“Yes,” she said. “In the sense that my family is Jewish. Grossman. That’s my given name. I don’t give a hoot about the religion one way or another. Same with America. I could take it or
leave it. German is what I am.” And then she told him about the crosses. “I have no feelings for Catholicism either,” she said, pulling the little gold cross from under her sweater. “I just like the way they look and feel. I find them comforting. Does this sound crazy to you?”
“No more crazy than the thoughts I have running through my mind,” he said, moving his chair closer to hers.
They finished one bottle of champagne and a glass of cognac each. Under the table, they explored each other’s bodies in ways that were barely permissible in public. Karl’s house was only a few blocks from the café, and when they walked there embracing and kissing, their hands were too warm to bother with a pair of gloves.
After they made love, and after they made love again, they discovered each other with the tenderness that comes after the urgency. That’s when he told her she was dazzling. “You have the look of someone fragile who might break apart,” he said and laughed. “But when it comes right down to it, quite the opposite is true.”
“There’s more to me than meets the eye,” she said, and laughed.
“I’ll say there is.” He leaned over her, pressing his thumbs into her collarbone, and kissed her hard on the mouth. He was as strong and definitive in his lovemaking as he was in the way he spoke, and in the days after, she would find small bruises on her body and smile at the memory of it. When she slept, he watched. She slept on her side with her knees bent and her hands tucked under her ear like a little girl. The gold cross rested on top of her breast and a wisp of hair fell across her cheek. The mind takes indelible pictures, and this would be the one of her that he would always carry.
When she woke up the next morning, she smelled him before she saw him. He smelled of male sweat, of her, and of the musky pine cologne he wore. The smell was sweet and foreign and she wondered if she might still be dreaming. They had no time to make love again because it was already past seven and she had to get home and change to get to Schweriner by eight. He opened the window and stuck his head out as she dressed. “It’s cold this morning. I must insist that you wear my coat. That way, I know that I’ll see you again because you’ll have to return it.”
“Okay, but next time I do the interrogating, Mr. Eagle Eye,” she said as she slipped on her stockings. “I know nothing about you, not even if you are a respectable gentleman. Though after last night, I would guess that you’re not.”
He draped the coat over her shoulders. “Put your hand in the left pocket. See what you find.” She dug out a blank envelope and held it in front of her. “Open it.” Inside were two gray tickets to the Municipal Opera House in Berlin. “They’re for Saturday night,
Turandot
. Come with me.”
She made a sour face, remembering the one time Oliver had taken her to see
Tristan and Isolde
. It had been long and gloomy. She had gotten a splitting headache and fallen asleep twice. Oliver hadn’t said anything, but he’d never invited her again even though she knew he had season’s tickets. So she told Karl she had no use for opera. “All those people howling and carrying on.” He told her that opera was like life that way: “Always the howling and carrying on. The trick is to find the beauty within.”
“Sounds like a lot of bull to me,” she said, trying to find her way into the sleeves of the coat.
“Berlin is a big city,” he said. “Even without opera, I’m sure we can find things to entertain us.”
She wiggled her arms through his sleeves and looked up at him with the most seamless smile she could muster.
When Seema came home wearing a man’s cashmere coat and yesterday’s makeup, Frau Schultz was in the kitchen scrubbing the floor. She looked up at Seema long enough to say,
“Guten Morgen.”
The two women, though separated in age by nearly twenty years, had mutually agreed, without ever saying a word, that the only way to coexist in the small house they shared was to honor each other’s privacy. Frau Schultz never asked about the cross over Seema’s bed or where she’d been the night before. In return, Seema never questioned whether the older woman had any friends or family and why no one ever came to visit. For a German woman boarding a foreign Jew, it was better that way.
Frederick pleaded with Margot to get out of the house. “If you don’t talk to people all day, you’ll get out of the habit of talking,” he said.
“I see nothing wrong with that,” she said, shrugging. Just the thought of bumping into a neighbor or, God forbid, a stranger, filled her with such dread that when she did go for a walk, she went early in the morning so that she was likely to be alone. If, as happened occasionally, she passed someone who innocently asked her how she was, she could barely find the words to answer.
