The Other Einstein(49)
I threw the letter to the floor. How could he not come to Ka? and see his daughter? More disturbingly, how could he dream of asking me to leave Lieserl just for the sake of convenient visits to him? Why had our marriage required a job, and why must the job require relinquishment of my child? Were his parents behind this? I knew that they were still adamantly opposed to our union, Lieserl or not. I had resigned myself to the surrender of my career and honor, but my consolation had been Lieserl. I couldn’t stand the thought of not being by her side for an indeterminate period of time.
I lay down on the old sofa, and my body curled around itself as if I were an infant myself. I gave in to the tears building within me.
The stairs to the bell tower creaked with Mama’s slow, heavy step. I felt her sit down next to me on the ancient sofa and wrap her arms around me. “What did he say, Mitza?”
Trying to talk between my heaving sobs, I told her. Saying the words aloud made them sound even more outrageous. How could Albert ask me to give up my beautiful child? For several months at least, but quite possibly for an unknown amount of time? Albert had never even seen her; he didn’t know what it would be to miss her sweet smell, her clear blue eyes, her gurgles, and most of all, her smile. And he had speculated wrongly in a past letter that Lieserl must be incapable of laughter. Her laugh was like the ringing of the clearest bells.
“Albert mentions nothing of marriage and offers no plans for Lieserl. He just wants me to relocate—alone—to a convenient base from which he can summon me when it suits him.” As I spoke the words, even though they were even more horrible spoken aloud than existing as mere thoughts in my head, my crying lessened, and my breathing slowed. An alternative path for my life illuminated before me—a life with Lieserl but without the physics I used to hold so dear and without Albert. I needed to become strong to face it. “We will just stay here in Ka?, Mama. Me and Lieserl. This will become our home.”
As Mama wiped the final tears away, she said, “Listen to me, Mitza. Do you remember our conversation about making a proper family for Lieserl?”
I nodded. That discussion had guided my actions toward Albert ever since. It had even resuscitated some feelings for him as well. But I wasn’t so sure I wanted to continue down that path, not now.
“You must go to Zürich; this is the only way to keep your marriage plans in motion. I know you don’t like what you are learning about Albert—his reluctance to see Lieserl, his selfishness in wanting you near but not setting a firm date for your wedding, his lack of courage with his family—but you aren’t doing this for you. You are going to Zürich for Lieserl.”
I knew she was right, even though I didn’t want to listen to her or accept her words. But I also knew how mercurial Albert was.
“But, Mama, what if I make that sacrifice and go to Zürich as Albert wants, and he still refuses to allow Lieserl to live with us? You know that he has agreed with Papa’s position on adoption in several of his earlier letters. Marriage isn’t worth that to me. I will never give up Lieserl.”
Mama’s eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared. She looked like a bull in a matador’s ring. “I will not let that happen, Mitza. Have I not defied your father’s wishes to send her away to some remote family member for a secret adoption? Have I not insisted that we keep her here with us in Ka??”
Mama had indeed risen up with a ferocity I didn’t think she possessed. I’d been wrong about her my whole life. Her quietude was not weakness; it was an ardent watchfulness that would be replaced by a roar when required. Single-handedly, she fought Papa for my right to keep Lieserl with me in seclusion at the Spire, with only Mama and a maid for company.
“Yes, Mama.”
“So can you believe me when I tell you that I will love and protect your daughter here until you return for her as a married woman? And that I promise we will find a way for Lieserl to live with you then?”
“Yes, Mama.”
“Good. Then you will go to Zürich as Albert requested. The rest will fall into place. I will make sure of it.”
Chapter 22
January 6, 1903
Bern, Switzerland
My right hand interlaced with Albert’s left, we stood before the officious Civil Registrar Gauchat. In my left hand, I clutched a bouquet of dried alpine flowers thoughtfully selected for the occasion by Albert as a nod to our holiday in Lake Como. Some of the buds even matched the vivid blue dress I’d selected. Today was the day for which I’d prayed and waited for years, the day of our wedding. What I once wanted for myself, however, I now needed desperately for another. For Lieserl.
The registrar was so heavily bespectacled and mustachioed that Albert and I nearly laughed when he entered the room. He shot us a look of such stiff Swiss respectability that we quickly collected ourselves and assumed our place before him. Registrar Gauchat took a long minute to center himself on the dais. After making certain he stood framed by the imposing backdrop of the Alps, he began a speech carefully crafted to convey the solemnity of the occasion.
Our witnesses—Maurice Solovine, a Bern University student who came to Albert for tutoring but became a friend instead, and Conrad Habicht, a friend of Albert’s from Schaffhausen who had recently moved to Bern—marched into their positions on the registrar’s signal. We hadn’t dared include our families; Albert’s mother’s objections were still too vociferous, and my parents had Lieserl in their charge.