Chapter Text
“Ping!”
The opening elevator finally brought me home. Hurray.
“I’ll stay home now, Sergeant Moore, so thanks for guarding me.”
“Anytime, Miss Jennifer. Shall I help you with your bags?”
“No, thank you, I can handle them alone. You are my bodyguard, Sergeant, not my burrow.”
“Have a nice evening, then, Miss.”
“You, too, Sergeant. Heil Himmler!”
“Heil Himmler!”
The elevator closed and I walked towards the living room, the bags as heavy as my heart.
&&&&
“Hello! I’m home!” I announced myself, “Mum? Bridget?”
“Only me”, my father stated dryly and sat up straight on the couch, “sorry to disappoint.”
“Dad! What are you doing here this early? Where’s Mum?” I placed my bags on the floor, looking at him questioningly. “Oh no, please don’t tell me that you had another argument. Not today!”
“She was gone when I came.” He shrugged. “And where are you coming from, young lady? As far as I know school is on holiday?”
“Fencing training. I’m in for the masters’ tournament in two weeks and still got a lot of work to do or our champion will eat me alive. Let me guess: you forgot you signed the allowance?”
He did, I could read it on his face.
“Really, dad, you are working too much. Oh, Amy is in a training camp for swimmers right now. She’s going for the A-team this autumn. Just in case you forgot that, too.”
He shook his head and I couldn’t help noticing how exhausted my father looked, dark circles underlining his eyes, his face pale.
As much as I despised the lies and half – truths my parents told me and especially my father’s role as Reichsmarshall of North America, I loved my dad. The curse of being a teenager in the Reich, my best friend and training partner Laura called that phenomenon and I often thought about how true that was.
“Okay…as I seem to be the substitute for Lady of the House today, is there anything you need, Sir?”
He smiled his crooked half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes anymore and it hurt me to see him like this. Where are you, dad?
One year… it had been only one year, but felt like an eternity…
I wanted to throw myself into his arms and cry like I did when I was a little girl with a scratched knee, wanted to apologize, to beg him for forgiveness, but I couldn’t. Not anymore.
Not as long as I don’t know if I could forgive him.
“A coffee would be nice, Jenny. I’ll be in my office.” He got up in one smooth movement, reminding me of a panther getting ready to hunt.
“Coffee, milk, no sugar.” My memory flawless from 1000000 of breakfasts. He nodded, then closed the door behind him, leaving me lost in the middle of the room.
&&&&
John sat down behind his desk heavily and buried his face in his hands, his nerves worn down to a frazzle. He came home early today because he had feared to lose control, to accidently show his grief.
One year… it had been only one year, but felt like an eternity…
He wasn’t surprised that Helen had fled the scene, but that Jenny acted completely normal though she hadn’t forgotten the date had caught him completely off guard.
From all his children, Jenny was the one most like him, not only in appearance but in character. Not for the first time he wondered how much she hid behind her green-grey eyes with the long lashes, so much like his own.
A knock on the door made him straighten himself.
“Come in!”
“Your coffee, Sir.”
His daughter walked over to his desk, her face as expressionless as his and placed the cup on the table.
“Since when you call me “Sir”, Jenny?” he couldn’t help asking, “I thought that I’m your father.”
“You are.” A half-smile appeared on her lips, so similar to his own that it almost felt like looking into a mirror. “But you are still on duty, so you are the Reichsmarshall, who is to be addressed as ‘Sir’, Sir.”
“I see.” He took a sip. “Thank you, Jenny”, he said, forcing himself to look up to her. “Dismissed!” he added ironically and for a second, her composure lessened in a chuckle.
“Thank you, Sir.” She turned to the door. “If you need anything else, I’m in my room.”
He nodded, watching her go while all he wanted was to hold her in his arms, to apologize, to beg her for forgiveness, but he couldn’t. Not anymore.
Not as long as he didn’t know if he could forgive himself.
“Jenny?”
“Hmmm?” She looked at him over her shoulder, alerted.