With her mother gone and Edith off to school, Margot withdrew. People had died and disappointed her, and she found less and less reason to be among them. Instead, she doted on her geraniums.
“Meine hübsche Blumen,”
she’d murmur bending over them, confident that her whisper puffs bathed their leaves and nourished their roots. She’d pat the dirt and gently cup her hands around their petals while breathing in their spicy nutmeg aroma. Several times a day, she’d deadhead the flowers and carry the window boxes from room to room, making sure that they
got as much light as possible. And grow they did, with shoots cascading over the edge of their containers, underscoring each window with a blaze of red. Because of Margot’s geraniums, everyone knew the Ehrlich house from afar, though none were ever invited inside.
For company, she spoke to the porcelain owls, and they spoke back. Franz, the oldest, with a chip on his head and shiny black glass eyes, was critical of her appearance:
Your apron’s filthy. You have flour in your hair
. Little yellow Anna, with her orange beaky nose, had nothing good to say about her cooking.
Not enough salt in the potato pancakes. Sauerbraten’s too tough
. Thank heavens for Erich, the newest and dearest. He was always complimentary, sometimes even flirty.
That rosewater from Seema smells so sweet on you. Your hair is beautiful in this light. Go see for yourself
.
He was right. Sometimes, when the sun angled through the window in a certain way, light would swirl around her head like a burning white halo. The harder she stared, the more convinced she became that behind her, in the glare of the halo, she could see the shadowy outline of her mother’s face.
Yes
. Erich agreed,
That really was your mutti come to say hello
. Brief though they were, these visits calmed Margot and reassured her.
A
FTER HER MOTHER DIED,
Margot had suffered dizzy spells. Nervous exhaustion, the doctor had said; it was to be expected. But lately she was experiencing something far more frightening. It started two weeks after New Year’s. Frederick had come home from work one night, pale and hunched over as if he’d just been slugged in the stomach. “What’s wrong?” she cried, as he fell into a chair.
“It’s nothing. Nothing to worry about,” he said.
She knelt down next to him. “You’re trembling.” He turned his face away, but not before she’d noticed the tears. In all their years together, she had never seen Frederick cry except when Gilda died. She lay her cheek on his knees. In the same soothing voice he normally used when talking to her, she said: “My sweet Frederick, what is it? What is so horrible?”
He took a deep breath. In a strangled voice he told her what had happened. “Ernst Licht. You remember him? Fat with the mustache and beard. We worked together until he opened his own store five years ago. Yesterday morning he’s in his shop. A man comes in and asks for kosher brisket. So what does he do? He goes and prepares it for him. Three days after the government said there would be no kosher meat prepared in Germany!” Frederick never raised his voice but now he was nearly shouting. “We were all warned about this. Licht knew. Stubborn old fool. Of course, the customer turned out to be a member of the government. Just like that they closed down his shop. This morning his wife wakes up. He’s gone. Can’t find him. She goes into the backyard. There he is. Hanging from a tree. Hanging! Neck broken. Head resting on his own shoulder like he’s napping. He hanged himself.” Frederick shuddered and began to sob. “Can you imagine?”
“Come,” said Margot, beckoning him to sit next to her. He slid off the chair and onto the floor, where she put her arm around him and nudged his head to her breast. She rocked back and forth, back and forth until she could feel his body slacken. When he was quiet, he sat up and patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry I let my tongue run on so,” he said, trying to push the horror aside and assume his normal voice. “The times in which we
live…” He paused and shook his head. “Thank God we have each other, right, my
Liebchen
?”
A
WEEK LATER,
Margot was sweeping the floor as she did every evening, when suddenly it seemed to give way beneath her. If she hadn’t grabbed onto the nearby table, she was certain she would have fallen.
