest read a verse that said that the Heavenly Father would never leave nor forsake, Anita somehow knew that He was her Father. For the first time, she felt protected and understood. She looked at Jesus’ hands in the window of the Resurrection. I know those hands better than I know Vati’s hands. Jesus will protect me. She knew it.
On the way home, the skip disappeared from Anita’s step. Not that she wasn’t happy; it was just that she was so full, all she could manage was to deeply breathe in the air. She felt such peace.
“Anita, did you enjoy the Mass?” Mutti arranged three boiled eggs on the table. Both women who rented rooms had gone to their families for Easter.
“Oh, Mutti …” Anita paused, trying to find words. “As I listened to the sermon and stared at the beautiful windows, the Jesus of the story came right out of the window and into my heart.”
“Mutti, don’t let her talk such silly things,” Hella said. “Her imagination seems to grow as fast as she grows.”
“It happened.” Anita knew it didn’t actually happen. The window was made of glass and lead. She knew the Jesus depicted on the window did not come into her heart, but she also knew it happened in some other way. “I can’t explain it.”
“Religion is often filled with mystery,” Mutti said.
“But it’s not about religion. I don’t know how to say it.” Anita searched her mind for words. “I don’t have the words, but I know something happened.”
“You have such a gift for imagination, Anita. I’m sure you do believe something happened.” Mutti handed each of the girls a little gift. “Ours is probably the only Jewish home celebrating Easter, but Frau Schmidt sent these little lithograph chicks for you.”
The chicks were embossed on a piece of cardboard in bright shiny color. Anita turned the piece over to see the reverse embossing on the dull side of the card. What a day this had been.
Later that night, as she lay in bed next to Hella, she leaned over the side where Teddy lay. “Look Teddy, did you see this Easter chick? I had a wonderful Easter.” She reached down and rubbed Teddy’s mended paw pad. “Not just because of the gift—I met Jesus today. Mutti and Hella don’t believe it, but I know it’s true.” She left the chick card in Teddy’s lap and lay back on the bed. Yes, I now have a Father who will never leave me nor forsake me.
Peace, Admit Chaos
Mutti,” Hella came into the room, excitement in her voice. “I found out today that if Anita can pass the entrance exams she can attend Bethany tuition free!”
“No,” said Mutti, “surely that can’t be true.” She shook her head. “Your father agreed to pay for your tuition, but I did not dare to ask him for Anita’s.”
Anita could hardly breathe. She hated school. Mutti had managed to scrape together enough money to pay the fee so Anita could attend public school, but because she was the only non-Aryan in her class, teachers took pleasure in ridiculing her before the entire class. As each year passed, school had become more and more unbearable. When Gunther still attended, he’d meet her in the yard on many days and tease her out of her despair. Now, at age ten, she’d finally finished primary school.
“I’ve been so worried about where to send Anita for middle school. Do you think it’s true, Hella?”
“Ja, Mutti. They gave me this note to bring home. It tells when Anita may take the exams.”
Exams. Anita’s mouth went dry and her stomach tightened.
“One of my friends has a sister Anita’s age. I’ll borrow her books over the weekend and Anita can study.” Hella turned to her sister, “You can do it. I know you can.”
Her words gave Anita hope. If only she could do it. The thought of attending a school that welcomed Jews and refused to enforce the Nazi regimen seemed too good to be true.
In the years since Hitler came to power, each day brought fresh troubles to the Jews as well as to anyone who hesitated to follow the Nazi dictates. Anita remembered the day news of President von Hindenburg’s death had com
e over the wireless. Mutti used to talk about the aged president as the only shield between Hitler and the Jews. When the president died in 1934, all possible opposition to Hitler died with him. As Mutti heard the news, she leaned over the table, laid her head on her arms, and wept. Hella sat next to Mutti, rubbing her back and murmuring the same kind of words Mutti had used to comfort them when they were little.
Now Anita went into her corner with Teddy and prayed a phrase she had heard at Mass. “Cover us with the shadow of Your hand, Father.” She loved the thought of curling into her corner, covered with the hand of God.
Each new crisis seemed to be followed by a period of relative calm. Anita often wondered how life could go on despite all the upheaval, but it did. Some days they almost forgot the doom that hung over the land. When Anita heard she passed the exams and had full scholarship to Bethany Lutheran School, she had to keep herself from dancing down the street.
“Get all your homework done today.” Mutti tidied the room while Anita and Hella lay across the bed studying. “We’re going to take the streetcar into Breslau and go to church tomorrow.”
“Church?” Both girls said the same word at the same time. Hella’s question held an overtone of disbelief.
“Yes, church.” Mutti began dusting the wooden wardrobe. “We’ll attend St. Barbara’s. I’ve heard through some Jewish friends that the pastor—I believe his name is Pastor Hornig—has a heart for Jewish people and works with an organization that secures visas and passports for Jews.”
Disappointment swept over Anita for a moment. At first she thought Mutti had decided to go to church to find God, not just to find help escaping. What does it matter? I’ll get to go to church whatever the reason! Anita looked forward to tomorrow.
“Are we going to try to leave Germany?” Hella sounded frightened.
“Ja. If we can, we will.” Mutti shook her head. “I know we have no money, but I understand this organization helps pay for the relocation as well.”