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22
Sofie
Berlin,Germany
1935
Georg’s first day atGrundschulehad arrived. Mayim stayed home with Laura so we could walk him to school on our own. At the front door, she bent to kiss his cheek.
“Have a great first day, Georg,” she said. He beamed at her, revealing his two missing front teeth—a gap that caused certain sounds to escape with a lisp. He threw his arms around Mayim’s neck.
“I’ll tell you everythingtonight, Mayim. I promise.”
“I know you will, little buddy,” she laughed, squeezing him tightly. Laura came running down the stairs, almost tripping on her feet, then launched herself at Georg in a forceful embrace.
“Have a good day,” she said, squeezing her eyes closed as she hugged him. Georg hugged her back, and they stood like that just for a second. Mayim and I exchanged quiet smiles. When Laura released her brother, she took Mayim’s hand.Then, almost overcome with emotion, she shifted to stand behind Mayim’s leg. Her gaze fell to the floor as she mumbled, “Goodbye, Georg.”
Georg raised his chin and drew in a deep breath as if bracing himself, then said bravely, “Goodbye, Laura.”
I reached for Georg’s hand as we stepped onto the sidewalk outside our house, but he either didn’t notice, or was reluctant to hold hands with his mother now that he was a “big kid.” That stung. It seemed like one minute I was shaking with nerves while holding my newborn for the first time, the next we were walking to school.
“Are you scared?” I asked.
“No, Mama,” he said. “Hans and me are going to have so much fun.” Hans was a year older than Georg and already at school, but the boys were the best of friends.
Lydia was waiting at the school gate with Hans. The boys ran toward one another, meeting with a duet of excited chatter and cheering, then ran through the gate into the playground without even saying goodbye.
Shocked tears sprang to my eyes. Lydia laughed gently as she patted me on the shoulder.
“The first day is the hardest, Sofie, but there’s no need to fret. These teachers will take your baby boy and transform him! He will leave this place well on his way to becoming a strong German man—the kind of man who will do this nation proud.”
I looked into the schoolyard, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Georg. An icy chill ran down my spine as my gaze landed on the flag of the Reich, blowing gently in the breeze above the playground.
We soon found a new rhythm to our days, our routine now based around Georg’s school hours.
“I wish I could take him,” Mayim said suddenly one morning as I was pulling on my shoes at the front door, trying to make up some lost time because we were running late. I forced a smile.
“He’ll be able to walk on his own soon anyway.”
Berlin offered only hostility to a woman like Mayim, and that meant it was not safe for my children to be out with her. Besides, Georg was a fledgling part of the school community, and we were all anxious about what the other children and parents would say if they knew about Mayim. I could picture the crowd of parents at the gate hearing her Hebrew name and recoiling in shock. It was awkward and awful, but Mayim and I both knew that it was best she stay home.
Over the summer, Mayim, Adele, and I liked to sit in the courtyard after the children were in bed. We’d share a glass of wine, willing to endure the buzz of mosquitoes for the company and the chance of a cool evening breeze. On one of these evenings, Adele brought over strawberries from her garden, cut into thick slices and macerated with fine sugar. It was still warm that night, but to my great amusement, Mayim wrapped herself in her knit blanket anyway.
“Laura would be jealous if she knew,” she said, helping herself to a strawberry.
“Laura need not be jealous,” Adele said dismissively. “I saved my best strawberries for the children as I always do.”
Mayim and I shared a smile. I stretched out my legs and rested my head against the wall behind me, casting my gaze over the silhouettes of the trees and the buildings behind us as the golden sun dipped behind them.
“No Jürgen again tonight?” Adele said. I could hear the disapproval in her voice. “So he’s working the weekend, then. You need to help him find some balance.”
“And how do you propose I do that, Aunt Adele?” I asked, swallowing a sigh. She wasn’t wrong. Jürgen was sleeping on the couch at his office more and more.
“Did you hear about Mrs. Haas?” Adele asked us grimly, referring to one of her widowed friends. “Gestapo. They took her a few nights ago. She was no more engaged in activities disloyal to the Reich than I am a pumpkin. She was fighting with Walter Berner. He lives upstairs from her, remember? He just didn’t like the way her dog barked at night. It seems clear that he called in a tip to the Gestapo out of spite, and now that poor, fragile old woman is in a concentration camp somewhere.”
Mayim and I exchanged a glance over Adele’s assessment of Mrs. Haas asfragileandold, given the woman was probably at least ten years younger than Adele. Even so, the thought of the Gestapo dragging her from her home left me ill.
“Aunt Adele...” I dropped my voice. “You shouldn’t speculate like that. You never know when someone is listening.” The courtyard was relatively safe, surrounded by other courtyards, and I couldn’t hear any movement, so I assumed they were empty. But beyond the courtyards were windows, and who knew who might be behind them?