“Why fencing?”
She shrugged. “Because it is a way to slap someone without getting frowned upon, I guess.”
He nodded again, feeling that he wasn’t as surprised as he should be. “Are you good at it?”
“I am.”
The door fell shut.
&&&&
I sat on my bed, trying to read, but my mind wandered back to the lonely figure behind the desk in the room next to mine. I had never seen my father so lost, the hero of my childhood, the person I had loved most, before I found out what he had done. I felt that he had wanted to say something more, to reach out to me, but couldn’t.
Where did we lose each other, daddy? Why? Shouldn’t we sit here together, comforting each other, even if we have to do it in silence, for you never know who’s listening? How can I reach you again without betraying myself, my believes? I know that you only want to protect me, but…
With sheer willpower I supressed the tears pricking in my eyes. A princess doesn’t cry. One year ago, I had lost my brother to his illness, my mother to her grief, my father to his duty and my sister to the ideology of the Reich. But I wouldn’t give up. Never. If nobody else was standing up for this family, I would. For the sake of my sister.
“Promise me to be strong!” my brother had said, “for mom. And for Amy. Especially for her. Protect our little sister at all costs, okay? You are in charge now.”
And I tried to keep my promise, every day. But it was hard, so hard…why Thomas, why?!?
‘Focus!’ I heard my trainer say in the back of my mind, ‘centre yourself. Keep your balance and fix your mind on the task ahead. Don’t let your feelings get the better of you. Emotions lead to mistakes.’
I sighed. This was way bigger than beating someone on the Planque. Just a girl against the world. A plan was forming in my head. Maybe...if I was able to do the first step…
A knock on the door startled me. ‘En garde!’ I thought.
“Come in!”
&&&&
John entered Jenny’s room reluctantly. On any other day he wouldn’t have bothered, but this wasn’t ‘any other day’, was it?
He let his gaze glide around out of habit, her bed with the colourful patchwork blanket, her books, her tidy desk and the dressmaker’s dummy which she put her fencing uniform on, the belt holding her floret around the waist, the mask around the neck.
He tried to imagine his daughter wearing this but couldn’t. On which point exactly did he lose her?
Earnest green-grey eyes looked up to him expectantly.
“I wanted to ask if you are hungry. Your mom isn’t home yet, so we’ll have to do with the leftovers in the fridge, but…” He trailed off, hoping that she wouldn’t back out. He was not hungry at all, but he felt that if he was alone for another second, he would scream.
To his surprise, she smiled at him honestly, something she hadn’t done for months.
“Leftovers are fine for me, Sir. Maybe we can even pimp them up.”
John frowned. “I didn’t know that you can cook…” What else had he missed?
“Cook is too much to say, but I don’t burn water, though.”
She got up and they went over to the kitchen where he sat down at the table, watching with interest how she did her best to prepare dinner for the two of them. When did she grow up like that?
&&&&
I served the meal, not daring to look at my father, though I felt his soul piercing eyes on me all the time.
I forced myself to eat, not hungry at all as the memory of my mother’s screams threatened to reach the surface. One year ago…right before lunchtime…
I swallowed my tears with my last fork of food. A princess doesn’t cry! Focus!
Next to me, my father put the cutlery down.
“Thank you, Jenny. This was excellent. May I help you with the dishes?”
I nodded.
None of us mentioned we had hardly eaten anything.
I washed up while he did the drying, an awkward silence lingering between us.
Right before he took the last pot to put it away, I grabbed his hand with all courage I could muster and smuggled a piece of paper into it.
“Thanks for helping!” I said, then turned and fled, not able to face his reaction.
&&&&
John stood at the living room window, staring outside, seeing nothing, the crumbled paper still in his hand.
‘I still remember’, it read, ‘if you do, too, come on over.’
Knowing how much Jenny hated everything he was standing for; he could only imagine how much it had cost her to offer this to him. Was there still hope that she may forgive him, even if he couldn’t forgive himself?
