“Have you met any of the neighbors? Are they nice?” Gerty says, making herself at home as she removes her shoes and coat.
“Yes, they’re all lovely, but not like my friends from home,” I say, clearing my throat.
“Do they have children?” Mama asks.
“Next door does.”
“Good, good. Maybe someday your kids will become friends.”
“Mama,” I interrupt, taking her coat that’s sliding down to her elbows. “I’m in no rush.”
“You’re right to wait with the dreadful state of our country. I couldn’t imagine raising babies at a time like this. However, it doesn’t make me any less eager to be a grandma so just put up with my comments and roll your eyes when I turn away, okay?”
Gerty chokes out a fake cough, pulling in our attention. She’s grinning from ear to ear. “I won’t take offense to anything you just said, Frau Marx, but it just so happens?—”
“Oh my…no…yes? You are?” I shout, throwing my arms around Gerty.
“Yes! We’re expecting. The doctor presumes I’m five months along.” As she speaks, I feel the hard bulge of her stomach press up against me through our embrace.
“I’m ecstatic for you,” I say, ignoring the twinge of unexpected jealousy. The thought of having children hasn’t been on mind and what Mama said is true, but it doesn’t mean I’m not sour about waiting out the war. My days of being lonely have only just begun and I can see how a baby would fix that.
Mama wraps her arms around the both of us. “Oh gosh, I can’t wait to meet him or her,” she says.
“It’s a she. I can feel it.”
“How?” I ask through a chuckle.
She smirks and holds her hands out to the sides. “I can see the future. Did you forget?”
“Oh, you girls and your fortune telling days…” Mama says.
“Come sit down. I’ll put on some tea, and we can catch up.”
I lead them into the family room and scoot the coffee table closer to the sofa so Gerty can put her feet up if she’d like.
“The house is beautiful, Emi. I adore the red floral décor wallpaper with the navy blue accents. It’s modern and chic, but cozy in here too.” The house came with some of the décor, including the wallpaper, but I added the drapes and artwork to offset the red hues.
I return with the tea set, waiting on the water to boil. “Thank you. I can’t take all the credit, but it’s beginning to feel more familiar, I suppose.”
“Are you still homesick, dear?” Mama asks, taking a teacup and saucer for Gerty and then one for herself.
I lift my shoulders, knowing I’ll always be a bit homesick. I’ve never lived anywhere but the city and it’s quiet here. Very quiet, most of the time. “I miss you and Papa.”
“He sends his love, sweetheart. His boss has him working extra hours at the factory. They have a worker shortage and he’s picking up the slack.”
“Poor Papa. He never seems to catch a break.”
“He’s better off being busy. I always say men are best on their feet, working so they stay out of trouble.”
“I happen to agree,” Gerty says, caressing her small baby belly.
The teapot whistles from the kitchen and I hop up from Otto’s smoking chair to take the kettle off the stovetop.
“How’s Munich?” The question aches in my throat, thinking about the familiar smells, sounds, and faces I miss. Although I must remember that many of those familiarities have been disappearing over the last few years too. Change is upon us regardless of whether we want it or not.
“It’s only been a week,” Gerty says with a giggle as I pour the tea water into the cups. “Not much has changed. There are still resistance leafless littering the streets and angry Gestapo eyeballing all the people passing by. You’re not missing much.”
“Is Otto enjoying his new job?”
