Things were different after the fight. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel safe. No matter how many times my father promised me that no harm would ever come to my mother or me, I couldn't help feeling that none of us were safe anymore. The war became a more significant part of my life, and I only knew a few things about it. Still, my father and my mother did their best to protect me from it. Which, for a while, I appreciated and even yearned for so that I could protect myself just a few moments longer. As time went on and the war continued to rage, the world I had built slowly began to shift. More and more people in my small town started wearing the gold star on their shirts and coats. Whenever I saw them, it brought an undefined sense of dread to my heart. My father told me not to think about it, and I did my best not to, but I found that I couldn't help it when it affected so many around me.
Hitler was always yelling on the radio. Nazi soldiers would march through the town like heroes while people from the city waved swastika flags in excitement. I wouldn't realize how well my father hid me from the truth of the war until years after. I feel ashamed now that I allowed myself to bury my head in the sand for so long. My world was crashing all around me, and I chose to see only the things that directly affected me. Things were becoming more real. And as foolish as it sounds, I still had unreasonable faith in my father and what he could control when it came to me. I had to believe that whatever was headed my way, my father would protect me.
"Mom? Grandpa was...?" James looked unnerved by my story, and I knew it was only going to get worse. "How could you ignore that?" He asked bewildered.
"It was easier than facing the truth," I said, feeling the familiar feeling of guilt.
"Grandpa was a Nazi mom," James said.
I glared at him, "I'm aware. May I continue?"
James just stared at me for a moment and then nodded.
My parents and I walked around each other for a few days, until my mother bought me a new coat a few days after the fight had happened to help me forget about it. I told her she didn't have to, but I took it gladly. I left the house that cold morning and began walking to school by myself. I usually walked partway to school alone until John and Anne joined me. I let the stiff breeze blow my blond hair around my face. I buried my cold hands into the pockets of the coat. My mind swirled like the snow with thoughts, and with fear. I didn't know what to do with myself anymore. My mother told me that I had no reason to worry, but the more people told me not to be concerned, the more worried I became. I was lost in thought before I heard footsteps come up behind me. They touched my shoulder, and I jumped and dropped my book bag on my foot. I yelped in pain and shock. Anne jumped as well, surprised by my reaction. I sighed with relief, Anne knelt and picked up my bag for me and smiled, trying to calm my frazzled nerves.
"Goodness, you snuck up on me," I said in a breathless voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to," Anne said with concern, "Are you alright?"
"Yes," I said, knowing I didn't say it very convincingly.
"What's wrong? You know you can tell me." Anne grabbed my hand. I looked into her soft brown eyes. I had always wished I could have been as sweet and loving as Anne was. She always had a way of making people feel better, no matter the circumstances.
"I'm just afraid, I guess," I said sheepishly.
"Why? Because of the fight? It was nothing, Beth, just people being foolish." She answered with confidence.
"They were going to hurt Mr. Becker, though. They wanted to hurt him because he is Jewish. And not just that, but everything, all these things are happening, and I don't understand why." I looked down and saw that Anne was wearing the gold star on her dark grey coat. "They said Jews are our enemies, and they aren't the only ones either. Lots of people are saying that. You have to take the star off, Anne, you must!"
Panic rose in my voice, but then Anne squeezed my hand and said. "Oh Beth, don't worry about us. We will be fine. Your father will protect us from all those hateful people who think we are so bad. Besides, this isn't the first time the Jews have been persecuted."
"But Anne, you are wearing the star," I added, feeling fear creep into my chest.
Anne looked down at her star, "I know, but it's the law, Beth."
"You are safe, though, right, Anne?" I asked
Anne hesitated a bit, "I don't know Beth, I am not sure anyone is completely safe right now." Anna replied.
None of it made sense, how could people hate people like Anne and Mr. Becker? They hadn't done anything wrong, nothing that I was aware of at least. Then again, I was starting to question whether I knew anything at all and wished that people would stop telling me not to worry. I started wondering if the Jews were doing something that they couldn't talk about, maybe they were causing more trouble than I knew, and they couldn't say.
Anne and I were about to walk into school when all of a sudden, our principle, Mr. Duerr, stepped in front of us, blocking the entrance. He looked down at us with a frown. He looked me up and down, and then he looked at Anne and scowled. "Miss Shetler, you are no longer welcome here. Miss Schmidt, you better get to class before you are late."
I looked at Anne and then back at Mr. Duerr with profound confusion. It didn't make sense. "Excuse me, Mr. Duerr, but Anne is in my class." I offered, hoping it was all a mistake.
"I'm quite aware of what class Miss Shetler is in, and she is no longer welcome at this school." Mr. Duerr responded coldly.
"But....why?" Anne asked with a small whimper, "Have I done something wrong?"
"You are a Jew from a family of Jews, and your kind are no longer permitted to come to this school. I suggest you go home before you cause any more trouble." Mr. Duerr added, sounding more upset than I had ever heard him.
