The Girl from Berlin, #1

by Ellie Midwood

  “It’s great!”

  “And free!”

  Ursula laughed and finished her éclair.

  “I’m going to miss our little lunches when you go back to work, Annalise. Are you sure you want to? Because you know, you don’t have to.”

  “I know. I’m going to miss them too. But you and Max are always more than welcome to join us for dinner. And besides, I’m not ready to retire yet. I really enjoy dancing. Oh, by the way, did I tell you, I want to turn my attic into a little ball-room. I’ve always had one at home, but now I have no place to practice and the attic will be just perfect.”

  “What do you have there now?”

  “Nothing, just a bunch of boxes filled with the previous owners’ things. I don’t know why they didn’t take it with them or if someone just lived in the house alone and died, and the Party took over the house and didn’t bother to get rid of it… I don’t know.”

  “Heinrich doesn’t know either?”

  “No. He says they just offered him this house and he took it, no questions asked.”

  “Again, just like I said: great and free!” The last words we finished in unison and laughed. It really was great to be married to an officer.

  Later that day, in order to kill some time while waiting for Heinrich to come back from work, I decided to start cleaning up the attic. I felt such enthusiasm when I first entered it, but now, after opening the first box and going through some other people’s things, I felt a little uncomfortable, as if I was in some way violating their privacy. But still, when I found a photo album in the first box, I couldn’t help but open it.

  It seemed like a family of five lived here before: besides the big family portraits with all the members, the most recurring were the ones with parents, very well dressed and always smiling, and their three children, two teenage girls and a very young boy, not older than five years old. Some pictures were taken inside the house and, judging by the furniture that was still in the same place, not too long ago. So my theory about a lonely person dying and leaving no heirs to the property proved itself wrong. But where did the family go and why?

  Besides the album the first box was full of toys that still looked like they had never been used, watercolors and some children’s books. I was getting a little confused: if the family decided to move away to some other city, I could understand why they didn’t want to take furniture with them, but what about the toys? I was pretty sure they wouldn’t take up a lot of space, and the boy could definitely use them for another couple of years. Strange. I decided to donate the first box to the orphanage.

  The second box contained a record player and a whole bunch of records (which I decided to keep); another one was packed with silverware (lucky me, real silver that just needed some cleaning) and neatly packed fine china, which probably cost a lot of money (again, why didn’t they take it with them if they packed it? Forgot?). The little suitcase next to it was full of candle holders and small trays, again, all silver and in excellent condition. As I was examining items one after another, I finally got to the very bottom of the suitcase and there it was. A Menorah. A big, beautifully made Menorah with a Star of David in the middle, right under the tallest candle holder. My hand froze midway: I didn’t dare touch it.

  All the pieces of the puzzle finally came together. The family didn’t move away; they were forced out under a new law that the Jews weren’t allowed to own any property in Germany. All the Jewish property was now owned by the Party. And the Party was “generous” enough to award one of its loyal members – my new husband – with this house.

  I sat on the dusty floor. I felt sick. We lived in a house that was taken away from its owners. We were sleeping in their bed and eating at their table. I was reading books in their library. Their books, the ones that they bought, and Heinrich was working in the study that belonged to the father of the family, whoever he was. I couldn’t believe it. We were nothing more or less than plain thieves, even though we didn’t know it. Or did one of us know?

  No, Heinrich wouldn’t do something like that, he would have told me if he knew. He even said that he didn’t know anything about the owners when I asked him. Besides, he would have known that being Jewish myself, I would have never moved into a house that belonged to Jews, who had been kicked out of it. I wonder what happened to them, though. Where did they go? Where everyone else goes? Poland? Or if they had enough money, the United States? Or Britain?

  I got so curious about their fate that I started quickly looking through the other boxes, searching for any possible clues. There was nothing, except for the pieces of their former life. Some documents, already useless papers, clothes, winter clothes, women’s hats (probably the mother’s), girls’ clothes, magazines… and a little red notebook, neatly filled with exquisite handwriting.

  * * *

  “May 18, 1938

  * * *

  Dear Diary,

  * * *

  Today at school our new headmaster told us that every morning we will have to sing the national anthem and pledge allegiance to the Führer. Also, for the first time in my life I was called a mischling and told to sit with the other mischlinge. It was really humiliating. I asked Mama later that day why are they calling me a mischling all of a sudden? And she explained that it was because she was Jewish and Papa was German, so my siblings and I are considered ‘half-breeds’ now. ‘Half-breeds?’ I thought only dogs could be half-breeds. How can a human be a half-breed? But it’s still better than being a full Jew, Mama said. She lost her job in the conservatory because she was one.”

  * * *

  It was a diary! The diary that belonged to one of the sisters! I moved closer to a little window, sat on the floor and started reading it, following the teenage girl’s life day by day.

