is my
kleine Herr Warum
, my little Mr. Why.”
“I would love to see a photograph of you as a child.”
“We left Vienna so quickly. When I came back after the war, everything had disappeared.”
“You must have been a very joyful girl!”
The old lady scratched her head under her turban. The edges had already discolored, the delicate blue shifting to a yellowish gray.
“I was the eldest of three Porkert sisters, Liesl, Elizabeth, and Adele—a terrible trio! What a racket we made! My father called me his ‘stubborn little mule.’ ”
Anna held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t sure whether she’d won back the right to be ironic.
“I was born at the wrong time. The girls today have all sorts of opportunities. We were so … imprisoned. Every freedom cost us so much. And also, we had experienced so many wars. We lived in fear of seeing our men go to the front. Even my husband. He had diplomas all over the place, and they still called him fit for service!”
“Did you immigrate to the United States so he wouldn’t be drafted?”
“We were waging battles on many fronts, my sweet.”
Anna went on to another snapshot. The kind word slipped by Adele into her sentence had affected her too strongly. She was not going to forget her humiliation because of a small traceof affection. She chose a tiny print in which Adele stood in a groom’s uniform against the backdrop of a theater curtain. She was holding hands with a man in blackface.
“The only remnant of my brilliant career as a dancer. It was hardly classical ballet. More like pantomime!”
“An era when people of color were not welcome in the theater.”
“The first time I ever saw a black man, I was getting off the boat in San Francisco in 1940. Even in Vienna’s nightclubs, I never met any.”
“Billie Holiday told the story that she was not considered black enough at first to sing jazz. She used to darken her face with makeup. Strange period.”
“Strange fruit.
Ach!
Billie … America was not all bad. When I arrived here, the music really helped me. Except for bebop, which I couldn’t stomach. What was that man’s name? Charlie Parker! He used to make me dizzy. Students were crazy about him. They compared his noise to Bach, to mathematics. I never saw the connection. In any case, Bach always made me feel depressed.”
“Did you go to nightclubs with your husband?”
“With Kurt! You are surely joking? He hated crowds and noise! No, I listened to singers on the radio. Ella, Sarah … I particularly liked Lady Day. Even if I didn’t understand all the words. Do you remember that song, ‘Easy to Remember but So Hard to Forget’?”
“Old photographs are probably not good for you, Adele.”
“I don’t look at them often. No point, I have it all here.”
Pushed by her finger, her turban came unstuck from the side of her head, and a rancid odor wafted into the room. Anna breathed through her mouth. The smell of Adele’s body mixed with the familiar smell of lavender troubled her. Her birthdaypresent, a bottle of her grandmother’s favorite perfume, had been liberally applied. From her nostalgia, Anna realized it had been a mistake to choose the perfume of a departed loved one as a gift.
“That one, if I remember correctly, is from 1939, a little before we left.”
“You were terribly blond.”
“You have never dyed your hair. It’s not your style.
Mein Gott!
The pain I endured getting my hair dyed! It was the fashion. Look at those boobs! I was still trim in my forties! At that time, women my age were already in the garbage can.”
The Adele who looked out in black and white wore a dark-colored dress suit with muttonchop sleeves, a low neckline, and a skirt that was gored below the knees. Next to her, looking straight ahead, stood Kurt squarely, his raincoat open to reveal an impeccable suit.
“I had my old brolly tucked under my arm. Someday I’ll tell you about that umbrella.”
“You were
kleine Herr Warum
, my little Mr. Why.”
“I would love to see a photograph of you as a child.”
“We left Vienna so quickly. When I came back after the war, everything had disappeared.”
“You must have been a very joyful girl!”
The old lady scratched her head under her turban. The edges had already discolored, the delicate blue shifting to a yellowish gray.
“I was the eldest of three Porkert sisters, Liesl, Elizabeth, and Adele—a terrible trio! What a racket we made! My father called me his ‘stubborn little mule.’ ”
Anna held back the comment on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t sure whether she’d won back the right to be ironic.
“I was born at the wrong time. The girls today have all sorts of opportunities. We were so … imprisoned. Every freedom cost us so much. And also, we had experienced so many wars. We lived in fear of seeing our men go to the front. Even my husband. He had diplomas all over the place, and they still called him fit for service!”
“Did you immigrate to the United States so he wouldn’t be drafted?”
“We were waging battles on many fronts, my sweet.”
Anna went on to another snapshot. The kind word slipped by Adele into her sentence had affected her too strongly. She was not going to forget her humiliation because of a small traceof affection. She chose a tiny print in which Adele stood in a groom’s uniform against the backdrop of a theater curtain. She was holding hands with a man in blackface.
“The only remnant of my brilliant career as a dancer. It was hardly classical ballet. More like pantomime!”
“An era when people of color were not welcome in the theater.”
“The first time I ever saw a black man, I was getting off the boat in San Francisco in 1940. Even in Vienna’s nightclubs, I never met any.”
“Billie Holiday told the story that she was not considered black enough at first to sing jazz. She used to darken her face with makeup. Strange period.”
“Strange fruit.
Ach!
Billie … America was not all bad. When I arrived here, the music really helped me. Except for bebop, which I couldn’t stomach. What was that man’s name? Charlie Parker! He used to make me dizzy. Students were crazy about him. They compared his noise to Bach, to mathematics. I never saw the connection. In any case, Bach always made me feel depressed.”
“Did you go to nightclubs with your husband?”
“With Kurt! You are surely joking? He hated crowds and noise! No, I listened to singers on the radio. Ella, Sarah … I particularly liked Lady Day. Even if I didn’t understand all the words. Do you remember that song, ‘Easy to Remember but So Hard to Forget’?”
“Old photographs are probably not good for you, Adele.”
“I don’t look at them often. No point, I have it all here.”
Pushed by her finger, her turban came unstuck from the side of her head, and a rancid odor wafted into the room. Anna breathed through her mouth. The smell of Adele’s body mixed with the familiar smell of lavender troubled her. Her birthdaypresent, a bottle of her grandmother’s favorite perfume, had been liberally applied. From her nostalgia, Anna realized it had been a mistake to choose the perfume of a departed loved one as a gift.
“That one, if I remember correctly, is from 1939, a little before we left.”
“You were terribly blond.”
“You have never dyed your hair. It’s not your style.
Mein Gott!
The pain I endured getting my hair dyed! It was the fashion. Look at those boobs! I was still trim in my forties! At that time, women my age were already in the garbage can.”
The Adele who looked out in black and white wore a dark-colored dress suit with muttonchop sleeves, a low neckline, and a skirt that was gored below the knees. Next to her, looking straight ahead, stood Kurt squarely, his raincoat open to reveal an impeccable suit.
“I had my old brolly tucked under my arm. Someday I’ll tell you about that umbrella.”
“You were
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