“Oh God, I think death might be chasing me,” he says, his voice shuddering against his throat.
“Don’t speak like that,” I tell him, despite thinking the same.
“Emi, I don’t deserve to live. This illness happened for a reason. It’s punishment for what I’ve been a part of.” I would like to know why Dietrich isn’t being punished too if that’s the case. “I never thought our lives would end up like this here. I was ignorant to follow—” he looks over at his sleeping father. “Them, but I thought it was an open door to a good future for us. It wasn’t. I’ve ruined your life, stolen your hopes and dreams, and haven’t found any way to undo what I’ve done.”
“No one could have known what the future of this war would bring.”
We’d had many hints and warnings, but we were thirteen when our world began to change, making life before that age disappear into faint memories. It was easy to get lost in the way of life we have referred to as common. I too should have known better. I didn’t have to agree to an engagement proposal or give in to the force of dropping out of classes to move here, but I hadn’t found my strength yet.
“It’s not just that. I haven’t done right by you. I wanted to secure our future because I imagined it to be perfect with you. We just always seemed to fit, but I knew you loved Danner, though you weren’t a fit per society. I know love can’t be masked. I knew you would never love me as much, but I thought maybe over time, our life together would be what we both loved most.”
“Otto, you don’t have to say this…”
“I have to. I need Danner to know how sorry I am that I didn’t do more to help him. I should have done more.”
“Otto, you don’t need to focus on Danner right now.”
“I need you to tell him I’m sorry. Okay? And I need you to know how sorry I am, too.”
“Stop talking like this, just stop,” I scold him.
“What I’ve put you through here is something I’ll never forgive myself for, and I’m undeserving of you, this life we have been playing the roles of, and I won’t take any more of your future away. Whether I make it through this or not, I?—”
The ground erupts with a quake that sends us flying into the wall. The chandelier clatters in the dining room and the glassware in the kitchen rattles, picture frames fall, and it all happens at once. I dive on top of Otto and cover my head with my arms, not knowing if the roof will cave in over us, or worse. Another rumble shakes us around and fills the air with a sudden onset of white noise.
“Are you—” I can’t hear myself speak, only a loud ringing. I push myself up and Otto grabs my hand.
He’s mouthing something, but I can’t hear him either. I pull my hand from his and step over the others who are trying to figure out what’s happening as they pull themselves upright.I reach for the nearest wall for stability, throwing myself from one wall to another until I reach the front door, noticing the glass from the windows has all blown out and shattered. My head is heavy, or maybe my brain has been shaken around too fiercely. I try to wrap my hand around the doorknob but miss twice before securing it in my clutch. I pull the slab open and hobble down the front stone steps. Smoke and smog cloak the sky, an ominous telltale sign of what has happened. When I reach the street, I spot flames growing from the row of houses behind ours. The pungent odor of jet fuel burns my nose as I make my way to the corner of the street.
A hand on my shoulder startles me and I scream, but I don’t hear that, either. Ingrid, Karl, and their children huddle together, pointing but not speaking. Helga and Wilhelm, and Ursula and Hermann make their way out of their houses and spot the rest of us on the corner. Helga is holding her ears like Ingrid’s three children.
Ursula comes toward us with an unblinking stare, her eyes full of shock.
Karl, Hermann, and Wilhelm group together and hold their hands up for us to stay where we are while they venture down the street. Ursula, Ingrid, and her children are crying as they reach out for the men. Helga takes my hand in hers just as a wave of fighter jets flies overhead, lower than I’ve ever seen. The force from their engines pushes us to the ground and again…we take cover.
We’ve all become deafened by the war, but not everyone had noticed until now.
FORTY-TWO
EMILIE
MAY 1944
Dachau, Germany
Three weeks ago, a U.S. airborne plane was shot down, and crashed a street away from where we live in Dachau. Fortunately, it missed us, and it missed the Dachau camp. No one was hurt or killed from the explosive crash and flying shrapnel except the poor U.S. pilots. However, the heart of Munich was not as fortunate. The shot down plane was part of a large U.S. attack serving the city over three million bombs. Half of Munich has been destroyed. It was the first time in my life I thought it might be my last night on earth. There was no telling how wide the targeted area would be.
We all hunkered down together in the utility room of our house—the neighbors, and our family. It was too hard to consider the possibility of another explosion hitting one and not all of us so for that one night, we all showed our true selves, the weaknesses we each carry, the hopes, dreams, and futures we all would like to have, and most importantly, the mistakes we’ve all made. We’ve all made wrong decisions.
We must have been let off the hook, but not Otto. He’s remained weak and fragile. The headaches have become more prolonged, and he can hardly keep his eyes open. No matter how many times I read through my medical books, I can’t find a solution.
“Can I get you anything other than aspirin?” I ask, kneeling by his side, stroking the side of his face with my knuckles.
“There’s nothing more you can do, Emi.” His eyes are half-lidded, his lips downturned into a grimace. He alternates between staring at me, and shifting his gaze back to the wall. He rests his hand on his head and squeezes at his temples. “I can’t take much more.”
“Yes, you can. You’re a fighter. You can handle much more than you give yourself credit for.”
I grab the bottle of aspirin from the night table and pour two into my hand. “Here, it’s time for another dose,” I say, handing him the pills and a glass of water.
