The Harder Battle

Tiny beads of condensation were beginning to form on the frothy pink and white drinks that sat in front of him. The Michigan afternoon sun shone through the wide window reading ‘Tom’s Diner’ in big, bold lettering. Bright red swerve chairs lined the high-rise plastic counter tops. In one of such seats sat Eddie Bruder, a down-to-earth mechanic. One wouldn't expect such a gruff looking man him to be so different underneath that exterior. 

He slowly churned the vanilla shake with the straw in his hand, lined with folds and dots of oil. In the background, Eddie could faintly hear the tune of a popular song. A melancholy smile crossed his lips. All he could think about was the past that haunted him, like the after taste of the sweet-to-a-fault drink in front of him, and those he lost in the whirlwind that they called the Second World War The war that stripped him down to the mere bones and replaced his flesh with fragile paper. One was Henry, his twin, who should be sitting next to him and chatting while the gentle tangy wisp of strawberries lingered on his breath.

Sighing, he stood up, his stool screeching slightly against the checkered, aluminum tile. A few more coins than needed rested on the counter as Eddie walked through the door with a small bell chiming behind him. The light blinded him momentarily before he made his way down the busy streets; sun glinting off the glass windows of the Ford Thunderbirds and other common makes of the late 1930s and so on. Shoulders brushed against him as wave after wave of people, strolling along their way, went past him. He didn’t mind it. In fact it was comforting to know people here wouldn’t avoid those like him, a man that was now physically and mentally different than the pedestrians that he passed in the streets. But occasionally he could see them glance at him with curiosity, and sometimes disgust, aimed toward his scarred face and covered eye.

 To  his right, the intricate metal gates of the public park were approaching. He glanced at his watch- still an hour and a half or so until his shift resumes. His decision made, Eddie walked through the open gates and proceeded along the cobblestone path. The din of the street soon faded as he made his way through the flourishing and spacious park. Faintly, he could hear the laughs of children as they played in the newly cut grass. Looking over to the source of the laughter, he saw them. A deep brown eye honed onto one group of children in particular, the only thing that made them different from the others was the strangely colored lollipops they waved around. His eyes were glued to the swirling candies while his heart raced in a panic. A long-dead fear bubbled up within his chest.

With shaky legs he made his way to a bench that was frayed from misuse. He all but collapsed onto its unwelcoming surface, holding his head in quaking hands. In. Out. In. Out. His breath came with difficulty, although controlled. Eyes closing, the weight of his fear grasped at his mind as if it were two welcoming hands pulling him under. Then there was nothing holding onto him as he entered the part of his subconscious that he had blocked out.

“You betrayed me. Let my heart stop all alone. Left me there, Ed. You should have died for me, with me. But you were too needy and grasped onto life like a toddler to his mother’s skirts.”

“No, Henry… You know that’s not true…You had to die, there was no choice. You fell for that man’s lures- his smiles, candies, and false kindness. Henry, you were weak. Just like we are now…”

Lines of tears streamed down Eddie’s face, his hands flying back to cover his ears once again. He could hear them talking in his mind, he could picture them. The first was his brother- black hair, eyes the darkest brown, mole on his right cheek, skin stretched taut across his bones. The other? Himself- a twisted, malevolent version of himself. He was the one that was strong, hateful toward his oppressors and the weak; the Eddie that only existed then out of need to escape the torture. He was the one that he saw in every mirror. An exact copy from the way his black hair curled to how his left eye was murky blue above the natural brown color, but lacked the last horrid scar that stretched across his chest that served as his reminder.

A reminder that he almost died, almost ended up as just another in the shuffle of the dead. They- he and his brother- were two of the few lucky ones that kept their clothes and their hair, in exchange for pints of blood being taken every day and experiments meant to reveal how to produce more perfect, healthy babies at once. He could remember with all too much clarity the faces of the other pairs of twins- both the ones that came back and the ones that didn’t- all younger than he and his brother were. But more than anything, the images of his own Angel of Death sweeping down upon him in his pristine lab coat with hard candies and scalpels were prominent in his mind.

With all his might, he wished there was a way to tell the ghosts of his past the truth-- how he fought against the man that was about to kill Henry with a lethal shot of chloroform to his heart, how he was saved by troops while on his last legs, how he changed his perspective when he was faced with emptiness-- but he could not.  He couldn’t make them stop, for they couldn’t hear his desperate replies as he could hear their rancid comments. Their angry chatter just continued to go on and on and on ceaselessly. Eddie was completely and utterly helpless to their torments.

“Well, Eddie? What’s your excuse? ‘Oh, I wanted to save you, I tried my hardest to stop him, but that wasn’t good enough.’ What? What?” the two said in unison. His head started to ache as he let out a small whimper in response, unable to do anything. Then there was the warmth of a body next to him.

In the back of Eddie’s thoughts, there was a short-lived moment where he believed that someone truly came to give him comfort. But that was taken away as his terrified mind forced the thought out. Now all he could think of was Henry’s heat- how he has come back to haunt him and infect him with the fire of his fever, his delirium. Soft bubbles began to form in the liquidity of his panicked mind, with each passing moment they grew more frequent in their formation. A hand being placed on his back sent the warmth straight to his core. Frenzy, terror, realization.

This was not Henry; this was not his twin’s hand. Eddie’s heart suddenly felt lighter, like his burden just disappeared- if just a little bit. As if this presence was the soft taps of a chisel chipping away the concrete block of fear that built up around his heart. In that moment, he thought that maybe the harder battle was finding closure.

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Afterward: A short note from the author...

'The Harder Battle' is one of my favorite pieces, despite the choppy syntax and so on. Researching was probably the best part of the whole experience. I spent a while finding out everything I could about the Holocaust to simply figure out what to create. It was actually rough, especially with the horrors that all these people experienced. I admit that I almost burst out sobbing at a couple points. But this is the final product of all those grueling and sorrowful hours of working. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did while writing it.

In case anyone is confused about the candy trigger, it has a legitament reason. This 'Angel of Death' was a real World War II researcher for the Germans that conducted many experiments on Jews and POWs. I found him and his research horrifying and deranged, so he appeared as the root of Eddie's mental battle. If you are interesting in learning more, just search 'Josef Mengele'. 

Thank you for reading.