The Darkest Hour

by Roberta Kagan

  Tommy stood in front of them and my back almost touched a wooden fence.

  Tommy said, “Please accept my apologies for my cockiness in there. I didn’t realize who you were. We wanted to know, are you willing to work for us, to collect information from your Uncle?”

  He paused, as if I would say something. I did not.

  “Well, being that you are a loyal American … I assume you don’t like Nazis, do you? I mean, you don’t even know your Uncle. You were just sent here by your aunt after your mother died and he hasn’t exactly been nice to you.”

  “How do you know …?”

  “We know a lot of things. You’re not a fan of Nazis or your Uncle, are you?”

  “I don’t even have any special knowledge. I am not of much use to you. Don’t you already have spies with all the information that you seem to know?”

  “We already have spies. What we don’t yet have is someone who is as close as you are to a Nazi official on your Uncle’s level. Your Uncle is an obergruppenführer, he reports to Heinrich Himmler who reports to Adolf Hitler. Your Uncle regularly gets calls from Himmler and Hitler directly sometimes.”

  “I am not close to my Uncle. At all.”

  “Ah, but that could change if you wanted it to, you could manipulate him.”

  “Look, I don’t even know you. Why should I help you? It is a helluva risk for me to get involved in any sort of spying.”

  “Because you love your country.”

  “Yeah I do, but we aren’t at war with Germany and I don’t want any part. There is nothing that would keep me safe in case he found out.”

  “What if I told you that your Uncle was fucking Himmler’s mistress? Would that make him leave you alone if you were caught? If you had evidence kept somewhere he didn’t know, say by us, that would become public if anything happened to you?”

  I was astonished. “He has slept with Himmler’s mistress?”

  “Indeed he has, and we have proof—photographic evidence.”

  “Then why don’t you blackmail him?”

  “He would then just watch everything he did. And, furthermore, no one who has ever been blackmailed can truly be trusted to tell you the truth. It is more of a failsafe against him hurting you. It provides you some cover.”

  “What would I even find out about for you? I don’t have access to any information. I still don’t want to participate, it is too dangerous.”

  “Look, all we need is for you to find out who they are targeting. They are more than annoyed at our intelligence gathering, and we need to know who among our informants is a double agent. They always seem to know our next move.”

  “No, I don’t know anything and I wouldn’t know where to start to get that information. I don’t want to get involved. Let me back inside. I feel like you are the Gestapo with those men blocking the door. I don’t feel comfortable, am I free to go?”

  “We are Americans, not Germans, you are free to go anytime you please.”

  “Harry and John, please let Mr. Beck re-enter the hall.”

  He placed a hand on my shoulder as I began to walk back into the dance hall, saying, “When you change your mind, you will find me at the embassy—I work there. I can bring you to the ambassador, my Father.”

  “If I change my mind, and I won’t. Thanks.”

  Upon re-entering the hall and returning to our table, I found Edith yawning.

  “Edith, we must leave now,” I said, and grabbed her arm to help her up.

  I noticed she was very wobbly on her feet and saw several empty glasses in front of her. There was a boy who had been sitting next to her who got up upon me helping Edith to stand. He must have been trying to prime her for some after-party fun by getting her drunk, which she obviously was, as she laughed at her lack of coordination and balance.

  “Here, lean on me.”

  “You, Charlie, are a gentleman,” she said, as she gave me a kiss on the cheek.

  I helped her out of the establishment and people waved as if I was famous. I didn’t wave back, I wanted to get back home. I wanted to get Edith home; I had this fear that Erich somehow knew about that conversation I had had with Tommy and that he would blame me for it if he knew. It worried me he would find out we went swing dancing and not for coffee, which was bad enough. I thought if I could escape this place fast enough, perhaps we could get home unscathed.

  “You know Tommy wants me to be a spy for the US, that is what he asked me.”

  “I know, Tommy said that he had to tell me, too. He said that with what you would be doing I would probably find out, anyway.”

  “I told him no.”

  I don’t know if the chill wind finally awoke her from her drunkenness, or if it was my statement, or both. What I do know is that she regained her composure and balance almost instantly.

  She leaned into me and kissed me; my lips melded to hers and we kissed until my mouth was raw and chapped from the dry, cold night air.

  I was so attracted to her and I had only kissed one other girl; I wanted to keep kissing and my hands started to involuntarily slide up her waist, which I had been holding, and lingered deliciously near her breasts. I didn’t quite touch them, but she noticed how vivid my hunger for her was, and she pulled away.

  She wiggled her finger playfully at me. “Not that easy. But I do like you a lot, Charlie.”

  Continuing, she said, “Now, Charlie, why would you say no to the Americans, why in God’s name would you do that? Erich is a bastard and I know you despise him.”

  “I don’t want to put us at risk, Edith …”

  “Don’t worry about me, I will be fine. I think you would be, too—they would protect you.”

  “I don’t know that they could against him, but even so …”

  She kissed me again and pulled away so that our noses almost touched and I could feel her lips as they lightly touched mine while she spoke quietly.

  She said, “Promise me you will think about it, Charlie, promise me.”

