“It’s my intention to do everything I can to focus on my work. If we force a confrontation with the zu Schillers, there’s a good chance we’re going to be disappointed with how they respond, and by asking the question, we’ve revealed our discomfort. It’s like listening to Otto when he rants about the Jews or the disabled or the homosexuals. I could argue back—I mean, for God’s sakes, what ‘science’ is this? But does that really help? Does it change Otto’s mind? No. All it does is force him to confront the reality that he and I disagree. It’s best to stay focused on what we still have in common. In the case of Karl and Otto and me, that’s the rocket program. For you and Lydia, it’s our children and our friendship.”
In those first few early years of Nazi rule, each day mostly felt like the one before—warm family dinners, lunches at the park with Lydia while our children ran wild around us, frustrating and wonderful moments with my children, Mayim and I chuckling over some private joke, sharing glances at Adele each morning as I somehow, yet again, managed to offend Jürgen’s aunt with a single word or phrase.
But when I was forced to look back at how life changed in such a short period of time, I could barely believe I was in the same city. Outside of our family and outside of our home, the nation had morphed, and every interaction was now fraught.
As Jürgen parked the car on the street outside our house, I looked across the road to the Schneider house just in time to see an upstairs curtain swing back into place.
“Dietger keeping watch on us?” Jürgen asked. When I sighed to confirm his suspicions, Jürgen waggled his eyebrows at me and leaned in as if he was going to kiss me. “Should we give him a show?”
I laughed and moved to push him away playfully, but he caught my hands in his and his expression suddenly sobered.
“I’m important to the program in a way that Karl is not. I have no interest in joining the Nazi party, let alone climbing its ranks. I hope we’ll be okay, but you do need to understand…” He cleared his throat, then jerked his chin toward our house. “I hope to God it doesn’t happen, but the day may come when it’s a problem for a man like me to have a Jewish friend, especially one who lives under his own roof.” I opened my mouth to protest, but he said gently, “You’ve seen how quickly things have changed. You know in your heart that what I’m saying is true.”
My heart sank. I looked back toward the house, chest tight as I whispered, “And if that day comes?”
“Let’s cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said. I turned back to scowl at him, and Jürgen’s gaze softened. “I just wanted to make sure you were thinking about it, because the day may come when our relationship with Mayim becomes a problem.”
Early at the start of the new school year, Mayim’s brother, Moshe, learned that his school’s quota of Jewish students had been reduced. He was sixteen and had already decided to train as a baker, so he dropped out to free up a space for another student.
Levi and Sidonie decided that Moshe should go to Krakow to live with his grandfather because “it’s only a matter of time before it becomes illegal for a Jew to even bake bread in this country.” Like Sidonie and Mayim, Moshe was a Polish citizen. This was not an uncommon scenario—there were tens of thousands of people born in Germany to Polish parents who were automatically granted Polish citizenship.
A boy like Moshe had become a walking target on the streets of Berlin by then. He’d been harassed by Hitler youth thugs a number of times and lucky to escape with only minor scrapes and bruises.
Mayim asked me to go with her to say goodbye to Moshe, so we left the children with Adele and took the trolley car across to Mitte. By the time we arrived at the tenement building, she was weeping. We paused at the bottom of the stairs so she could compose herself.
“I don’t want to upset my parents any more than they already are.” Mayim sniffed as she wiped her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Moshe is a strong boy. And he’s resourceful. Remember that summer at Potsdam when he had been sick, so your mama wouldn’t let him tag along when we played in the creek? And he set that dishcloth on fire in the kitchen sink to distract her so he could run off after us?”
She laughed through her tears, but the grief and the fear returned to her eyes almost immediately.
“He’s just sixteen. He shouldn’t be sent away like this. We barely know my grandfather.”
“Your grandfather also raised your mother, and she’s one of the finest people I know.”