With his doctorate, Fengshan had been glad to offer his service as a secretary to the governor of Hunan province in China. But it broke his heart to see his country besieged by foreign powers and blighted with war indemnity and economic poverty. Resolved to fight for China’s survival, he took a gamble to join the foreign ministry, quit his secure secretary’s job, and worked tirelessly in Istanbul to establish a place for his government in the world of diplomacy.
His current position as the consul general in Vienna was a high point in his diplomatic career and a vital opportunity to fight for his country’s future. It was imperative that he do all he could to assist his superior and secure a meeting for the ambassador. Fengshan looked at his watch again.
CHAPTER 5
LOLA
I was expelled today.
And I was not the only one. A routine morning practice of Mahler’s Ninth Symphony turned out to be a trial, a contest of spit and slander, and in the end, there was nothing else to do other than pick up my case, join the miserable concertmaster and fellow string musicians, and march out of the room like I didn’t care.
But I did care. Was this expulsion temporary? Was this a stunning crush of my musical career? For months, rumors had been bouncing in the chamber that Jewish musicians had been banned from the conservatories in Berlin, and that many Jewish professionals and musicians in Germany had lost their jobs without cause. But we were Viennese. We had Chancellor Schuschnigg, and religion had not divided us. We, Jews and Christians, had marched on the street to support Schuschnigg’s policies when he defeated the Nazi Party and restored order; we had worn crosses and the Star of David to show our pledge to a Socialist regime; we had linked our arms, shouted for freedom and justice for all. It had only been four years ago.
Carrying my violin case, passing the Vienna Staatsoper on the Ringstrasse, I saw a group of actors in costumes stumbling out of an arch of the stately building while some youths in brown shirts were taunting them, shouting. One Brownshirt shoved a woman holding a bag. Startled, the poor actress tripped, dropped her bag, and spilled colorful dresses, combs, and necklaces on the pavement. Still, the Brownshirt was relentless, spitting on her, kicking her. Someone near me whispered that she was the actress Frau Weiss, the perennial draw at the Burgtheater, and that she had been dismissed. Another said the distinguished professors at the University of Vienna were removed as well, like Frau Weiss and all of us.
I felt like getting a beer. But none of my friends wanted to come, so I held tight to my case and resolved to go to a tavern by myself. The glorious tunes of Strauss’s An Alpine Symphony cascaded from a nearby building, lifting my spirits. Summer was approaching, and soon we’d dance to the lively accordion music, drink Sturm in the Heurigen, and forget about all these absurdities.
I turned onto a cobblestone street and passed a banner bearing the enormous black-and-white face of the man who swallowed Austria. Near it, a butcher with a face like a burnt pastry tossed his head toward me, scowled, and spat out some vicious epithet. I broke off my walk, tucked the two pendants into my blouse, and turned around.
At home, I had no choice but to tell Mutter that my school attendance was no longer required.
“Did you leave the house with your left foot out first, Lola?” she asked, looking anxious.
“No.”
It was easier to fill up the Danube Valley than to convince Mutter that the theory of luck in relation to the order of footsteps was flawed. But Mutter couldn’t be persuaded; she belonged to the old generation.
“What are you going to do, Lola?”
I shrugged. But I knew it would be harder to support my family now. Since Vater’s passing, Mutter had been managing the household with the little income from the fabric shop left by Vater, and my sister, Sara, had been diligently helping her with the sewing and needlework. But business had been dismal for the past few years, and we had trouble making ends meet. For some months, I was able to earn some schillings to cover the living expenses in the house, but since the Anschluss, the taverns and bars had banned me from performing. My older brother, Josef, promised to provide for us and often brought us cheese, loaves of bread, and fruit. I took them without complaint, but all the same, I wished I were the one looking after everyone. And Josef was being Josef. He tended to act like an older brother who knew best and believed that because he had a pharmacy degree, a decent job, and a fiancée, he was the only one who could help the family.
In two years, I’d graduate from school. With my glowing résumé filled with successful recitals and excellent recommendations, it had been my dream to join the orchestra of the Vienna Staatsoper and ultimately to become a member of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra, an honor that would have made Vater proud. After this expulsion, though, a future in the Vienna Philharmonic would be up in the air.
But Mutter worried too much these days. When she saw the bruises on my face yesterday, she was almost in tears. Upon her insistence, I had to tell her briefly of Frau Lee and the arrest.
Frau Lee was an introvert, I could see, but a diplomat’s wife. I had never met someone like her before, and I’d like to know more about her. There were few people I could socialize with lately. All my friends with a drop of Jewish blood were now pariahs, afraid of going to bars and clubs, and talking about leaving Vienna. My non-Jewish Viennese friends avoided me, afraid my Jewish breath would set them on fire even though they had been perfectly safe around me only months ago.
I had enjoyed meeting Frau Lee, although I had to bear the blame for getting us arrested. Had I taken this law more seriously, warned her, or left the bench, we would have avoided the policemen. But it was infuriating. So many restrictions had been forced on us: no more swimming pools, public libraries, music halls, or hotels. And now, no more conservatory.
Working as a tutor would be a refreshing job for me, and I would be able to support my family. I hoped to see Frau Lee again.
CHAPTER 6
GRACE
The bell tolled. Outside the window, the spire of the St. Stephen Cathedral sat in the pale air like a steely crown; the wind brushed by, rustling, like the sweeping hem of a dress. I lay on my bed and didn’t want to get up. A night’s rest had done little to restore my strength. My bones ached, and the skin of my shoulders and legs was bruised, reminding me of my arrest, Lola, and my promise to Fengshan. And I asked myself—what if I had insisted on keeping Lola as my tutor? What if I hadn’t been in such haste to promise anything?
I turned around. The clock on the nightstand said it was eleven. The bed was empty. Fengshan, an early riser who kept a strict schedule, was likely working at his desk downstairs. I was glad—at least we wouldn’t talk about the arrest. Or anything, really.
Groaning, I sat up. It would be another day in the consulate, another day of me as a mute diplomat’s wife, another day of holding my poet’s book and reading about the ribbons of sunrise in Amherst, sinking in the imaginary bower with my wandering thoughts, spreading like a canopy of vines, daring to ask myself—is this my life from now on, to be seen but not noticed, to be heard but not known, to only feel but not to be touched? My poet never answered me.
I had bled again. A small flow. Which had already happened a week ago and shouldn’t have appeared for another month. An erratic show, sinister, a chart of endless grief and the haunting fear that despite my dream, despite years of trying, my body was not made for pregnancy, and motherhood, the distant shores of joy and reverie, was forever out of my reach.