  I was intoxicated by her, “Yes, I will consider it.”

  “Good,” she replied, and she kissed me hard, reapplying her lips to mine. She put my hand on her chest and I could feel her breasts under her dress, but more importantly, I could feel her heart beat. She then put her hand to my heart.

  She suddenly pulled away, saying, “You see, Charlie, that is the secret—that right there—to my heart. Bravery and integrity. You are handsome, but that is not enough for me. A lot of boys like me, mischling or not. It is that you are brave, I can see it in you, you just need a little time to figure that out.”

  She became wobbly again—apparently this moment of lucidity had been temporary. I carried her to her house, and she promised she could make it inside. I watched from under the street light to make sure that she entered safely. I then caught a taxi back to the ghetto-mansion.

  Chapter 10

  ERICH

  I think she expected her mother as she looked shocked when I walked into the room.

  As if crying, she pleaded out loud—calling to her mother, “Mother?”

  I said, “She isn’t home at the moment. It is just you and me.”

  Continuing, I said, “I know that you just got back from that swing club. Dancing like niggers to Jew music made for kikes like you.”

  She was silent because she had no excuse to give.

  “I will take your silence as your confession, not that I need it—I had you and that bastard nephew of mine followed. At least you aren’t lying, I suppose that is something. Perhaps you can be reformed, you are at least partially human I suppose.

  “I will have you know you have dishonored me greatly. It was one of my very few vices, I suppose, my appreciation of nigger-Jew music. A man in my position cannot afford to be dishonored this way. However, you have helped me come to my senses and I thank you for that. I do, I thank you. But you’ve made me think that perhaps I need to rid myself of all this Jewish influence in my life.”

  I switched subjects. “So, this Ame
rican ambassador’s son—you love him, don’t you?”

  “Father, I …”

  “Shut up. Just shut your fucking hole when I am talking. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “I thought I told you that you weren’t to date anyone—especially a reprobate like him.”

  I calmed down for a small while and went up to her. I laid my palm on the crown of her head and then started to pet her down to her neck.

  I whispered into her ear, “You are so pretty. Just like your mother.”

  She was uncomfortable and started to shiver and cry.

  I said, “What—why are you crying, Edith? Do you not like your Father touching you?”

  She shook her head that she didn’t like it and said, “You aren’t my real Father.”

  I looked at her and smirked.

  “If I am not your Father then what am I, hm?”

  I had taken my hands off her and was standing with arms akimbo.

  Whispering into her ear so closely that it must have tickled, a snake’s whisper, I said, “I wonder what I am if not your Father.”

  I then pushed her to the floor and hovered over her, leaning down to peer into her face.

  “You have such pretty blue eyes. Like the ocean. And milky skin, with blonde hair and a face like an angel’s. If you aren’t my daughter, shouldn’t I love you another way?”

  She didn’t have anything to say, she was so frightened of me that she just said, “Father …”

  I fed off her fear, I liked it.

  “No.” I put my finger to her lips to demand her silence, which she ceded to me.

  “If you aren’t my daughter, then I will not treat you as my daughter. You could be my lover. I think you could be that. Would you like that, Edith?”

  She shook her head vigorously to signal NO as I massaged her inner calf and started to breathe heavily.

  I suddenly stood up.

  “No, you are tricking me. You are trying to attract me to you and you are a Jewish whore.

  “You know the only reason that you aren’t in the ghetto is me. I wouldn’t fuck you, Edith. Your mother is plenty good in bed and she is as beautiful, if a little more mature. And she isn’t a mischling, a mixed-blood piece of trash.

  “And how do you reward me for letting you run about free as if an Aryan? You go fucking this American. This ‘swing kid.’ The leader of these spoiled-brat youths. I imagine he thinks you are pretty. I imagine if he didn’t think that he wouldn’t fancy you and you would behave.

  “What to do, what to do about the mischling, the Jewish pretty girl? How do I make you un-pretty, Edith? How do I do that?

  “Oh, don’t worry, I know just how to do it and what will help you keep yourself out of having to go to the ghetto.”

  I pulled a sharp knife from my uniform’s belt and placed it to her right cheek.

  She was breathing in and out and couldn’t swallow, she was so scared. I could tell she needed to swallow to let out the scream that was accumulating in her throat.

  I then put a moderate amount of pressure on her cheek and pulled the knife away like I was opening the peel of an orange.

  She screamed as the sensation hit her face and traced its way down the way my knife had gone.

  I walked to the adjacent bathroom as her tears turned into blood that dripped down her face.

  I came back into the room and put a small towel to her face—leaning down and looking directly into her eyes.

  But the pain of the wound was such that she started sobbing and heaving.

  “Don’t ever embarrass me again, Edith. It was that American that got you into this swing bullshit. I expect you to never see him again. Do you understand me?”

  I pulled the knife out again, and she shuddered.

  I looked at it and then wiped it off on the towel she was holding to her face.

  “You still have another pretty cheek, you know.”

  “Yes …” she said through her convulsions.

  “Yes, Uncle?” I said.

  “Yes, yes, Uncle, please forgive me.”

