disconcerted look at her father. She knew that sooner or later they would have to divulge some information about the family’s ordeal—that was the price to pay for receiving help—but she wished it wouldn’t be just yet. The memories were still too raw.
“It is painful,” she admitted. “But we can talk about it with you.”
“When did you leave Germany?” Allegra promptly inquired as she sat down.
“Our parents left too late,” Erik answered, almost by reflex, using his fork to poke at the slices of pickled lemons adorning the plate on his lap. “They waited until the fall of 1937.”
“They were well connected in the community and were confident they would be protected,” Maya added softly, trying to remain detached.
“I was sure it would all pass,” Vati said. “And I was able to get work at the Kubu in Frankfurt as a conductor after I was fired from the Düsseldorf Opera.”
“The Kubu ?” Allegra asked, leaning forward to hear better.
“The Kulturbund ,” Vati explained. “It was an organization of Jewish artists that was allowed by the Nazis to perform in public, but only in front of Jewish audiences.”
“This was to show the world that they were not completely intolerant of Jews,” Erik added.
“As if the world really cared,” Maya heard herself muttering.
“They began to put all kinds of silly restrictions on the Kubu as time went on,” Vati shrugged. “They policed our recitals and then ruled that only Jewish works could be performed. By the end we were not even allowed to utter the word ‘blond,’ because that was deemed an insult to the Aryan trait. Can you believe such nonsense?” He waved his hand dismissively, indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “When they shut the Kubu down, I knew it was time to leave.”
Maya didn’t contradict her father, but she knew that this had not been the final straw. That had been the garbage truck humiliation.
“You went from there to Paris?” Allegra asked.
“Yes. Erik was already there,” Maya replied on behalf of her father, “and Paris was full of opportunities for musicians.”
“It was good for Maya, too,” Erik offered. “She had gone to a French boarding school in Geneva and speaks with a true French accent.”
“And then you had to flee again,” Allegra said sympathetically. “And your poor mother? That was her violin, wasn’t it?”
Maya looked down at her white socks. She was not going to describe how her mother had coughed up blood for the last time on the day the Germans had entered Paris, succumbing finally to her tuberculosis. They had fled the capital that very day, but missed the ship bound for England that the British Embassy had chartered to give scientists like Erik refuge there.
“It all fell apart when Paris was invaded,” Maya said. “You must have read about the chaos and hysteria that followed when people tried to leave the city.” That’s all she was willing to say.
“I think the radio said there were seven million people on the roads that day,” Joe recalled.
Maya couldn’t go down this path. Perhaps it was the hot bath that she’d taken earlier, but she felt too exhausted to withstand further questioning. She was about to excuse herself to go to the bathroom when the Levis’ four young boys ran into the room, showing their clean hands to their mother. Fresh faced and energetic, they were still dressed in their school uniforms—ties and jackets.
Maya saw Vati staring at the crests on their uniforms. He’d been shocked when he’d learned that these Jewish children were attending a French Jesuit school. He had not accepted Allegra’s claim that the school provided the most disciplined and best education in Cairo, nor Joe’s rationalization that religion was learned in the home, and that he, too, had attended a Catholic school as a child.
“We’ve set Loulou’s Bar Mitzvah for next May,” Joe said proudly of his oldest son. “He’s been studying for
“It is painful,” she admitted. “But we can talk about it with you.”
“When did you leave Germany?” Allegra promptly inquired as she sat down.
“Our parents left too late,” Erik answered, almost by reflex, using his fork to poke at the slices of pickled lemons adorning the plate on his lap. “They waited until the fall of 1937.”
“They were well connected in the community and were confident they would be protected,” Maya added softly, trying to remain detached.
“I was sure it would all pass,” Vati said. “And I was able to get work at the Kubu in Frankfurt as a conductor after I was fired from the Düsseldorf Opera.”
“The Kubu ?” Allegra asked, leaning forward to hear better.
“The Kulturbund ,” Vati explained. “It was an organization of Jewish artists that was allowed by the Nazis to perform in public, but only in front of Jewish audiences.”
“This was to show the world that they were not completely intolerant of Jews,” Erik added.
“As if the world really cared,” Maya heard herself muttering.
“They began to put all kinds of silly restrictions on the Kubu as time went on,” Vati shrugged. “They policed our recitals and then ruled that only Jewish works could be performed. By the end we were not even allowed to utter the word ‘blond,’ because that was deemed an insult to the Aryan trait. Can you believe such nonsense?” He waved his hand dismissively, indicating that he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “When they shut the Kubu down, I knew it was time to leave.”
Maya didn’t contradict her father, but she knew that this had not been the final straw. That had been the garbage truck humiliation.
“You went from there to Paris?” Allegra asked.
“Yes. Erik was already there,” Maya replied on behalf of her father, “and Paris was full of opportunities for musicians.”
“It was good for Maya, too,” Erik offered. “She had gone to a French boarding school in Geneva and speaks with a true French accent.”
“And then you had to flee again,” Allegra said sympathetically. “And your poor mother? That was her violin, wasn’t it?”
Maya looked down at her white socks. She was not going to describe how her mother had coughed up blood for the last time on the day the Germans had entered Paris, succumbing finally to her tuberculosis. They had fled the capital that very day, but missed the ship bound for England that the British Embassy had chartered to give scientists like Erik refuge there.
“It all fell apart when Paris was invaded,” Maya said. “You must have read about the chaos and hysteria that followed when people tried to leave the city.” That’s all she was willing to say.
“I think the radio said there were seven million people on the roads that day,” Joe recalled.
Maya couldn’t go down this path. Perhaps it was the hot bath that she’d taken earlier, but she felt too exhausted to withstand further questioning. She was about to excuse herself to go to the bathroom when the Levis’ four young boys ran into the room, showing their clean hands to their mother. Fresh faced and energetic, they were still dressed in their school uniforms—ties and jackets.
Maya saw Vati staring at the crests on their uniforms. He’d been shocked when he’d learned that these Jewish children were attending a French Jesuit school. He had not accepted Allegra’s claim that the school provided the most disciplined and best education in Cairo, nor Joe’s rationalization that religion was learned in the home, and that he, too, had attended a Catholic school as a child.
“We’ve set Loulou’s Bar Mitzvah for next May,” Joe said proudly of his oldest son. “He’s been studying for
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