The Darkest Hour

by Roberta Kagan

  She became silent for what seemed like two minutes as we stared at each other, and she took a sip of red wine. I purposely stilled my servile-like attraction for her and sat up with my shoulders back in my chair. This helped my confident demeanor return. I could see something I had been blind to before. My attraction for her had not waned, but I could see her attraction—she fancied me. It wasn’t so strong as mine for her, but it was there and she wasn’t feigning the attraction.

  “I don’t love my husband,” she said, her voice returning.

  “You don’t—I saw how you pleaded for him and for your daughter.”

  “For Edith, yes, I love Edith very, very much. But Richard, he is a Jew. I don’t like Jews, probably any more than you do. When we got married, he never told me he was part Jewish. To be fair, he is only half and didn’t know any more than that his Father was ethnically Jewish. He has no other affiliation to that animal race.”

  I smiled and replied, “He is a dog, not just because he is Jewish, but for not disclosing that to you.”

  “I agree, Erich, but he is still my husband and I have a loyalty, a sort of love and affection for him. I don’t want him hurt and I would like to see him free of this ghetto. He won’t be with me—but I would like him free.”

  “I am sorry, Anna, I cannot make that happen. It is against my duty.”

  She smiled. “I thought you’d say as much. I never believed your Himmler story.”

  “Yes, well, I can ensure that he won’t be killed and that he will be treated well here. I assure you that,” I lied, “I am the head of this ghetto, among other duties, and I will let no harm come to him.”

  “Yes, finally you tell the truth and say something that I can actually trust and believe.”

  I half grinned, in affection. She smiled back.

  “Thank you for that, Erich. But you know I care far more about Edith. I must have her free, you understand that, don’t you? There is no compromise on that.”

  “Yes, I know that and she will be free. I have more discretion as she is only a quarter Jewish. I will let her go at once. And you. You are free to go, of course, as you know.”

  I swallowed hard; I had given her all of my cards, she could leave with Edith and I would have no way to stop her. I would have no right, nothing to hold over her.

  “I knew that she would be let go. What kind of quarters is she in—is she being touched by your men?”

  I stood up and put my arm over my chest and swore, “Any man who guards her knows that they will answer to me dearly if they were to touch one hair on her head. And I promise, she sleeps on a bed as nice as mine tonight.”

  Anna stood up and smoothed down her dress. “Erich, dear, you haven’t shown me your bed. I mean your bedroom. Isn’t it rude to not give me a tour of the house?”

  “Oh my, my apologies, Anna. My bedroom is just adjacent to this office.”

  My loins ached for her. So bad was the aching that I almost bent her over the desk.

  “Follow me, Anna,” I said, grabbing her wrist and—with a pull that let her know I was in charge now—leading her to my bedroom.

  Upon entering the bedroom, I closed the door and pushed her down onto the bed, locking lips with her, and was surprised to find in her mouth lived the same hunger for me that I had for her.

  Chapter 5

  From that point on I was with Anna, and oh how she delighted me. I would have her sometimes three times a day. I found out that the beautiful home she had owned was really her now deceased husband’s and so was all her wealth. She was sad upon hearing of his death, the “accident” that had occurred when he was mistaken for someone who had stolen food and killed. But she soon overcame her fleeting guilt associated with his killing.

  She was from a poor family originally and Herr Eisner had been a wealthy little rat who had provided her lifestyle. His wealth had now been fairly appropriated by the State. Appropriated to me. This put me in control of Anna and Edith, and I preferred it that way.

  Anna and I were in love, or rather Anna was in love with me. I felt a certain oddly lustful affection for her but it was a waxing and later waning obsession for me. This took several months—this waning. However, it occurred for me as it did with most of my obsessions—I became bored. I was not the romantic type and I always thought men that are have a certain weakness in them. How can one want more from a woman than lust and attraction? Love is for country—it is a feeling devoid of sexuality for me. It is separate. I still needed regular sex, so I kept her around. I paid her bills and stopped by to be pleased whenever it suited me. However, I was sick of her now, other than as an outlet for sex. Mostly I was weary of the admiration and the affection she showed me; I wanted her coyness back.

