Munich, July 1939.
I was finally about to become a man, an adult. To be able to make my own choices without having to justify myself to anyone. Turning 18 is like flying with your own wings, and I was finally going to be able to do it.
—Heinrich! We're leaving, you coming?
—Yeah, I'm coming.
Ludwig's new car would do just fine, his magnificent black Opel Olympia. He brags about it so much that it gets annoying, but well, it's understandable. We were going out to celebrate my 18th birthday, me and Ludwig, of course accompanied by Arthur and Ernst. Our favorite bar, since the day we met there, thanks to our fathers, who had met in that very same bar.
—I knew there were some people missing.
—Hey Mickey, we'll take the back table.
A wink from him and already seated, each of us with a beer in hand, ready to be opened. The mood was set with laughter and Arthur's completely inappropriate jokes, and it felt good to start an evening that way, knowing precisely it would end very well. A group of girls appeared, the same number as us, wearing long skirts and simple blouses.
—Look, guys, now that's what you call beauties, should we go hit on them?
—They just got here, Ernst, at least let them settle down.
—Lud, you know as well as I do, in 2 minutes we'll go anyway, so we might as well strike now.
—You're exhausting.
During their conversation, my gaze was captivated by one of them, a unique beauty, brown hair, a small straight nose, and eyes as blue as the ocean.
—I think Heinrich has already found his target.
—Well yes, but she's not a target, she's a human being, Ernst.
—Yeah, yeah, I know.
Ernst's manners toward women were rather inappropriate, but his past explained why, and his relationship with his mother didn't help either. But my concern now wasn't Ernst, it was that beautiful brunette, and I admit I really wanted to go see her and at least learn her name. Without even realizing it, this brunette was staring back at me, with an intense look. Never had I seen a woman look at a man so easily like that; most of the time, they seemed shy at first.
—Heinrich, are we going or are we going to just stand here while they look at us?
—Yeah okay, let's go, I said with a smile on my face.
As we approached them, some laughed nervously, which seemed logical considering our build—which I liked to brag about. The pretty brunette, despite our approach, kept her gaze locked into mine, and I loved it.
—So, ladies, what brings you here? Ernst asked while grabbing the shoulders of a blonde.
—I could ask you the same thing, said the brunette.
—Maybe we came to meet beautiful girls like you.
—Maybe that's our reason as well.
She was as beautiful as her comebacks. After a few drinks, we were already spread out at our table, victims of the alcohol's strength.
One hour later.
—Will we see each other again?
—I don't know, maybe.
—And what about going out for a drink tomorrow night, would you agree?
—I'm working tomorrow night, but you can still come.
—Where do you work?
—I work at the Haus Vaterland.
—9 p.m., is that okay?
—Yes, see you tomorrow night, Heinrich Vollmer.
—See you tomorrow, Ruth Bernstein.
The next evening, Haus Vaterland.
I had a knot in my stomach but also the excitement of seeing her again. I had no idea how the evening would turn out, but for now, I just wanted to see her again, I needed to see her. I had spent my entire day thinking about how I would start tonight's conversation, about how I should dress so I wouldn't look like a creep or an uptight idiot. Without even realizing it, the entrance to Haus Vaterland was in front of me, but it didn't look like a regular bar: dim lights, burgundy red on the seats.
—What would you like?
—A rum sour, please.
A jazz tune filled the room with a romantic yet dangerous atmosphere, still no sign of Ruth. I even started doubting if she had lied to me, but why would she?
—Gentlemen, please welcome Die Nachtfalter.
Women in white bodysuits entered the stage, elegant feather scarves covering their bodies. I instantly understood one of them was Ruth, but which one? They were all hidden behind swan masks, impossible to recognize. A Marlene Dietrich song reached my ears. One of the dancers approached me.
—Meet me in my dressing room after, she whispered.
A smile spread across my whole face, I was quite surprised about her job, but at least she hadn't lied to me. She had simply not warned me that her work was as a dancer.
After the performance.
—I'm here to see Ruth Bernstein.
—You have no right to come here, sorry young man.
—I assure you, it was the dancer herself who invited me.
—I don't believe you, leave.
—He's with me, Joef, don't worry.
—Alright, come in.
