up to their
pre-arranged meeting the day after they originally met. One can easily imagine
and share in their small happiness then when they both arrived early at the
designated quiet street in a corner of the ghetto. There was a strangeness to
their meeting in that, considering the relationship between the Jewish girl and
German soldier, there was an absence of awkwardness and forced behaviour that
one might have conceived to be shunted into their encounter. For the most part,
Thomas talked about his wife and family and how he missed home (at first
Jessica admired him the more for the devotion he bore his wife and child, but
after their second meeting she grew a little frustrated about hearing about
"Maria"). Initially Jessica just listened. Thomas was engaging enough
just through his looks and speech. When she did talk it was mostly about her
life before the occupation, her aspirations then.
One time however, after a pregnant pause between the German
and Jewess, the young woman broached one of the subjects that they had perhaps
previously, consciously, skirted around. Jessica asked the German what it was
to be Aryan, partly ashamed of her ignorance of the foreign ideology - but also
intrigued by the concept which had spawned so much suffering and conflict. At
first Thomas frowned slightly, upset that the war had inevitably penetrated
their little world. It highlighted the gulf between them. But then, all of a
sudden, an ironic smile enlivened the German's brooding features.
"I remember reading an article once, written by Samuel
Beckett, an Irish playwright who visited Germany around a decade ago. He
defined being an Aryan as the following, ‘He must be blond like Hitler, thin
like Goring, handsome like Goebbels, virile like Rohm - and be called
Rosenberg."
As much as Thomas tried to lighten the atmosphere with his
satirical comment though it was his former frown, rather than his charming
smile, which infected Jessica's demeanour and soul.
The pair continued
to have their clandestine meetings when possible, which proved difficult but
rewarding, given their respective schedules and the Corporal's visits to a sick
friend in the ghetto. Yet whereas perhaps the soldier spent time in the girl's
company out of a sense of compassion and companionship - something other than
platonic friendship began to bloom in Jessica’s crimpled heart.
7.
The atmosphere was heavy, stodgy with damp - but still the
rain refused to fall. Dark purple cumulus clouds hung in the air as if stapled
to the cloth of the sky. A stale, wheezing wind did not even attempt to shoo
away the thick, sulphurous humidity. The muggy heat and glazed, intense
expression on his face all shrunk into the background however as Adam Duritz,
in his now familiar position, stood transfixed, staring across the street at
the entrance to the building where the Rubenstein’s lived. A couple of scrawny
children scrambling for a finger-sized piece of bread, that appeared to have
fallen from the sky from a passing pigeon, stole his attention away for a
moment or two but he swiftly returned to his sentry-like pose.
The young Jew had carried out his programme of
pseudo-reconnaissance for a week now. He had gleaned, more or less, the outline
of Jessica's routine. Like some guardian angel he had followed her to and from
work. Possessed, again. He was not altogether happy unless she was in his
sight, yet his heart violently trembled and his thoughts raced when Jessica was
so. During the first few days, not knowing her finishing time at the hospital,
Adam had diligently stood outside her workplace for the entire shift - his mind
occupied with his future duties and the rich imaginary scenes, conversations
that would be hopefully played out between them. The tears, forgiveness,
friendship, declarations of love, deliverance. If God could forgive him, then
Adam could forgive himself. Conversely, if he could forgive himself, then maybe
God could too. As if to convince
pre-arranged meeting the day after they originally met. One can easily imagine
and share in their small happiness then when they both arrived early at the
designated quiet street in a corner of the ghetto. There was a strangeness to
their meeting in that, considering the relationship between the Jewish girl and
German soldier, there was an absence of awkwardness and forced behaviour that
one might have conceived to be shunted into their encounter. For the most part,
Thomas talked about his wife and family and how he missed home (at first
Jessica admired him the more for the devotion he bore his wife and child, but
after their second meeting she grew a little frustrated about hearing about
"Maria"). Initially Jessica just listened. Thomas was engaging enough
just through his looks and speech. When she did talk it was mostly about her
life before the occupation, her aspirations then.
One time however, after a pregnant pause between the German
and Jewess, the young woman broached one of the subjects that they had perhaps
previously, consciously, skirted around. Jessica asked the German what it was
to be Aryan, partly ashamed of her ignorance of the foreign ideology - but also
intrigued by the concept which had spawned so much suffering and conflict. At
first Thomas frowned slightly, upset that the war had inevitably penetrated
their little world. It highlighted the gulf between them. But then, all of a
sudden, an ironic smile enlivened the German's brooding features.
"I remember reading an article once, written by Samuel
Beckett, an Irish playwright who visited Germany around a decade ago. He
defined being an Aryan as the following, ‘He must be blond like Hitler, thin
like Goring, handsome like Goebbels, virile like Rohm - and be called
Rosenberg."
As much as Thomas tried to lighten the atmosphere with his
satirical comment though it was his former frown, rather than his charming
smile, which infected Jessica's demeanour and soul.
The pair continued
to have their clandestine meetings when possible, which proved difficult but
rewarding, given their respective schedules and the Corporal's visits to a sick
friend in the ghetto. Yet whereas perhaps the soldier spent time in the girl's
company out of a sense of compassion and companionship - something other than
platonic friendship began to bloom in Jessica’s crimpled heart.
7.
The atmosphere was heavy, stodgy with damp - but still the
rain refused to fall. Dark purple cumulus clouds hung in the air as if stapled
to the cloth of the sky. A stale, wheezing wind did not even attempt to shoo
away the thick, sulphurous humidity. The muggy heat and glazed, intense
expression on his face all shrunk into the background however as Adam Duritz,
in his now familiar position, stood transfixed, staring across the street at
the entrance to the building where the Rubenstein’s lived. A couple of scrawny
children scrambling for a finger-sized piece of bread, that appeared to have
fallen from the sky from a passing pigeon, stole his attention away for a
moment or two but he swiftly returned to his sentry-like pose.
The young Jew had carried out his programme of
pseudo-reconnaissance for a week now. He had gleaned, more or less, the outline
of Jessica's routine. Like some guardian angel he had followed her to and from
work. Possessed, again. He was not altogether happy unless she was in his
sight, yet his heart violently trembled and his thoughts raced when Jessica was
so. During the first few days, not knowing her finishing time at the hospital,
Adam had diligently stood outside her workplace for the entire shift - his mind
occupied with his future duties and the rich imaginary scenes, conversations
that would be hopefully played out between them. The tears, forgiveness,
friendship, declarations of love, deliverance. If God could forgive him, then
Adam could forgive himself. Conversely, if he could forgive himself, then maybe
God could too. As if to convince
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