What would be the right thing to do now?
Tears shot in his eyes unexpectedly. What did she mean IF he remembered? As if he ever could forget… But what else could he have done? Let his loved ones starve for believes no longer valid?
He realized that he was trying to justify his actions again and sighed. How could he explain something to her that he couldn’t even explain to himself?
It just kind of… happened… somehow… like a slide on which you think that you could stop on by gripping its sides but couldn’t… like a run up against an overcrowded escalator going down… could you really lose control by taking it?
Before his train of thoughts could enter the usual circle – or was it a spiral already? – he walked over to his daughter’s room. No matter how small the clearance between door and frame she had opened, he had to try.
&&&&
I carefully placed a candle on the windowsill and lit it when I heard his hard knock.
For a second I closed my eyes in relief, for I hadn’t been sure at all that my father would come, then braced myself. This wasn’t supposed to be easy.
&&&&
John did the same after receiving a firm “come in” once more. He had no idea what to say, how to act, what to expect.
&&&&
I watched his eyes searching the room, paranoid as usual, only to stop at the candle. I shivered. Focus!
“When a sailor is lost at sea or a soldier on a battlefield somewhere, they say that his family should place a candle at a window to lead his soul home”, I said softly, not daring to look at my father’s face. This was dangerous ground, a swamp that could swallow me up in no time.
“I see.” His voice was completely neutral as if he didn’t know what to make of my statement. Or as if he wanted me to talk. It might be one of his interrogation tactics, just waiting where this opening leads.
“I want to show you something”, I continued, not willing to give in to my fear. Now that I had started this, I would pull it through. No more dancing on eggshells. Thomas was my brother, I had every right to miss him, to moan him, to even question his death. I wasn’t just some collateral damage!
&&&&
John watched his daughter coming over to sit on her bed, pulling a box on her lap.
“These are Thomas childhood treasures.” He could hear her voice trembling, but she kept her composure. “I knew where he hid them and took the box the day we left.”
For a second he was sure that she would lose the fight against her tears, but she bit her lip hard and finally managed to raise her head and meet his gaze.
“Would you like to open it with me?”
&&&&
My father froze instantly, I could see the storm raging behind his icy eyes. Showing his vulnerable side was a lot to ask of him, so I waited patiently, fingers crossed that he wouldn’t just leave with the box to open it alone. To cry alone. Again.
‘Please’, I thought, ‘please, be my dad, not the Reichsmarshall, but my dad, only my dad, please….’
To my relief, I saw his expression soften, the ice melting and his half-smile appeared.
“Yes, please”, he said, “I’m honoured to be asked. May I sit beside you?”
I supressed a giggle. Why did he always had to be so complicated and overpolite to conceal his embarrassment?
I made an inviting gesture and he placed himself beside me. The familiar scent of leather, aftershave and him tickled my nose and I had hard time to subdue the urge to snuggle myself against him and bury my nose on his neck like I did so often when I had been a little girl and he just my dad. His indecisiveness told me that he might feel the same. For a second I hoped that he would just pull me close and promise me that everything would be okay again, that this was just a bad dream, that I only had to wake up…but he didn’t.
Of course, not.
I let out the breath I didn’t know holding and forced myself to smile.
&&&&
Next to her John watched his daughter from the corner of his eyes. So strong yet so fragile. Not a girl anymore but not yet a woman. He sensed that this was his one and only chance to build a bridge between them - or to burn down everything and lose her forever. He was sure that he couldn’t stand the latter, though.
“Ready?” she asked, her smile heartbreaking.
He nodded.
&&&&
I lifted the lid and revealed the remains of a life too short, its treasures becoming ours by remembering.
Photos…some pins from the Hitler Youth…marbles… an interesting shaped, shimmering pebble…a Teddy with only one eye and a torn ear…I knew the story of every single thing in this box…why Thomas, why?
My dad took the small bear. “Parcival”, he said, his voice thick with emotions, “I thought Helen threw him out long ago.”
