Broken Wings

A Bit of Trouble

Else Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1942

Else was never one to cause much trouble. In fact, she was quite the obedient girl. Myna, however, was a little more troublesome.

Of course, all of us slip up sometime. Myna happened to be the reason Else slipped up.

I assure you, it was nothing too evil. In fact, many may argue that it was a good thing that Else did so, at least nowadays. Avoiding a little potentially dangerous propaganda could never hurt. Sadly, Else's parents did not agree with the above statement.

"I hate Hitler Youth. Why can't we just skip it?" Else groaned, kicking a shower of snow into the street. It slowly dissipated into droplets, melting on the surface of the cobblestone.

"Who says we can't?" Myna smiled slyly. Else shook her head, studying Myna's expression. Her eyes glimmered with mischief.

"Mama. Und Father. Und Hitler."

"Whatever. I say that we don't have to go, and that's all that matters," Myna said, defiant.

"But--"

"Come on, Arschloch, are you going or not?" Myna said, loosening the dreaded blue tie around her neck. Glancing at the sky, Else debated back and forth between a day of dullness, or a day of excitement.

The day of excitement eventually won.

"Now, what are we going to do with our day? We can barely think of anything to do on the weekends."

Myna shrugged, packing a sloppy snowball together. It merely filtered through the cracks of her fingers, splattering on the ground.

"Obviously, nothing with the snow," she muttered. Maybe they should have just gone to Hitler Youth. Then, at least they wouldn't be bored half to death and in a mound of trouble when they arrived home.

"Let's just go to the bakery. Maybe we can get something to eat," Else said.

"Und how will we get the money, smart one?"

"I don't know." Else shrugged.

Myna sighed, shaking her head. At least if they couldn't eat the food, they could smell it. The aroma of baked bread and frosted cookies led the two girls in front of the glass casing, filled with cakes and strudels alike. Oh, was it enticing. Especially to children who hadn't had a taste of pastries for months, possibly years.

"Hallo, how can I help you?" the clerk said, pulling a fresh roll of baked bread out of the oven. The smell ran down Else's nose, dripping slowly into her mouth. If only...

"Excuse me, may I buy three strudels?" a voice said behind them. Else spun around on her heels, studying the figure that loomed above her. It winked at her, a strand of dark curly hair dangling in its eyes.

"Rosalinde!" the girls yelled, greeting her with a series of breath-stealing hugs. The clerk smiled, grabbing a handful of oozing, buttery strudels, and set the masterpieces gently on the counter.

"But I thought..." Else started. The No Jews Allowed sign hung on the doorway, screaming at her face.

"That's why we are going outside, my dear," Rosalinde said, discreetly revealing the Star of David sewn under her sweater. Else glanced longingly towards the bakery, joining the others on the wet, slushy cobblestone road. If you haven't sat on a wet road, I recommend you don't try it.

"Now, we eat." Else gently bit into the perfectly baked piece of heaven, smiling contentedly. Apple filling oozed out, dripping onto the wrapping. Suddenly, it didn't matter that her uniform was becoming soaked, and that her parents would probably kill her when she got home.

"Thank you, Rosalinde," Myna said, licking the edges of the strudel.

"Ja, you honestly didn't have to," Else said, a sticky smile forming on her lips.

"Oh, but I did." Rosalinde smiled.

Apple Strudel. A wonder in itself.

❀❀❀

Now, for the part that Else dreaded the most.

Going home.

You may argue that she could have easily hid skipping Hitler Youth, and that may have been true. Except Else couldn't lie. She just couldn't. It was one of the things that Else could absolutely not stand. And she refused to do it herself. No matter the consequences, at least not in this case.

"How was Hitler Youth today?"

The dreaded question.

"I don't know."

Mama slowly spun around from the stove, the creamy (or, at least, as creamy as stew could get back then) spoon still in her hands. Else felt the dread rise in her heart, threatening to spill out.

"Und why is that?" The second dreaded question.

"I didn't go."

And then began the punishment. The tears. And the disappointment. The anger was visible on Mama's face, creating a red crease that slid down her forehead. It washed over Else like a flood of tears, crushing her underneath.

It was a good thing that Ansel didn't believe in physical punishment.

Later that evening, Else cradled herself beneath the threadbare covers of her bed, her face a blank slate of emotion. She could only imagine what poor Myna was experiencing now, most likely not from her absence from Hitler Youth, rather from the soiled uniform.

"Where are you, Max? I need you." A flood of tears came to her eyes, staining the yellowed pillow. She couldn't even paint anymore. Even that had been taken from her.

Or was it?

Myna's thoughts began to flood through her mind. Who says we can't?

Who said she couldn't?

Grinning slyly, Else got out of bed, reaching underneath it. She carefully slid out the worn-down box of wonders, and lifted the lid The box that contained her talents. Or rather, the tools that made her talents possible. She painted her soul onto the canvas, allowing the feeling of indulgence to soak through her. It was the only way she could make him here again. Yes, he could be here again. Else smiled at the thought, forming the curved shape of his neck.

This time, no one could burn her painting. Else wouldn't allow it.

And believe me, you don't want to get in the way of a grieving girl, with nothing left of her beloved brother except an illegal painting.

Oh, Max, where are you?