Ben Elton - Two Brothers

Now Otto spoke.

‘What are you trying to tell me, Mum?’

Frieda tried to speak. Words she had been preparing in her mind for so long. Trying to think of a way to show her son that she loved him with all her heart and that what she had to tell him was good news. That unlike the rest of the family, Otto had a chance, a chance for a normal life. A life without fear.

But she knew that Otto would not want that chance.

He loved his family. His mother, his father, and his grandparents. He was inseparable from his twin brother no matter how much they might fight. And in a strange way Otto had even decided that he loved being a Jew. Because Otto was the fighter of the family, fiercely loyal and worryingly reckless. He loved a cause and Hitler had given him the cause of all causes. And now along with everything else in Otto’s life it was to be pulled from under him.

Frieda could not speak.

‘What, Mum?’ Otto asked again. ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

It was Wolfgang who said it. Wolfgang spoke less and less these days. Preferring to smoke in silence when his lungs permitted and drink whatever he could find. But he spoke now. Briefly strong again for Frieda.

‘You’re adopted, Otts,’ he said gently, his hollow cheekbones casting deep shadows across his thin, prematurely aged face. ‘Mum had twins but one of them was stillborn. Your natural mother died in childbirth and you had no father. We took you as our own. Right there and then on the day you were both born. Neither you nor Pauly had been alive an hour when we first put you together. And that’s how it’s been ever since.’

‘You’re our twins,’ Frieda said softly, ‘our beloved boys. But you didn’t start life inside me, Otts. Though I love you like you did.’

Both boys simply stared open-mouthed.

‘We never gave it a thought,’ Frieda continued quickly, ‘it didn’t matter to us. You’re our boys, that’s all. But then Hitler came and suddenly it mattered. Blood mattered. Blood, blood, bloody blood! They never shut up about blood! It’s a fetish, a perversion. It’s insane. I’ve referred patients for a hundred transfusions. We never once used to ask what the donor’s damned religion was!’

Frieda tailed off. Both boys were still staring in silent shock. It was Wolfgang who tried to be practical, tried to move past the emotion by bringing the conversation back to specifics.

‘The thing is, Ottsy,’ he said, ‘with these new laws, everybody’s family history is going to be investigated by law. They are going to decide once and for all who is a Jew in their eyes, and who isn’t. Mum, Paulus and me are Jews, Otts. And you aren’t.’

Still Otto could not reply; he had sunk into a chair, the knife still in his hand.

‘Blimey, Otts, mate,’ Paulus said, forcing a laugh into his voice. ‘That’s good news, eh? Who’d have thought it? Looks like you’re off the hook. We should celebrate.’

Now Otto found his voice, turning to his brother. His blank, drained face suddenly vivid red with anger.

‘You think I want that! You stupid bastard! You think I want to be off the fucking hook?’

‘Otto, please ,’ Frieda said.

‘You can’t tell me off,’ Otto said rounding on her, ‘you’re not my mum!’

‘Don’t say that, Otto,’ Frieda gasped. ‘Never say that. Not ever! I am your mum.’

‘You just said I wasn’t your son! Pauly’s your son. I’m not. I come from God knows where! I’m not even a Jew. Who am I? I’m no one!’

‘That’s not true, Otts,’ Wolfgang said. ‘You’re one of us. Our family. It’s only the Nazis who are doing this to us. I—’

‘Why didn’t you tell me before! All these years you’ve known that I’m not your son!’

‘You are . You are our son!’

‘Hey, Otto!’ Paulus said sharply, and now his face was angry too. ‘Don’t attack Mum! This is a shock to me too you know. But really, what does it matter? Like Mum says, blood is crap. Race is crap.’

‘Family isn’t!’ Otto replied.

‘Exactly, and that’s what we are!’ Paulus said. ‘What happened when we were born happened, that’s all. Lots of kids got adopted after the war. Personally if I were you I’d be pleased.’

‘Pleased?’ Otto gasped. ‘Are you crazy?’

‘Of course I’d be pleased!’ Paulus was as angry as Otto. ‘Because I’d know I was no less your brother and Mum and Dad were no less my parents. The only difference would be that I wouldn’t have an entire country wishing I was dead…’

‘ I wish I was dead!’

‘No!’ Frieda wailed.

‘That’s just stupid!’ Paulus said. ‘So what if you’re not a Jew?’

‘I am a Jew,’ Otto protested. ‘I don’t want to be one of them. I nearly killed one tonight. Why are you telling me this now? I’m a Jew!’

‘Because you were going to find out anyway,’ Frieda said. ‘You have to see that, Otts. The Gestapo is going to go through every detail of every single person in Germany. Everyone is going to be categorized. Your history is documented. The adoption forms are at the hospital. Your birth certificate is at the town hall. We had to tell you and we have to make a plan…’

‘Plan! What plan?’ Otto said through tears. ‘There is no plan! Because there’s no me! There’s no Otto Stengel. He never existed. I don’t exist.’

Otto grabbed his coat and once more made for the door.

‘Otto! Please!’ Frieda cried, tears running down her face.

‘Otto, stop,’ Paulus demanded, ‘you have to stop.’

‘Who are you shouting at?’ Otto said with a wild and angry snarl. ‘Who are you giving orders to? You’re not my brother!’

OTTO SPENT THE night on a bench in the People’s Park amongst the fairy-tale statues but the following morning, as dawn broke over the city, he went home. He was cold and stiff and his heart still ached but his tears had dried. He knew that the pain and the confusion he was feeling, the fear of rejection, the isolation and the loneliness, were not his parents’ fault. They were Hitler’s, and the Nazis were now more his enemy than ever.

He climbed the six sets of stairs in order to avoid using the creaking lift at so early an hour, and let himself into the darkened flat. Inside he found his mother sitting exactly where he had left her and where she had clearly sat all night. He rushed forward and threw his arms around her.

‘I’m sorry, Mum,’ he said. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Don’t be, Ottsy. Don’t be,’ Frieda whispered. ‘Goodness, look at me, crying again. I didn’t think I had any tears left in me.’

She hugged him tight.

‘I’ve been so worried. Pauly looked for you till one in the morning. Wolfgang tried too but he got tired. We called your friends. They all thought you’d been picked up for… for what you did yesterday evening.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Otto repeated. ‘I shouldn’t have run. I just wasn’t thinking straight.’

‘You know that we love you both just the same,’ Frieda went on. ‘You and Paulus, our two boys.’

‘Yeah, I know, Mum. They can’t break us apart,’ Otto said. ‘They never will.’

Silent tears were running in streams down Frieda’s cheeks.

‘Not in our hearts, baby,’ she whispered. ‘Not in our hearts.’

Otto felt the wet tears against his own face as he hugged her. He knew what she was saying, the salty agony glistening on her cheeks confirmed it.

‘Are they going to take me away, Mum?’ he asked.

Frieda could not bring herself to reply.

Wolfgang had appeared at the door of his and Frieda’s bedroom and had been listening.