“She did.” I stroked the torn ear, almost accidently touching my father’s fingers. “Thomas got him back when mum didn’t look and hid him in his box.”
“It was my brother’s…then mine…and then Thomas’. Helen would have preferred a new one but there was hardly anything to buy after the fall…”
“Was his name “Parcival” the whole time?”
Dad shook his head, deep in his memories. “No. That was Thomas’ thing. To me and my brother, he had been ‘Bruno’.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Should have known”, I remarked, ”you were sooo overdramatic sometimes, dear brother… wish I could tease you with that now, just to see you blush like a girl…”
I picked up a photo. “Annie Sanders… your girlfriend…our homecoming queen. You should have been her king, not that stupid Brandon ‘Testosterone’ Crowley. Everybody knows he is a skirt chaser and after her – while she still misses you dearly. That guy really has the empathy of a bloody axe someone used for mass murder. Would have liked to see you teaching him a lesson!”
“I didn’t know that you two were close. I always saw you teasing or ignoring each other…”
“Jeez, dad, Thomas and I were siblings. We were supposed to compete each other per definition – but you can be sure that we had each other’s back anytime. ‘Til the day I couldn’t do anything, except promising to be strong and stand tall no matter what…” I swallowed. “And then he walked out of my life and mom screamed and Amy cried, and everything went down the drain somehow…”
&&&&
John sighed, seeing his daughter finally losing the fight as tears started running down her cheeks.
“Jenny…” He wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure that she would allow him to do so.
He felt his own grief choking him again, hot tears burning in his eyes, sweat cowering his forehead but he was still not able to give in. A daughter shouldn’t see her father cry.
“Daddy...”, she whispered, a small wet hand searching his, “I miss him…I miss him so much…”
“Me, too, Jenny…me, too…”
&&&&
I felt my father’s hand trembling below mine which was more of an emotion than I got for months. It made me cry even more.
“I’m sorry, Jenny”, he said, barely audible, “I love you…”
His voice broke. I looked up to him, his jaw clenched so hard that it must hurt, his eyes glassy.
“I know, dad…I love you, too…”
The words felt on my lips like pushing a plank over a bottomless abyss, carefully and slowly. Not a bridge yet, but something to start with, to balance over as long as you don’t look down.
Down, where the monsters linger…
&&&&
John tried to process what his daughter just had told him.
Did she really say that she loves him or did he long so much to hear that that he imagined it?
He locked her eyes like he did so often with suspects during interrogations to read the truth and found no lie there. Hurt, pain, sorrow, but no betrayal.
It dawned on him that her love to him might be stripped bare of the blind adoration a child has towards its father but was still there, shaken and torn due to his choices and the life the Reich, represented by him, forced her to live, but alive somehow.
A seed he had to handle tenderly….
&&&&
I could see the blink in which my father understood what I intended to tell him; his eyes widened ever so slightly, his chin quivering a little.
Once again I was thankful that my trainer taught me to pay attention to every hint given, otherwise I would have missed it.
It broke my heart to see how desperately he still tried to hide his pain and I couldn’t take it anymore: I balanced out on the metaphorical plank, one step at a time, hoping that he might meet me halfway…
My fingers pressed his and I nuzzled my nose against his sleeve like I did when I was five only to be rewarded with the saddest smile I ever saw and his arm gliding reluctantly around my back. I let him pull me against his chest as I had wished for so long.
Of course, there was still nothing okay, but it felt very much better than crying alone. While we hold each other close I could feel his tears on my head like raindrops.
&&&&
Hours later Helen came home to find Jenny reading on the couch. When she asked her daughter why she wasn’t in bed yet, she led her to her room and Helen could see her husband sleeping peacefully under the patchwork blanket, one hand upon a torn, old Teddy she was sure she had thrown away years ago.
Jenny looked up to her mother shrugging. “May I stay with you tonight?” she asked, closing the door softly.
Then her daughter went back to the living room, leaving her with a million questions in her head.