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Authors: Eoin Dempsey
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the images of Rebecca that swept
through him upon the mention of her name.
“I haven’t seen Rebecca for a long
time,” was the best Christopher could muster in reply, but neither man looked
at him as he said it. The laughter was over and they were staring at each
other.
“But if you did want to be with her
you never could be, not in Germany anyway. Here in Jersey, we may not have all
the opportunity of Germany but we have some things.”
“I don’t agree with the Nazi policies
about the Jews either,” Uli said. “But what can I do? The government says that
it was their fault that we lost the war, that they are enemies of Germany and
are in league with the Bolsheviks.”
“And what do you believe, Uli?”
“I believe that I remember Mrs.
Rosenbaum who lived down the street from us and how she would smile at us and
give us candy when we were young. There is so much talk of the Jews these days.
I had never really considered them before. I never knew it mattered to single
them out.”
Stefan stood up from his seat and
walked over to the counter and poured himself another glass of beer before
sitting back down. “I read what Hitler says about the Great War. The talk of
these November Criminals and the
Zionist conspiracy, it makes me laugh, Uli, really it does. We stabbed
ourselves in the back. There was no Jewish conspiracy. Some of the best men I
fought with in that godforsaken mess were Jews, good Germans. Ernest Heppner,
Hans Buchsbaum, Franz Bachner. They were all Jews, and friends of mine, all
dead.”
“The Nazis are not perfect Stefan,
far from it, but things are so much better in Germany now. It’s easy for you to
sit here in Jersey and judge us in Germany. You weren’t there when things went
bad. You left.” Christopher could hear the bitterness creeping into his uncle’s
voice, something he had never heard before.
“Yes Uli, it is easy to be here, to
sit in judgment of Germany and the Nazis, and that’s why I won’t go back and
why I won’t encourage Christopher or Alexandra to go back there, even if it is
the country of their birth.”
A silence settled across the room.
Christopher wanted to say something to get the conversation moving but couldn’t
think. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took another mouthful of beer. His
father looked at him and breathed out heavily. Christopher saw him try to smile
but his face was too tight and the curvature of his lips made him look like he
was in pain. Stefan looked at his watch. “I think it’s time you went to bed
Christopher,” he said. Christopher
looked at his father and then at Uli. He smiled, expecting some reprieve, but
found none. It had been several years since he had been sent to bed, but as he
looked at his father again he understood, and got up from the table. Uli stood
up and hugged Christopher as if he was trying to smother him to death and
smiled at him as he drew away.
“Good night, you two,” Christopher
said as he walked out. “Try not to kill each other.” Both men smiled.
Christopher raised his eyebrows and looked back at them, saying nothing. He
turned and tramped into the hall and up the stairs, each step a minor triumph.
His head felt like a thin raft, afloat on a boiling sea and the top of the
stairs brought a nausea that he had barely felt before. Christopher fought past
the bathroom door and sat down on the toilet seat, his trousers still up, his
head in his hands. His eyes heavied and his vision thickened into black and
sleep overcame him. He jerked his head up and felt different. He looked at his
watch. More than two hours had passed, and his legs were numb from sitting on the
toilet. He dragged himself to the mirror, more in control than he had been
earlier and, looked at himself. His eyes were bulging wide and only white and
blue, not bright red as he had
through him upon the mention of her name.
“I haven’t seen Rebecca for a long
time,” was the best Christopher could muster in reply, but neither man looked
at him as he said it. The laughter was over and they were staring at each
other.
“But if you did want to be with her
you never could be, not in Germany anyway. Here in Jersey, we may not have all
the opportunity of Germany but we have some things.”
“I don’t agree with the Nazi policies
about the Jews either,” Uli said. “But what can I do? The government says that
it was their fault that we lost the war, that they are enemies of Germany and
are in league with the Bolsheviks.”
“And what do you believe, Uli?”
“I believe that I remember Mrs.
Rosenbaum who lived down the street from us and how she would smile at us and
give us candy when we were young. There is so much talk of the Jews these days.
I had never really considered them before. I never knew it mattered to single
them out.”
Stefan stood up from his seat and
walked over to the counter and poured himself another glass of beer before
sitting back down. “I read what Hitler says about the Great War. The talk of
these November Criminals and the
Zionist conspiracy, it makes me laugh, Uli, really it does. We stabbed
ourselves in the back. There was no Jewish conspiracy. Some of the best men I
fought with in that godforsaken mess were Jews, good Germans. Ernest Heppner,
Hans Buchsbaum, Franz Bachner. They were all Jews, and friends of mine, all
dead.”
“The Nazis are not perfect Stefan,
far from it, but things are so much better in Germany now. It’s easy for you to
sit here in Jersey and judge us in Germany. You weren’t there when things went
bad. You left.” Christopher could hear the bitterness creeping into his uncle’s
voice, something he had never heard before.
“Yes Uli, it is easy to be here, to
sit in judgment of Germany and the Nazis, and that’s why I won’t go back and
why I won’t encourage Christopher or Alexandra to go back there, even if it is
the country of their birth.”
A silence settled across the room.
Christopher wanted to say something to get the conversation moving but couldn’t
think. He lifted the glass to his mouth and took another mouthful of beer. His
father looked at him and breathed out heavily. Christopher saw him try to smile
but his face was too tight and the curvature of his lips made him look like he
was in pain. Stefan looked at his watch. “I think it’s time you went to bed
Christopher,” he said. Christopher
looked at his father and then at Uli. He smiled, expecting some reprieve, but
found none. It had been several years since he had been sent to bed, but as he
looked at his father again he understood, and got up from the table. Uli stood
up and hugged Christopher as if he was trying to smother him to death and
smiled at him as he drew away.
“Good night, you two,” Christopher
said as he walked out. “Try not to kill each other.” Both men smiled.
Christopher raised his eyebrows and looked back at them, saying nothing. He
turned and tramped into the hall and up the stairs, each step a minor triumph.
His head felt like a thin raft, afloat on a boiling sea and the top of the
stairs brought a nausea that he had barely felt before. Christopher fought past
the bathroom door and sat down on the toilet seat, his trousers still up, his
head in his hands. His eyes heavied and his vision thickened into black and
sleep overcame him. He jerked his head up and felt different. He looked at his
watch. More than two hours had passed, and his legs were numb from sitting on the
toilet. He dragged himself to the mirror, more in control than he had been
earlier and, looked at himself. His eyes were bulging wide and only white and
blue, not bright red as he had
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