Chapter 11 Elektra

Another chapter from Maria's point of view. And the first person to post in a review what the chapter title refers to will get a prize! Keep reading to find out what it is!

Maria thought Vati was the most wonderful Vater in the world. It was obvious he was the handsomest one; she saw some of her Waldkindergarten classmates' fathers, and she wasn't impressed by how meek and plain they looked. Her Vati could breeze into a room and everyone felt the energy shift upward, as if a party were about to start. Even though she loved Waldkindergarten, she was always happy to see his lean figure waiting for her at the pickup station. He would smile at her and she would dart into his strong arms, crying "Vati!," her heart almost bursting at his funny laugh and silly kisses buzzing her neck or head.

And he was smart too; he could tell wonderful stories and he would emphasize that they were true. He told her that he had been friends with a wise and courageous king who had introduced her favorite vegetable, the potato, to Germany. He told her how knights dressed for battle and how fighting with a broadsword was different from the dueling they saw in old movies on the television. Before there were supermarkets, before there were guns, he told her, people caught their own food, with hounds, nets, or falcons. He told her how he could train hawks or even mighty eagles to fly to and from his arm, even bringing back birds or hares that they had killed for him. He would demonstrate to her by chirping to fluffy yellow Gilbird, who fluttered obediently to and from his hand. She would laugh with delight and he would show her how she could do it also. He knew how and when to find wild mushrooms and which were poisonous and which were safe to eat. When she told her teachers this, they agreed that he was right and they even seemed surprised that Herr Bielschmidt knew this. Maria wasn't, though; of course her Vati was right!

The night he had told her about states and nations and how it was a secret she couldn't tell Sofia, her friends, or anyone who smelled like yucky dead fish, she had felt very grown-up. They knew something others did not, so that made them smarter than the other grownups around them. "Did Muti know this?" she demanded, and Vati said, "Of course! She is a nation like Onkel Ludi." At this Maria would giggle; it was hard to imagine tall Onkel Ludi with his large hands and tiny, doll-like Muti were the same type of being. But Vati insisted it was true, so it had to be.

She loved the games they played in the park, because they seemed more real and important than what they played in Waldkindergarten. Vati would show her how to hold a stick like a sword and how to move carefully and surely with it, looking for the best time and place to attack. He would also show her how to ward off sword blows and then strike. He showed her how to curl her hands into fists and how to hit and kick in different ways. "It's important for everyone to know how to fight so they can defend themselves," he explained. "Even girls?" Maria asked. Vati nodded. "Especially girls, Spatzchen." His face grew serious. "You'll know why when you get older." Maria nodded earnestly and practiced her punches on Vati's open palms.

When she went on errands with Vati, she noticed how people looked at them. Well, of course, they would, she thought. Vati was so handsome with his startling silver hair, his pale youthful face and the dark eyes that were red-violet instead of brown. And she felt special too, walking along hand-in-hand with him, getting his attention and smiles. She sometimes saw adult women smile at him and try to talk longer to him than he liked; she would scowl at them, sending them the mental message, Hands off, he's my Vati!

She didn't worry about Sofia; Vati was always polite to her, but somehow Maria sensed there was a wall he put up between himself and the au pair. It confused her; she loved Sofia and she was smart in her own way; she taught Maria Polish words and helped her learn her numbers and metric system with baking. Sofia told her about how beautiful Poland was, with a forest where wild oxen, boars and wolves roamed, and cities with pretty buildings and farms where they still used horses. But when Maria tried to share this with Vati, he would shrug and say, "Ja, that's nice," and wander off to check his email or start dinner. When she once asked him why he could speak Polish but he didn't want to hear what Sofia told her, he said, "When you get older and study history, you'll understand." She tried to get him to tell her something now, but he shook his head, and repeated, "When you get older, Maria."

Still, Sofia stayed on and Vati didn't forbid her from teaching Maria some Polish words; he said Onkel Ludi thought it was a good idea for her to learn the language since Poland was a neighbor. "Does Poland have a person like us too?" She asked, and Vati rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Ach ja, it certainly does." And that was all he would say.

