The Other Einstein(20)

Reassuring myself as much as her, I said, “But it is of no further consequence. Your good opinion means the world to me. Above all else.”





Chapter 7


July 30 and 31, 1897

Zürich, Switzerland, and the Sihl Valley

Even though Helene never really came to accept Mr. Einstein in those final weeks of the term, she did soften toward him after our conversation. Whether it was the reaffirming of our pact or our mischievous remarks about his grooming, her concerns about him seemed diffused. She no longer viewed him as a threat to our little rituals, even though he was persistently, abundantly, present.

This benefited me as well, as my assurances and mild mockery of Mr. Einstein helped keep him in perspective. It reminded me that he was merely a kindred lover of physics and a classmate—and a rather silly, certainly ridiculous-looking one. I believed that I could quell any feelings toward him. I felt well-armed to politely stamp out any inkling of an overture that he might spring upon me. Not that anything other than frivolous banter and hints had been forthcoming.

The evening after the last arduous day of the Section Six first-year finals—for which I’d studied harder than anything ever before—Mr. Einstein appeared on the Engelbrecht Pension doorstep, violin in hand, as had become his habit. This was no surprise. He had not been specifically invited, but then, he never was. His violin playing was so full of virtuosic feeling that the girls grew to welcome him, even though they never quite got accustomed to his lack of explicit invitation.

A night of Antonio Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons had been planned, a nod to the changing of our own season. Mr. Einstein’s playing was especially heartfelt that evening. We paused in satisfaction after the last bars sounded, and in that moment of quiet contentment, he sprung.

“Miss Kaufler, you ladies have spoken of this magical Sihlwald forest for months now,” Mr. Einstein said.

“Yes, we have, Mr. Einstein,” Helene answered.

“I distinctly recall you mentioning the vista from the top of the Albis hills, Miss Kaufler.”

“I have indeed.” She nodded in our direction, continuing the pleasant exchange with a description of the Albishorn. She seemed to find it innocuous, although I could see where Mr. Einstein was headed.

“If I may be so bold, I should very much like to be included in the Sihlwald outing you ladies have planned for tomorrow morning.”

The four of us had decided upon a final outing to mark the end of term. We had taken longer and longer trips since our initial Sihlwald excursion, and after much discussion, we had agreed that we should end the term as we began—with a trip to the Sihlwald.

Even though Mr. Einstein’s intentions seemed plain to me, Helene seemed surprised. She stammered in reply, “Well, Mr. Einstein, you see… Um, this outing… I believe it was designed to be a farewell excursion for just the four of us.”

Undeterred, Mr. Einstein pushed on in his humorous yet determined way. “Am I to be deprived of both the natural beauty of the Sihlwald forest and the pleasure of your companies this final Saturday before the holiday, Miss Kaufler? It will be months before we meet again.”

His boldness, brash even for him, unsettled her further. “You see, um, I cannot… The decision is not mine alone.”

He looked directly at me, his brown eyes pleading. My stomach fluttered a little as his eyes moved on to Ru?ica and Milana. “What say you, ladies?”

He was shameless. How could we, well-bred, sheltered girls reared to be polite, say anything but yes?

? ? ?

Packs on our backs—full of hiking gear, lunches foisted upon us by the eager Mrs. Engelbrecht, and maps of the forest—we stood on the platform for the train. I kept checking the station clock. Mr. Einstein was horribly late.

“Where is he?” Ru?ica tapped her foot impatiently. She’d asked this question no less than eight times.

“I say we get on board,” Milana suggested. “The train departs in two minutes.”

Glancing up at the station clock yet again, I felt conflicted. I wanted Mr. Einstein to join us but didn’t want my insistence on waiting to cause a delay in our trip. Not wanting to appear too eager, I said, “Milana is right. We can’t wait any longer. Anyway, Mr. Einstein is notoriously late. Who knows when he will show up?”

Helene nodded in agreement, and we got on board. Settling into an empty compartment—we had our choice as the train was sparsely populated at this early Saturday hour—we loaded our packs into the overhead racks. Just as we sat down on the worn upholstered benches, the train whistle blew, and we started to move.

A reprieve. I sighed. Perhaps it was best that I wouldn’t see Mr. Einstein until next term, in three months’ time. His constant presence lately had only heightened my bewilderment. Yes, I thought, this is precisely what I need. The beginning of the summer holiday without him was a good portend.

“Oh my,” Milana said as she looked out the compartment window.

“What is it?” Ru?ica asked.

Milana didn’t answer. She just pointed out the window, as if the sight could only be seen, not described.

Craning my neck to see over Helene’s head, I saw two men running through the station toward our train. Even through the thick glass, I could hear them yelling, “Hold the train!”

I strained my eyes to see if either was Mr. Einstein. Curly mop of hair. Untucked shirt. All his hallmarks certainly, not the usual careful ablutions of Swiss men. But he was meant to come alone, and there was another man in tow. Maybe it wasn’t him. My stomach churned with mixed emotions.