Her dressing room clearly reflected someone organized; she looked very meticulous, it was adorable, and a cherry scent filled my nose.
—You came, that's sweet.
—I wasn't going to miss a chance to see you again.
—So, what did you think of my performance? Not too shocked?
—Well yes, I was shocked, but also impressed.
—Would you walk me home tonight? I don't like going back alone.
—Of course, I wasn't going to let you walk home alone anyway.
The streets of Munich were deserted, only a few drunk people fighting or laughing loudly could be heard. Ruth was very quiet, quite different from the night before, but I figured with the alcohol, I had seen her differently then. Still, I wasn't disappointed to see her this more sober way. The streetlamps gave us a safe, private atmosphere, just for the two of us, making me want so badly to grab her hand, to kiss her, just for a few seconds, just to know. She turned right toward a small brick house with a swing in the front yard, a stone path guiding us to the entrance. She turned before going inside.
—Thank you for walking me home, and especially for coming tonight, it meant so much to me.
—You're welcome, it was a pleasure to see you tonight as well.
Barely had I finished my sentence when she grabbed my collar and kissed me, a soft yet intense kiss. My hands didn't even dare to touch her. I couldn't process what was happening, her hands rose around my face, pulling me closer. Her lips slowly pulled away, catching her breath.
—You should go, before it's too late.
—Hmm yes, when will I see you again?
—I don't know, it's up to you, she said with a mischievous smile.
The door closed, and I caught my breath again—I had almost forgotten to breathe. That kiss was simply unforgettable, but unfortunately, it left me wanting more. The walk home was a blur, my mind replaying the scene of our kiss over and over.
Several weeks later.
—Have you heard from Ruth?
—No, still nothing.
—Man, let it go, she's found someone else.
—Ernst, seriously, shut up.
—What? That happened to me with… what was her name again?
—And you wonder why, said Arthur, rolling his eyes.
—Ohh, leave me alone.
I was more worried than angry. I wondered if Ruth was okay, if something bad had happened to her. I had gone several times to her workplace to see her, but she was never there, and I didn't want to impose myself at her house, especially fearing her father. I decided to leave the bar early and let the guys hang out without me. I wasn't in the mood for drinking, especially with everything going on right now with that damn dictator. Everyone was panicked—maybe Ruth too—and surely that was the case. But I wanted to know for sure. I headed to her house, anxiety in my stomach, but I couldn't turn back without news.
—Who are you?
—Uh, I'm a friend of your daughter Ruth.
—What do you want?
—I just wanted to see her, it's been a while, and I haven't heard anything and…
—Dad, I know him, it's fine.
—You've got 5 minutes.
—Yes.
—What are you doing here?
—I wanted to hear from you, I haven't known anything about you for weeks.
—I know, I'm sorry, but I can't go out.
—But why? It's true people are panicking right now, but you'd be safe with me.
—I don't think so, Heinrich, not really.
—But why? Please tell me, if you simply don't want to see me anymore.
—That's not it.
—Then what is it?
—I can't say, I can't tell you.
—But I need to know, I must know.
—Haven't you noticed?
—Noticed what?
—Who are the ones hiding, who don't dare to go out?
—The Jews, but… You're Jewish?
—Yes, she said, her gaze lost.
—But why didn't you tell me sooner?
—Why, does it change anything about what happened between us?
—No, absolutely not, but…
—But what? I'm the same person you met a few weeks ago.
—I know, just why didn't you tell me?
—Why should I say it? It would have changed your judgment of me, of the body you constantly stared at.
—I didn't mean to offend you, Ruth, I'm sorry.
—Don't be, just don't come back to see me. You got your news, now you know, so you can leave.
—Ruth, I didn't just want news, I wanted to see you again.
—Well, you did, now it's better for you to leave before my father throws you out.
—Ruth, I'm sorry, I didn't mean t—
She slammed the door in my face. That conversation had gone so fast, I didn't even understand what I had said, but the only thing I was sure of was that I had hurt her. I didn't even know why I reacted that way. Whether she was Jewish or Christian changed absolutely nothing, but she must have understood that I somehow cared about her religion. I don't know if I'll see her again, and more importantly, she probably doesn't want to see me again.