But most of the time, Vati was happy and playful. His strange laugh, a cross between a cackle and a hiss, no longer scared her. He would show her funny cartoons or pictures he found on his computer and he even would watch her favorite cartoon, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic with her. He would tell her what the English words meant, and once again, Maria admired how much he knew. German, Polish, English: he said he also knew French, Russian and Latin, a language that only a few people were smart enough to know. He made her promise that she would learn English in school and she nodded energetically. She wanted Vati to be proud of her.

For two weeks out of every month, it was just Maria and Vati, with Sofia at the outer edges of her day. Then Vati would go away for a week to London, a city that was the capital of a nation called the United Kingdom. Sofia stayed in the apartment with her, taking her to and from Waldkindergarten and caring for her. Maria hated that week, not because of Sofia, who was kind and patient, but because Vati was gone and she could feel it. Gilbird preferred his cage, Willi seemed more worried and yappy than usual, and even the apartment seemed bored and sleepy. Maria tried her best to make Vati stay home with her, but he insisted he had to go to London for business meetings.

"Why can't I go with you?" She'd cry.

"Because you'd be bored and missing school!" Vati would imitate her whine; it would have been funny if she weren't already feeling rejected. He'd see her lower lip tremble and squat down to clasp her shoulders with his strong, gentle hands. "Maria, Schatz, it's a meeting of grown-up nations talking about business. There'd be no time for playing or sightseeing in London, just meetings and boring grown-up talk. It would cost too much money to bring Sofia to watch over you, and who would take care of Willi and Gilbird?"

"But Muti's there; she could watch me," Maria muttered. She knew this because Vati told her so and they would skype her together during meeting weeks.

"But Muti's working and going to those meetings also," Vati sighed. "You'd be alone in a hotel room all day long and that wouldn't be fun at all." She tried to protest and he held up a warning finger. "Nein, Maria, you can't go with me to the meetings. Someday, we'll go to London as a family for a fun visit, but not now." He pulled her in and she felt his warm lips on her forehead. She liked to think that his kisses made her stronger and smarter, just like him. "Be a good girl at school and for Sofia, ja? Ich liebe dich."

He would be gone and Maria's world would creep to a dull crawl, enlivened only when she saw him and Muti on the computer every night. But things sprang back to life when Sofia took her to the train station to see him and Muti. Ja, Muti would be there for a week, and Maria would have to share Vati with her.

Muti. So small and young, younger-looking than the other Mütter who picked up children at the Waldkindergarten. Muti of the large green eyes, golden hair, tiny hands and scent of flowers and milk. Maria loved Muti, but she now felt something strange in her chest when she saw her, a tight hot feeling that burned. She saw how Vati looked at Muti, his eyes a beautiful strange color she never saw before. She saw how hard he worked to make her a special meal he called Königsberger Klopse, because Muti liked it; Maria liked it too, but she would have preferred it if Vati made it when it was just the two of them. She saw how he followed her around the apartment, wrapping his arms around her waist, nuzzling her neck and ears, how he kissed her on the mouth. She heard their murmurs after dinner, when she was playing or watching television in the parlor. She would sometimes walk in and sit down with them, but she would grow bored by their conversation and leave. At night, after Muti put her to bed—Muti always insisted that she put Maria to bed when she was there, even though Maria would have preferred Vati—she would crane her ears towards Vati's bedroom, listening for more of their murmurs. Sometimes she would hear the bed shift and creak, little laughs and sighs, and her throat would grow thick, her heart would race, and her tummy would flutter.

She should be the one in Vati's bed, she reasoned. She was a big girl now, she didn't wet the bed anymore, and she was there every day for Vati, not just one week every month. Why did they get to share a bed, while she was alone, and she couldn't even have Willi sleep with her? She would sit at the breakfast table, sulking over her muesli, while Vati would fix coffee and heat rolls that Muti had baked the night before. Then Muti would pad into the little kitchen, smiling and murmuring, "Ach, Schatz, there you are!" She'd kiss Vati and they would look warmly at each other. It was ridiculous, Maria thought as she dragged her spoon through her cereal; they had just been in the same bed a little while ago! She would start humming and then Muti would rush over to caress her. Good, but not Vati.

