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July

     My fourteenth birthday came and went as a somber occasion. Though I was normally excited for the 8th of July, the day passed as slowly and uneventfully as the stubborn gray clouds hanging above us.
I awoke to darkness and the steady pour of rain down the roof. My face nestled into the warmth of my pillow. Just a few more minutes, I thought as fragments of a dream filtered in. Otto had been there, sitting by the ocean in his light summer clothes with a book. I sat beside him, leaning against his right shoulder. I don't know where the ocean had come from, I'd never seen one before, but it was peaceful. Just the two of us and we didn't have to say a thing. I missed him so-
     Drip
Drip
Of course. I swung out of bed and crept across the floor. By the time I reached the tin pail I kept in the corner, the leak in my ceiling was running like a faucet. Once the bucket was safely under the small torrent, I stumbled down the stairs in search of my mother and something edible.
     Well, mainly something edible.
     "Mama, are you here? Papa?" Only the empty kitchen answered me, the gray morning light it's only illumination. I glanced at the clock; only six o'clock? Sure, it was early, but normally my parents would be home at this hour. A piece of paper sat at my place at the table. It was a thin little thing, probably torn from the margin of Papa's newspaper.
Liebchen,
Happy birthday! We will be home soon, we are going to the butcher's.

I licked my lips at the prospect of meat. I pushed the window open and leaned out as far as I could. The butcher's was just around the corner, but what appeared to be the tail end of the line reached the top of my street. Meat had become scarce, just like sugar, butter, and rubber. When there was a chance for fresh meat, people from all over the village stood and waited in line, rain or shine.
I pulled myself back into the kitchen, now rightfully sopping wet, and shut the window when there was a sharp knock at the door.
"Just a moment!" I shouted. I glanced at my reflection in the small kitchen mirror; I was a sight! I raked one hand through my soaked hair and shoved another arm into my cardigan hanging by the door. I was sweltering, but it was better than answering the door in my night dress. Another decisive tap and I flung the door open.
"Hello Alina."
I sighed with relief. "Hello Gerda." Well, she'd seen me worse; I used to sleep over at Gerda Müller's house when we were small. I had not truly spoken to her in ages, and had it not been for being in Hitler Youth together I doubt I would have spoken to her again. My mind traveled back to why we had fallen out of friendship. "Please come in," I said in my best hostess voice. She started to wrinkle her nose but caught herself. Right, that's why.
"I ought not stay, I just wanted to drop this off for you." She pressed a parcel covered in brown paper into my hands. "It's from the Bund auf Deutsche Mädchen. Happy birthday, by the way." I nodded my thanks. She nodded, turned, and strutted down the street with her nose in the air. Yes, nothing had changed Gerda Müller's stuck-up attitude. The little minx, I thought, grabbing a slice of stale bread and shoving the package under my arm as I tramped up the stairs.
     Flinging the package on the bed, I began to tug at the string, curiosity taking over me. "Whoever sent this should join the navy," I muttered, finally giving in and grabbing scissors for the impossible knot. Pushing off the string and brown paper, I blinked in surprise at what rested beneath me. A white blouse rested amongst the crinkled paper. It's from the Bund auf Deutsche Mädchen' , of course! I slapped a hand to my forehead, God was I stupid! I was fourteen now, and a part of the older girl's Hitler Youth. Can't say the BDM isn't punctual, I thought as I ran a brush through my long golden hair and hastily braided it. Resting neatly below the pristine white blouse was a new black skirt, khaki jacket, and black beret-style hat.
     As I pulled them out and began to dress, a small object clattered to the floor. Bending down, I discovered a black scarf curled gracefully inside a large ring with the Nazi eagle menacingly guarding the thin fabric.
     Oh, it fit beautifully; as if whatever skilled seamstress had created it had only me in mind. The blouse was light weight and soft to the touch, the skirt rustled elegantly against my calves. I studied my reflection in the mirror, when had I grown so much? I was curvier than I used to be, another inch or two taller perhaps. My cheeks were rosy and my face looked more like that of a young woman's.
     Glancing down, I gently picked up a small framed photograph that rested against my mirror. Both the glass and the frame had cracked, the photograph had yellowed, how long had it been since the photo had been taken? Ten years? I turned it over. August, 1931, was written in my mother's beautiful handwriting.
     "Ouch!" I muttered when my finger caught that glass crack that spidered it's way across the image. Papa, Mama, Otto, and I. 1931...Jan hadn't even been born yet. Otto and I grinned at the camera, barefoot and curly haired. I gently touched my braids; I missed my curly hair. Turned my attention back to the photo, I smiled to see Papa and Mama grinning at the camera as well. Mama had been so beautiful before all of...this...
