The Girl from Berlin: War Criminal's Widow

by Ellie Midwood

  Chapter 16

  May, 1947

  “Ernie, sweetheart, could you stand right here on the bench while I feed your little brother and sister?”

  The boy complied and climbed the bench, even though with visible reluctance. He had too much energy and loved running around, but I wanted to make sure that while I’d be busy feeding the twins, he’d be only steps away. It was his second birthday today, and I made sure to get him the prettiest cake I could find in the baker’s catalogue. After all I owed my little miracle for still being alive.

  It was him, who was slowly but stubbornly pulling me out of my depression better than any therapist could have. When I’d lay still in my bed without any desire to move a single finger, Ernie would get in bed next to me without any hesitation, hand me his favorite book and make me start reading it in different voices, the way he liked it. How could I refuse my little angel that, especially when he was looking at me inquisitively with eyes just like his father’s?

  Ernie made me go outside days before Hanukkah and play snowballs with him. And when Heinrich suggested making a snowman, he kept dragging my hand to find suitable brunches for snowman’s hands. When days were turning into nights and nights into same hopeless days without me even noticing it, it was Ernie who persistently refused to leave me in peace like everybody else did. My mother for instance was scared for my sanity, when on New Year’s Eve she found me in the bathroom deliberately brushing my son’s hair back using Heinrich’s brilliantine, just like Ernst used to wear it.

  “Honey, what are you doing?” she asked me, twisting the towel in her hands as I kept letting the brush through the boy’s hair without blinking or reacting to her in any way. “Why are you brushing Ernie’s hair that way?”

  Frowning, I finally raised my eyes to her, eyes with circles around them as black as the clothes I was wearing, and slammed the door closed. Ernie didn’t move; he let me do whatever I wanted to him, obediently and without any questions asked. He just wanted to be with his mommy, and whatever senseless things mommy was doing, it didn’t bother him the slightest.

  And when the twins were born, I had my hands too full to keep nursing my depression. It still hurt as hell, and I almost physically felt the absence of my very dearly loved person in the world, which became a little darker without him in it. But I owed it to his son, I owed it to my husband and our children to live for them and to be a good mother and wife; so today I dressed in the new yellow dress Heinrich bought for me somewhere on Fifth Avenue, curled my hair and even put on mascara and lipstick.

  My almost two months old twins, if they could be called so since they looked anything but like brother and sister, were sucking on two bottles of milk I always carried for the walks to feed them simultaneously. I smiled at their tiny faces, remembering how I joked with Ursula that I’m the only mother in New York whose three children don’t share a single similar trait. Ernie, the oldest son, was a portrait of his father; Heinrich, the youngest son who we named after his father, was a spitting image of my husband; and our daughter Gertie, a blue-eyed angel with a halo of blond hair, looked just like me.

  Ernie loved being the oldest brother and was absolutely fascinated with the two alive little dolls we brought from the hospital. He was a little disappointed that they couldn’t crawl or play with him yet, but was amusing himself with making silly faces at the siblings to make them laugh.

  As both my newborns slowly let go of the bottles ready to fall asleep, I carefully placed the half empty containers at their feet and turned around to check on Ernie.

  He was standing on the bench where I’d left him with his back to me, looking in the opposite direction. I tried to follow his gaze, but there was nothing except empty paths and trees around.

  “Ernie!” I called, and the boy, smiling from ear to ear, turned to me, pressing a stuffed teddy bear to his chest. It was not his toy and I clearly remembered that the bench was empty when I put him there. “Where did you get that?”

  “Papa gave me.” The grinning boy petted the bear’s head.

  “Daddy gave it to you?” I asked again, meaning Heinrich and wondering why Ernie called him Papa instead.

  “Nein, Papa!” Ernie replied in German, shaking his head. “Papa gave me, not daddy. For my birthday.”

  “Papa gave you?” I asked again.

  “Ja! Papa.”

  I felt bad to argue with my son, who probably found somebody’s toy under the bench and imagined that it was a present from his late father, so I kissed him on top of his head and smiled back at him.

  “Well, that’s very nice of him to give it to you. Can I see your little bear?”

  Ernie handed the toy to me and I noticed that it was absolutely new. “That’s a very pretty bear. Papa loves you very much if he gave you that, ja?”

  “Ja!” Ernie took the bear back and cuddled him in his arms.

  When we came back home from our walk, Heinrich met us at the doors and also noticed Ernie’s new found toy.

  “You brought a new buddy from the park, huh?” He affectionately messed Ernie’s hair and nodded at the bear.

  “Yes. Papa gave me for my birthday,” Ernie repeated the same thing he told me, confusing Heinrich also.

  “Don’t pay attention to what he says,” I quickly whispered into my husband’s ear before he’d start asking Ernie questions that might upset him. “Children have quite a wild fantasy, he found it somewhere under the bench and imagined that his father gave it to him for his birthday. Just go with it.”

  Heinrich nodded with a smile, as if saying, whatever makes him happy, and leaned over the boy again. “That is such a nice bear Papa gave you! What do you want to name him?”

  “I don’t know yet.”

