by Andie Newton
‘This girl can eat!’ Paul said.
A ball of gas built up in my chest. I put my hand to my mouth to stop it from coming out, but it was too late—I belched long and loud. ‘Excuse me,’ I said with a giggle.
Ingrid laughed, elbowing Hannah in the side. Alex and Paul dug into their meals. Erik wrapped his fingers around my petite wrist. His jaw hung open.
‘How do you eat like that and look like this?’
A pained swallow pushed the last of my food down. ‘I don’t.’
*
After dinner we headed to a little beer hall across the street. By Munich standards, the hall was misshapen and divided into three rooms rather than one open rectangle. People crammed in together; arms waved full steins of beer in the air, and froth spilled in spurts onto those underneath. A three-piece band wearing suede lederhosen played polka in the corner and barmaids, not used to a full house, rushed around in traditional green and white servant dirndls.
‘Where’re we going to sit?’ I said.
‘Maybe there’s another beer hall we can go to?’ Ingrid said.
‘No, come this way,’ Erik said, and we did. ‘I have a table for us.’ Alex and Paul sat down with a thud next to Ingrid and Hannah. Beer halls rarely saved tables, especially on New Year’s Eve.
My mouth hung open. ‘You made a reservation?’
Erik helped me take my coat off and then handed it to the barmaid who hung it on the coat hook. ‘Yes. Why?’
I smiled. ‘No reason.’ Erik must have sweet-talked someone, somehow, someway, to get us a table. The Erik Koch I knew from the office would have written me a note to take care of it myself. I thought about how he carried my bag from my flat down to the car, and how he put a blanket over my legs to keep me warm in the Mercedes; it was easy to forget who he was when he acted this way.
Six boot-sized glass steins were brought to our table. The dunkel beer swirled with frothy shades of brown. I took a long slurp. ‘That was just what I needed.’ Caramel-coloured foam pillowed on my lip.
Erik shook his head in disbelief. ‘You sure there’s room after that dinner?’
‘Oh, there’s room.’ I pushed the stein into my chest and gave it a hug. ‘For this, there’s room.’
Alex took three gulps then slammed his stein on the table and blurted, ‘No wonder my mother gave you a boy’s name. You eat like a man and now you’re going to drink like one too?’
‘A boy’s name?’ Erik asked.
I rolled my eyes. ‘She likes nicknames.’
Alex bent his head down, slurped the froth off his beer and then blurted again, ‘Calls her Sascha!’
Ingrid held her stein in the air. ‘Well, here’s to drinking like a man!’ Hannah lifted hers with two hands and then we all clinked our steins. ‘Prost!’
We drank and swayed to the band’s music until Erik asked me if I wanted to go outside. The room had become so warm, a moment in the cold air sounded exhilaratingly nice. I followed him to the back of the hall and out to a small courtyard with a lit fire pit and an empty two-seater wooden bench. He cleared the snow off using the sleeve from his coat, swiping it side to side and then edging the corners with his cuff. Who is this man? There was something charming about this Erik, and I liked him.
The door had closed and the pomp from the polka band reduced to a slight drone. Our arms pressed against each other as we sat down and shared each other’s body heat.
‘Look at that.’ He pointed to a streak of light in the sky—a line of stars that ran from the edge of the universe to the top of our heads. We gazed with our mouths open and our breath made clouds in the air that looked like we were smoking.
‘Erik.’ He turned, just slightly and looked in my eyes. ‘Thanks for bringing me here.’
‘Of course.’
‘You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘There’s something you don’t know about me.’
I put my hands to the fire, which roared with flames that sucked the cold right out of the air and spit it back as warm wind.
‘You’ve got a secret?’
I paused, looking him in the eyes. ‘It’s my birthday.’
‘What?’ He placed his hand on my knee, and for a moment I held my breath from feeling such a deliberate touch. ‘Why didn’t you say anything?’
‘Nobody asked.’ I smiled.
He glanced through the window and pointed at Alex, who had posed in a downhill skiing position on top of the table, circled by half a dozen empty beer bottles. ‘Why didn’t Alex say anything? He’s your cousin. He must know it’s your birthday.’