  Her daughter was coy; Edith was beautiful. Edith was off limits, I wanted her, and I couldn’t have her. I would sit in the dining room when I visited and watch her as she cleaned up our plates. I would look at the way her dress moved about her body as she cleaned up and I imagined my hands were the instruments moving her dress up her hips. But was she truly forbidden to me? She was a mischling, a partially Jewish whore. I could get away with having my way with her and it wasn’t taking advantage of a true Aryan, was it now, I asked myself.

  After most of the dishes were cleaned that night and Edith was putting the last one away, I approached her from behind. Anna had gone to get more beer for me and I was a little drunk.

  I lightly grabbed her hips and said, “That cupboard is high for you, allow me to put those away.”

  She turned and slapped me across the face. I thought about backhanding her and I did raise my hand to do just that—instinctively. However, that would be no fun; she would then hate me more, and I would have to rape her. I didn’t want to do that. It wasn’t that I was constitutionally opposed to raping a Jew, even one with very little Jewish blood. She was partially an animal, after all. No, it was more that I didn’t like rape; I wanted a fight yes, but I wanted the girl to succumb to me. I wanted her to give in, and if I beat Edith, she wouldn’t ever be mine. I would never truly own her in bed.

  As she raised her hand to me again, this time it was made into a small fist and I grabbed her wrists, forcing them down, and she started crying. Tears silently flowed down her face. It was as if she didn’t want to dignify me or the tears by acknowledging them with sobs.

  She didn’t struggle away from me, but she did say, “You will never have sex with me.”

  I laughed, a loud and long laugh where I struggled to regain my composure, and said, “I could throw you down on the floor, lift your dress and be fucking you in two minutes. What in God’s name would you do about it—what could you do about it—you stupid bitch?”

  She said, “I know you like jazz music, you like swing music. You like American music, I could let others know, I am sure it would embarrass you. Don’t you remember that I walked into your office while you were dancing by yourself, looking ridiculous in your Nazi uniform—all alone to it?”

  I had let her wrists go and said, “Enough.”

  She continued, “That music is meant to be used for dancing to with others …” She smiled.

  “I told you enough!” I shouted, and backhanded her.

  She fell to the ground with a bleeding lip. She wasn’t crying though, she was laughing. At me. She didn’t know my games were nearly over and that I was becoming angry inside. I didn’t want to fuck her, I wanted to kill her. I could take her to my ghetto. But still, even in this house, I would beat her some more. I would beat the laugh out of her chest, I leered over her.

  “Look, Erich, I know you want to beat me, but you won’t because then Mother will find out and she won’t have sex with you anymore.”

  I said, “What makes you think …?”

  “She cries at night—not for my Father who she should be crying for. She cries for you. She loves you, though I am smart enough to realize that you let him be killed—you left him to the wolves if you didn’t order it yourself. My mother prefers to believe it wa
s a bad guard who killed him of his own volition.”

  “So she opens her legs to me like a dog in heat, yes, yes, Edith, she does. How do you know I won’t open yours for you?” I smirked.

  “You think your sexuality is hard for me to read, Erich?”

  I yelled then, “I told you to always call me Father! Do you understand?”

  I leaned down and did something incongruent with what a Father would do. I flipped up her skirt and pulled her panties down. I didn’t touch her otherwise, but I stared at the triangle below her pubic bone and I then looked up and for the first time saw fear in her eyes. My loins stirred.

  “So, go on, what do you have to say to me about my sexuality now?”

  I heard her mother approaching the door. I pulled Edith’s dress down quickly to cover her and said, “Not a word about this now. I will leave you alone—but you will not date anyone. Not any boy at all. You are a mischling piece of trash and all the rats you could date are in the ghetto. You will be celibate …”

  I whispered, “Or next time, maybe I do more than pull down your panties, do you understand?”

