Gerhard looked at the blue-eyed, blond miniature of Inga, and couldn’t believe he had helped to create this beautiful creature who was smiling at him and picking his teeth with her fingers. He had left Germany before she was born, his army career ended, not being able to bear living fairly close to Inga but not with her. There was no way he would ever live in East Germany.
He had seen pictures of Monika, but the reality was far superior. If only he could take her with him. That was impossible. The tales of people who had tried to escape and failed were legend. Peter Fechter, a teenager who had made the attempt, had been shot and left to bleed to death beside the Wall in full view of both sides, while the soldiers of neither side went to help him.
Some people had escaped successfully, going over, under, or through the Wall, but how did you get a baby out?
“Would you like to give Monika her bottle?”
Gerhard’s Aunt Brunhild handed the bottle to Gerhard. Monika’s eyes lit up when she saw it; she snatched it out of his hands and started noisily sucking on it.
Gerhard laughed. “Greedy little thing, isn’t she?”
“Well, hungry, anyway. She likes you. I knew she would. She likes Gunter too.”
Gunter was the man who took care of the apartment building where Brunhild lived.
They spoke in German. Brunhild’s knowledge of English was infinitesimal. She was too thin, had graying hair pulled back severely into a bun, and wore a patterned housedress that was clean but repaired in several places where seams had ripped. The thread used for the repairs didn’t match the color of the original.
When Inga died, Brunhild agreed to take Monika. Inga’s parents had died in the war, and she had no other close relatives. It was a brave thing for Brunhild to do, and Gerhard honored her for it. She didn’t have much to live on, and raising a child was a strain for her. Of course, everyone was under a strain in this land of shortages and make-dos, planned by a tone-deaf government. Brunhild worked as a nurse at a retirement home. Fortunately, her job allowed her to keep Monika with her while she was at work.
In contrast to the dingy hallways of the building, her small apartment was clean. The lace curtains on the windows were white. She was doing the best she could. If Monika had to stay in East Germany, Gerhard was glad Brunhild was here to take care of her. Maybe someday the Wall would come down and Gerhard could take Monika to the U.S. But there was no sign that this was going to happen any time soon.
Brunhild and Gerhard chatted about all the things Monika had accomplished recently. She was crawling and even trying to walk. They kept in touch by mail, but international delivery was slow, and by the time Gerhard received a letter noting Monika’s accomplishments it was out of date. How much better it would be if he could watch her progress on a daily basis.
During a pause in the conversation, Brunhild said, “I want you to meet Gunter.”
She looked at her ornate grandfather’s clock, a family heirloom. The hands showed 5 p.m.
“At this time every day he is in his apartment listening to the world news. Let’s go and see if he’s there. And by the way, you can trust him.”
An interesting statement, Gerhard reflected as he stood, holding Monika, who was still working on her bottle. Implying there were people one couldn’t trust. He wasn’t surprised that in a totalitarian state amateur spies would be everywhere, thirsting for tidbits of information about their neighbors they could pass along to petty functionaries.
The other thing occurring to Gerhard was that Brunhild must know this Gunter quite well if she knew what he was doing at a certain hour. Well, she had never married, and she deserved some male companionship, if that’s what was happening here. Gunter’s apartment was on the ground floor, two floors below Brunhild’s. As they walked down the staircase past peeling paint, Gerhard saw a stout woman laboriously climbing the stairs from below. She didn’t appear to be undernourished.
Gerhard shot a quick glance at Brunhild, and watched a look of distaste highlight her face for a moment, but then it was gone and she smiled at the lady and spoke in a musical voice.
“How are you today, Mrs. Rudolphi?”
The lady stopped, huffing and puffing, and looked at the three of them, and then shrewdly appraised Gerhard. “So, you are the child’s father?”
There was no point in Gerhard pretending he didn’t know German, so he responded in that language, as politely as he could. “Yes I am. My name is Gerhard. I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs. Rudolphi.”
“So you are Brunhild’s nephew. I haven’t seen you here before. Where do you live?”
He was trying to decide whether to tell the truth when Brunhild said, “He lives in the United States. He was in the army, stationed in West Berlin. He met Inga when he came to visit me—”
“And you thought nothing about getting the poor girl pregnant and then deserting her. A girl who is now dead. You Americans are all alike. I am surprised you bothered to come back and see your child.”
Gerhard didn’t know how to respond to this. He didn’t want to start an argument. If he said he’d loved Inga she wouldn’t believe him. He was still dithering when Brunhild spoke for him.
“He came to Germany on a business trip. He was able to take two days from his busy schedule to visit Monika and me. I am very happy to see him, and Monika is too.”
Monika had finished her bottle and was busily examining Gerhard’s teeth again. Mrs. Rudolphi frowned. Gerhard suspected she went through life with a chip on her shoulder.
She said, “So you are leaving the day after tomorrow?”
Gerhard nodded and was about to say something when Mrs. Rudolphi started up the stairs. She shouldered her way between Gerhard and Brunhild, and continued on in a determined manner.
“It was nice to see you,” Brunhild called after her, but she didn’t respond.
When Gerhard and Brunhild came out of the stairway on the ground floor, Brunhild half-whispered to him. “I don’t like her.”
It wasn’t hard to understand why. They walked along a dimly lit corridor. Brunhild knocked on a door near the front of the building. Gerhard thought he heard a voice coming from the other side. The voice stopped.
After perhaps thirty seconds a loud voice just on the other side of the door asked who was there. Brunhild identified herself. After a few clicks the door opened. A stocky man with a big head appeared in the doorway. He must be in his fifties. When he saw Brunhild he smiled.
“Come in. Come in.”
Gerhard followed Brunhild into the apartment, which was small, like Brunhild’s, but not as well decorated. It did have a bookcase against one wall packed with old and nicely bound books.
Brunhild said, “Gunter, this is my nephew, Gerhard.”
Gerhard moved Monika to his left arm and he and Gunter shook hands with a European handshake, one quick up and down, and said how do you do. Gunter backed up a step and looked at Gerhard, just as Mrs. Rudolphi had.
“Brunhild has told me about you. She said you are a fine young man. You will make a good father for Monika.”
“Unfortunately, I am only here for two days.”
“Yes.”
Gunter paused and looked at Brunhild. Some kind of communication seemed to pass between them.
“Please sit down.”
Gerhard sat on a small sofa covered with a threadbare blanket. Brunhild sat beside him. Gunter went into the next room and brought back a wooden chair that he set down facing them. He sat in it.
“When you knocked on the door I was listening to the news of the world beyond the GDR. Not everybody would be happy I can do that.”
He looked at Gerhard again.
“A person has to be very careful living here. This is not a good place to raise a child.” He looked at Monika who was babbling and apparently practicing her talking. “A child should be free to discover the world without always looking over her shoulder.”