Blue Glass

Manfred

POV change #2
To this day, the idea that so many people are fascinated with me to such an extent that they would be bothered to go out in the street and watch me fly my red plane over Schweidnitz is surprising to say the least. I can see them now, gathering like moths to a flame as I execute a slow loop above the church steeple, then make my way down to the small exercise ground where I'm to land.
Lea never did say anything to my letter about coming to Germany. Then again, she's probably busy...
I want to see her again. I want to see her again so badly it hurts. She's the only one who actually understands me, out of all the people in my life. I can tell that already—and we haven't had a single proper conversation.
The roar of voices drowns out the rumble of the engine and the propeller. I can see my mother and sister at the forefront of the crowd, looking at me expectantly as I climb gingerly out of the plane and make my way over to them, praying my ears will stop ringing from hearing nothing but the motor for two hours straight.
"Hello, Manfred." My mother shakes my hand firmly. I can barely hear her over my ringing ears and the chatter of the people surrounding us.
"You look well," Ilse says as we shake hands.
I notice they're both looking at the bandage swathing my head.
We make our way through the crowd of people to the gates of our house. Try as I might, I can't suppress the stab of disappointment that Lea isn't among them.
Or is she? I didn't bother to look. My mother would ask me what I was looking at, and I was in no mood to get imaginative concocting a lie. I could never dare to tell her I was in love with another woman. I couldn't tell anyone. It was a secret between me and my heart alone.
"Manfred!" Her voice makes me jump. "Aren't you coming in?"
"Of course." I shake my head as if trying to clear the fog from my mind and start up the stairs to the front door.
"What were you looking at?" Ilse asks me teasingly as we go into the living room. "Has a girl caught your eye?"
At that, my mother turns and looks sharply at me, disappointment beginning to seep into her gaze.
"No." It takes all my self control not to shoot eye daggers at my sister. "You have to remember, Ilse, I don't have time for girls."
Except one.
I excuse myself under the pretext that I need to clean myself up and go upstairs to my room. I notice with satisfaction all the things that I had sent my mother from the Front—serial numbers, machine gun fragments, etc—are all neatly displayed on the walls and on my mantel.
I shuck off my jacket and go to the window, staring down onto the street. And almost like a higher power had ferried her from Vienna to Striegauer Strasse, there she is, staring at the gate to my house.
My heart nearly stops. I feel such a heady rush of euphoria that I list to one side. I want to tap on the window, but I know I can't. Anyone's grandmother sitting at her window across the street might notice me...
Then she looks up, her eyes scanning the windows of the upper level of the house. Her gaze falls on the window I'm standing at—
Her dark eyes widen ever so slightly. I lift my hand in a discreet wave and she nods at me.
She came, is all I can think. She actually deigned to come see me.
I signal for her to wait and scoop my jacket up off the floor, hastily doing the buttons. My hands are shaking, whether from apprehension or excitement, I don't know.
I make up an excuse when I get downstairs to go for a short walk to alleviate my headache and put on my greatcoat, pulling the collar up around my face.
Screw everything. The early bird gets the worm.