  “You don’t know? But he needs a name. How about we try to come up with something suitable while mommy’s taking care of your little brother and sister?”

  I looked at the father and son heading to the living room and once again admitted with relief that having his biological children didn’t lessen Heinrich’s love to Ernie a tiny bit. Their connection probably got even stronger as Ernie grew and was now imitating everything that his father was doing, starting with shaving (Ernie was always mesmerized by the procedure, standing on top of the toilet and repeating the motions after his daddy) and finishing with ‘working’ at the same table – Heinrich on his papers for the OSS and Ernie on his new picture. The look that the little boy had while drawing with his pencils, was probably even more important than that of Heinrich’s. At moments like those I always said a little prayer and thought of how blessed I was to have them in my life.

  _______________

  October, 1947

  Today was a sad day. A year had passed since the day I’d lost Ernst, and today I decided to buy a huge bouquet of flowers to honor his memory. It was still very warm out, and I dressed up pretty for him, curled my hair and painted my lips. After Ursula gladly agreed to watch my children while I’d be out, I sprayed perfume on my neck, took another look in the mirror and smiled at the thought that I was getting ready as if I was going out on a real date with him.

  Enjoying the warm New York autumn, I stopped at the flower stand at the entrance of the Central Park and surprised the flower man by paying for forty four red roses – that’s how old Ernst would have been now if he was still alive.

  “Somebody’s Birthday?” The salesman almost guessed.

  “Yes.”

  I decided not to go into details; he was close – Ernst’s birthday was twelve days ago. We even made a little birthday dinner in his honor for little Ernie to celebrate his late father’s special day. We let him blow out the candles, and both Heinrich and I wiped a tear when our son put his present next to Ernst’s picture – a painting he made of all of us taking a walk in Central Park. He didn’t even forget to put dogs in it. I don’t think I’d ever seen something so touching in my life.

  I silently thanked God for it being a working day, since not too many people were in the park. I walke
d aimlessly for quite some time changing path to path, not even knowing where I was heading. I couldn’t possibly have a destination point, a place to put my flowers; even if I was in Germany there wouldn’t be a grave in front of which I could kneel. The International Military Tribunal decided that the executed war criminals didn’t deserve even a simple burial, so they cremated the bodies and scattered the ashes over the nearby river as official sources were saying. Some people implied that even that didn’t happen, and that the MP dumped the ashes in some ditch not far from the crematorium.

  I pressed the bouquet closer to myself and kept walking, looking for any spot that would feel right. Soon I found myself near Beethoven’s monument. I raised my head to the bust of the composer and grinned. Why, he was German too. Why not? In absence of anything better, I walked over to the monument, put the flowers next to its base and looked up again.

  “Hello, Herr Beethoven. I hope you won’t be too offended, but this is not for you. This is for the man who I loved… still love very much actually. He was killed today and I hope that maybe you won’t mind and send my love to him, since… you’re both somewhere out there, and speak the same language.”

  I covered my lips with my hand, catching a giggle escaping my mouth because I felt quite stupid talking to the monument, but who cares after all? Thinking that addressing Ernst wouldn’t be any stranger than talking to the dead composer, I started speaking again.

  “Erni, my Erni… How are you there, darling? You know that I’m talking to you every day, well, to your picture, but… It still feels like I’m not completely alone and abandoned by you. No, I’m sorry, I had no right to say it. You never abandoned me. I abandoned you, my love, I am guilty of everything that happened to you. You never left me, you loved me, you always did. You didn’t always know how to show it right, but you did. And I hurt you so…”

  A single tear slowly rolled down my cheek, but I didn’t bother to wipe it off.

  “If I could only bring everything back, my angel, I would have done everything differently. I’m so glad that I told you this, back in Nuremberg, when I saw you for the last time… I’m so glad that I had a chance to tell you how I truly felt. You are the love of my life, Erni. You are. I miss you so very much, not a day passes by that I don’t think about you, what you would do, what you would say… Especially when I look at our son. The bigger he gets, the more he resembles you, and that alone brings me at least some comfort, when I look into his eyes like yours, when he smiles at me… I can’t even get angry with him when he throws fits, well, he rarely does, he’s so well-behaved, he’s an angel! But when he does, I mean, all children do, I can’t get mad because he reminds me of you.”

  I sighed and looked at the roses at my feet.

  “You’d make fun of me now because I brought you flowers, even though you’d be very pleased and flattered inside. But you’d still never say anything, because you were always so stubborn! You put up with the potted flowers that I brought into your office, you remember? You were joking about them a lot, kept reproaching me that Reichsführer was teasing you for them, but you never told me to remove them. Because I brought them for you. I wasn’t any better actually. I kept pretending that I didn’t like you at all, when I was dying for you to touch my hand as I was handing you the correspondence; I loved all your dirty jokes even though I always acted as if I was offended by them.”

  I shook my head with a sad smile at the memories of our very abnormal relationship.

