Gretchen was excited and happy. But now, she must tell her father. She didn’t share her feelings with Norbert, but she was secretly anxious about her father’s response. He wouldn’t deny her if she wanted to marry Norbert; she was certain of that. But Gretchen felt sick to her stomach when she thought about the look on his face. She and her father were very close. After Gretchen’s mother died, her father devoted his life to his daughter. He never dated or showed any interest in getting married again. And because of this bond between them, Gretchen could easily read her father’s feelings in his face. Even when she was a little girl, if she saw disappointment on his face, she would regret any actions that had caused it. He never had to spank her. All he ever had to do was give her that look of disappointment, and she would immediately change her behavior. What was she going to do now?
The following day, Norbert came to Gretchen’s home right after his work, and the couple then waited for Gretchen’s father to come home from the university. As soon as he walked in the door, Gretchen brought him a beer and told him to sit down on the sofa.
“What’s all this?” her father asked, holding the beer in his hand as a mask of worry came over his face.
He thinks I’m pregnant, Gretchen thought. This just keeps getting worse. “We, Norbert and I, have something to tell you.”
“No, that’s not exactly right,” Norbert said. “I have something to ask you.”
“Go on.” Gretchen’s father stared at both of them with a look of concern in his eyes.
“I would like to ask for your permission to marry your daughter, sir,” Norbert said.
Karl Schmidt almost spilled his beer. “My, my.”
He shook his head then mustered a smile. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he cocked his head and looked first at Norbert and then at Gretchen. “Is this what you want, Gretchen?”
“It is, Father. It is.”
“Then, of course, by all means, you have my permission.” Her father nodded and put the beer down on the table without taking a single sip.
“Thank you, Father.”
“Thank you, sir. But we not only want your permission, sir. We would very much like to have your blessing.”
“My blessing?” Karl Schmidt said, practically choking on the words. “Yes, of course, of course, you have my blessing.”
“Father?” Gretchen said in a small voice looking away because she didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. She wondered if he was not only disappointed in her choice of husband but also feeling a little heartbroken knowing that she would soon belong to another man. She would no longer be her father’s little girl, running to him carrying a bunch of wildflowers as she did when she was a child.
She turned to face him, and the sadness in his eyes almost made her say she would cancel the wedding. But she couldn’t because she wanted to marry Norbert. It was time for her life to begin. Gretchen was ready to be a grown-up, to have a husband and children of her own. Her father would always have a special place in her heart, but it was time.
“Yes, Gretchen,” he said.
“May I wear my mother’s wedding dress? I would like to honor her.”
It was as if the world stopped moving. The room was eerily silent.
Her father’s face fell. He looked away from Gretchen. He couldn’t let her see his eyes lest she read his thoughts. Aidie’s dress. It had been a long time since he had last pictured Aidie in that dress. And suddenly, all the pain of losing his wife when she was so young came back. He felt it, like a sword piercing his chest, driving right through his heart. His hand automatically went to his heart. Gretchen looks so much like her mother. How am I going to find the strength to bear the pain of seeing her in that dress? It is going to bring back such memories, memories that cut deep.
He wanted to run outside into the fresh air, but instead, he forced himself to look into his beloved daughter’s eyes. And as he did, in his mind he could hear his Aidie’s voice. Of course, she should wear my dress, Karl. She is my child, my daughter, our daughter . . .
“Yes,” he said, clearing his throat. “Yes, of course, you will wear your mother’s dress.”
“And we have good news, Professor. My father wants us to have the ceremony at the nicest of his restaurants. Has Gretchen told you that my parents own beautiful restaurants?”
“No, she hasn’t told me. But that is very generous of your father.”
“He is doing quite well. So many of the high-ranking officials in the Nazi Party frequent his business. It has given him a good reputation and plenty of customers. I have been working at the factory part time until I finish school, but once I graduate my father says that there is plenty of business, and I would be of much better use working for him full time. Perhaps, if she wants to, Gretchen could work there too. But I’d prefer she stay home and be a wife and mother.”
“Very good.” That was all Karl could bring himself to say.
“I am not telling you all this to brag.” Norbert smiled. “I am telling you so that you know that your daughter will not have to worry about money. She and I will be very comfortable.”
Karl nodded. “What more could I ask for?” he said and smiled wryly.
Planning a wedding was expensive. Norbert and Gretchen were forced to compromise on what to serve their guests. Norbert’s father had connections with many high-ranking party officials that ate and drank at his restaurants, so he was able to acquire some extra food and beer for the wedding.
Even flowers were thought to be a waste of money, but Norbert insisted they splurge so Gretchen could carry a bouquet of sunflowers. “I love sunflowers. They are so filled with hope,” Norbert said. “And besides, they are the official flower of the Nazi Party.”
Fall 1937
Hilde returned from the Bund summer camp, disenchanted and sick with rage. She hoped that Hann would come, but he never showed up. The camp itself was not disappointing; it was everything the BDM promised. There were plenty of sports, swimming, races, and cookouts. The boys and girls slept in separate barracks, but they spent a lot of time together. It was quite easy to slip out at night and meet with the boys. One of the group leaders brought a guitar, and many evenings before bed, the boys and girls sat outside under a star-filled sky and sang songs of patriotism and devotion to their wonderful führer and their precious fatherland.
