The German Wife(17)

It was true that Lydia’s coolness toward Mayim had been more pronounced that year, but it was also true that distance had been growing between them for much longer than that. I shifted uncomfortably, and Mayim sighed.

“You think it’s about my family’s financial circumstances, not because we are Jews. Perhaps that is a factor.”

“I know it is a factor!” I said, throwing my hands up in the air in frustration. “If I ever had any doubt about how shallow our social circles are, I’ve had the truth of it well and truly rammed home for me in the last few years.” It wasn’t just Lydia who withdrew from Mayim. One by one, most of her friends had drifted away. Jürgen and I hadn’t purposefully hidden our own circumstances from our friends—but having witnessed Mayim’s increasing isolation, we’d hardly advertised our struggle.

“It would be different if they knew about your situation,” Mayim said, correctly reading my thoughts.

“No, it wouldn’t,” I said, laughing miserably.

“This is exactly what I mean, my friend,” Mayim said gently. “You don’t even see it. The people who no longer invite me to their parties were always looking for an excuse to exclude me. It’s never been socially acceptable to admit you don’t want to invite the Jewish girl to the party, but it’s fine to leave the poor girl out.”

I felt a pinch in my chest. I stared at her for a moment, thinking about the injustice of it all.

“Are you hurt that I went tonight?” I asked her suddenly. Mayim’s gaze softened.

“I know exactly why you went. Did Karl say anything more about the job?”

Like most employers in Germany, Jürgen’s university was struggling with an ever-shrinking budget, and they’d cut staff salaries by more than half. His income no longer covered our living expenses, even though we’d laid off all of our household staff and sold our cars. We were selling my family heirlooms now, but it was a short-term solution. Some rooms were already devoid of all but the most essential furniture.

That was why it seemed like such a miracle when Karl called to ask Jürgen if he was interested in a new job. Karl wouldn’t say much, just that it was an exciting and lucrative new opportunity and he’d be in touch soon. But days turned into weeks, and every time I tried to organize a casual catch-up with the zu Schillers, they were busy campaigning for the Nazis. I caught Lydia on the phone a few times, but she couldn’t or wouldn’t tell me anything.

“Karl will tell you more when he sees you both,” she kept saying.

Every time a significant Nazi event was held in Berlin, Lydia had her staff drop off free rally tickets. I usually threw them into the trash, but when the latest tickets arrived, my impatience got the best of me and I decided to go.

It was a clumsy, flawed plan. Karl was already at the rally when Lydia’s town car arrived to collect me, and although he sat with us during the proceedings, he was busy on official business before and after, and I didn’t have a chance to speak to him.

“Something has to give,” I whispered to Mayim, my throat tight. “We can’t afford this place anymore, but even if we sell it, we won’t clear the mortgage. Where would we even go?”

Mayim rose and came to take the seat beside me, resting her hand over mine on the armrest.

“Go to bed, Sofie,” she said softly. “Things will look better in the morning.”

She had a way of soothing me, without saying much at all.

“What would I do without you?” Mayim flashed me a soft smile.

“I really have no idea. Lucky for you, I’m not going anywhere.”

I crawled into bed soon after, so drained I could barely keep my eyes open, but the minute my head hit the pillow, my anxiety resurged. Even the very real threat of losing my home suddenly paled in comparison to the fear that the men I’d heard speak at that rally might soon be in power. I thought about Mayim and shivered with fear.

“You weren’t at dinner with Lydia tonight, were you?” Jürgen said, startling me. I turned toward him guiltily. He was lying on his back, wide-awake and staring up at the ceiling.

“I did have dinner with her...” I admitted. “Then I went with her to the rally.”

“Sofie, what on earth were you thinking?”

He was annoyed, but when tears filled my eyes, he sighed heavily and reached for me. I relaxed immediately, sinking into the comfort of his arms.

“I thought you felt the same way I do about the Nazis,” he said.

“I do. I was just hoping that if I engineered a chance to see Karl, he would tell me more about this job.”

“Well, did he?”

“I never got the chance to speak to him.”

“I’ve tried to call him a few times.”

“You did?” He hadn’t mentioned this, but I knew Jürgen felt guilty that he couldn’t support us, so I hated to force him to talk about it.

“Young people are looking for work to try to support their families—no one has the capacity to study these days. What happens if there’s no work for me in the new academic year?”

“I can’t even let myself think about that,” I said. Jürgen had been working toward his doctorate when my brother broke the news that we needed to generate our own income, and although he’d been forced to abandon his studies, he was quickly employed to teach. Just a few years later, though, things were different. Six million Germans were out of work in a severely depressed economy. If Jürgen lost that job, he’d be unlikely to find another.