Chapter 10

The train to Berlin was due to arrive at 11:00 AM. Bruno felt like a stranger. People stared as he passed, children hugged their mothers tightly, and the dogs steered clear.

"Don't worry about it Bruno," said Maria gently as a woman backed away from them and deliberately turned the other way. "You're still a bit thin."

Bruno tried to shrug it off, but the more they perused among the train station's shops, the more his bitterness and anger grew.

They went into a small café and sat down. Bruno played with his handkerchief, not inclined to speak with his father. One of the waiters' locked eyes with him and crossed himself hurriedly.

And that so lamely and unfashionable that dogs bark at me as I halt by them, thought Bruno wryly. The thought came to him like a breath of wind, and was gone as fast as it came. Bruno shook the feeling off and looked up from his lap to meet his father's inquisitive eyes.

"Bruno," his father started, but Bruno shook his head.

"Not right now."

"I'm sorry."

"I know. It's okay. Just let it go."

Ralf looked down at the napkin he had been fidgeting with. "Bruno," he began purposefully, "I didn't know. I should have –"

"I'm hungry," said Bruno evasively. Maria, who had been reading a Nietzsche book, looked up and said, "I'll go get you something. What would you like?"

"I can get it myself," said Bruno quickly.

"No," said Maria thoughtfully, "I need to go to the restroom anyway."

She left, leaving Bruno with his emotional father.

"Bruno," Ralf began, "I suppose you know –"

"That you and her separated? Yes, I know." Bruno's voice was clipped. He wanted desperately to discourage his father from pursuing the conversation any further.

There was silence. "Sometimes," began his father, determined to see things through, "things just don't work out. Your mother and I, we didn't have what it took to see your mistake through – "

"My mistake?" echoed Bruno sharply. "My mistake? What the fuck do you mean, 'my mistake'?"

"Bruno, watch your language."

"Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck."

"You know," snapped his father, "All of those words don't make you seem any more of a man."

"See?" yelled Bruno. "And that's your fucking problem. You have your 'Man Guide' shoved so far up your ass that you can't even fart right."

"Bruno!"

"So, did it ever occur to you that I might have gotten lost?"

"Watch your tone."

"Answer my question."

"Watch your tone."

"Answer. My. Question."

His father's eyes narrowed. Bruno clenched his fists over the edge of the table. Heads turned.

"What happened?" asked Bruno, now being deliberately viscious. "Did your patriotism keep you from entering the camp? Your fucking German pride?"

Bruno's father was silent.

Six years' worth of pent up frustration burst forth. " You know what, father, tell me about this German pride. Come on. Don't be shy."

"We made a mistake," yelled Ralf.

"You sure did," roared Bruno, "A couple million lives worth."

"It was for the country –"

"Oh. Shoving babies into ovens, killing fathers, raping mothers and sisters, starving sons – all for Germany."

"We didn't think it would go so far." Bruno's father stood up. Bruno remained in his seat.

"See, that's your problem. You don't think. You act."

"That's enough. I won't have anymore of this. We raised you better."

"Who?" Now Bruno stood up. "You? Don't forget about the six years you weren't there to teach me how to be a good German."

"You insolent little-" spat his father furiously. "Why, I ought to- you- I can't believe your nerve. I'm helping you – "

"You're a bit late for that, aren't you?"

Everyone in the café was silent. Bruno walked out, but not before stopping at the door to have his last word. "You ruined our lives. Father," he spat.

"Bruno!" His father ran after him. "Where are you going?"

Bruno kept walking.

"I'm not going after you!"

"Well I am!" Maria caught up with Bruno. They walked in silence, their footsteps making little slapping sounds on the pavement. They took a seat and watched the 11 o'clock train roll in lazily onto the platform.

"Oh Bruno," Maria sighed after a moment. "Bruno, Bruno, Bruno."

Tears burned his eyes, but he let them dry there. He wasn't a baby. He needed to suck it up. There was a large, hot lump in his throat, and he didn't know how to get it out. Feeling suddenly weak and tired, he laid his head on Maria's shoulder. The train chugged out slowly, and as Bruno watched, a sense of lost time overwhelmed him, threatened to overtake him.

Maria stroked his hair and sighed. "You and your father are so alike. You've both got very short tempers, and very quick guilt."

Bruno stayed silent. Maria looked down at him and smiled sadly. Her wrinkled face bore all the kindness he needed at the moment. "Do you want to go back?"

He shook his head.

"Come on. Let's wait for your father at home."

"It's not home."

She patted his head and said sadly, "It's all you've got, for now."

"For now."