"I don't understand," I said, feeling completely helpless.
"Miss Schmidt, stop arguing before you to get sent home. Get to class before I call your father; he would not be pleased with this behavior." his words sounded like a threat of punishment, but I was sure if my father were there, he would have sorted the whole thing out.
I looked at Anne, who had started to cry quietly. I felt so angry and conflicted. My father would never allow such a thing to happen to sweet Anne, who had never done anything to deserve it. What was I to do? leave with Anne? or go to class as told?
I stood there for a long moment, then Anne put her hand on my shoulder and wiped away the tears that were running down her cheek. "Go, Beth, before you get in trouble, too." she encouraged.
"But what about you?" I pleaded.
Anne looked at Mr. Duerr and then back at me and said, "I'm going to go home. Don't worry. I'll be okay. Just go, I don't want us both to miss class." Anne turned and walked away.
I was about to walk past Mr. Duerr when he grabbed my arm tightly and pulled me back. He looked down at me, still frowning and said in a low voice, "Be careful who you spend your time with Miss. Schmitt. You don't want to be viewed as a sympathizer. You wouldn't want to get in trouble, and I know you don't also want to get your father in trouble. Now get to class."
Mr. Duerr's obvious threat made me want to turn around and follow Anne if, for any reason, to defy anything that man had to say or request of me. I also wanted to smack him in his smug mouth simultaneously, but I held in my temper and counted to 5. I knew that when I got home and spoke to my father, everything would be sorted, and Mr. Duerr would be put in his place.
Anne didn't have a wicked bone in her body. Why did being a Jew make her so bad? I wasn't a little girl anymore. I felt I was old enough to know what was happening, but everyone still saw me as a child they needed to keep out of trouble. Looking back, I was too young at the time to understand what I was being protected from, all I knew was I was confused and wrapped up firmly in a blanket of denial.
I walked into class and sat in my usual seat. I looked cautiously around the classroom and noticed there were fewer kids in my class that day. Five seats were empty. I looked at the two vacant desks on each side of me, and saw John wasn't there either. Panic rose in my chest. What if he hadn't been allowed in school either? I raised my hand.
"Yes, Beth?" Mr. Burg called on me.
"Where is everyone?" I asked innocently.
Mr. Burg gave me a stern look, "Don't trouble yourself." And he went back to writing on the blackboard.
Mr. Burg's answer sent my young mind into a spiral of horrid thoughts. I spent the entirety of that school day wondering what was happening and what I could do to get back some sense of control.
The rest of the school moved slower than usual, and I felt as though time had stopped completely. When school let out, I ran as fast as I could to John's house. I don't think I had ever ran as fast in my life. I had to make sure he was okay. When I finally reached John's house, I knocked as hard as I could, hoping and praying everything was okay. All of a sudden, John's mother answered the door, and I sighed in relief.
"Is John here?" I asked, not meaning to sound so worried.
John's mother nodded, "Yes, come inside."
I walked inside and spotted John lying on his sofa. He looked ill or dazed like he had seen a ghost or something. I walked over to him and knelt down so I was looking him the eyes. His eyes were red and puffy and I could tell he had been crying. John never cried. He always told me that women cry, and men make sure that women never have to cry again.
"John?" I whispered, "What's wrong?"
John looked me in the eyes, he gritted his teeth and said in an angry voice, "Go home, Beth."
"What's the matter? Why weren't you in school? Are you alright?" I pleaded for answers.
John suddenly sat up, rage burned in his eyes. I had never seen John so angry in my whole life.
John sat next to me and he looked at the ground. His head was in his hands, and when he looked up at me, his eyes seemed older, less innocent. His brow was furrowed and his whole body remained tense. He was obviously troubled and yet he didn't seem to want to tell me why. He hesitated longer than I expected and, in fact, I wondered if he was hoping I would let it go before he had to explain anything at all. He took my hands in his, and just stared at me. I didn't understand why he didn't just get to the point. I wish I had savored that moment a little more than I had.
It was as though the boy I thought I knew had been replaced by an angry man that stood before me like a tower about to fall and crush everything in its path. I backed up afraid of what John might do, and confused as to why his anger was directed towards me. "Go home, Beth! I don't want you here."
"Why? What have I done?" I asked, as my chest tightened and my vision became blurry with tears.
John shook his head like he didn't understand the question, then he stood and looked me directly in the eyes and said. "Don't play dumb, Beth. I can't even look at you. Get out!" he yelled, holding nothing back.
Once again, I felt like everyone knew something I didn't. And now I was to blame for whatever it was. "I don't understand John, please." I pleaded desperately, hoping for an explanation. "What have I done?"
John hesitated for a moment. He seemed to study my face for a moment, and suddenly like a bad storm, it passed, and the anger seemed to drain from his face. His body was still tense, but his hands were no longer in fists. He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face.
