Marion Kummerow - From the Ashes

Perhaps this had been the turning point in his life, when he’d gone from believing in the infallibility of the system without questions to secretly entertaining critical thoughts. If the party could throw a trusted long-term party member to the wolves for the slightest wrong word – he didn’t even remember what his former fellow student had said – then maybe the system wasn’t as perfect as it should be.

“Comrade Böhm, we’ve arrived,” his driver said.

Captain Ivanov was the typical Red Army officer and Werner could have liked him, it he wasn’t the evidence for Orlovski’s disappearance.

After his inaugural visit with Ivanov, he told the driver to bring him to the Café de Paris. For some reason he wanted to see Fräulein von Sinnen. Not that he expected her to know more, but maybe he wanted to make sure that Captain Orlovski had in fact existed and wasn’t just an incarnation of his imagination.

As always, Fräulein von Sinnen enthused the crowd, but when her gaze fell on him, he believed he heard a slight shiver in her voice. After her performance, she came to his table.

“ Guten Abend, Herr Böhm, would you like to order champagne for me?” she asked and gracefully sat down beside him. She was exceptionally beautiful, but he missed the warmth and kindness in her personality. His heart felt a twinge as he thought of Marlene. Lively, kind, enthusiastic, honest, courageous Marlene.

“It would be my pleasure,” he replied and ordered a bottle of champagne for the two of them.

Snuggling tight against him, Fräulein von Sinnen whispered into his ear, “Do you know anything about Feodor?”

Taken aback by the straightforward question, he played for time, taking a sip of champagne, before he answered, “No. And we probably never will.” It was as much as he could say without entering dangerous ground.

She looked sad. “He told me never to mention his name again, should he one day disappear.” Then she squared her shoulders, emptied her glass of champagne and said in her captivating voice, “Thank you so much for the company, Herr Böhm, but I must get ready for my next performance.”

“It was my pleasure,” he said, suddenly completely exhausted. This incident had shown him once again that he had to tread the party line at all costs. As much as he sympathized with the students and their plight for academic freedom, he had to stick to the directives.

Marlene left the lecture hall, when she saw Georg in the hallway, waving at her.

“Hey Marlene, do you have a moment?” he asked. Beside him stood Julian Berger, a slim and tall chemistry student with a shock of curly blond hair.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Well, now that the elections are over and we have won—” Georg said.

“We? I thought you’re a Christian Democrat?” Marlene interrupted him.

Julian gave her a hard look. “It doesn’t matter which kind of democrat he is, as long as he’s against the communists.”

Marlene rolled her eyes. This Julian was much too serious for his own good, he never seemed to laugh and certainly didn’t understand a joke.

“So, now that the elections are over and the democratic parties have won, we want to implement changes at the university. But we need some more members for the student board,” Georg explained as they walked down the steps to the canteen.

“Doesn’t the Board of Directors have to nominate and approve the student members?” Marlene asked and wrapped her shawl tighter around her mother’s worn coat. She was beyond thankful that the university now featured a canteen that gave out one bowl of hot soup per student each day.

“Officially yes, but we are forming sub-committees that don’t need official approval. Please, will you join? We need more people from the law faculty.”

Marlene sighed. Taking on additional responsibilities was the last thing on her mind, but looking into Georg’s pleading eyes, she simply couldn’t leave him hanging, so she nodded.

“Thank you, I really appreciate your help,” Georg said. “We’ll have the first meeting next Monday after class. With these words he and Julian were gone, no doubt to recruit more students for their cause.

On the walk home, Marlene was pestered by second guessing. It would be embarrassing to be so exposed. She might even have to stand up in front of an audience. Just the thought of delivering a speech like Georg had done at the inauguration earlier this year sent hot and cold shivers down her spine.

Her father would never approve. In his mind this wasn’t how a girl behaved. He hadn’t even wanted her to take on a leading role in Hitler’s BDM – not that she’d ever voiced aspirations to do so. A sudden fury took hold of her. Ever since the downfall of the Reich she’d been the parent of the family. She’d been the one scurrying around for food, she’d braved the streets and the Russians to get ration books, new identity cards, staying permits and whatever other crazy document the Soviets wanted from them.

Should her parents disapprove, she wouldn’t give up her newfound independence. Ever. She might not be comfortable in the limelight, but she would no longer hide in the background and let others make decisions for her. Not her parents, not the Soviets and certainly not Werner Böhm.

She caught herself at the thought of him and shook her head. Even after months of banning him from her mind, his handsome face still lingered, always ready to spring at her. Though not in charge of the culture and education department anymore, he’d begun to teach a politics class. Thus, she came across him more often than not at the university, although both of them did their best not to acknowledge the other one.

He often behaved in such a typically Russian way that she had to remind herself, that he was in fact a German. He probably couldn’t act as he wished but had to follow directives, too. For a moment, she even felt sorry for him. How hard it must be to be caught between two cultures, two countries, two people and two political systems.

It was already dark, but the church bells rang only five o’clock. She feared coming home to tell her parents about her new role on the student board, and thought of ways to procrastinate on her return.

My friends! She’d ask Zara and Bruni how to breach the sensitive topic. With quick steps she located the next payphone and called Bruni.

“Visit me at the club,” her friend suggested. “I have an hour between my appearances. We can chat and I’ll invite you for dinner when I’m through.”

The mention of dinner gave the plan a whole new meaning. “How did you know I was hungry?”

“Because you’re always hungry,” Bruni laughed into the phone.

“Can I bring Zara, too? Because I hate going home all by myself that late at night.” Even though the rapes and assaults had stopped many months ago, she still felt her skin crawl whenever a Russian soldier passed her by or, God forbid, approached her.

“Yes, bring Zara,” Bruni replied. “And look nice. The club is always crawling with handsome men. You never know who you might meet.”

“Oh Bruni. You’re not planning to fix us up with someone, are you?”

“No, I’m not.” Bruni giggled. “See you tonight then.”

Marlene ran some errands, stole into her parents’ place like a burglar, intent on meeting neither of them, before she disappeared into her room. Just a few months ago they’d upgraded from the basement to a real apartment with two rooms. She took extra care with her appearance, combed her hair in the latest style and even brightened her face with a bit of makeup. In her best dress, a hand-me-down from Bruni, and her only pair of heels, she gave a happy twirl.

When she heard voices on the stairs, she moved out with lightning speed and rushed past her parents saying, “Bruni invited me for dinner."