The Other Einstein(68)

“I thought you’d been getting water from the fountain and boiling it.”

“It wasn’t enough, unfortunately.”

He didn’t speak. He didn’t even ask how Tete was faring.

I got down on my knees before him. “Please, Albert. For the children.”

As he stared at me with his dark brown eyes, I wondered how he saw me. Did he see only my haggard face and thick hips? Or did he remember the quick intellect and deep affection as well? The Dollie he’d once loved.

His face expressed no sympathy or concern, only disgust. “I’ve been prolific in Prague, Mileva. You are asking me to give that up.” Albert stood up suddenly, causing my balance to waver, and I fell back on my heels. Without offering a hand of help, he stepped over me, and as he walked toward the kitchen, he said, “You only ever think of yourself.”





Chapter 34


August 8, 1912

Zürich, Switzerland

Fortunately, a return to Zürich didn’t rest solely on my unheeded supplications. As if answering my prayers, prayers that had become increasingly commonplace, Zürich began wooing Albert. Our alma mater, the Polytechnic, had summoned Albert with a job offer he couldn’t refuse—senior professor of theoretical physics and the head of the department. I told myself that I wasn’t delusional, but still, I hoped that a return to Zürich would lead to a return of civility between us.

The time in Prague had been hard. Hard on the bodies and minds of me and the children. Hard on our relationships as husband and wife and father and sons. The accusation I’d once made against Albert—that he and I were “one stone” but “two hearts”—proved an uncanny prediction, particularly in Prague’s inhospitable clime. But surely, the bohemian atmosphere of Zürich would soften him, and his very separate, mercurial heart would cease its constant fluctuation. We could return to steady decorum at least. I’d stopped hoping for more.

Arms full of produce from the market, I pushed open the door to our new apartment in Zürich. Outside, I had paused for a moment to admire the five-story stucco building, mustard-colored with bay windows, a red-tiled roof, an iron gate, and a view of the lake, city, and Alps. How far we’d come from our student days.

“Hello? Is anyone home?” I called out once I’d walked up the stairs and headed into the kitchen. I’d left the boys with Albert for a half hour while I shopped for dinner, and it was strangely quiet. The boys didn’t get a lot of time alone with Albert, so I expected them to be loudly clamoring for his attention.

I rubbed my joints as I began to unpack the produce; my legs and hips had worsened considerably in recent months, and the steep climb to our apartment would be challenging. But Albert would never hear me complain a word about my health; I was too happy to be back in Zürich.

As I placed the final canister into the cupboard, I heard male voices boom from the living room. Not the youthful male voices of our boys but adult male voices. It was Albert and someone else. But who? We’d just arrived at 116 Hofstrasse, halfway up the steep Zürcherhof from the Polytechnic, and while we had acquaintances aplenty in Zürich, we’d shared our address with no one. Or so I thought.

A laugh reverberated through the foyer. It sounded oddly familiar. Could our old family friends the Hurwitzes or the Adlers be here? I knew we’d assume our routine of musical evenings with them soon, but I hadn’t sent them our details yet. I placed the peppers and onions down on the kitchen counter and stepped into the living room to identify our guest.

It was Marcel Grossman, our old Polytechnic physics classmate. He appeared much the same but for some graying at his temples and wrinkles around his eyes. I wondered how aged I seemed to him; my own hair was shot through with gray now, and my skin was lined. Still, my heart surged with joy. Wouldn’t Mr. Grossman be a wonderful addition to our lives? A friend who knew me from my student days. A fellow mathematician and scientist who had consulted me on tricky problems in the past. Someone who knew of my intellect and not just my skills as a mother and housekeeper.

“Mr. Grossman!” I cried out and embraced him. “How wonderful to see you!”

“You too, Mrs. Einstein!” he replied with a tight squeeze. “We have been so excited that the Einsteins have returned to their old stomping ground.”

“Please, after all these years of knowing one another, don’t you think it’s time you called me Mileva?”

He smiled. “And don’t you think it’s time you called me Marcel?”

“So, Marcel, Albert tells me that you are the chairman of the Polytechnic math department now.”

“Yes, it’s hard to believe sometimes.”

“Congratulations. You are young for the job but up to the task.”

“Thank you,” he said with a smile. “How about you, Mileva? Do the boys occupy all your time?”

I glanced over at Albert. An idea occurred to me. Wouldn’t Marcel be the perfect person with whom to hint about my earlier work with Albert? Marcel had the power to start me on a path of my own if he knew that I’d continued to work on my math and physics in the years since the Polytechnic. Nothing formal of course, as I had no degree, but maybe some tutoring or research. Then I wouldn’t have to depend on Albert at all to feed my scientific cravings. Perhaps some of the tension between us could lift.