The Other Einstein(34)

The most painful accusation, however, was her allegation that I might be pregnant. What type of girl did she think I was, and what sort of family did she think I came from? Even if we had wanted to consummate our feelings, Mrs. Engelbrecht circled us like a hawk; intimacy was an impossibility. Albert and I had naively believed that finding jobs would be the biggest obstacle to our union.

How would Albert and I ever overcome these sort of hysterical, illogical objections?

Tears welled up in my eyes. Would his mother’s prejudices and hysteria drive us apart? Surely, Albert wouldn’t allow that to happen. I consoled myself with his report that he remained stalwart about our plans in the face of his mother’s onslaught. And that he loved me and missed me. He was still my Johnnie. We would find a way.

Taking a bracing breath, I went down the winding stairs from the attic. I settled into my place at the table next to Papa and said grace along with everyone else. As we sat back to allow Ana to fill our plates with ?evapi, I expected a battery of questions and a good dose of jibes, just like every other time I’d received a letter from Albert. But strangely, no one said a word. Had they not noticed the letter’s arrival?

We passed the dinner hour in unusual, uncomfortable silence. Had something happened? I couldn’t stand the quiet scrape of the forks on plates and the clink of the spoons, so I busied myself talking with Zorka about her plans for next term. A good but not stellar student, she had aspirations of studying abroad. Papa had been encouraging her to stay with me in Zürich and take a term at the Higher Daughter School to prepare her for the Matura exam. I wondered if this was Papa’s way of observing and protecting me from afar. His worry over my studies and Albert pervaded all our exchanges these days.

The very minute Papa finished his last bite of the sweet dessert gibanica, Mama ushered Zorka and Milo? out of the room with her. Papa and I were left alone.

I stood to take my leave as well, but Papa said, “Please stay, Mitza. Sit with me awhile.”

I sat back down in my chair, waiting as he lit his pipe and blew a few smoke rings up toward the ceiling.

“I saw that you had a letter from your Mr. Einstein today,” he said.

He had noticed. If he knew, then certainly the others did too. Why hadn’t anyone said anything?

“Yes, Papa,” I answered quietly, waiting to see where Papa would lead.

“He is busy securing work, I gather?”

“His search will begin in the fall when he returns to Zürich. For now, he is on vacation in Switzerland with his family.”

“Vacation? Why the wait, Mileva? A man who wants to marry must have employment.”

Ah, so this was to be the direction of this conversation. My parents had never met Albert; they never came to Zürich, and Albert had never visited Ka?, although I had invited him this summer and the preceding one. Albert had always declined, pleading the need to appease his parents with the summer holidays while still dependent upon them. And I’d never pushed. My parents distrusted Albert; it was not the Serbian way for a suitor to keep his distance.

Although I could understand Papa’s concern—I would have been shocked if he felt otherwise—I sidestepped his question. Albert and I spoke of marriage often enough, but I knew he needed to ask Papa’s permission for Papa to take him seriously. I’d said as much to Albert, who maintained that he needed a job before requesting my hand.

“Mr. Einstein believes that the opportunities will be more plentiful in the fall. Most academics are on holiday now.”

“So he will keep you waiting then?” Papa pretended that he was asking a question, but he was casting judgment. He had never gotten over the fact that I’d succumbed to Albert after making the sacrifice of the term in Heidelberg, and of course, he was extremely protective of me in general. Not to mention that, as a Jewish foreigner, Albert was very mysterious to Papa.

Was Papa right? Was Albert keeping me at bay while he pursued life at his own pace? I’d always placed such faith in Albert to lead us through this bohemian wilderness. I knew he wanted me to be strong and independent, and it always seemed so weak and dependent to beg for commitment. I did my best to play the part Albert cast for me.

“I will hardly be waiting, Papa. I have to study for my final exams to take next summer, and I have my dissertation to work on as well.”

“Then you two have discussed future plans?”

“Yes, Papa,” I said with what I hoped sounded like conviction. Albert spoke often of our days after university—indeed, he had just declared me to be his future wife to his mother—but no fixed plans ever came from Albert’s lips. Regardless, I needed Papa’s backing, particularly in light of Albert’s mother’s recent histrionic opposition.

Papa’s eyes and tone softened. He leaned toward me and took my hands in his. They looked tiny compared to the meaty strength of his fist. “I want to make certain that his intentions are honorable. It’s my job to protect you.”

With those words, Papa took me back to the time I overheard the conversation between Mama and Papa about my limp and my “unmarriageability.” Suddenly, I felt rage.

“Is it so hard for you to believe that someone loves me, Papa? That someone might want to marry me, even with my deformity?”

Mouth agape and eyes wide, he looked aghast at my volume and my words. I had never spoken to him this way before. “Oh, Mitza, that’s not what I—”