The Other Einstein(38)

I read the two letters for the hundredth time. In the first, I prettily refused Albert’s invitation to Como, hinting at objections from home. Should I send this letter and deny myself the pleasure to which I’d been looking forward? What would happen to our relationship if I did not go? He had referred to the trip as a bridge to our new life, after all. Would Albert interpret my refusal as a rejection of him? Our relationship had been in such a transitional state lately, I was worried.

I read the other. Dutifully, I laid out my travel details and sketched out a rough itinerary. I couldn’t help but smile at the professions of love that spilled out from its pages. These words revealed my true self, not the person bound by fear and convention.

I tossed the letters down on my desk. How could it be that I wrote both of these letters? It seemed incredible that I could feel both of these emotions so strongly and simultaneously. Longing and surrender. Duty and forsaking. But I did.

I rubbed my temples and paced my pension bedroom. What was I going to do? Did I dare to pick up Papa’s letter again to help me decide? I didn’t think I needed to see the actual letter to remember his hateful words: sramota. Shame.

What would Helene advise? I wished she were still here to talk it over with me. She would sit down across from me on my bed and, with kindness and strength, help me make a wise choice. A modern decision, not one dictated by Papa’s old-fashioned Serbian thinking, but still very protective. I could almost hear her advice on my lamentations that an impending separation from Albert would kill me or her guidance on my impatience about whether he and I would ever reach the point when we could profess our love before the whole world. She would pat my hands and urge me to “bear it with courage.”

I thought about our parting nearly six months ago, in early November, when Helene finally left Zürich to marry Mr. Savi?. I had awoken before dawn to say farewell before she took her train to Reutlingen, where she and Mr. Savi? would be living. Her bags packed and stacked at the bottom of the steps, Helene looked small as she waited in the parlor for her carriage. When Mrs. Engelbrecht stomped off to find out why the carriage was delayed, I padded down the stairs in my nightgown and robe.

We embraced. “I will miss you terribly, Helene. I’ve never had a friend like you, and I never will again.”

“I feel the same, Mitza.” She broke from my arms to look into my eyes. “I’ve never stopped regretting that I broke our pact. Even in my happiness with Mr. Savi?, it looms darkly.”

“Helene, please don’t let that old pact ruin even a second of your bliss. We have both broken from it now, haven’t we?”

“Yes,” Helene said wistfully, “but I was first. And I wonder what might have happened to both of us if I’d stayed the course. If I’d decided to pursue my career instead of marry.”

“Helene, I’m pleased with both of our choices.” I took her by the shoulders and, in mock seriousness, said, “Now, I’m going to give you the advice you’ve given me time and again. Remember to live in the moment. This is your moment with Mr. Savi?. Please embrace it. And I will do the same with Mr. Einstein.”

We embraced one last time, promising to always stay in close touch by letters and visits, and then she walked out the door.

Would she urge me to live in the moment and head to Como? Or would she suggest that I bear our separation with courage for a little while longer? At least until we were married. I could not guess, and I didn’t have the luxury of time to inquire.

I felt utterly alone. My family was furious with me. My friends had moved on. Even Albert’s future was unsure once his teaching position ended in a few months’ time, and I knew what path his mother wanted him to take. One without me. I shivered at the thought of the solitude I’d long assumed would be my fate.

Perhaps, having been part of a complete unit, I suffered the halving more deeply. I could almost hear Albert whisper words of love in my ear, that he felt half a person when we were apart. His words had lodged into my soul, spoiling forever the poetic vision of myself as the solitary intellect that I’d carried around for years. Because I felt the same.

I knew what path I would choose.

I grabbed one of the letters from my desk and quickly sealed it into an envelope. Without allowing myself another second to reconsider, I marched down the stairs of the pension. Ignoring the call from a parlor maid that breakfast was being served, I pushed open the front door and advanced toward the post and my future.





Chapter 16


May 5 through 8, 1901

Lake Como, Italy

A rose-infused dawn crept over the mountainous Alpine backdrop as my train neared Como. In luminous stages, the landscape began to reveal itself. The deep blue waters of the legendary Lake Como were enveloped by emerald-green hillsides and villas and villages so picturesque they seemed to be painted by Renaissance master Titian himself.

The overnight journey from Zürich had taken hours, and I should have felt tired. But I didn’t. To the contrary, I felt excited, as though I was stepping over the crumbling remains of my past life and crossing the threshold into my real existence.

The train slowed as we pulled into the station, and I peeked out the window. Would Albert actually be there? My letter noted the time of my arrival, but given his propensity for lateness, I didn’t dare hope he would be waiting. I had already prepared myself for lingering over a cup of coffee in the station café until he arrived.