"You don't know, do you?" John said in his somber voice, which I rarely heard from him.
"Know what?" I said utterly exasperated, "Will someone, please tell me what is happening? I feel like this whole day has been a terrible whirlwind I can't manage to escape from."
"Sit down, Beth." John was unsettlingly calm all of a sudden. I could still hear some anger in his tone. "You know about the Nazis, right?" John asked gently.
I knew what the Nazis were. They were just soldiers as far as I knew. I didn't realize their purpose only that they were military. "Yes," I answered, wondering what they had to do with anything.
"You know your father is a Nazi, right?" John continued with caution.
"He's a soldier," I said, still wondering where this was headed.
"A Nazi soldier Beth," John emphasized.
I nodded, "Yes, I know." I said, not sure why that mattered.
"You know, Matthew, right?" John's voice wavered, which frightened me.
Matthew was one of John's best friends and his neighbor. I had never spent much time with Matthew, but I knew who he was. He was in my grade, and sometimes he would walk with John, Anne, and I to school.
"Yes, why?" I asked gently.
John looked like he was going to fly into a rage again, but he took a moment to breathe and slowly exhaled. His hands were shaking, and his whole body looked tense. John took a deep but shaky breath and looked at me again. His eyes were full of grief. "I was about to start walking to school, I had just walked out my front door," John stopped, and his bottom lip started quivering. A single tear fell down the side of his cheek, but he quickly brushed it away, obviously hoping I hadn't noticed. "I saw a truck outside his house, and I noticed several soldiers standing out front. When all of a sudden, I saw--" John stopped again, he squeezed my hand, and in a shaky, broken voice said, "I saw your father. He had Matthew's father kneeling in front of him. He was yelling at him about the consequences of defying him and his direct orders, especially since they were Jews."
I didn't understand what John was trying to tell me.
"He pulled out a gun," He stopped again and seemed to scan the room for a moment, "He shot them, Beth," John said through gritted teeth, his jaw tensed and his hands squeezed mine as though he were holding me in place in case I decided to run.
"Them?" I said, not sure how to process what I was hearing.
"They brought Matthew's whole family out and shot them. All of them." Tears were falling freely down John's face despite his even tone.
I shook my hands free from John's grip. I stood up and walked to the other side of the room. I felt like someone had just punched me in the stomach. "You're wrong," I said, shaking my head "My father would never do that," I said breathlessly.
John sighed, "Beth, I would never tell you this if it weren't true. I didn't want to believe it either."
"Stop!" I shouted. I covered my mouth quickly, shocked by my tone. I started to shake. "Maybe the man just looked like my father." I heard how silly it sounded coming out of my mouth, but it was the only thing I could think of.
"Beth," John said, standing and holding me gently by the shoulders. "I know your father, Beth. It was him."
"No, no, it wasn't. My father wouldn't hurt anyone; he couldn't." I broke John's hold on me and crossed the room, feeling like I was being suffocated.
"Beth, please. I thought you knew. That's why I was so angry with you. I thought you had been keeping this from me." John explained.
"It isn't true, John, it isn't!" I insisted again.
"Yes, it is Beth." John attempted to sound calm while tears continued to fall down his cheeks.
Before I had a moment to think, I slapped John across the face as hard as I could, knocking him back onto the sofa. "I don't know why you would make such a terrible story up, John."
"Beth, I know you don't want to accept that the war is here in Germany, but can't you see it?" John said, regaining some of his frustration. "More and more people are being killed right in front of us, how can you not see that?" He said, standing and nearly shouting at me.
"But..." I stammered. I had heard the rumors, I listened to the gunshots late at night and heard the sirens, but I had never seen anything. "My father isn't apart of whatever you think he is a part of," I said with unjustified surety.
"Yes, he is!" John exclaimed, "Beth, I am sorry, I know how deeply you admire your father, but he is a Nazi, and they are killing our friends!" John replied with palpable anger at my complete lack of awareness.
"I don't believe you!" I shouted back at him.
"That doesn't matter, Beth!" John yelled, "It doesn't matter if you believe it or not, because it's happening." John shrugged, sounding defeated.
I curled my fists and looked at John for the first time as though he were the enemy. "You're wrong, John." I stormed out of the house. I couldn't understand why he would tell me such terrible things. I hated how he spoke to me as though I were a complete and utter fool.
'I would know if my father was killing innocent people, right?' I thought to myself as I angrily walked the streets towards my home. Of course I would, I answered my own question. My father was a Nazi; I had always known that.
My father had never tried to keep that a secret. He wore the uniform, he had the swastika, 'But Nazis aren't bad people,' I thought to myself. I knew plenty of my father's military friends. They were all Nazis, and they had always been kind to my mother and me. Some of them even brought me gifts during Christmas.
As I walked, I noticed Matthews's door was broken in, and I also saw a dark brown stain on his front steps. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I was sure that if that had happened, my father would never be the reason for it.