Hilde had a keen eye, and because she watched things closely, she knew that many of the girls took advantage of the leniency and snuck out after lights out to meet with the boys. She eavesdropped as they shared their sexual experiences with their friends, and she recorded the information in her brain. It was knowledge, and knowledge gave her power. If she ever needed it, she knew plenty about all the girls she went to camp with. She always listened when others shared secrets. It seemed that no one ever noticed her. Sometimes she felt invisible, and Hilde knew why. She never told anyone, but the story was branded into her mind when she was just a child, and she carried it with her like a cancer eating at her soul.
When Hilde was only eight years old, her mother came into her room in a drunken stupor and said, “Hilde, do you realize that people don’t even know you’re in the room? Would you like to know why that is?”
“Yes, Mother,” the small, frightened eight-year-old answered.
“Well, I’ll tell you why. It’s because there is nothing special about you. You are plain, fat, and dumpy, just like me.” Her mother let out a laugh. “And let’s face it. You are borderline ugly. All you have to do is look in the mirror to know I am speaking the truth. And my poor, little Hilde, no one wants to look at an ugly girl.”
“Am I ugly, Mama?”
“You certainly are! Can’t you see that? Just look at yourself in the mirror. I was an ugly child too. It’s a hard life you’re in for. Especially when you get to be a teenager and start to think about marriage. Nobody loves an ugly girl. Look how your father treats me. The good-for-nothing bastard.”
“Do you think anyone will ever love me?”
“So what will happen to me, Mother?”
“Who knows? Look at me. That will give you a pretty damn good idea of your future.” Hilde’s mother broke out in a fit of laughter. It was at that moment that Hilde realized she hated her mother. She had terrible thoughts of poisoning her mother’s bottle of schnapps.
Hilde didn’t sleep that night. She lay in bed asking God to make her pretty. But when she woke in the morning and looked in the mirror, nothing had changed. She got up and quietly got ready for school. Her mother was locked in her room asleep, and she knew that she dared not wake her. If she woke her mother, she would be in a terrible mood.
In the very beginning, when she first heard her parents fighting, Hilde felt sorry for her mother. But after her mother told her that she was ugly, Hilde began making up stories to her fellow classmates about her mother. She told them that her mother was an alcoholic and a prostitute. When she saw the pity in their eyes it made her feel as if they cared about her.
One night she heard her parents arguing. Her father was telling her mother that he wanted a divorce.
“How can you do this to me? How can you do this to Hilde? We need you. At least help us financially. You have never been faithful, but how can you leave us without enough money to live?” her mother asked. “This family is your responsibility. And you are willing to walk out on us for some girl because she is young and beautiful?”
"I’m sorry. I know that I am hurting you. I don’t mean to, but the fact is I want a divorce,” he repeated in a cold tone.
“Get out of here. I can’t stand to look at you anymore,” her mother screamed.
Hilde heard the front door close, and then she heard her mother weeping.
Hilde trembled in the corner of her room until she heard the front door slam again, and she knew that her mother had left the house. Then she took the one doll she owned off the shelf, the only toy her father had ever given her, and as hard as she could, she smashed her fist into the doll’s pretty face. She did it again and again. “Take this, Mother. And this . . .” Hilde said. Her fist and palm were both bleeding, and the doll no longer had a face.
Hilde didn’t go to school that day. Instead, she wrapped her hand as best as she could with a kitchen rag and lay in her bed thinking. Oh, how Hilde loathed her mother! She despised her cruelty, and even more, she hated her mother’s honesty because deep in Hilde’s heart, the words her mother said rang true. Hilde wholeheartedly believed she would have to try harder than the others with their pretty blonde curls, to get anyone to love her. If it was even possible.
She was just a child when her mother branded her as an unfortunate, so Hilde came to believe she was ugly, and that anyone who looked at her saw a hideous child. It made her furious.
Why was she not cute like the other little girls? Why had God chosen to give her a face and body that repelled even her own mother? She looked in the mirror and confirmed her mother’s harsh words. She wept alone in her bed knowing for certain that no one would ever call her adorable or smile when she sang a song or said something clever. No, not Hilde.
Hilde’s mother cut her deeper with her words than any physical injury could have done, leaving a gaping wound in her soul. So at the tender age of eight, Hilde decided she no longer believed in any sort of a god. For months before making that decision, she prayed. Every night, she would beg God to make her beautiful when she awakened. She was very specific. “Dear God, please, I am begging you to give me long, curly hair and a lovely, angelic face. Please make me slender like the other girls in school. Please, God, I beg you. Please don’t make me live my life as I am.”