Alex bobbed up and down, pretending to ski, knocking over every bottle on the table as if it were one, which made the barmaid run around in circles with her hands to her cheeks.
I chuckled. ‘He doesn’t know what day it is most days of the week.’
Erik watched Alex with a disbelieving face. ‘You may be right. How old are you?’ he asked, and I looked at him with surprise.
‘You can’t ask a girl her age!’ I wasn’t sure if I should tell him I was twenty or tell him the age that was on my paperwork at the V-building. ‘How old are you?’
‘Twenty-eight.’ I gave a strange look, and he laughed. ‘Did you think I was older?’
‘Only by a few years, but that doesn’t matter.’
I cleared my throat and got more comfortable in my seat, narrowing the pocket of air between us. He squeezed my knee tenderly and his voice turned buttery. ‘Happy Birthday, Ella.’ He was sweet, caring and nothing like the Erik Koch I knew at the V-building. I still couldn’t believe how different he was, and it showed on my face. ‘You’ve been giving me strange looks all day,’ he said. ‘Is there something I don’t know?’
My whole face scrunched. ‘Nein.’
‘You’re doing it again.’
I had to tell him what I was thinking. Otherwise, he might have thought I was making fun of him. ‘This morning I said you looked different, but you also act different.’
‘What do you mean?’ His eyes widened, and I realized he had no idea what I was talking about.
‘Never mind.’ I patted the top of his hand on my knee, and then in a move that surprised even myself, I kept it there, resting on top of his. I didn’t want to remind him about all the times he got my name wrong, or how he ignored me when Louise was his secretary. All I wanted to do was enjoy the night, so I decided to change the subject.
‘Do you come here often? I mean to this town. Have you been here before?’ I looked up into the crystal night sky.
‘My family wintered here on holiday when I was a child. My brother, sister, and I would ski in the morning, come back midday hungry, eat pretzels with shandy then go out and ski until dark.’
‘You drank shandy?’
He nodded. ‘We’d drink it from paper cones. Tasted like crap, but after skiing all day it didn’t matter to us.’ He gazed deep into the fire and rubbed his chin. ‘Hmm,’ he said. ‘I haven’t thought about that for a long time.’
‘I used to sell it on street corners when I was little,’ I said, ‘and you’re right, it does taste like crap.’ We shared a laugh that quieted into sighs. His eyes met mine, and then I felt his breath on my cheek. He smelled of Nuremberg before the war, like edelweiss and candy—he wasn’t a member of the Party, and definitely not the person I’d seduced with Toyoka’s herb. I was wrong about him; I had to be. And then it occurred to me, perhaps, just perhaps, he was a jumpbox, and had fooled everyone this whole time.
Next thing I knew our lips were touching. I heard a relaxing moan but I wasn’t entirely sure if it came from me or not. His hand pressed against my back, pulling me in closer, but then the door banged against the wall, scaring us out of each other’s arms and out of our seats.
It was Hannah, and her face beat red and her shoulders puffed. ‘I’m going back to the pension!’ She dashed into the street, tears spurting from her eyes and bawling like a baby. My lips were still warm and wet from kissing Erik, and my mind reeled from shock. The one ca
r in the village still out motoring on the street almost hit her. ‘Hannah!’ I yelled, and then left Erik in the courtyard and chased after her.
I managed to grab her coat sleeve and stop her just outside the pension, both of us panting, trying to catch our cold, frosted breath.
‘It’s Paul,’ she sobbed, and then wrapped her arms around me. ‘He cornered me near the toilets—said I owed him.’ She pulled back, wiping her tears with the thick part of her palm. ‘I guess there’s no such thing as a free weekend after all.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘Were you starting to like him?’
‘I thought I was.’ She held her breath until her cry had quieted to a hiccup.
I glanced across the street to the courtyard, but Erik had gone inside. ‘Come now, let’s get you to bed.’
*
I got her a warm washcloth for her face while she changed into her nightclothes. She climbed into the canopy bed and lay with her pillow gripped between both arms and her body bent into a foetal position. I petted her until her hiccups disappeared and her eyes had closed, but then heavy boots pounded up the stairs and stopped right outside our door.
