Upon his discharge from the hospital, he was sent to a government rehabilitation center. He was instructed on how to use a walking stick, which he tapped over the ground in front of him to identify obstacles. He, along with sixteen battle-blinded men, a mixture of gassed and shrapnel-injured veterans, were enrolled in a course to learn to read braille. He was anxious to return home to Wilhelmina, and he thought that the worst of his tribulation might be behind him. But Max discovered that he’d lost far more than his sight when a secondhand upright piano was acquired by the rehabilitation center. He took a seat at the piano, eager to play for the first time since he and his comrades had celebrated with music, roasted quail, and schnapps at an abandoned farmhouse.Even if I’m blind, I can make a living as a pianist.His fingers glided over the keyboard as he played Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto in A Minor. As his right hand ascended the keys, the musical notes disappeared. At first, he thought the upper registry strings were broken. But when a staff member, as well as an audience of blind veterans, informed him that all of the piano keys were in perfect working order, he realized that his eardrums, damaged from a concussive shell blast, were unable to register high-pitched tones. He was devastated. And his dream of becoming a piano composer, along with his hope of being able to support himself, was shattered.
Wilhelmina rolled out of bed, stirring Max. Her footsteps faded, and the washroom door closed. He placed his hand on the warm spot of her pillow.The distance between us feels like a chasm.Burying his thoughts, he got dressed and went to the kitchen.
“We’re almost out of food,” Wilhelmina said, entering the room. She buttoned the top of her tan coveralls. “But there’s enough leftover fried potato to last you a day.”
Max, running his hand over the wall, approached her. “I’ll pick up our rations.”
“Nein,” Wilhelmina said. “You might get lost.”
“I’ve been practicing the route while you’re at work,” he said, hoping to impress her. On his trips with Wilhelmina to pick up provisions, he had paid close attention to the path, counting steps and making mental notes of streets, curbs, and intersections. For the past week, while she worked at a munitions factory, he’d rehearsed the route. He started with trips around the block. But each day he traveled farther and farther, until he reached the market.
“It’s not safe for you to go by yourself,” she said. “I’ll go after work.”
“I want to do it,” he persisted.
She paused, rubbing dark circles under her eyes. At twenty-five, the war had stolen her vigor, her once-black hair prematurely turning gray with the passing of days reunited with Max, as if caring for him had accelerated the aging process. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
Max nodded, wondering if her affection for him, dormant since his return to Leipzig, would rekindle once he became self-reliant.
Wilhelmina ate a slice of black bread and washed it down with a glass of water. She gave him a scant peck on the cheek and left.
Anxious to gain his usefulness, he gathered his identification papers, wallet, walking stick, and a wicker basket with a lid, similar to a fishing creel. Standing outside the apartment, he heard the clamor of horses and wagons in the street. A clacking of shoes on the sidewalk grew, and then faded as a pedestrian passed by him.I can do this.He tapped his cane over the ground and made his way to the corner.Turn left, travel two blocks, turn right, travel one block, turn left, travel three blocks, and turn right.
As he slowly shuffled along the route, his confidence began to build. Other than occasionally jabbing himself in the belly with his walking stick, when the tip caught on cobblestone, his trip was uneventful. Thirty minutes after his departure, he arrived at the market. Locating the entrance, by the jangling cowbells attached to the door, he entered and stood in line. Minutes passed. Step by step, he moved closer to the clerk at the counter.
“What happened?” a young girl’s voice asked, standing next to him.
Max turned.
“Hush,” a woman’s voice said.
“It’s okay,” Max said to the woman, whom he presumed to be the girl’smutter. “I was injured in the war. I’m blind.”
The girl stared at Max’s milky eyes. “Can you see anything?”
“I’m afraid not.” Based on the girl’s voice, he estimated her to be between four and five years of age.
“How did you get here?” the girl asked.
“Franziska,” themuttersaid, sternly. “It’s not polite to ask questions.”
“I don’t mind,” Max said. He raised his walking stick. “I tap this over the ground in front of me to guide my way.” He waited for the girl to respond, but she spoke no further. Disappointed, Max turned and waited for the line to move forward.
Reaching the counter, Max was greeted by the nasally voice of a store clerk named Georg, whom Max knew from years of making trips to the market with his parents. As Georg filled his basket with war bread, bits of preserved meat, and potatoes, Max’s mind flashed with memories of hismutterandvatergathering ingredients to make delectable holiday meals. Schnitzel with savory kugel noodles. Goulash, a spicy paprika meat stew.Kaiserschmarrn, sweetened pancakes with plum preserve. Potato latkes drizzled with applesauce. Challah, a braided eggy bread with a poppy seed–studded crust. But by far, Max’s favorite was hismutter’skrokerle, spiced chocolate hazelnut cookies, which she served with mulled wine. They’d only been dead a few years, but for Max, it felt like a lifetime. A melancholic ache filled his chest.God, I miss them.
“Will there be anything else, Max?” Georg asked.
“Nein.”
Georg marked the ration card, placed it inside the basket, and closed the lid.
Max extended his open wallet. “Do I have enough?”
“Ja.” He took out several marks, and then gave Max a bit of change. “It’s good to have you home.”
“Danke.” Max hooked his arm through the basket handle, and then made his way through the crowded market. People stepped away, creating a path, as he tapped his cane over the ground.
Outside, he created his mental map.Turn left, travel three blocks, turn right, travel one block, turn left, travel two blocks, turn right. He headed toward home, a sense of accomplishment swelling within him. But halfway into his journey, the sound of footsteps came from behind him. He slowed to allow the pedestrians to pass, but the group stopped. Continuing his trek, the clack of footsteps resumed. Hairs raised on the back of Max’s neck. He picked up his pace.