  “Say nothing of it.”

  I stood up and put the knife back in my belt.

  “Hold that cloth to your face, dear—push it hard. I will call a doctor over immediately to tend to you. I love you very much. Now tomorrow I will come bring you a present. For now, stay where you are and someone will be here within the hour—don’t worry, it really isn’t a deep cut that could kill you.”

  I smirked at her and left the room.

  Chapter 11

  CHARLIE

  Erich had told me to bring a new dress to Edith as a present from him. And a note, which I read, of course, and it just said:

  * * *

  Dear Edith,

  I hope that you are feeling better from last night. Enjoy this new dress. I am sorry that I cannot make it today as I am entertaining guests. Charlie will cheer you up.

  Love,

  Erich

  * * *

  Erich had not told me anything, he had only told me she was ill and to bring her this dress wrapped in brown paper and string with this cryptic note. I knew something was wrong, I just didn’t know what.

  Upon getting to Edith’s house, I rapped at the door with my free hand, holding the package and a note with the other hand.

  Her mother came to the door, wringing her hands and tearfully saying, “I am so sorry for it, Charlie, I am—but I told her, I warned her. It’s Erich’s fault, yes, of course, but it is partially her fault. It isn’t my fault, I had nothing to do with it. I am still so sorry, though.” And she wept.

  I brushed past her and threw the package and note at her feet. I went to Edith’s room and saw her lying in bed—facing the wall.

  “Edith, it’s me, it’s Charlie. I am here.”

  “Go home, Charlie.”

  “What is wrong, Edith, what’s wrong? Erich sent me with some note and stupid gift. I just want to make sure you are ok.”

  She got angry, “Ok, no—I am far from ok!”

  She turned to face me and sat up in bed. I then noticed a bandage wrapped around her face.

  “What—what did he do to you!?”

  “He cut me, Erich cut me on the face with his knife. He cut me deep. The doctor said that it will leave a scar like a war wound.”

  “Did he stich it up?”

  “Yes, but that won’t change what it will do. It will make me ugly. He took my face from me because he fancies me. He now thinks, I know how he thinks, that since other boys won’t want me that I will eventually give in to him.”

  “But you never would do that. And you are so beautiful.”

  “Don’t tell me lies, Charlie, don’t lie to me. You haven’t seen the gash and what it has done to my face. And maybe I would fuck him now.”

  It shocked me both to hear her say “fuck” in this context and to say that she would consider sleeping with him. It repulsed me.

  “What, why in hell would you ever …”

  “Don’t you understand, Charlie, he won’t give up, he has been trying to sleep with me for months. He is growing bored with Mother. He will probably send me to the ghetto eventually and have his way with me if I don’t. I might as well just do it. Or there is another option—I could kill myself.”

  She mentioned killing herself in a calmer manner than anything else she had said. She said it so casually that it sent signals of dismay down my spine.

  “I could, it wouldn’t have to hurt. I have these pain pills the doctor left me”—she pointed at the pills on her nightstand— “he said that I needed to be careful how many I took because it could be dangerous if I took even a few extra. I have sixty pills.”

  “Well, then, I am taking them, I am sorry if you are in pain, but I cannot …”

  “Then I will slit my wrists, would you rather I do that? Or maybe you want me to fuck your Uncle since you won’t work for the Americans.”

  I became silent, as did she, and the autumn’s afternoon sun wa
s waning slightly—the curtains allowed what light there was to enter the room, but it was darker than before.

  After several minutes, an intense anger came over me, while I silently stood there. The anger had not been there before the silence, only sadness and sympathy had been. I was surprised at the culmination of its intensity reaching my consciousness all at once.

  The anger leapt out, and I fumed, “I will kill that son-of-a-bitch. I am sorry, Edith, for what happened to you. Don’t hurt yourself, I will take care of this, I will ruin him. He will rue the day he was born. That fucking piece of shit!”

  Edith looked fearful, replying, “Charlie, be careful, think about …”

  I looked at her and said, “Do you trust me, Edith?”

  She nodded.

  “Then you will go and pack a bag for a night away, you will meet me at the statue on the Stone Bridge tonight at dusk.”

  “But we have nowhere to go and Mother …”

  “Let me worry about that, I promise. You said you trust me—just have faith in me and I will take care of this. Edith, I know just what to do, I don’t need to think about it, I will see you soon. But promise me, promise me you will meet me there and that you will trust me. I will explain everything to you there this evening.”

  She nodded.

  She had something more to say, but before she could get her thought out, I had left and pushed past her mother, who made me sick. I slammed the door so hard that a man passing by stepped out of my way as I glared at him and strode across the street to hail a taxi.

  Chapter 12

  Upon entering Erich’s mansion, I was still fuming from what had happened to Edith. I bounded up the stairs, two at a time, my anger leading me. When I saw Erich, something that controlled me day to day broke inside. Erich was with several stunningly beautiful ladies, eating cakes and drinking tea outside on the veranda of the second floor—opposite the one that faced the ghetto. It faced a rather large, confined garden, a stark contrast to what lay beneath the balcony outside of his office on the other side of the mansion.