  * * *

  “May 27, 1938

  * * *

  Nothing’s changed in me, same clothes, same hair, but all of a sudden my best friend Lisl’s mother told her to stop coming over. We used to do everything together: homework, piano lessons, going to the movies together, walking in the park… We always shared everything: lunch, clothes, and secrets. Now I can only put my secrets in this diary.”

  * * *

  “June 5, 1938

  * * *

  My poor Tim! He told me yesterday that his friends are making fun of him and calling him a Jew-lover. And all just because he hasn’t abandoned me like everybody else and still carries my bag home every day after school. I don’t know if I shall tell him that we shouldn’t be friends anymore, so as not to cause him any more trouble. But I really, really, really like him. I even let him kiss me on the cheek yesterday for the first time. I wish I could tell Lisl about it. She would have gotten all excited and would have asked me to tell the story again and again, so silly. But she’s not allowed to talk to me anymore. I miss her so very much!

  P. S. I hate Hitler!!!”

  * * *

  Some pages contained short entries of just several sentences, some were very long, hastily written, and had some crossed out words and sentences. Those longer pages were the most emotional ones. The more I was reading, the harder it was getting to comprehend what that little girl had been going through, how from a life-loving, cheerful, and ordinary teenager she was slowly getting stripped down from her real identity and forced to wear a new label now, which was affecting every single part of her previous life. During one of the anti-Semitic rallies she actually witnessed both her parents being forced to stand in the middle of a plaza with placards around their necks, her father’s accusing him of Rassenschande – racial defilement – and her mother’s saying, “I’m a Jewish whore and I can get anyone in my bed.” It was sickening to read. I would have died if I saw my parents being humiliated like that. The girl was happy that at least they weren’t sent to jail.

  It was getting dark, so I turned an old lamp on and continued reading.

  * * *

  “July 14, 1938

  * * *

  The Gestapo finally let Mama go.
We were all so happy that we just cried and cried, even Papa. He was telling her that he was afraid we would never see her again. The Gestapo never let anybody go, he said. The only way out of the Gestapo is to the camps. We are very, very lucky. But now Papa has to pay a huge fine because Mama broke the law by not wearing a yellow Star of David on her clothes. She was trying to explain to the Gestapo people that she didn’t know that she had to, because she was married to a German, but they still beat her up just ‘to teach her a lesson.’ How could they beat her up? For what? Just because she’s Jewish? Since when is that a crime? Stealing is a crime. Killing is a crime. You choose if you want to commit those crimes or not, and if you decide to do it, you’ll have to face the consequences and be punished. That’s how it works. But how can you control your origin? And why, if the Gestapo people who steal Jewish property and kill Jewish people, are not considered criminals, are Jewish people?”

  * * *

  “Annalise, what are you doing here?”

  I was so consumed by that diary that I completely lost track of time and didn’t even notice Heinrich standing at the door. I turned the diary in my hand and showed it to him.

  “Did you know that our house belongs to a Jewish family?”

  “Our house belongs to the Party. Jews are not allowed to own any property.”

  “All right, used to belong to a Jewish family. Did you know about that?”

  “Why do you think it used to belong to a Jewish family?”

  “Because I found this.” I got up and handed Heinrich the diary. “And this.”

  I pointed at the Menorah. Heinrich quickly looked through the diary and threw it into the box next to the Menorah.

  “I’ll send people to get rid of all this stuff tomorrow. Don’t worry about it. Let’s go eat, I’m starving. Magda made some great smelling duck and it’s getting cold.”

  With those words he turned around and started descending the stairs. I froze in amazement at Heinrich’s absolutely unemotional reaction to my discovery, but then rushed after him, really annoyed by it.

  “What do you mean, don’t worry about it? Heinrich, look at me, I’m talking to you.”

  “Süße, let’s talk about it after dinner, can we? I had a really busy day at work and just want to relax now. I think I deserve to enjoy my dinner in peace.”

  I couldn’t believe that my own husband brushed me off like that. And there was no way I would let him just walk away from this conversation.

  “Heinrich, how can you be so indifferent to their fate? Don’t you understand, they were forced out of this house, and God knows what happened to them. We live in their house, which they bought and furnished with their money, and the Party stole it from them, plain and simple. And you just want to ‘get rid of their stuff’ so it wouldn’t bother me? How can you even say something like that?”

  Completely ignoring me, Heinrich went to the dining room and gave Magda, our new housekeeper, a signal to start serving food. With not a care in the world, he unfolded a napkin and placed it on his lap. I just stood in the doors, watching him with my arms crossed over my chest.

  “Heinrich? Are you even listening to what I’m trying to say?”

  “Yes, I am, and I’ve told you already that it’s not something I want to discuss at dinner. Now sit down and eat.”

  Magda, feeling obviously uncomfortable witnessing our fight, was trying to cut the meat and disappear as fast as she could.

  “Don’t boss me around, I’m not one of your subordinates, I’m your wife, and you will have to talk to me.”

