“You’re here,” he says, as if it’s a surprise to him too.
I press up on my toes to lean in closer to his ear. “What is this all about?” I utter beneath my breath.
“It’s a bit of a story, but there’s nothing to worry about,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. The grip of his hand eases my nerves a touch but not enough to mask the panic pinching at my stomach.
“May I help you in the kitchen?” Mama asks Frau Berger.
“Yes, I could help as well,” I follow.
“No, no, sit down. You’re our guests tonight,” Frau Berger says, disappearing into the kitchen.
We all take our seats around their large oval shaped table, covered in a gold satin tablecloth, and set with fine China.
Frau Berger returns with a platter of deviled eggs and salmon-cucumber bites and places them down on the table.
“Would anyone care for a short glass of Schnapps? We also have Fanta, mulled cider, and beer,” Herr Berger asks, peeringaround the table with a pleased expression. Any time I see him, it’s after a long day of work and he appears worn, tired, and less than enthusiastic to be doing much more than sitting in his smoking chair near the radio.
“The mulled cider sounds wonderful,” Mama says.
“Yes, it does. I’ll have the same, please,” I follow.
“I’ll have Schnapps with you,” Papa says, nodding toward the glass in front of Herr Berger’s seat.
“Me as well, Father,” Otto says.
The process of pouring drinks and Frau Berger settling down at the table feels like it took days rather than minutes. The urge to bounce my knees has my ankles crossed so tightly, I might be bruising myself.
“There must be a lovely occasion for a spread like this,” Mama insists.
“In fact, there is,” Herr Berger replies. I peer at Otto from the corner of my eye, watching him take a drink from his glass of Schnapps. “As you know, my brother, Dietrich, moved in with us two years ago. He’s at a meeting tonight so we thought it would be a good time to have some intimate family time, just the six of us.”
“That man must be at a lot of meetings. I hear him leaving before the sun rises and return late into the night,” Papa replies.
“He’s certainly a busy man, as hard as it is to admit, my youngest brother has become quite a success in his medical career. As of late, he’s been involved with an extraordinary study, working on cancer diagnostics. I’ve been working with him in a different capacity over the last year or so, and he’s already been asked to expand the team. We’ve been accomplishing wonderful future-changing progress and Dietrich’s agency is eager to invite Otto to join the team.”
Confusion is an understatement to what I’m feeling, but with an explanation such as what I just heard, I think I might havebeen wrong about this occasion having anything to do with me. I should feel relieved at that thought, but I’m still not sure what this has to do with my family.
“How wonderful,” Mama says. “What a marvelous study to be involved in—just the thought of being a part of something so vital to humanity is quite refreshing to hear at a time like this.”
“Agreed,” Papa says, taking a pull from his glass of Schnapps. “Good for you—all of you. Wonderful news.” Papa’s short statements hint at his confusion too. He isn’t sure what to make out of this announcement, especially with Dietrich out for the evening. I thought Mama might have known something earlier, but she must have been making assumptions too.
Otto still has another two years of school to complete. “How will you work while you’re taking classes full time?” I ask Otto, trying to understand the gravity of this exciting news.
Herr Berger holds his finger up with a gleeful smirk. “Ah, this is the best part. There’s time. The evolving program is in a constant realm of development and the agency, Dietrich, are able to wait until Otto receives his degree. You see, with the support my brother is receiving, anyone who works with him will be given many benefits including high level wages and housing for he and his spouse. The opportunity is one in a million.”
He slipped the word spouse into his sentence and didn’t think I would hear him, maybe. I don’t see how a spouse fits into this opportunity.
“A spouse, you said?” Mama repeats. I wish she hadn’t, and so does the napkin on my lap because I’ve unraveled a thread so far and the hem is coming loose.
“Yes, Frau Marx,” Otto says, pushing his chair away from the table.
My body turns to ice as I stare between Herr and Frau Berger, focusing on the chevron pattern of the blue and green wallpaper.I can’t figure out how to move.
“Emilie,” Otto says, his words soft, shy, and intimate even though we’re surrounded by our families.
My hands begin to shake but I tear my gaze away from the wall and turn toward Otto, finding him down on one knee.I don’t like surprises.He knows this about me. I should be ecstatic, over the moon, and eager for the impending question. Yet, I feel like I’m under a surgical lamp being observed by a class of medical students. Everyone can’t feel this way when someone is about to ask them to marry them. I have no one to ask and I wish Gerty were here. She should be here. I would have said I wanted her here if I had known what was happening tonight.
“I know we have time and we’re young, still working toward our career endeavors, but when my father was telling me this wonderful news, I began to imagine you and me living together in a beautiful home, sharing meals at our dining room table while babbling about medical research. Down the road, we’d have a family of our own, and my imagination got the best of me because I could picture it all too clearly. When I snapped out of my daze, I thought about how fickle life is now, how fast everything changes, and what if you didn’t know I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, and we drifted apart somehow. I don’t want that. I want to be with you, and if I know that for certain, I couldn’t think of another reason to delay asking you to marry me, even if we have a two-year long engagement first so we can both finish our classes. I know you want to focus on your studies, and I do too. I just want us to be able to support each other as we work toward our future together.” He reaches for my hand, likely noticing my trembling fingers. “Emilie Marx, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