At Waldkindergarten, she made up stories to tell her smelly friends. "Not all witches are ugly green old women with big noses," she began as they skipped from stone to stone in the little creek. "Sometimes they look like princesses, but they are still bad!" She told them of a pretty little witch who could turn brave, clever knights into weak, silly fools who lost their ability to tell real love from false. It was up to the real princess, who, with the power of her fists, true love, a furry little magic dog, and the cast of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, chased the little witch back to her castle in the mountains and freed the knight from his stupid spell. Then the real princess and the knight lived happily forever in the beautiful forest, sharing their bed with the magic dog and going for rides on Rainbow Dash and Twilight Sparkle. "The end," Maria pronounced to her entranced friends.

Muti and Vati did not know about the story, even as Maria played key scenes in her head during dinner or when they were in the car. Muti would gently comb the tangles out of her hair, let her play Angry Birds and Fruit Ninja on her tablet, and show her how to make embroidery stitches, unaware of the role she played in Maria's story. Sometimes Maria would feel bad about her dark thoughts; Muti was so pretty, patient and kind, even more than Sofia. She would bake beautiful rolls and cakes that tasted delicious, play dolls with her, show her how to teach Willi tricks, and praise Maria for her art work and neat printing. Then it was easy to love her and think she was better than other mothers, who always seemed so old and tired. But then Vati would enter the room, Maria would see how his eyes turned dark purple when he saw Muti, and the ugly twist in her heart returned.

When they took Muti to the train station to go back to her home in the Alps, Maria thought she would be happy. After all, it would be her and Vati alone again. But as she felt Muti's delicate hands caress her hair and cheeks, hear her whisper, "Ich liebe dich, Maria. Auf wiedersehen!", and worst of all, see the sweetness and pride in her round green eyes, she suddenly wanted her to stay. She wanted to wrap her arms around Muti's sloping shoulders and cry that she was sorry she was such a bad girl who thought bad things about her, when she was so kind to her. Instead, she murmured, "Auf wiedersehen, Muti, ich liebe dich," and clung extra tightly to her, as her way of asking forgiveness. Then Muti would let go and turn to Vati. He would hold and kiss her, and all Maria's love for her mother would disappear in a cloud of jealousy.

Later, as Vati drove her home, Maria would brood. Muti was gone for another month; Vati would be hers for two more weeks until the stupid meeting in London. Seeing the sad expression on his normally proud face made her feel strange. It was like winning a game and realizing you had hurt your best friend's feelings in doing so. She didn't like it. But then she reminded herself that Vati would not be sharing his bed with Muti that night, that his smiles would be reserved for her, and she felt better.

One night, she made her move. Vati read her a story, tucked her blankets around her, kissed her cheek and said, "Gute Nacht, Liebling." He turned off the light, but Maria could still see his face from the hall light through the open door. She grabbed his wrist.

"Vati, sleep in my bed tonight," she said as sweetly as she could. "Bitte?"

For a second, she saw him pause. Then he smiled gently as he shook his head. "Nein, Liebling. It's time for you to sleep."

"But I want you to sleep with me, Vati," she murmured, gripping his wrist. "Bitte?" She drew out the word as wistfully as she could.

"Nein, Liebling, I can't." He brought his hand downward and broke her grip.

Maria pouted. "Why, Vati?" She shifted in her bed and glared at him. "Why does Muti get to sleep with you and I can't?"

"Because you are my daughter, Maria, and fathers and daughters don't sleep in the same bed." Vati said. "Just like mothers and sons don't sleep in the same bed. It's a rule, Liebling."

Maria thought a little. A strange rule, but a rule. "What about brothers and sisters, Vati?"

Her father paused. "You don't have to worry about that, Maria."

"But can brothers and sisters sleep in the same bed, Vati?" She was hoping for a loophole, a way for them to pretend.

She would never forget how her father looked in the dramatic backlighting from the hall light, how sad his face suddenly appeared as he stared at the space above her bed. "They're not supposed to, Liebling, Now Gute Nacht." Before she could say anything, he left, closing the door and leaving her in the dark.

Okay, so here's the prize for the first person to post in a review what the chapter title refers to: your favorite Hetalia character will have a cameo appearance in an upcoming chapter. It might not be huge, it might not be a "game changer" but I will figure out a way to feature your favorite in an upcoming chapter. So good luck!