The Wall Crossers

Aug 1972 - Elisa and Leida - Belgium - One Coming to Birth

Elisa's perspective

I am in the upstairs gathering room at the home of my brother Henrí in Brussels, Belgium. I am on the plush green sofa wearing sheer cool satiny purple evening clothes with matching slippers. Leida sits before me, in a straight back chair, wearing a light gray short-sleeved and -legged summer Trainingsanzug (training outfit—thin shorts and shirt), and Turnschuhe (sneakers), gazing at me. Her arms and legs are crossed, in a defensive way, and she leans back in her chair, as young people so often do, with a brooding expression to signal displeasure—uncertain trust. Quite a change from one year ago! We are both quiet and thoughtful though, in this moment.

Leida looks a bit unkempt. Her light brown hair, normally washed and combed out nicely into pretty gentle waves, now stringy and without luster. Her eyes, though lids are narrowed in this moment in clear anger, with me?... most certainly are blutunterlaufen (bloodshot)—she has been crying. She wears no jewelry... not even die Uhr (a timepiece). Her face is drawn from worry. She has been chewing her nails. Her Bauch (belly) is tightening up already though—she kept her body in guter Verfassung (in good shape) largely due to the diligent efforts of Florian, Henrí's son, and Leida's friend Maren. Florian made this time of pensive tribulation much the easier for me. He became Leida's Wegweiser (guidepost) to life—until that life created this new life we all awaited, that I awaited with Überschwang (exuberance)!

It is an early evening in mid-August, and we have two fans blowing on us, to ward off the heat of the summer night. The windows are all open, so that I attune myself to the pleasant sound of insects outside, and the occasional automobile passing by on this side street where we have been living since late January, with Henrí and his son Florian, who is three years older than Leida. Henrí and son have lived in this house for the past year, having moved here to this much smaller home after his wife, Lilly Dolca, passed away, leaving him and Florian quite alone, however well taken care of as Lilly was rather wealthy from family inheritances herself. She died so young and tragically, at the age of forty-two.

Henrí is a wonderful, kind and generous younger brother, and Florian has inherited these traits plus the elegance of his refined mother, he himself being a beautiful young man who gives himself to his work, and his community and to us—his family living here at this time, in our need. They are both out until late, so we are alone in our conversation.

I reflect in my mind how we came to be here and our current situation. I had planned to move here all along—things had been carefully arranged to work out as they did. It was to be, and has been, the perfect solution for safely overwatching the pregnancy.

After that day in January, the sixteenth, when Olivia disappeared, Leida was terrified, panic-stricken, nearly frozen in grief, as she and Maren tried and failed in every turn to find her new wife of only a few short hours. After turning up no clues at all at the PM compound, they searched all over: Andrews barracks, the airport, and even tried to reach Anja, but to no avail. Olivia was gone.

Leida could only conclude: Olivia had a change of heart, still possessed airline tickets for America, and used them. But then Why? Why? Why? Why marry Leida at all? It did not make sense. To her.

My move from Ohlsbach to Brussels was already underway. I had but to rendezvous with Leida, assisted by Maren, who herself saw in my plan a haven of safety for the friend she adored and loved so much. So, we located together here, and I arranged that all her things from her Burda-Moden-rented apartment be brought to her own new room here at Henrí's house, per my most-intelligent and star-guided plan. Leida resigned from Burda, leaving no forwarding address. I quit my practice.

Henrí solicited the service of a local Dokter, prominent in the community, yet also a friend of the family. At this time in our society, the motherhood of a single girl is rare and frowned upon. Test results were back in eight days, confirming what we already knew from the stars—Leida's child could be expected in early August. This to-be-daughter (I was certain and was correct!) being the Sprungbrett (stepping stone) to the gifted one, that one I do so fervently await!