The Other Einstein(16)

But part of me was scared. Scared of the confusing nature of Mr. Einstein’s attention, and scared of stepping over the invisible divide and taking the risks that came with becoming the person I dreamed of being.

“Thank you, but I can’t, Mr. Einstein. My apologies.”

“Another time, perhaps?”

“Perhaps.” I took my leave and began walking in the direction of the Engelbrecht Pension.

I heard his voice piping up in the mounting distance. “Until then, we shall have music!”

Feeling very bold—more like a fellow scholar instead of a lady—I called back over my shoulder. “I don’t recall extending an invitation!”

Laughter came from Mr. Einstein. “As you yourself said, I have never waited for invitations!”





Chapter 6


June 9 and 16, 1897

Zürich, Switzerland

Ru?ica and I exited the Conditorei Schober and walked arm in arm down Napfgasse. The afternoon sun was soft and hazy, lighting the buildings from behind and creating a lambent glow on all the shop fronts we passed. We both sighed in satisfaction.

“That was delicious,” Ru?ica said. Last night after dinner, she and I had made plans to try the coffee, hot chocolate, and patisseries at Conditorei Schober. The famous confectionary was located in between the University of Zürich, where Ru?ica studied, and the Polytechnic, and we had been fantasizing about the café’s delights since we learned of its existence from Mrs. Engelbrecht. Helene and Milana declined to join us for our outing; not only did they prefer savories to sweets, but they also weren’t inclined toward the frivolous adventures that Ru?ica sought out. I’d surprised myself by agreeing to join her.

“I can still taste the caramel and walnuts from my torte,” I said about my selection, a delicious shortbread confection with decadent filling.

“And I can still taste the marzipan and crème from the Sardegnatorte,” Ru?ica countered.

“I shouldn’t have had that second Milchkaffee,” I said, referring to the rich, milky coffee I adored. “I’m so full that I might need to unlace my corset when we get back to the pension.”

We giggled at the notion of appearing for one of Mrs. Engelbrecht’s dinner with undone corsets.

“You think you need to unlace your corset? What about me? I’m the one who ordered the second dessert. But I couldn’t resist the look of the Luxemburgerli,” Ru?ica said. The exquisite macaroon-style confections came in a variety of flavors, and Ru?ica claimed they were so airy and light they simply melted on her tongue. “Maybe it’s a good thing that there’s nothing like Conditorei Schober at home in ?abac. I would have arrived here in Zürich for my studies quite the dumpling.”

Laughing again, we strolled down the Napfgasse, admiring the newfangled ladies’ suits that the affluent Zürich women had begun to wear. We approved of the fresh style of the fitted jacket over the trumpetlike skirt shape but decided that the cinched nature of the jacket on top of the mandatory corsets would make us uncomfortable for long hours of studying. No, we would remain with the more practical full-sleeved blouses tucked into bell-shaped skirts, always in somber colors to ensure that we were taken seriously by our professors and classmates.

After fifteen minutes of chatter, we lapsed into companionable silence, enjoying the rare unstructured moments. I thought, not for the first time, how unexpected my life in Zürich was. When I set out from Zagreb, I never could have imagined that I’d be sauntering down a boulevard, arm in arm with a girlfriend, after enjoying afternoon tea together in a fanciful café. Chatting about fashion, nonetheless.

“Let’s walk over to R?mistrasse,” Ru?ica suddenly said.

“What?” I asked, certain that I hadn’t heard her correctly.

“R?mistrasse. Isn’t that the street with all those cafés that Mr. Einstein frequents with his friends?”

“Yes, but—”

“Didn’t Mr. Einstein invite us to join him and his friends when he was at the pension playing Bach with us last night?”

“Yes, but I don’t think it’s a good idea, Ru?ica.”

“Come on, Mileva, what are you afraid of?” Ru?ica taunted and began pulling me in the direction of R?mistrasse. “We won’t seek him out or anything so inappropriate. We will simply walk down the street like any other passerby, and if Mr. Einstein and his friends should happen to spot us, then so be it.”

I could have insisted that we return to the pension. I could have spun around in the other direction and marched off. But in truth, I yearned to join in the café culture all around me. Ru?ica was the external source of confidence I needed to take that step.

Emboldened, I nodded in agreement. Still arm in arm, an arrangement that grew harder as the streets grew more crowded, we took a few lefts and rights before reaching R?mistrasse. As if we had planned it but without a word between us, we slowed our pace and ambled down the boulevard.

My grip on Ru?ica’s arm grew tighter as we neared Café Metropole, a favorite of Mr. Einstein’s. I didn’t dare turn my head to the right to see if he or his friends sat in the coveted outside tables. I noticed that, despite all her bravado, Ru?ica didn’t shift her glance either.

“Miss Mari?! Miss Dra?i?!” I heard a voice call out. I knew precisely who it was: Mr. Einstein.