Meine Alte Welt
As Astrid and I slid through the front door, we found the house entirely empty and silent. Most likely, Mama was probably already asleep in her bed in her and Papa's room, and Papa was at work, per usual. Astrid started to wriggle about, looking uncomfortable in her blouse and jacket and wool skirt. I thought I knew.
"You need a bath, Astrid?" I asked her, as she wrenched her hand out of mine to tug on the collar of her blouse, and her head bobbed like a duck's. "Do you want me in the washroom with you or do you want to try this time yourself?" She shrugged her shoulders over and over, and started to the washroom. I followed, turning away when she disrobed to start the water, and I filled it with as many bubbles as the damn Gestapo would let us have, as they knew of Astrid's condition and considered her one of the condemned retarded. We were under such close watch, what with her being the way she was. She climbed in, and I shut off the water. I sat down beside the tub, holding a bottle of shampoo and a soap-on-a-string for her.
"Ask the questions!" Astrid ordered, splashing at our silence. I wiped a bubble away from my skirt.
"Five to the third power," I said to her, and she closed her eyes and huffed in exasperation while I squirted a fat lump of shampoo into her open, waiting hands.
"Hard questions!" she demanded.
"Fine," I sighed, obedient, and tried to recall the problems in a book an old professor of mine had given my sister.
It seemed in the old days that nobody but me and Mama really bothered to try and understand what went on (or what didn't) in Astrid's head. Nobody but me, Mama and old Professor Zimmermann. Professor Zimmermann had been my old statistics teacher back in Cologne. The first day of class, he went around the room, shook everyone's hand, and asked their names and what they wanted to do for a career. And then, once everyone was there and accounted for, he went around, reciting all our names and our aspirations. He was strict school-wise but he was witty and clever at the same time. He was my favourite professor of all.
One time Papa fell off the roof when he was trying to fix a few of the broken shingles. I was at school, at an extra tutoring session with some of the other members of my class and Professor Zimmermann. Mama dropped Astrid off with me at tutoring so she could take Papa to the hospital. A bunch of the kids who were with us made these stupid comments and jokes about her and the way she talked and the way she acted and I just about snapped. I got ready to just leave and take Astrid with me, but he stopped them and made them apologize. He asked the two of us to stay after the tutorial was over, and we went into his office. He asked us questions about our family and our lives and things, and after we'd spent hours in that office, he finally dismissed us. He handed Astrid a book on the way out with all kinds of math problems, her favourite things, and smiled at her and she said thank you. He actually treated her like a person and not just another retard, like the rest of them when they saw her. I had full respect for him from that day on. He was my favourite professor and Astrid's too, whenever she was around my school.
"Towel," said Astrid, holding out her small, puffy hand to me. I gave it to her, leaning down to unplug the drain and let the water swirl down it.
The radio sounded from Mama's room, a loud beat of a classical German polka. I twirled a little in the washroom. Astrid started twirling as well, in her towel, too. She dried off and fixed on her fresh clothes and the two of us both danced the polka in little circles. Astrid was laughing and I was laughing and we collapsed on the floor in a laughing fit.
"Girls! I'm home!" Papa yelled from the front door, and Astrid jumped up, pushed past me and into the foyer, where Papa was. I threw her towel into the to-do laundry basket on the way there. "Afternoon, Adelaide, my lovely. How are you, darling?" He kissed me tenderly on the cheek, and squeezed me to his side.
"It was good, Papa. Astrid was a good girl today, weren't you, Astrid?"
"Good girl," Astrid repeated mechanically, rocking happily from side to side. "Good girl, good girl, good girl, good girl."
"That's right, Astrid," I confirmed, ruffling her hair and laughing when she shuddered. "You were a lovely girl today." In turn, she squeezed my hand.
"Adelaide, what are you up to, tonight, I mean? Do you have any dates with any of these wild Hamburg boys yet?" he jested. I blushed and shook my head. "Why, then go get some, sweetie. Go make some plans, I'll take care of your sister and your mama. Go get ready, dress up. God knows you've had enough to worry about since we've come here." He kissed me on the top of the head and I sighed my thanks. "Go on dear, get yourself lookin' gorgeous. The boys are sure to drop dead for ya." I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Papa! Actually telling me to go out and enjoy myself for once, not just to mind Astrid, or watch Astrid.
I felt free again, freer than I'd been since we left Cologne for this mad city.