Then, on a Sunday morning in early February, she went out for one of her walks. Fresh snow made the trees look white and ghostly. The closer she got to the trees, the more make-believe they seemed. Maybe they weren’t there at all. She would touch them to find out. She wrapped her arms around one of them. It seemed substantial. But wait. The house! She was sure if she touched it, it would be like stroking air. She ran over to it and rubbed her hands up and down the cold stucco. She watched her arms move along the wall. The house seemed to be there. Then a greater panic set in. Her arms. Her arms were disappearing. She pulled up her sleeves and licked her forearm like a dog, desperate that the taste of her own salty flesh bring her back to reality. It was too late. She could feel herself slipping away.
Frederick, concerned that she’d been gone too long, went outside and found her lying in the snow. She was awake but confused and unsure of where she was. “What happened?” he cried. She told him about the tree and the house. “Then I felt as if the inside of me was emptying and I couldn’t stop it. I was disappearing. That must be when I fainted.”
He carried her inside and took off her wet clothes. He tucked her in under the quilt and made her some tea. When he came back to her, he sat at the foot of her bed, head in hands, and listened as she talked.
“I’m so frightened,” she said. “Nothing seems real to me.”
He rubbed the little mound on the quilt that was covering her feet. “My poor, scared Margot
schön
. Everything is real. No one is disappearing.”
“Everyone is disappearing,” she shouted. “Gilda. My mother. Edith. Now Ernst Licht. Everyone.”
He shook his head. “This is my fault. I should have never brought my worries into this house. You are safe here, I promise you this. You are safe with me.”
“Frederick, who is safe with anybody?”
“I could kick myself for telling you about Ernst. It’s one of those things that happens, an isolated incident, I’m certain.” But in his heart Frederick knew that in these times, in this place, being certain was nothing to count on.
B
ETWEEN HER WORK
at Schweriner and the time she spent with Karl, Seema rarely saw Frederick and Margot. Not that she’d keep their company even if she had more time. She felt sorry for Frederick. He had his hands full with Margot. And Margot, so strange and otherworldly. Seema had really tried with Margot. Taken her shopping, bought her nice clothes. Even got her a strand of pearls with her Schweriner discount two Christmases ago, thinking, mistakenly, that pretty jewelry would give her a reason to dress up and get out of the house. But Margot being Margot, she kept the pearls in the gift box wrapped in the original paper and put them somewhere for safekeeping, probably with all the other presents Seema had given her. For Pete’s sake, there was only so much she could do for Margot.
If Edith were home, that would be different. Seema would be over there all the time trading gossip, sharing makeup and whatnot.
She couldn’t blame Edith for going back to the gymnasium as an assistant to the physical education teacher. If she were home, she’d be stuck caring for her mother. She was sure Edith had better things to do. But now that she’d introduced her to Werner Cohn, maybe Edith would find reason to come home more often.
She knew Werner and Edith would hit it off. He was no Clark Gable, but he was cute in an impish way, though less comfortable in his skin than Edith. Seema had guessed that he would find her liveliness and ease with the world appealing. Besides, since his father was one of the owners of Schweriner, Werner Cohn had money, and God knows Edith could use some of that. After their second date, Seema had asked Edith how it had gone. “He’s funny,” said Edith. “Different than other Jewish boys. He’s more remote, harder to get to know.” After their third date, Seema had asked if he’d kissed her, and Edith got all coy and giggly. “You’re getting as bad as your boyfriend with all your questions. I don’t have to answer everything you ask me,” she said. “You don’t have to answer anything,” said Seema, laughing. “Your face tells me what I need to know. Remember the first time we met we went to see all those naked boys at the Metropolitan Museum of Art? How you ogled them and turned all pink, just like you’re doing now.”
“Aunt Seema,” laughed Edith. “Just because your imagination is in the gutter doesn’t mean the rest of us live down there with you.”
“Maybe not,” said Seema. “But tell me, how does Werner stack up next to those marble fellas at the museum?”
Seema enjoyed teasing Edith, something she couldn’t do with her sisters. Even in her letters, Flora was so confident and combative; it was just no fun. And Margot? Well, what was the point?
But she and Edith could go at each other day and night, both knowing that their vulnerabilities and secrets were off limits. When Karl pointed out to Seema that she had strong maternal instincts toward Edith, she laughed at him and said, “I wouldn’t know a maternal instinct if it socked me in the eye.”