Broken Wings

An Important Decision

       

Maximilian Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1941

Spring had come, giving way to new life and lifted spirits. And more restrictions.

It was really only a matter of time until Maximilian realized he couldn't hide out in the house forever.

"Mama, I cannot bear to endanger my family anymore," he blurted out, resting his head gently on the sofa. A breeze swept through the kitchen, curtains lapping back and forth in front of the open window. So tranquil, it sent chills up Maximilian's spine. Yet he felt anything but.

"Max, what other choice do we have?" Mama said, stirring a bowl of powder. Her eyes darted to the staircase, scanning for the little girl who was supposed to be asleep.

She did have a tendency to eavesdrop.

"I don't know. Some Jews have gone into hiding. Maybe we should consider it." Maximilian instantly regretted it as the words escaped. A lump formed in his throat, filled with fear. His mother's words confirmed his thoughts.

Her eyes widened. Dismay rested in the crevices of her worry lines on her forehead. "And put others' lives in danger? Nein, I will not allow it."

The words seemed to be caught in his throat. Maximilian bit his lip, his eyes falling to the kitchen floor. How could he be so selfish? There had to be a better option. "I suppose. Maybe I should find a place on my own. If they catch me, then I'll get through it," he said, burying his face in his hands.

"I will not let that happen. For now, you should sleep. You never know what tomorrow will bring," Mama said, reassurance glimmering in her otherwise sunken eyes.

Maximilian nodded, allowing his feet to carry him up the dust-coated stairs. They came to the window, his head filled with thoughts of tomorrow.

Gazing outside, Maximilian suddenly smiled inwardly, enjoying the tulips that sprang from the ground, purple and pink watercolors dripping from their petals. They lifted his troubled heart, more so than his mother's soothing words.  Gently taking his leather journal from its spot, he began recording everything he saw, and everything he felt.

Feeling is important too. Many of us forget this. Even I do every so often.

It is a rare moment when one truly gets to enjoy themselves without any interruption or interference from another person or thing.

It was one of those moments for Max.

"The earth really, truly is a beautiful thing," he said as he rose from his cozy nook. Sadly, these moments of inspiration don't last forever, and so it was with Maximilian.

The terror and confusion of the world came back to him, and it was then that he realized something must be done.

❀❀❀

"Maximilian!" Mama called from the living room. Awakened from his daydream, he scurried down the stairs like a meek mouse, his heart pounding in anticipation. A week had passed since his conversation with Mama, yet the guilt and fear still resided in his heart.

"Ja, Mama?" he said, sitting down next to her.

"Things have changed. More Jews are being arrested. We must find a place for you to stay tonight. I talked to Frau Schubert on the phone several days ago, and now today, and she's found a place for you to hide," she whispered.

"But last week you said--"

"Max, this is urgent. If you do not leave soon..." Mama trailed off, turning away as if unable to face her son. Color drained from his face, as did the peace from his eyes. All his doubts from before returned, hitting him at full speed.

How was he to put others' lives in danger?

"Ja, Mama. I need to rest for my journey. Please excuse me," he murmured, his heart pounding rapidly in his chest. Fear, guilt, despair, and even a twinge of hatred all echoed in his ears with every heartbeat.

The world had changed in an instant. From peaceful, and beautiful, to a dangerous, ugly place. At least in Max's mind. He could no longer think. It was if someone had stepped on his soul, slowly deflating it to where he could no longer survive.

Sighing, he dutifully began packing all his belongings into a canvas bag. Photographs, blankets, trinkets. They all made their way into the bag. At last, Maximilian fingered his journal, hesitating before tucking it beneath his pillow.

Some things were meant to stay behind.

"I just wish it wasn't so soon," he whispered to himself.

"Me too," Else cried, running up to hug him, "You can't leave, Max, you just can't. You're my only friend." At that point she began to cry. Tears pooled into his own eyes as he watched his little sister crumble. How could he leave her?

"Oh, Else," he said, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye, "I won't be that far. You can come visit me from time to time. And I'll come back when the war is over." His heart sunk deeper into his chest. Maximilian brushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead, trying to ignore the inescapable feeling of guilt that pooled in his mind.

"You don't believe it yourself. I'm nine years old, I can understand facial expressions, you know."

Chuckling, he patted her head. "You're the best sister any brother could ever ask for," he said, smiling.

"I know." She gazed up at him with sorrowful blue eyes. Max looked away. Her eyes would always glimmer with innocence and exuberance whenever they would chat. Yet today, it was if Maximilian's departure had taken a fragment of sparkle from his little sister's eyes. He smiled at her one last time.

And then, he left.

He wasn't really gone forever. Like he said before, Mama and Father and Else could always visit him. But to some extent, he was already gone from their lives.

At least he was safe now, right?

Maximilian wasn't so sure.

He was safer, however, and that was all that mattered to his family.

Mama grasped Maximilian's arm, her pace quickening. Houses flew by in a blur, blurs of brown and confusion. Maximilian gazed back at his house one last time, saying goodbye in his heart to the home that raised him for the later half of his childhood.

He'd finally found another family who loved him, and now he was leaving it.

All too soon, their feet met a graying porch. His new home.

"Come in quickly, we can't raise suspicion," the lady said, ushering them in. She looked to be middle-aged, with brown, graying hair tucked neatly in a bun. Her house was quite lovely; it had an antique feeling, and was rather large, yet a bit cluttered. Made up of many fancy woods and velvety furniture, it rather gave the appearance of an adorned cottage.

"I apologize for the mess, I did try to tidy up a little before you came."

"Oh no, it's quite fine. Thank you so much for everything," Mama said. Maximilian shifted uncomfortably beside her. This was the woman he was putting in danger.

"Please, it's unfair that your son should have to suffer just because of his religion," she said, then paused as if to think, "Oh, please do forgive me, I didn't quite catch your names..."

"Ansel Schüffen. And this is Maximilian."

"Federika Brandenburg," she said, thrusting out her arm in polite greeting.

"Pleased to meet you, Frau Brandenburg," Maximilian said. He breathed in, allowing the soothing scent of perfume to calm him. So this was his new home.

"Here, you can bring your stuff to the attic. I apologize, it's a little dusty, but it's the best we can do."

Maximilian nodded and followed her across the dining area and up two flights of steps, and finally into a dusty, yet wide open, attic. Though it wasn't preferable, it would still work. Mama spun around, her eyes filled with sorrow as she gazed into his.

"I should let you settle in. Oh Maximilian, I can't believe you're leaving," Mama cried, hugging him one last time, "Goodbye, my sweet dear."

I've never liked goodbyes. I do not know anyone who does.