Follow

Seen

July turned into August. And August into October. The leaves changed their dresses, golds, and browns, and reds. School was in full swing, my room seemed to always be cluttered with books, papers, pencils rolling this way and that. Katze was particularly fond of my essays, the crumpled paper balls that went flying over my shoulder.
My letters to Otto began to take up more space in my mind. I wrote all manner of things, news of the war we had heard at home, like when we heard that the Nazis and their powerful friends were trying to invade Russia last June. They were in Moscow now, doing God only knew what; we hadn't heard much the past few days.
I poured my heart into those letters. All of my deepest thoughts and feelings were recorded there. I wrote things that maybe, just maybe, would make him smile. Like today for example, when Katze had found herself tangled in Mama's sewing basket, yowling for help. I wrote down the event in my latest letter the moment I freed Katze from the thread-made trap she'd gotten herself into.
"How often do you check that mailbox? You're practically camped there!" Jacob joked.
I scowled, closing the crooked mailbox with a tired creak from its hinges. "It's just been a while, that's all."
"How long?"
I shrugged. "Two months, maybe?"
Jacob furrowed his brow. "How many letters have you sent?"
"More than I care to say," I answered cryptically, embarrassed.
Jacob shook his head, convinced. "The mail's slow, that's all."
I nodded, turning to enter my house and begin yet another essay. "You're probably right." Setting my things down on the table, I scooped up a now much larger Katze and went to my room to begin another letter. As I began to write, my frustrations spilled over.

Dear Otto,
Why do I keep writing? I am sorry if I bother you, that was never what I meant. You are far away now and may never answer. Jacob says it is because the mail is slow. But what if you are angry with me? I have not seen you in months how could you be angry with me? I miss you, quite a lot actually.
Do you remember that water fight we had after your first track meet in high school? You did so well, you ran faster then all the other boys. Mama was so angry, do you remember? How she shrieked when came home! 'Ach, nein! Don't you dare step on that floor I just cleaned! How on earth did you get so wet? Never mind, it's the two of you! Of course you were mischievous as always! Go! Get cleaned up, Otto you are covered with mud!' Do you remember how she made you wash with the pump? You came in more wet than you were, with your uniform still on, you looked like a drowned rat!
I miss you, and I love you. I don't care if you are far away, I would not love you any less if you were down the hall or on the moon.

He might as well be on the moon, I thought as I signed my name and sealed the envelope. Addressing it with care, so it was sure to go to Otto, I hurried down the steps from my room and out to the mailbox. Placing it inside, I hoped with all my heart Otto was simply out of paper.
It was a beautiful day, with the sun filtering through the leaves and a few lazy clouds rolling across the bright blue sky.
     "Katze," I called in a sing song voice upon walking through the door. She jumped into my arms as I settled onto my bed to start my essay.   "Alright," I murmured, "what shall we write about today?" Just as I put pencil to paper, a knock on the front door echoed through the house. Sighing, I turned to the cat. "It is a wonder I get any work done," I said, rubbing behind her ears.
Skipping the stairs all the way down, I peeked through the window to see a tall man in a Nazi uniform. The same grey-blue as Otto's.
"Heil Hitler," the soldier said once I opened the door, raising his right hand.
"Guten Tag," I greeted. Heil the man who stole my brothers? Nein, not when I didn't have to.
"Bist du Fraulein Fischer? Alina Fischer?" he asked. Yes, of course I was Alina Fischer! This was my address, he was at my house was he stupid?
"Ja, Ich bin."
"Are your parents home?" His nose twitched, his glasses too small for his long face and equally long body.
"Nein. Sie sind nicht." Dummkoph, if they were home they would have answered the door. The soldier sighed, removed his hat, and ran a hand through his blonde hair.
"Fraulein, it is my duty to tell you that your brother, Otto, has died. He died a good son of Germany, fighting the enemies of Hitler und der Vaterland."
This wasn't real. "How?" Somehow my lungs had air, my voice still worked though I swear it had been torn from me with the oxygen around me.
"He was shot by the enemy during battle."
Inhale, exhale. Someone was pressing into my chest, squeezing my throat. "When?"
"Some two months ago. The mail would not go through. We wanted to contact you but had no way. Our only option was to come here."
"But the letters?"
"They had been seen, and taken note of. We will send them back with his body." Seen. My heart's thoughts only seen.His blue eyes pierced into mine, searching. Searching for what? Life? What life did I have? Perhaps I was dead and had not realized it yet. "Fraulein?" He handed me his handkerchief. "Do not cry, Fraulein. Your brother died fighting for Germany's freedom. There is no better, no more dignified-"
     I threw down the handkerchief into the dirt and slammed the door. I fell against it, unable to breathe. The corners of my vision darkened and swayed. Standing up, I stumbled into the bathroom.
    "You fool," I whispered, the words choking on a sob. "Du bist ein Dummkoph!" I screamed, no whimpering, strangled cry but a real shriek that came from what little air was left to me. I gulped air, drowning on land as someone put their full weight onto my chest. "Why did you think he would answer? You knew! You knew! All along and yet you would not believe it! You have been a fool!" Sobs wracked my body like an earthquake. Turning, I vomited my lunch and began to weep once more. There was no end to the hot tracks of water that made canyons down my cheeks. "Damn you!" I screamed and other obscenities to no one in particular. To God? Surely He could not hear me, not now. My shallow breathing came weak groans as my tears began to subside. Katze yowled at my knee, pawing at my stockings. "He's gone! He's gone you stupid cat! He's never coming home!" Katze had sprinted up the stairs as my anger boiled over. I buried my head in my arms as I rocked back and forth. And now I had the unpleasant task of telling my parents.
     My parents.
     What would they say? What would they do?
     No answer came to me. I heard the door open and click shut, echoing through the deafening silence like the door of a crypt. Papa found me on the floor, scooped me up, and carried me to bed. Mama's cries echoed in my mind as I dosed off 'my boys! Both of my boys how can this happen? How can this be? My boys-my sweet boys!'
     I dreamed of a boy and a girl, with blonde hair and light eyes. In the false peace of my dreams, there was what used to be. A girl and a boy, who laughed and chased each other. A boy who was dead, his cold body being sent home in a box, and a girl who was as good as he.