Every morning, Hilde rushed to the mirror, but to her disappointment, she saw the same, sad, overweight, and unloved child. So, to cope with her overwhelming unhappiness, her childish mind sought refuge by creating two fantasy worlds that had their basis in fairy tales. In one of these worlds, Hilde was already a grown-up. But despite her mother’s prediction, she had not grown up to be ugly. In fact, she was a great beauty. She was a Valkyrie who sat upon a white horse with a mane of pure golden strands. She rode bravely into impossible battles, but no matter how difficult the battle, she never lost. Hilde saw herself as this magnificent Norse woman with wild, blonde hair flowing behind her and absolute power: the power to raise one finger and decide who would live and who would die. But most of all, in her fantasy world, Hilde had grown into a woman with the power to destroy anyone who hurt her or made her feel inadequate. She was no longer the helpless victim who cowered when her mother came looking for her.
Many nights, as she slept, she dreamed of herself as this Valkyrie woman. In this reoccurring dream, her mother was on her knees as Hilde rode forth on her horse. She took her sword from its sheath and cut her mother’s head off with one swipe, yelling, “That’s what you get, you bitch, for lying and saying I am ugly. I am not. I am beautiful.” As her mother’s head rolled down a mountain, Hilde galloped away.
In the other fantasy world, Hilde saw herself as a magical creature: graceful, and sleek. A mermaidlike thing that lived on land and could become small and invisible at will. Because her childhood was harsh and filled with disappointment, young Hilde moved between these two fantasy worlds, only entering reality when it was forced upon her. And that was rarely.
When her father returned to collect his things and she heard her parents fighting, she became invisible. When her mother criticized her relentlessly, she became invisible. In the beginning, the Valkyrie fantasy didn’t work against her parents. She was too afraid of them. But it worked when she found helpless insects or stray animals. She took them into the basement of her tenement building and tortured them. Then when she was ten years old, her mother insisted that she earn a little extra money. Hilde found a babysitting job helping a young mother with her two small children. When she was alone with the children, Hilde became the Valkyrie. When either of the children cried, she slapped both of them hard. She enjoyed seeing the fear in their eyes. It made her feel even more powerful than when she tortured small animals. They were too young to understand what she was saying, but she told the children that they were ugly and worthless. She was careful not to leave any scars. She hid every trace of her cruelty. Sometimes she pinched them hard and made them cry. However, the mother began to realize that something wasn’t right when her two children started crying as soon as they saw Hilde. So she pretended to go to the market leaving Hilde with the children, but left a small opening in the living room drapes. It was tiny, but she was able to see inside. As the poor mother expected, she caught Hilde slapping her children. Horrified, she fired her. Hilde cried and begged her not to tell her mother. Perhaps the young mother was afraid of Hilde because she never said a word, but she never allowed Hilde anywhere near her home again.
Of the two fantasy worlds, Hilde favored the Valkyries. But most of the time, invisibility served her better. So when the other girls her age were winning trophies or being praised at school, instead of crying, Hilde became invisible. As time went by and she grew into a teenager, she began to blend the two fantasy worlds. Most often, she retreated into the world of invisibility. But once she was away from the hurtful situation, she would replay it in her mind, changing the outcome. The ugly, insignificant girl who was invisible was replaced by the magnificent Valkyrie. She would replay each painful moment like a movie in her head until she was satisfied with the outcome.
And this was how Hilde coped with her horrific childhood and lonely teenage years. She also found another, more practical use for her mask of invisibility. When she was playing invisible, she was very quiet and unobtrusive. It was easy to go unnoticed. She would watch and listen and mentally
record other people’s interactions. No one noticed she was listening as they revealed their secrets and mistakes to their friends. She held these secrets like piles of currency deep in the recesses of her sick mind.
If she ever needed a favor, she got what she wanted by threatening to expose them. Every time she blackmailed someone, they gave her whatever she wanted to keep her quiet. By the time she was seventeen and she went away to the Bund camp, spying on others was already a well-honed skill. Hilde was very good at what she did; she never let on what she was up to. Instead, she gained the trust of the other girls by smiling a lot and always seeming agreeable. She never voiced an opinion of her own. Instead, she blended in with the crowd, agreeing with all the popular opinions. She was especially adamant about everything the Nazi Party taught them—not that she really gave a damn about the party, but because she was at a summer camp sponsored by the Bund. She wanted to fit in, and Hilde knew exactly how to do that. She listened carefully to whatever she was told and then reworded and repeated it as if it were her own idea. Goebbels said the Jews were ruining Germany, so she made it clear to everyone that she felt the Jews were ruining Germany. She giggled and said she thought the führer was as handsome as a Nordic god. All the girls agreed, and Hilde was a part of the group.
When the girls were getting dressed for dances, she made sure to tell the others how pretty they looked, whether she thought so or not. She laughed with them and catered to them. But most importantly, she made sure that no one saw her as the threat she really was. If anyone confided in her, she pretended to be sensitive and caring, when in fact she was laying the foundation for future blackmail.
Hilde was confident she had secured herself a place among the girls. In the past, it always gave her a sense of comfort and control to know everyone’s secrets. She felt smug having so much ammunition, so much power.
But not this time. She had gone to the camp to see Hann, and he wasn’t there. Consequently, she couldn’t find anything to make her happy. Her heart was aching because she hoped that, somehow, in the summer sun and the fresh air, among the beautiful trees, she could win his love.
The Smallest Crack Page 13