‘Hannah,’ a voice slurred. The doorknob turned violently in its lock. ‘Hannah, where are you…’ It was Paul, and by the drawl in his voice I could tell he was drunk.
There was a slight commotion, and I heard Frau Hensel shout, ‘This is not proper!’ There was a clap, like she had slapped her hands together. ‘Get back to your room.’
‘But I only want to tell her—’
‘Silence! This is not a brothel.’ Her voice shouted into a whisper. ‘Or a gypsy’s fleapit.’
Ingrid and Alex bounded up the stairs seconds later, drunk and giggling.
‘And you, Inid—Ingrid,’ Frau Hensel said.
‘My name is Ingrid,’ she slurred, hiccupping.
‘This is your room,’ Frau Hensel said.
I heard the rattle of keys followed by the click and twist of my door’s lock. She’s opening the door! I stepped back into the shadow running along the side of the bed. The door cracked open and Frau Hensel pushed Ingrid inside, and she landed on the floor with me as I tried to catch her, our legs tangling on the ground. Paul stood against the wall behind Frau Hensel with one eye comfortably closed, and the other held open by two of his fingers. He moved his head instead of his eye to look around Frau Hensel’s body and into our room. A peep of laughter floated from my mouth, and Frau Hensel peered sourly down at us. She clipped a fat ring of keys onto her belt and shut our door.
‘Now, you boys… get to your room!’ she said from the other side of the door.
There was a garbled argument then the slam of a bedroom door at the end of the corridor. I moved Ingrid’s head into my lap so that my face was directly above hers.
‘Why are you upside down?’ she said, and then closed her eyes. ‘The room is…’
‘Spinning?’ I said.
I helped her up and she climbed into the canopy bed where Hannah had fallen asleep, pulling bits of clothing off and twisting her body into the bed sheets. The room was quiet now, still.
Erik. I had butterflies thinking of him, and I hadn’t felt the tingly sensation of really being alive in I don’t know how long. He was tender and thoughtful. And without that uniform on, and away from the V-building, he was just an ordinary man. I regretted walking away from him, especially since Hannah was now safe and sound in the bed.
I wondered if it wasn’t too late for us.
There was a creak in the floorboards from the corridor. I looked through the peephole and saw Erik rubbing the back of his neck, walking up to my door, hand poised to knock, only to back away.
I gasped. I’d left him at the beer hall and now he’d come to get me.
I put my forehead to the door, breathing, closing my eyes only to open them right back up, playing with the idea of opening the door. Ingrid was now snoring and Hannah had pulled the covers over her head. I looked again, standing on my tiptoes to get the full view, only this time Erik was gone.
But I had opened the door.
I crept down the corridor after him. Frau Hensel and her cook were in the kitchen preparing for tomorrow’s breakfast, murmuring about the best way to cook morning eggs—they had no idea I was up. His room was the last door at the very end of the corridor. I smoothed my hair to one side, straightened my skirt, and decided to knock, but then suddenly wondered what the hell I was doing. I started walking back the way I had come when he opened his door.
My back was too him. ‘Ella?’ he said, and I froze.
And there was silence in the corridor. Silence while I rethought my intentions, and rethought what I’d decided about him. My heart raced, but not from panic or fear.
I turned around.
‘You must have seen me come to your room,’ he said, ‘I shouldn’t have—’
I kissed him, standing on my toes to reach his lips. ‘You don’t have to apologize,’ I said, and he shut the door behind us, and carried me to his bed.
*
We sat across from each other at breakfast. Hannah and Ingrid slumped over the table, eating porridge with big spoons. Neither one of them looked well. Hannah was still upset, shooting dagger looks at Paul, who sat down just long enough to eat his eggs and leave. Ingrid wore her winter hat low on her head, almost covering her eyes. She said something about not feeling well, and then left the table holding her stomach. Alex shrugged, because of course, he felt just fine after a night of drinking.
