“This is Altstadt, the Old Town, destroyed by air raids.” Jelka pointed to the rubble piled in places where timber-framed houses once stood. Then she instructed the driver to stop there. He parked across the street from a cathedral with entire walls blasted away and the roof collapsed in several places.
“That is what is left of the Kaiserdom St. Bartholomäus. The largest and most lovely church in Frankfurt,” Jelka said once they were standing on the street.
Ozzie heard drills and hammers and smelled ammonia, burnt rubber, and concrete. “I can still see its beauty.” He tilted his head.
“Come, the apartment is not far. We can walk the rest of the way to view the neighborhood.”
“Careful,” Ozzie said, and took Jelka’s arm as they stepped over a broken sidewalk.
Strolling past piles of debris, Ozzie couldn’t help but realize that he never could have imagined feeling at ease walking hand in hand with a white woman back home. As he and Jelka moved together through the streets, he noticed that none of the passersby even gave them a second glance. At a streetlight, he came across a group of Negro soldiers with German women sipping coffee at an outside café. Everyone looked relaxed, as if being together was the most normal occurrence, and Ozzie loved the sense of comfort he felt being away from work. With each corner they turned, the air entered his lungs, loosening the invisible noose that lived against his neck on base. His normal state of high alert subsided. Was this what white men felt every day? At ease and carefree?
They continued through a small park with a tiny stream, and on the other side, Jelka pointed to her cousin’s building. It was banana yellow, and each flat had a small balcony with a silver awning.
Jelka led Ozzie up three flights of stairs. The smell of coffee wafted in the air as he brushed against a door pinned with a miniature pink pig. Ozzie touched the pig.
“Glücksschwein,”Jelka said, knocking harder. “The good-luck pig.”
A woman as tall as Ozzie stood in the doorway. She grabbed Jelka and kissed her on both cheeks.
“This is Elga.”
“Willkommen,”Elga replied brightly.
She was blond, big-boned, and sturdy. The flat was narrow and smelled like cigarettes and boiled meat. Ozzie could see everything except the bathroom from where he stood in the sparsely furnished living room. Jelka and her cousin exchanged a few muffled words, then more hugs. Elga waved to Ozzie and was out the door.
“What did she say?” Ozzie stood awkwardly. Just outside, he couldhear a radio playing a talk show and a woman screaming at someone in German.
“That she was going to her friend’s until we leave. We have the whole place.” She opened the door to the bathroom. “I’m going to run us a bath.”
Ozzie thought to object—it was midday and he was eager to see the city—but Jelka had already disappeared into the bathroom.
Once the tub was filled, Jelka beckoned him into the water. They had been naked together only in the darkness of the rented room. Ozzie felt shy as he undid his belt buckle. He turned his back to her as he let his pants fall to the floor. Jelka made space for him and then relaxed her head against his chest as the warm water surrounded them. Ozzie sighed.
Her cigarette burned in the ashtray that sat in the windowsill. Just outside he could see clouds parting.
“You make me feel good,” she whispered, turning her face to kiss his chin.
“What do you want to be once Germany is restored?” Ozzie laced his fingers with hers under the water.
“Well, I was not so good in school. My mother said, ‘You are not good in school. You are good for work.’ So I got a job at a women’s boutique.”
“Will you do that again?”
“The shop was destroyed by the bombs.”
“What would you like to do instead?”
Jelka picked up her cigarette, took a puff, and exhaled slowly; a few ashes fell in the water. “To stop being afraid.”
“Afraid of what?”
“Everything. You do not know what it was like.”
Ozzie felt her shiver against him. “Tell me.”
She shook her head.
“Why not?”
