“It must have been beautiful before.” Tadek didn’t realize that he’d spoken it out loud, only when Gerlinde turned to look at him.
“It was,” she confirmed. “And the Tiergarten, too. Not like now.”
“Did you come here often?”
Once again, she nodded. “Vati was a member.”
Carefully, Tadek probed the waters. “You ever wonder where he is now?”
She sighed, annoyed at the clumsy attempt but answered, much to his surprise, “I would like to imagine somewhere very far from here, where he can’t see all this rot. It would break his heart.”
She turned on her heel and headed away from the building. Tadek still heard her mutter under her breath, “I shouldn’t have come here.”
He followed her into the Tiergarten park, keeping his distance this time. She wandered around aimlessly for some time. Morris had warned him about a possible contact but she seemed much too lost in her thoughts to be seeking anyone out of the crowd. The manner in which she stumbled about, picking her way amid still-not-cleared rubble, was without any direction. In the end, she dropped onto the grass altogether and began pulling at the weeds around her, tearing them into bits and pieces and throwing them away. Tadek sat not too far away and followed her gaze to the lion, which was missing its head and the other one on the opposite side of the stream. Above it, between the lions, the bridge must have been at some point.
“Is it the same in the rest of Europe?”
Tadek tore his gaze away from the lions. Gerlinde was plucking at another weed. Her eyes had dried.
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen much of Europe from behind the barbed-wire fence, only what I covered on foot with the Reds,” Tadek tried to joke but it didn’t come out funny.
“I would think so. And in Russia, too.”
“Yes. In Russia, too. Soldiers were telling about their villages, towns… All obliterated. Burned. Much like here.”
She was thinking about something. “I don’t know if…” She sighed, annoyed with those bothersome thoughts. “Maybe it would have been better…”
“What?”
“Everything was fine before the war. Maybe, we shouldn’t have… Should have just lived here instead of… We did have lots of lands, after all; Morris is right.” She gestured around herself. The movement of her hand was somewhat desperate, shaky. “Was there really a need for all this? Perhaps, it’s a cowardly thing to consider but was it worth it, obliterating half of Europe for an idea? It is cowardly, isn’t it?” She was back to biting her chopped lip. “It’s because I’m a girl. I don’t understand all of these things; mother was right about me all along. I couldn’t even die along with them all. A coward is what I am. She was right from the very—”
“No, you’re not!” Tadek leaped to his feet and went to take her hand, changed his mind halfway through and sat cross-legged next to her and began tearing at the grass too. “You’re most definitely not a coward! You’re so very strong, you just don’t see it. Anyone can do away with themselves. Bite on a pill and all trouble is over. But to choose life, a lonely life, an alien life, devoid of anything you’ve grown used to and to face it all with open eyes and to admit the mistakes – that demands great courage.”
“You don’t know these things. You don’t know what I’m saying.”
“No! You don’t know what you’re saying yet. But you’re saying the right things.” He smiled at her.
They walked some more. Sometimes, when they encountered a statue that had survived the shelling and bombardments, Gerlinde spoke about its significance and history, in a lowered, wistful voice, as though recounting the achievements of an important relative who had recently passed away and whose body was still on display in the family’s house. Still present but already gone, soon to be buried. Tadek listened greedily and tried matching his steps with hers. Soon, he knew which stone each statue was made of, by whom, and what precisely it symbolized.
“You really are such a cultured people,” he remarked, in a soft voice. “My father’s best friend and colleague, Professor Rosenfeld, taught German literature and he always admired you greatly. And then you came and murdered his entire family.”
Gerlinde came to an abrupt halt and looked at him in horror.
“Yes, his entire family. And mine, too, even though my father admired you also and taught me German before anything else because of all languages it was his favorite. Why did you trade all this beauty for bombs? All this marble and granite and Beethoven and Goethe – for the tanks and panzerfausts and the SS? It’s like trading your father’s War Merit Cross for ten cigarettes. Why would you do that?”
For some time, she just stood before him, pale and tragic. “I don’t know,” she finally uttered. Her voice was full of tears. “I don’t know!” she shouted, louder this time, squeezing her hands into fists. “Why are you asking me this? What do I know? I’m just a sixteen-year-old girl! I don’t know anything! What do you all want from me?”
Before he could speak, she swung around and marched back, towards the Reichstag, away from him. Feeling infinitely guilty for no apparent reason, Tadek trudged after her. Near the market, among people, she calmed herself quickly and wiped away her tears – no crying in public for the General’s daughter. Unseemly. Shameful. Tadek watched her walk aimlessly between the overturned crates with goods piled upon them – men’s jackets and chipped pots; lighters and green table lamps, clearly looted from some official department; perfume and razors. Gerlinde hardly saw any of those things and needed them even less. She only wished to be away from Tadek and he let her walk on her own as long as she was not more than five paces ahead of him.
Suddenly, a familiar outline of a candleholder caught his gaze. He stopped and stared at it, stupefied.
“Silver, of the best