  “You were always so self-assured, so arrogant, I couldn’t stand myself because I found it so attractive in you. I don’t even know why! You were horrible! You cursed a lot, you constantly smoked, you drank too much, and when you were drunk, I hated you even more because you would start your usual harassment! And do you know what the worst part is? I liked it! I must have been completely out of my mind; I was running away from you and hiding in my house, trying to understand what was so special about you that I was attracted to you so? Remember how you got drunk and caught me in your bathroom? I was fighting you the best I could just because I knew that if only once I’d let you have your way, I’d be forever lost… How right I was! You went after me with the determination that you were going after your enemies. I was so afraid to become one of many of your victories, one of your women who you’d reject with such detached coldness as soon as you’d get tired of them. But then you finally made me yours, and it all didn’t matter anymore. I just wanted to be with you, every second, every breath I’d take, it was all for you; every morning I’d wake up I’d rush to be by your side, and every night, falling asleep next to my husband, I hated myself because I felt like I was cheating on you. How insane is this?”

  I kneeled in front of the monument, picked one rose out of the bouquet and started tearing off one petal after another.

  “You know how girls play in school? He loves me, he loves me not… I was asking myself that until you kissed me in my bedroom, remember, when Reinhard gave you that file and you were chasing after me, and you wanted to kill me. But you couldn’t. Just like I couldn’t shoot at you. I would rather die than hurt you… And yet I did. You were probably wondering why I didn’t go with you then? Well, it’s time I am honest with you and with myself. I made a mistake. A huge mistake. Yes, it was the right thing to do to stay with Heinrich, because he is my husband and because he’s a wonderful, kind man, he was always ready to sacrifice his life for the others… I loved him, yes, of course I did. He was my first love, you understand? But you… I’m sorry, but you were just his complete opposite! And yet, I still loved you more. I made a mistake, Erni. I know it and he knows it. I guess we both will just have to live with it, him, knowing that my heart will always belong to you. I love him, we have a wonderful family, we are almost happy. And I’m terrified to admit it to myself that I would give it all up just to have you back, even for a day.”

  I bit my lip not to start crying again; after all I promised myself that I’d be pretty and smiling for him. I tore off the last petal.

  “He loves me… You still love me, don’t you? After all I did. I love you too, my Erni. I love you more than anything in the world. You will always be in my heart. Please, forgive me for everything.”

  I kissed my hand and pressed it down to the base of the monument, like I would have done if I kneeled in front of his grave. I straightened out my dress and turned to the nearby bench to fix my running make-up. I noticed that a man, who probably sat there right after I brought my flowers and didn’t expect to become a witness to such an unexpected monologue from my side, and feeling too embarrassed to leave, was hiding now behind the newspaper he was holding.

  The poor thing had most likely thought that I was insane, expressing my love to the dead German composer, because that’s exactly what it looked like. Maybe he even wondered why I kept calling Beethoven ‘Erni,’ but whatever it was, he was hiding his face from me better than any spy in the former Reich would do. I quickly fixed my mascara in the miniature mirror, put it back in my purse and left him alone.

  I walked back to the direction where my house was, but didn’t want to go back home yet. Instead, I decided to stop by one of the cafes and have a little lunch and a glass of wine for my Erni. I sat outside and ordered a dessert with coffee. Erni was always a sweet tooth, even though very few people knew about this weakness of his. I wanted to do today what I would do if he was with me, and ordered a glass of his favorite Dom Perignon.

  When the waiter brought the whole bucket with ice and started to open a bottle in front of me, I thought that he didn’t understand me, and tried to stop him.

  “I’m sorry, I ordered only a glass.”

  “I know, ma’am,” he answered with a smile and popped the bottle open. “One gentleman bought it for you.”

  “What gentleman?” I frowned.

  “He’s sitting right over…” I followed his glance but didn’t see anybody. “Oh, that’s strange. He must have left already.”

  Looking at him pouring a very expensive cham
pagne into my glass, I asked, “Does it often happen in here? Strangers buying the best champagne for the other strangers and disappearing right after?”

  “Truly speaking, never, ma’am. He must have liked you.”

  “If he liked me, why would he leave?” I smiled.

  The waiter smiled back and shrugged. “I thought it was strange too. Maybe he was just shy and wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe he heard your accent.”

  “My accent?”

  “Yes. Is it German, if you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Yes, he was speaking with the same accent, only heavier. Maybe he wanted to buy something nice for you because you reminded him of his country,” the waiter concluded with a smile.

  “How did he look like?”

  “Just an ordinary man in a suit and a hat, ma’am. Honestly, I didn’t take a good look at him.”

  It was certainly quite an extraordinary coincidence that some German bought me the whole bottle of Ernst’s favorite champagne exactly on the day when he was executed, but I attributed it to some higher providence and slightly raised my glass to my invisible ghost I was having a date with.

  _______________

  “Happy Birthday, mommy!”

  Ernie screamed it all the way from the living room, rushing to hug me, even though he wished me a happy birthday early in the morning when he climbed into my bed, covered me with kisses and shyly handed me his present: my portrait with yellow curly hair and enormously big blue eyes. He didn’t know how to write yet, but asked Heinrich to write ‘To the best mommy in the world’ on top of it. I was incredibly touched by the heart my son had and his unconditional love he had for me, despite everything I’d put him through during the first year of his life.