Broken Wings

An Evening to Remember

Maximilian Schüffen- Munich, Germany 1941

If the Brandenburgs had known what Maximilian was doing, I highly doubt they would have let him leave the party. It was a good thing Rosalinde was very persuasive, or else it would be an evening to forget eventually. The evening air was frightfully cold, causing Rosalinde and Maximilian to shiver violently until they reached the safety of her sleek, black car.

"How far is y-your house?" he asked, still shivering. His body ached, and his eyelids threatened to droop any minute.

"Not far. We should be there soon."

Maximilian focused his attention towards the window. Thankfully, the driver was going fairly slow, which eased his concerns of nauseousness. Riding in cars had never really been Max's favorite.

When the driver stopped along the curbside in front of a tall, brick home, Rosalinde thanked him and led Maximilian to the door. She fumbled with the key for a minute or two, until the door finally sprang open and invited the two inside.

"Welcome to my home," she said, a pleasant smile forming on her lips.

Maximilian nodded, shivering even more so than before. Her chocolate brown eyes pierced his, showing a look of concern.

"Are you feeling okay? You don't look well. Here let me..." Rosalinde trailed off. Before she could even finish her sentence, he was lying on the couch haphazardly, his eyes peacefully shut. It was as if Maximilian were in a trance, somewhere else, somewhere vastly different.

First, he saw black. An inky, frightening black that shrouded him in darkness. And then her face. So small and scared, worn down with the weight of today. Tear stains carved ruts in her cheeks, leaving a scar that would never go away. He felt her kiss his head one more time. "Tchüss, Max." And then he floated away, drifting into a world of horrors that she was too young to understand.

"Else," he whispered, his head rolling back and forth. Again he was shrouded in darkness, but this time it was a blurry, lighter darkness. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead, clashing with the chilled feeling that erupted throughout his body. Maximilian soon became aware of a darker, pinkish figure standing above him.

"Just go to back to sleep; everything will be better in the morning."

There was actually some truth to that, too.

❀❀❀

A chilling, freezing breeze flew in through the window, slapping Maximilian in the face. He sat up with a start, confused. Everything blurred together. The only thing he was able to make out was the figure of the window, but even then he couldn't tell what lay outside of the wall of glass.

Climbing out of bed, Maximilian groaned. A sharp, shooting pain exploded from deep within his ankle. As he limped towards the stairs, memories flooded back to him; he was with Rosalinde. He had been discovered by another Jew.

And then he saw her, sitting on the couch, waiting for something. Waiting for him. Else spun around, staring at him, and then jumped up from the cushion and ran towards him.

The indescribable love of siblings.

A sob escaped his throat. She was here, right in front of him. It was then Maximilian realized, how could he leave her again? How?

"I missed you so much," Else whispered, her throat burning. Unable to make out any words, he remained silent, still squeezing his sister.

How could he ever leave her again?

❀❀❀

She was gone. Gone, just like that.

But she couldn't stay forever.

Maximilian sobbed gently on the couch. How could he have let her go so easily?

"Max, you should go. They will get suspicious. We have Nazi soldiers living above us, und they know that you are here. You should be running the store, not staying here with me," Rosalinde said.

"Ja, I know. I do not want to trouble you further." He rose shakily from the couch, cringing. His ankle must have twisted when he fainted on the couch.

"You are not well enough to go yet. Here, let me take you back up to my room," she said, her face twisted. Maximilian could barely make out her distraught face. He groaned in pain at the throbbing of his head.

"I don't want to trouble you any further," he repeated faintly.

"Can you walk?" Rosalinde said, ignoring him.

Maximilian nodded, and then began limping towards the stairs as if to prove himself. Shaking her head, Rosalinde followed behind in case he tripped.

When they finally reached the top, however, an unpleasant surprise greeted them.

"Rosalinde! Why, hello," a S.S. officer said, emerging from a door that must lead to his home. Maximilian jumped back in surprise, nearly falling back down the stairs. Rosalinde shrieked, grabbing his shirt and catching him just in time. Standing back up, he breathed a sigh of relief, and then steadied himself to greet the officer.

"Hello, Officer Brodbeck," she said, her jaw twitching in annoyance.

"I see you have a guest." The officer scanned him from head to toe, nodding. Maximilian thought he saw a spark of suspicion.

"Ja, I do, and he is not feeling well now, so if you would excuse me I would like to take him to my room," she answered with a tinge of sassiness.

"My apologies, Fräulein. Sometimes I forgot that Jews can be rather sassy," he chuckled.

"Come on, Maximilian, let's get you to my bed." The bed. It seemed so inviting all of a sudden, bathed in a scent of rosemary.

A place where one can be at peace.

He absorbed himself in a pile of blankets, thoughts and memories slowly trickling back to him.

"I love you Else."

"I can't leave you, Maximilian, I can't. I'll die. Please, please, don't go, don't go." Sobs escaped from her mouth, still squeezing him.

"Else. Else." A tear trickled down on her forehead. She looked up at him with red, puffy eyes.

"Goodbye, Max. I shall never forget you." And then she left, looking back sorrowfully at the figure that stood in the window.

She was gone. He was gone.