     I remembered how she used to sing with me when she made meals, and the day she turned on the radio in the living room and taught Otto how to dance. I laughed quietly to myself, Otto had two left feet! He's quite the dancer now, I reasoned.
     Furrowing my brow, I raised the picture to eye level and stared into the mirror. Studying it, I realized Mama and I were the spitting image of each other. Quickly, I set down the picture and clawed impatiently at my braids before carefully weaving them into the halo Mama wore in the picture.
     There. Done. My hair and eyes were lighter than hers but yes, I looked just like her.
Another knock, this one faster, as if the owner were bursting with excitement. Sticking my head as far as I could out the window, I saw wisps of familiar blonde hair poking out from under the visitor's hat.
"Jacob!" I called and waved down to my friend. He leaned back, squinted into the rain. Grinning, he waved up at me.
"Get your jacket and your galoshes!"
"Why?" I yelled back. His shrug was barely visible under his rain coat as he switched a dented tin beer pail from hand to hand.
"Just trust me!" I shut the window, shoved my arms into my jacket, and began a desperate search for my galoshes. Footsteps on the stairs made me shoot to my feet, knocking my head against the wall. "What?" Jacob said. "It's pouring out there."
"Invite yourself in, please," I said sarcastically. Locating and pulling on my galoshes, I turned to my soggy friend.
"Are we going to go or not?" Jacob gestured to the door.
"What, do you want an invitation?" Rolling my eyes, we rushed down the stairs and out the door, passing my parents on our way across the lawn.
"We'll be back!" I called, running after Jacob. We dodged children playing in the streets, fruit carts in front of the grocer's, no more than half full. We skirted Nazi soldiers who laughed at us as we spend on. The herd of people they were guarding just a blur of faces and yellow splotches as they trudged down the street.
     I slowed enough to see the face of a little girl holding the hand of her mother, no more than eight. As if in slow motion, she smiled and waved to me; the childhood innocence she possessed as pure and clean as new fallen snow.
    "Are you coming, langsam?" Jacob called from ahead, the pail banging against his leg. Turning from the little girl, I ran onward. The path turned from paved to dirt, the buildings and homes to trees and wild flowers.
We stopped beside a fallen tree, coated in lichen with streams of ants flowing in and out. I shivered as rain ran its icy tendrils down my back.
"Why are we here?" I asked. Jacob said nothing, just ran his hands inside the fallen tree. "Jacob, what are you looking for?"
"Hush!" He hissed. "Here, look," he said as he cradled a squirming object in his coat. I bent down just as a yellow, blue eyed kitten poked it's head out of me. Its ears drooped, sodden with rain, up to its chest in mud. It made an attempt to speak with me, but only managed a half hearted mew. Jacob shoved the kitten into my arms, and I smiled as it pawed at my hands.
"What do you want to do with it?" I asked, attempting to rub it dry with the lining of my coat.
"Happy birthday!" Jacob declared.
"But I didn't-"
"I know, I know, and I don't mind. Money's tight these days. But don't worry, we'll call it a shared gift for the two of us. We didn't get each other anything, but," he gestured to the cat, "we've got him."
"What do we call it?"
"Is it a him or a her?"
"I don't know I don't know anything about cats!" Jacob shrugged again.
"So? What do you say, miss know it all?" I bit my lip, thinking.
"Katze." Jacob raised his eyebrows.
"You want to name a cat cat?" I shrugged.
"Goes both ways." He rolled his eyes, then picked up the cat and placed it in the beer pail, tucking an old dish cloth about it.
"Fine. A cat named Katze." I smiled. We walked home with Katze between us, who did was not pleased with the sheets of rain.
-------------
"Was ist los?" Mama demanded.
"Hallo Frau Fischer," Jacob said as I rinsed off the remaining mud from Katze's white underbelly. She-we discovered Katze was not an 'it'-was not pleased to say the least.
     "Jacob Rheder, what is this?"
     "Mama, we found her all alone in the woods and-"
    "How do we know she is not someone else's cat?" Papa demanded, more gently than Mama.
    "Well...we don't exactly...but wouldn't someone have put up a notice by now?" Papa looked to Mama. He had that tired face that he always wore when Otto or Jacob got into something, like when they broke Mama's good vase.
     "Fine. It stays for the night," Mama gave in.
     "She. It's a she, Frau Fischer."
     So Katze spent the night in an small, old crate with an equally aged blanket in my room. Warm and fluffy, she slept well that night and many nights after, until Mama fell in love with her as well.