Erik ate his breakfast, glancing up every so often, catching my eye. I couldn’t believe I’d just slept with my boss. And not just any boss, with Erik… Erik? My heart fluttered when he last caught my eye, and I laughed to myself, thinking, of all the people to be wrong about.
‘I thought I’d walk around the village this morning,’ I said. ‘It’s so beautiful here…’
‘Why walk when you can ski?’ Alex said. ‘Isn’t that why we’re here, at a ski pension?’
Erik put his fork down. ‘I’ll go on a walk.’
Alex waved. ‘I’m leaving,’ he said, and left out the side door with his skis.
‘And then it was just us,’ I said, and he leaned back in his chair, smiling.
We walked from the pension into town and stumbled upon an antiques shop. Old skis and boots were on display in the window, and then in the back, it looked like perhaps some paintings. I was instantly struck by the charm of it. And antiques? I couldn’t believe the luck.
I read from the sign. ‘The Little Shop.’ I pressed my face to the glass, peeking in, and Erik opened the door. A little bell tinkled overhead, and a sweet-looking older man walked out from the back, dusting his hands off on his white apron.
‘Good morning,’ he said, looking over his spectacles. ‘Can I help you find anything?’
I walked around the shop, taking my gloves off one at a time while he and Erik struck up a conversation. On a glass shelf I found a figurine of a child dressed in turn-of-the-century Bavarian clothing. By instinct, I turned it over to see what stamp it had on the bottom. It wasn’t worth its price tag, a cheap knockoff, but the boy’s face was sweet. Painted red lips and blue eyes with bright yellow mittens. I thought maybe that was what Erik looked like when he was a boy before the Reich.
‘My parents owned an antiques shop,’ he said to the shopkeeper, and I think my mouth dropped a little bit. ‘When I was young. I don’t remember much about it.’ He leaned against the counter, tapping his lips. ‘But from what I remember,’ he said, glancing over his shoulder and around the shop, ‘it looked a lot like this one.’
I walked on, picking up other figurines only to set them back down, pretending to be shopping, just to get a better ear on what they were saying.
‘Well, I’ve had this shop a few years, I have to say.’ He took a rag and wiped his counter where it was already clean. ‘And every year I think—’ he leaned in close, whispering ‘—I don’t ever want to leave.’
Erik laughed, pushing back fro
m the counter. ‘It is a great place,’ Erik said. ‘Schliersee. Got a little skiing in yesterday. Wonderful day, the sights…’ He looked at me, stopping short from saying anything about how the war hadn’t touched the little town, and how it felt like a dream.
‘Did your wife go skiing too?’ the shopkeeper said, and I burst out laughing from behind the shelves.
‘We’re not married,’ I said. ‘In fact, he’s my boss.’ Erik turned the colour of a tomato.
The shopkeeper looked surprised, eyes lifting into his forehead. ‘Your pardon,’ he said, and he wiped more of the counter’s clean surface.
‘Did you find anything?’ Erik said.
‘I’m not looking for anything in particular,’ I said, and then couldn’t remember the last time I’d bought myself something. I walked up to the counter and spotted a basket of woollen mittens.
‘Look at these.’ I sorted through the colours: white, blue and grey—definitely not grey. ‘They’re made so well.’ I held a pair to my face, and they didn’t scratch but felt very soft. I slid my hand into one. ‘And so warm.’ I walked over to the far mirror on the wall, looking at myself with the mittens on, when I heard Erik talk again to the shopkeeper, but this time his voice was lower, quieter.
‘I noticed you don’t have any Party flags hanging on buildings or in your shops. Does this town not support the Führer?’
The shopkeeper took his time answering, and I glanced up, looking at them both through the mirror. ‘I’ve got some around here somewhere…’ He looked over his shoulder as if he was trying to look, but it was very clear to me he didn’t care about the flags.
There was an awkward hush, and I slid my hand into the other mitten, still watching them from the mirror.
‘We’ll take a pair,’ Erik said, and he bought me the mittens.
I put the figurine of the little boy on the counter. ‘And this too.’
*
We walked down the street to a little eatery that made fresh pretzels and sauerkraut soup for lunch, and again he made small talk with the owner. ‘What a charming town,’ he kept saying.
