Broken Wings

Remorse

Else Schüffen-   Munich, Germany 1942

Little snow flurries swirled down from the morning sky, dotting the grass with specks of light. Winter waited patiently in the sky, emerging from the clouds. Else shivered in the kitchen, the cold metal spoon sliding across her tongue. The watery soup poured into her throat, scorching it.

"Mama, do you think Father will be home by Christmas?" The question unfolded itself on the table, waiting for an answer.

"I don't know, honey. I don't know."

Else nodded sullenly, her broth cooling off before her. Knuckles pounded on the door, breaking the silence.

"Come in."

A man, stained with the swastika, stood in the doorway, regret spread across his face.

It was Josef.

Else held her breath, staring at his shadow on the kitchen floor. A gust of cold wind blew in, causing the hairs to stand up on her arms. The sight of him chilled her heart.

"Josef. What are you doing here at this hour?" Mama asked, reaching her arms out for a hug.

"I-I killed him. I killed my brother," he stuttered, tears flooding his bright blue eyes. Else's eyes softened ever so slightly, his words punching her in the face. The tears came to Mama's eyes too, her arms now wrapped around her son. He collapsed on the couch, staring off into the distance.

"Else, why don't you go upstairs and paint, all right?" Mama said.

She nodded, her eyes remaining on the Nazi lying on the couch, his tears staining it. She was too shocked to allow any words to escape from her mouth, whether they be words of anger or comfort.

He actually felt remorse.

The thought surprised her very much. For a couple years now, Josef had been ranting on and on about his hate for Jews, showing no sign of an exception for Max.

Apparently, he felt it now.

Else barred herself in her room, alone with the thoughts and the brush. Images of Josef were painted in her mind and on the canvas, the Nazi swastika proud and strong on his uniform, tears glistening on it in the sunlight. A gun was glued to his hand, shaking violently with fear. And before it stood a Jew, with eyes fogged with fear and compassion, with hair caked in blood that stuck to his olive cheeks. His heart beat like a hummingbird, beating its wings for the last time. Else paced out of her room, crouching down behind the bars of her usual spying place. Josef was seated at the dining room table, his hands covering his face. Else's eyes glanced away in realization. It wasn't only her that suffered. It wasn't only Maximilian that suffered.

Josef suffered too.

How could he remain a Nazi with this guilt hanging over him like a cloud of rain? How would he live with himself? I will tell you, part of the pain eventually goes away. It almost always does. But the feeling of guilt never does, and that in itself is painful. There was little comfort in knowing that he wasn't the one that pulled the trigger. But there was some, in the least.

Else breathed in silence, taking one last look at the figure hovering over the table. The memories of Max came strong that night. They flooded her mind more than it could handle.

❀❀❀

Red flags had decorated the streets in celebration. Else breathed in deeply, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She was clothed in the dreaded Hitler Youth uniform.

For it had been Hitler's birthday.

"You look beautiful, Else."

Else tore her eyes away from the reflection, greeting the figure in the doorway.

"Max!" She giggled in his arms, his woolen sweater scratching her cheeks. A few scars still remained across his arms from the fateful night of Kristallnacht.

"You're going to have lots of fun with Mama and Father," he said, patting her back.

"Well, aren't you coming?"

"I don't think I would be welcomed, darling."

Else frowned in disappointment. "Can't you just pretend you're not Jewish for one night? Please?"

"Nein, Else, they would arrest me."

"Can you at least come for part of it?" Maximilian stared into her pleading eyes. Finally, he gave up, partially from her relentless begging and partially from the want to feel like a human being for one night. Mama and Father stood in the kitchen, waiting. The door was agape, the warm April air rushing through.

"Is Max coming with us?" Father asked. Maximilian nodded sheepishly, grasping Else's hand. A gentle breeze greeted their faces as they stepped outside into the street of bleeding flags.

"Let's get some cakes from the bakery, and then let's watch the parade," Else said, her arm swinging carelessly.

"Maximilian can take you to the bakery, honey. I want to hear the Führer's grand speech," Father said. Mama shot her husband a look of warning. Words needn't be spoken in order to hear what she wanted to say.

They all knew what her point was.

They all knew what happened the last time Else went somewhere with just Maximilian.

Kristallnacht happened.

"We will all get a treat, and then hear the speech and watch the parade," Mama finally said, forcing a smile upon her face. Together, they strolled towards the bakery. Once they met its handpainted sign, Else swung open the glass door.

The taste of cake filled the mouths of the Schüffen family. It was something that hadn't been tasted in several months. And then came the speech. Words that made Maximilian cringe. Words that were spoken against him.

The parade wasn't much better.

The world had been growing insane. And it only grew worse.

❀❀❀

Sweat pooled around her body like a swimming pool of salt. She exhaled deeply, taking in her dusty surroundings.

"Max." Her whisper filled the air.

Rosalinde. Her sleep-deprived eyes filled Else's mind, the smell of her bread drifting into her nose. Where was she now? Had they taken her too?

Else longed to stretch out of her bed, to feel the warmth of Rosalinde's home.

Just a few more hours. Just wait until the sun shone through the window.

She swore she heard a violin playing down the street that night, it's melodious tune drifting throughout the town of Munich. It was a small consolation, but somehow it still comforted Else's dreams.

She fell asleep to the notes of an old violin, played by a Jew.