  “Exactly, you’re my wife, and as I remember, you swore to obey your husband. So when your husband tells you to sit down and eat in silence, please, be so kind, as to sit down and eat in silence.”

  I couldn’t believe him. The man that I knew and married would never say something like that. Or maybe I didn’t know him after all?

  “Thank you, but I’m not hungry anymore.”

  I couldn’t even be in the same room with him now. He didn’t try to stop me when I walked away and went back to the attic. Angry and upset, I carefully picked up the girl’s diary from the box where Heinrich threw it earlier and curled up on the floor between the boxes with it.

  * * *

  “September 29, 1938

  * * *

  Everybody’s talking about the war with Czechoslovakia. Hitler already has Austria, will he ever have enough?

  Papa is really upset. The Party has ordered him to burn more books to ‘get rid of all the Jewish filth and propaganda’ and he’s very afraid for our library. After teaching history for so many years, he’s collected a lot of very important and rare works, he says. But most of them are written by Jewish authors and need to be burnt. Even the history is wrong if it’s written by a non-Aryan. It’s history, whatever happened—happened, and there’s no way to change it. People witnessed it. But Papa says that the Nazis are rewriting history too now, along with biology and all the other sciences. I feel like in several years there will be nothing left but the Nazi Party. If someone would ask me to describe the Party, I would tell them that I always see it as a huge fire-breathing monster, always hungry and never satisfied, that keeps walking the earth and eating everything it sees. People, animals, even cars and bridges, whole cities and countries, until nothing is left in the world besides it. Only then will it be happy. I think I’m getting a fever; I start thinking strangely.”

  * * *

  “November 3, 1938

  * * *

  Papa says we will most likely have to leave the country. He says that even though he and we, the children, are probably safe for now, Mama is not protected by any laws and they can just pick her up on the street, put her in a truck and send her to a camp. He heard they do that. He told Mama not to go outside at all, only in case of emergency. Papa has to do the shopping now, but maybe it’s for the best, because most of the stores refused to sell food to Mama anyway. They were afraid that the Gestapo would arrest them for dealing with a Jew. It’s a criminal case now.”

  * * *

  “November 10, 1938

  * * *

  I don’t know what to write. I have no words left, only tears and fear. I never thought it would come to this. I didn’t believe it and was always hoping for the good. Now they don’t just segregate us, they openly kill us, slaughter, like animals. Last night they broke glass in every single store owned by the Jews. The owners themselves, they were dragging outside and beating them up, with their fists, boots and rifles. They didn’t care if it was a man, a woman or a child, they were beating them because they were Jewish. They broke into a synagogue and after a rabbi tried to protect the sacred scrolls and books, they locked him and the others inside, and set that synagogue on fire, with people in it. When I heard Papa telling this to Mama, I couldn’t believe it. I know I won’t be able to sleep at night again. I’ll be listening to every car outside. I’m so terrified that they will come and get us all. I just hope they will have some mercy and just shoot us all together, but please don’t lock us up and burn us. That’s the most terrible death! I’ve heard they did it to several families last night. Please God, don’t let them come and burn us down!”

  * * *

  I couldn’t contain the tears anymore. A teenage girl asking God for an easy death for her and her family was too much to take. I was holding my mouth with my hand, afraid to turn the next page. I closed the diary, pressed it to my chest, and bit my lip. What would have happened if my great-grandparents hadn’t falsified their papers? This could have been my diary. Or even worse, because unlike my little diary writer, who was only several years younger than me, I would be considered a full Jew. And then that’s it, immediate execution or the camps. I could have been dead by now.

  “Are you still reading that?”

  I turned my head and there he stood, in his black uniform, with arms crossed over his chest, frowning at me. My husband.

  “The girl who wrote this… she was a mischling. And her mother was Jewish. The Ge
stapo people beat her up just because of it.”

  “So?”

  “So?! That’s all you can say? So?!”

  “What do you want me to say, Annalise? That I feel bad for them? Trust me, I do. But feeling bad is not going to change anything. You’re just going to drive yourself crazy feeling sorry for every single Jew in this country. I know that the Gestapo and SS do horrible things nowadays, but the worst thing you can do is let it go to your head. There’s nothing we can do about that girl and her mother, so stop torturing yourself thinking about her. It’s done. Over. They’re gone. They’re all gone. Give me that diary, and I’ll burn it right away so you don’t have to sit here anymore and cry, feeling miserable.”

  He made several steps toward me, but I jumped to my feet and clenched the little red book in my hands, protecting it like a child.

  “You’re not burning anything! And stop acting so indifferent like it doesn’t concern you at all!”

  “What the hell do you want from me, Annalise? Find out where the family is and bring them back, if they’re still alive, of course, apologize for taking over their house and sing the little boy a lullaby before he goes to sleep?! Is that what you want me to do?”

  I made a step back, farther away from him.

  “You knew about them. You even knew that they had a little son. Oh, God, I can’t believe it. All this time you knew and didn’t tell me.”