“I guess the same, with the Latvian’s papers.”
He shook his head. “It will be tougher here. Everyone wants to get on a boat.”
“I’ll explain that she’s pregnant. She’ll open her coat and they’ll see.”
“But she doesn’t look old enough to be the Latvian. She doesn’t speak any Latvian,” he said. “They’re strict here. There are senior officers in charge, not just young recruits.”
Emilia reached out and touched the German’s knee. “Bitte,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I can’t take you on,” he told her. “But she can.” He pointed to me.
“I can?”
“Yes. Like the old man said, skills are valuable. The larger ships will have hospital wards. They’ll need you. Present yourself for work, but tell them you want to bring your patients with you.”
Emilia looked at him. “You are patient too,” she said.
“Maybe. I do have”—he hesitated—“a medical condition,” he said.
The shrapnel. I had nearly forgotten. “Oh, I haven’t even asked. You seemed well. How is your wound?”
“It’s not that. It’s something else,” he said.
“What?” I asked.
Emilia patted her left ear and then pointed to the German.
He stared at her, shocked but laughing. “What are you, a little witch or something? How did you know?”
“What is it?” I repeated.
He leaned in, over Emilia. “My left ear has been damaged,” he whispered. “I have papers, an important assignment. I need to get on a boat. But there’s a chance they’ll ask me to stay and fight instead. I’d have a stronger case with a medical testimony. You could say that I’m recovering from a wound along with losing my hearing.”
What was he asking me to do?
“I’m not a doctor,” I told him.
“But I was your patient,” he said. “Please, just think about it.” He grabbed his pack and pointed up to the projection room. “I’m going to find my way up there.”
He walked off. He had spoken more to me in the last five minutes than he had since he joined our group.
The shoe poet was still awake, listening. He raised his eyebrows at me, then rolled over to sleep.
alfred
I stared at the envelope from Mutter. It had arrived two months ago. I decided to open it.
My dear Alfie,
I am so very worried. Despite my many letters, I have heard nothing from you. Please send a few words to let your Mutti know that you are safe. Are you eating well? How is your stomach?
Heidelberg is fairly quiet relative to the rest of the country. I am grateful that we are insulated. I clean your room, in hopes you shall soon return home. Last week, while dusting in your closet, I discovered all of the butterflies pinned to the back wall. Imagine my surprise. So many, yet you never mentioned them. How long have you had them, Alfred, and why?
All is the same as in my last letter. The J?gers’ house is still lonesome. Frau Henkel always mentions you when she speaks of the J?gers. I think you admired little Hannelore, did you not? I wonder if there is something you haven’t told me? Do not be frightened to share your secrets. I will not tell your father. When the war is over there will be a “right side” to land upon. The “wrong side” could have grave consequences. Your father is aware of that. I hope you are too.
Remember to wear two pair of socks. It will protect your bunions.
With loving thoughts always,
Mutti
? ? ?
I grabbed a pen and paper.
Dear Mutter,
Your letter has just arrived. I am in Gotenhafen. I am fine and very busy. I am working on the ship Wilhelm Gustloff and am too occupied in duty to write often. Do not touch my butterflies and please refrain from entering my room. I know nothing of the J?gers.
Your son,
Alfred
florian
I knew it. The nurse would want to see my ear. I watched her make her way through the aisle, looking for the stairway. Would she find it? I sat down and began cleaning my nails with the knife.
She opened the door. “I’m surprised it’s unlocked.”
“I knew you would come up.”
“How did you know?” she asked.
I shrugged. “You’re exceedingly responsible. You have this terrible need to heal people.” I looked up from my jackknife. “Why is that?”
“You’re one to ask questions. You barely speak. I’ve asked your name several times and you won’t reply. Do you know what I call you?” she asked. “The German.”
“I’m Prussian.” I looked down at my knife. Should I have told her that?
“Okay, so now you’re the Prussian.” She knelt in close. “Let me look at your ear.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a small light, and peered into my ear.
I could feel the warmth of her face near mine. An amber pendant rested in the hollow of her throat. “Nice necklace. Do you like amber?” I asked, thinking of the priceless swan.
“I’m Lithuanian. Of course I like amber. Your eardrum has ruptured. This is recent. How did it happen?” she asked.