Kreuzberg, Berlin 1942
In the simplest of terms, my life was riddled with guilt of whom I was, how I was raised, and how I was treated amongst the chaos surrounding me. I lay nightly neath silk sheets whilst my friends and fellow school mates are torn from their homes and slaughtered in front of their families. I heard stories through chatter amongst the streets of a wealthy bankers family being bombarded by soldiers in the night, his daughter dragged by a fistful of her hair down the stairs whilst she shrieked at the top of her lungs until she reached their car, his infant son torn from the breast of his mother, and himself shot in front of them all for attempting an altercation with the soldiers. Now the city was quiet and still while those of us left alone remained riddled with guilt, sadness, and empathy for those in our neighbour being found by the government. I wept and prayed nightly for them, unsure of what else I could do in my twenty-year old Catholic girl power.
Silence continued to loom in the streets as I walked back to my home, my shoes clicking against the stone street being the old sound that could be heard, other than the rustling wind. Five years ago or so, I would have seen many mothers hanging up their children's wet clothes to dry, children playing marbles in the streets, and Oma's and Opa's sitting in wooden chairs on their porch watching their grandchildren play and waving at all children who wandered by. But now, because of an inhumane and seemingly unstoppable ruler, the streets were metaphorically stained with blood and shunned to silence. I walked with my head dipped down in shame, utter shame for not having any power to help my friends and neighbours, for being classified as one of the "enemy" and "vile killers" despite not being either of those.
I opened the front door with as quiet of a creak as my muscles could muster, desperate not to draw attention from outsiders. I searched the windows nearby, scanning for any pair of eyes that would be watching me from afar. When I felt confident enough that I had not seen any, I slipped in and creaked it closed behind me.
"Ich bin hier mit," I called out, stating that I had arrived with a dinner. I waited until I heard three creaks in the floorboards above before I called out again, "Es bin nur ich, keine soldaten."
Once she was assured it was just me and not any soldiers, like I told her, she crept down the stairs, holding her arms close by her sides. I had seen her just yesterday but it seemed as though she had lost even more pigmentation, skin and glow in that short period of time. Her dark eyes were sunken deep in her skull, showing darkness all around them. They blinked at me feverishly as I reached into the brown paper bag that I had been clutching so tightly in my hands on the walk home and pulled out a loaf of bread from the local bakery, still warm. She hastily took it from my hands and brought it upstairs to the rest of her family. There was something so twisted about seeing a neighbour and friend in such a dire and desperate situation whilst I, still plump and yellow-toned, could walk wherever I pleased without fear of my life.
"Warten," I called out, "Ich habe auch Kekse," telling her that I had also brought cookies. She returned for the rest of the bag and shuffled back upstairs to deliver it before returning down to speak to me.
"Vielen Dank," she thanked me. Her voice was soft and mousy, quite in contrast to when we had first met.
"Kein Problem," I assured her. She explained to me that her mother's friend had been living with a Catholic family in their cellar when they were found by the soldiers. Everyone, Jewish or Catholic, was sent to the camps by the train. She questioned if that could ever happen to us and I assured her that I would not so long as each and every single one of us was cautious. She asked me if I was and I eased some of her worries by stating that I was as cautious as I could be and that I would rather lay down my own life than risk hers.
We continued to talk, none of the topics of conversation light, or that of a regular 20-year old and 16-year old. I told her of the horror stories that were being swept in whispers amongst the streets and in the Catholic Churches. Our church had originally been a safe place; a place where we could discuss horrors at a normal volume and a place where we could bring those who were fearing for their lives to feel more at ease. But when the Heim family got discovered by soldiers, thanks to someone of the church confessing their whereabouts to soldiers, that place got tainted and destroyed for the community.
"Auf wiedersehen," I whispered in a quick embrace before I snuck out of the door once again. Everything seemed clear when I exited so I continued on my way back home.
The rest of the evening occurred as usual, eating amongst my catholic family and speaking of what was happening in our community and around the world. I crawled beneath my silk sheets to fall asleep, but my mind was far too troubled to be able to slip into slumber. I tossed around for a few hours before I was pulled out of my thoughts by a loud knock on our front door. Beside me, my two brothers continued to remain asleep. When I heard the door open and voices mumble, I began to worry and made the decision to investigate the nighttime guest. My bare feet carefully touched the hardwood beneath me, sticking ever so slightly together.
Careful not to wake my brothers and cause more of a commotion that I wanted, I hesitantly and cautiously snuck out our bedroom door, shutting it behind me very slowly. I crept to the top of the staircase and sat there, stopping my breathing to ensure I could hear the conversation.
"Andere familien?" My father was asked my the guest, meaning "other families?"
"Sir, ich verspreche nichts," my father assured, meaning "I promise nothing"
"Entschuldigung, sir, ich habe hunger. Hast du Brot?" The guest asked with a voice of suspicion. Meaning "I am hungry, do you have any bread?"
"Nien, sir."
"Nien? Kein Brot zum Abendessen?" He asked, questioning if we had bread for dinner.
"Nien, sir."
"Nien?" The guest then began to explain that the baker had sold a blonde girl a loaf of bread and cookies and that she was seen going into a home with the bag from the bakery and leaving without it, before she was seen arriving at this current home. He then asked where the blonde girl dropped off the food and why. My father begged that he "helped you so many times, just please leave her."
When I was able to put the pieces together of whom the guest was and what my father had been doing for the soldiers, I went to creep silently back up the stairs. As I was about to crawl back, I could hear the loud sound of boots racing up the stairs. Before I could run, I locked eyes with the soldier and shrieked at the top of my lungs.
2019
I woke up to the feeling of water being splashed across my face and choking me. I jolted upright to come face to face with Harry. "Char, are you okay? You've been asleep on the grass for like 20 minutes."
"Yeah," I gurgled, noticing that he splashed me with water to wake up. "I guess I was just having a traum."
"Traum?"
"Sorry, dream. I don't know why I just spoke in German. I don't even know German. Is my tongue big? My voice sounds funny," I slurred.
"You're drunk. Let me take you home." He lifted me with ease in his arms and again, I blacked out.
