The Other Einstein(28)

Mr. Savi? looked into Helene’s eyes. “I’m hoping to learn precisely how extensive Miss Kaufler’s knowledge of history is.”

Helene beamed at Mr. Savi?, and in the quiet that filled the room to bursting, Mr. Einstein and I took our leave. As we stepped into the entryway, he whispered to me, “That Savi? fellow has a thick Serbian accent. I could barely understand his German. Yours is so flawless. I always meant to ask how you manage it.”

“Papa insisted that we speak German at home. It’s the Austro-Hungarian Empire’s language of success, after all. We only spoke Serbian to Mama and the servants,” I whispered back, but my voice was flat. What had I just witnessed?

Just as Mr. Einstein and I crossed the threshold of the parlor, Helene reappeared and grabbed my arm. I gestured for Mr. Einstein to enter the parlor without me.

“I wanted to make sure you weren’t angry with me.” Her eyes were pleading.

“For forgetting about our little recital? That’s silly. I told you already, I’m not mad at all.”

She exhaled. “Good. I couldn’t stand it if you were annoyed with me.” I sensed she was worried about far more than the recital.

“Shouldn’t you return to—” Did I dare say “your caller”? I wanted to know exactly who this man was, but my boldness dissolved when I saw the concerned look in her eyes. “Mr. Savi??”

“Mr. Savi??” Wonder shone in her eyes. “I guess I should return, shouldn’t I?”

“How did you become acquainted with him?”

“Mr. Savi? stopped by the pension yesterday. You see, his family is closely acquainted with my aunt, and she suggested that he pay a call. Our conversation was so easy and full of commonalities, well, when he asked if he could visit again today, I agreed.” A smile never left her lips.

“You didn’t mention him yesterday.”

“I suppose I didn’t know until today that he was worth mentioning.” She paused, and the smile slipped away. She realized what she had unwittingly admitted.

“Is he a caller, Helene?” I needed to know. What would happen to our pact if she were to fall in love with Mr. Savi??

“I don’t know, Mitza. I-I don’t want to break our pact, but—” She stammered and then stopped.

“But what?”

“Will you allow me the latitude to find out what Mr. Savi? means to me?” Her tone and her eyes were imploring.

My stomach lurched. I’d been hoping for a scoffing laugh. It seemed that I could only hope her time with Mr. Savi? was fleeting. Or that he would leave town soon.

I wanted to scream no. I wanted to shake her and remind her of our shared vision of a full professional life without the need for a husband. But what could I say other than yes? “Of course, Helene.”

“Thank you for understanding. I guess I should return.”

Helene’s skirts trailed behind her as she reentered the gaming room. I watched until the last scallop of her hem disappeared, as if we’d just said farewell. Because, in a way, we had.

I walked back into the parlor. The room appeared exactly the same as always. There were the rose damask chairs my father and I sat upon when we first arrived at the pension; there was the piano where Milana worked so diligently on her melodies; there were the embroidered armchairs where Helene and I always sat, our instruments in hand. I could almost hear the sweet strains of Mozart, Bach, Beethoven, and Vivaldi wafting in the air. Yet, on some level, the parlor was altogether changed, as if an enormous eraser had wiped clean the cherished memories and the plans this room contained.

The future had been cracked wide open.





Chapter 11


December 8, 1899

Zürich, Switzerland

Mr. Einstein ran his bow across the violin strings. The movement was slow, almost languorous, but the music was big and filled the room. Closing my eyes, I could very nearly envision rich, imperceptible waves reverberating the sound around the parlor, almost like the invisible X-rays recently discovered. And I could also imagine the notes washing over me like a caress.

My cheeks flushed red. Was it the music I imagined caressing me or Mr. Einstein’s hands?

Turning away from Mr. Einstein and his violin, I settled more comfortably onto the piano bench and faced the keys. Even though I could no longer see him cradle his violin, his music moved me. Not because his playing was virtuosic but because it overflowed with emotion.

I shook my head to clear it. My cue to begin playing would happen in a few bars, and I didn’t want to miss it because I was daydreaming about Mr. Einstein. For months, indeed for over a year, I had spent too many minutes of every day fighting against such impulses to surrender over a few lines of luxurious music.

Suppressed over the past year, my feelings for Mr. Einstein hadn’t disappeared. If anything, they had grown. Sometimes, I wondered whether maintaining my friendship with Mr. Einstein was folly, whether it ignited emotions I should be dampening. But I had chosen my physics path, and he sat firmly upon it, I reminded myself for the hundredth time that day alone. I couldn’t very well ignore him; after all, he was my lab partner.

My fingers hovered over the piano keys, ready for my moment, when shrill voices echoed throughout the house. The noise startled us both, and Mr. Einstein stopped playing.

“You silly. That’s my umbrella!” a female voice shrieked playfully.