  She nodded, “Yes, sir.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said, demanding her to parrot that moniker back to me.

  “Yes, Fa-Father.”

  The door handle was turning.

  I helped her off the floor as she pulled up her underwear and smoothed down her dress.

  I declared to Anna as she entered the house, “The rain has gotten you wet, my dear. Thank you for bringing me more beer. Let me get you a towel.”

  Chapter 6

  CHARLIE

  I went down two hours later, as instructed, in my regular suit. I didn’t know who or what to expect when I entered the dining hall. I wasn’t sure if some of my “Uncle’s”—or as I thought of him, Erich’s—Nazi bastard friends would be there, or if it would be my distinct pleasure to eat with him alone.

  I entered a rather grand room. It had a very long oak dining table that could seat at least twelve people. It already had bottles of wine in silver ice buckets and champagne in a pewter ice bucket. There was no food yet. I didn’t know where to sit, but was sure it wouldn’t be at the head of the table, so I selected a seat adjacent to the head chair. The one closest to the door as I presumed we would sit clustered on that side.

  I pondered my misfortune while sitting there and missed Mom. I thought about how Mother had told me that my Uncle was a sly man, but she didn’t know him that well, and she hadn’t told me just what a cruel creature he was.

  Back home, they had talked about the Nazis and how bad they were—but I had not heard about these ghettos, these prisons, where Jews were living. I liked Jews just fine and knew many fine Jewish families from Long Island. Jonny was from one, my best friend, his Uncle was kind and always generously donating large sums to charities. There was no such thing as a greedy Jew that I had met, they didn’t fit this image Erich and the Germans had of them. They were always giving away their money in my experience back in the States. I couldn’t tell my “Uncle” Erich that.

  I didn’t want any part of these Nazis, I would have to find my own way. I didn’t know how to do that with how enthusiastically anti-American and anti-Semitic my Uncle was. I was thinking on that when they entered the hall.

  Erich opened the door, and with feigned grace he did not possess, he motioned for two ladies to precede him in entering the room.

  I stood up upon them entering and slightly bowed my head.

  One of the women was close to Erich’s age, and the other was close to mine. She was about fifteen or sixteen years old and ravishing. She had blonde, curly locks and blue-gray eyes that looked me up and down. She had slightly blushed cheeks, and I couldn’t tell if her make-up was perfectly painted or if her skin was naturally that beautiful.

  I saw Erich pull the chair facing me back for the lady who was his age and then push it forward, placing the napkin in her lap.

  I imitated him, pulling a chair out for the younger lady to sit next to me, and she sat down. I pushed the chair forward and picked up a napkin to place it in her lap—but before I could she snatched it from me.

  She glared at me. “Don’t touch me,” she said simply.

  And so I said, “I, I am sorry.”

  Erich laughed and clapped his hands.

  “Charlie, my dear boy, meet Edith. Don’t mind her. She doesn’t fully understand manners as she is a mischling.”

  The older lady chastised him, saying, “Erich, you said you would stop calling Edith that.”

  “Yes, well, I will watch my tongue, but it is a fact that a little Jewish blood, even only a little, can cause one to forget one’s manners. Allow me to apologize on her behalf, Charlie. She just doesn’t understand.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just said, “She looks nice, I mean she seems nice.”

  Erich laughed again. “She is pretty, just like her mother, that is true. Let’s all have a glass of champagne to celebrate my nephew, Charlie.”

  He grabbed a bottle of chilled champagne and popped the cork open. Following the pop, a smoky drizzle of bubbly poured into Edith’s mother’s glass, then mine, his, and finally he reached across to Edith. She moved her glass away.

  “I am fine, I don’t want any.”

  “What are you to toast to with without a drink, Edith?”

  “I have nothing to toast to,” she said, glaring at me with distaste.

