"I wish I didn’t," I said.
The scent of fresh produce filled the air around us, but the humidity level made it almost hard to breathe in at the same time.
"He caused a final scene for all to witness and hung himself at the front arches."
I wasn’t expecting Claude’s comment, and my initial thought was that Sven took the easy way out. I can only hope he suffered long enough. One might think, living a life with the memories of what he did would be a more suitable punishment.
Maybe I shouldn’t be one to talk about such a thing. However, the difference between us and Sven was that we didn’t get any joy in hurting others as he did.
"I guess we all have our breaking points," I told Claude.
"Many of our comrades—the other soldiers have already ended their lives. It’s almost common," Claude said.
I honestly feared my own breaking point.
Chapter 29
Eighteen Months Later – 1945
New York City, NY
The ocean liner was preparing to dock. The sun was casting a golden glow across the sky and scattered clouds, the ocean was a piercing blue—a perfect reflection from up above. The day had finally come—I was in New York City. The Statue of Liberty was staring down upon me, welcoming me to a new type of freedom. I removed my hat and tipped my head toward the green icon and departed the ship, following hundreds of others who were also arriving at their dream come true.
The arrival process was long and came with paperwork approval, questions, a medical checkup, and endless lines. It was all worth it.
She was nearby; I could feel it.
My vision was so clear, I couldn’t see how it wouldn’t turn out the way I hoped:
I will be walking along a curb, heading for a coffee shop on an early Sunday morning. I will spot her—she will be dressed in a long black overcoat. Her hair will be up, held together with sparkling pins. One white-gloved hand will be holding Lucie, and the other will be carrying a leather pocketbook. She will have her chin up and her shoulders back, walking with pride. Amelia will approach the corner from where I spotted her, and she will walk past my presence, not expecting to see me in New York City of all places. I will speak out: "It has been two long years, but your beauty is timeless."
Amelia will turn at the sound of my voice, and she will spot me. Her beautiful mouth will fall ajar, and she will press her white-gloved fingertips to her lips. I will hear my name spoken from the sweetest voice. She will pause, and then she will run into my arms as if no time had passed.
"I secured us an apartment," Juliette said as we boarded a ferry to take us to the main island. This part of the trip was to be quicker than the last.
"Yes, it’s near Broadway," Claude gushed, wrapping his arms around his bride. "My girl is going to be a famous Broadway singer. You just watch."
The three of us stood by the stern of the ferry, watching the Statue of Liberty wave us off with her undying flame.
"I’ll bet on it," I added to Claude’s statement about Juliette making it to Broadway. She does have the voice of an angel, and I have fallen asleep many nights listening to her practice.
I might have said more, but I was starting to feel like a third-wheel to my best friend. He just married the love of his life, and they should be living in their own home sharing their marital bliss privately, but the cost of living in New York was unfathomable, and it would only work if the three of us could live together under one roof, at least for the time being. The three of us planned to secure jobs as quickly as possible, but only time would tell how long that might take.
"There are two bedrooms, Charlie. We will all have our privacy..."
"I wasn’t worried," I responded, trying to prove my statement without a look she could decipher.
"Well, I can see the concern written in the way your eyebrows are arched," Juliette said.
"I will do my best to give you space," I offered.
Juliette dropped her small bag and took ahold of my arm, pulling me to turn toward her. Claude followed in suit, turning around to face Juliette, but at the same time, keeping his focus on the paper map he held in his hand. He was determined to find his way around the city without guidance.
Juliette stepped in front of me and placed her hands on my shoulders. She had kind blue eyes; the color was so light they sometimes appeared transparent in the sun. "Charlie," she spoke. "The three of us agreed to move to America. We knew we couldn’t do it alone. The apartment is just as much yours as it is ours, and I don’t want you to think of it any differently."
"Yeah, brother. Stop worrying," Claude said with monotony as he traced his finger down the center of the map.
"I can cook," I offered. "I’m good at laundry and dishes, too."