  “Edith …”

  “No, Mother, I don’t want to celebrate Erich’s nephew’s arrival.”

  I could see the plain irritation on Erich’s face and I said, “It is ok with me, no offense taken. Some people just don’t like champagne and toasts much.”

  Erich didn’t truly care about my sentiments or perhaps he would have let it slide. He cared about her obedience, or rather was getting angry at her defiance. Then he suddenly lost his angry face.

  “I know, Edith, I know. You don’t have to give him a toast. You don’t have to drink champagne but I am going to make you both go out together, get to know each other. Don’t worry, my nephew is a gentleman, I am sure, and he wouldn’t want to date a … well, your mother prefers I not say what you are. And so, it will not be a date but a time to get to know one another as you will be like a sort of brother and sister.”

  “I am not going out …”

  “Silence,” he said, putting his finger to his lips.

  She became quiet and still. She looked nervous and so did her mother, Anna. They knew his smirked lips, his quiet voice meant that he was on the edge and about to cross into brutality. They knew not to push him. I could tell, too, and I hardly knew him.

  “Yes, I will go,” Edith acquiesced.

  “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, Father.”

  “Good, now let’s toast and if you must refrain, you can, Edith.”

  We all stood up, including Edith, who surprised me by holding out her glass, asking for Erich to fill it with champagne.

  Erich smiled and said, while holding his glass unnecessarily higher than everyone else’s, “To my nephew, Charles, who lived in the land of the Jews and who has finally come home.”

  He looked directly at me and continued, “Charles, I will teach you about your proud blood and you will know your superiority and someday you will make this nation proud like I have. I believe you will. To Charles, to the Fatherland and Hitler.”

  He raised his glass only to clink Anna’s. At the name of Hitler both Edith and I had shirked, pulling our glasses back toward us.

  He knew. “Ah, Hitler scares you. I know, I understand why, Edith.” His beady eyes lingered on her lovely frame.

  “Charles, but you—is this some ridiculous loyalty to the American Jewry? We aren’t at war with America? What is your issue then with me toasting you? Have I done something wrong? Are you disrespecting me? Where will your loyalty lie, I wonder, Charles?” He mused out loud with an annoyed tone that was growing into visible irritation by the second, as evidenced by his furrowed b
row.

  “Sorry, Uncle, I just, he isn’t popular in America, and it—well I …”

  Edith, who knew Erich better, and knew what he needed to hear, said, “It is ok to say you don’t feel comfortable yet, Charles, as you did just come to be in Germany and need time to get acclimated.”

  Erich’s demeanor softened some, and he said, “True, you have not had time to get ‘acclimated’ but you will need to learn to show some respect even before you have felt it. I value respect and loyalty, as does this country. You will act like you have it until you do.”

  He raised his glass once more and said, “To Charles, the Fatherland and Hitler.”

  I raised my glass, as Anna did hers, and it surprised me to see Edith raise hers too.

  When she clinked her glass, I noticed that she came close to Erich’s but didn’t touch it, only touching mine. Her half smile, angled toward me, let me know she was only toasting to me, and not to anything else.

  Chapter 7

  It was a couple of weeks after that dinner—that I ended up going out with Edith. In the intervening fortnight I had holed up in my room and read books, as it was summer break from school. Erich had let me know I would join the Hitler Youth soon and would not be idle. He said I needed to start learning about the Third Reich and the glory of the Aryan race. He became manic when talking about these subjects, like if I was exposed to them, I too would then see their merit.

  What I didn’t tell him was that I was an American in my heart and this ideology didn’t fit in with my values. I thought this country was being ruled by third-grade bullies, if he was any example, who had latched onto some made-up fiction to justify their aggression against half of Europe and the Jews.

  I had thought of Edith a lot; I had started developing a bit of a crush on her since our dinner.

  After getting ready for my night out with Edith, I took out my record player that Mother had given me—that I had hidden underneath my bed.