The abyss loomed large and deep. She stood at its precipice searching for the bottom. The wind whipped her long, dark hair out of its clips and threatened to find its way under her skirt. She formed his name with her lips, but no sound escaped. An enormous gust, like giant hands, pushed her in the back and she fell forward, down, down, down…
***
Anna bolted upright and leaned over the floor. Just in time. The vomit barely missed her berth. She was unsure whether it was the nightmare, or the sea sickness that caused her to lose her dinner most nights. The Motorschiff St. Louis had left Hamburg over two weeks ago and she should have already been on land, but Cuba had revoked their landing certificates. She longed to lie in a motionless bed and sleep through a dreamless night. At least the first would have been possible in Cuba, she thought. Anna expected the nightmare would plague her the rest of her life. Erich.
A drop of sweat falling from her face to her hand pulled Anna from her thoughts. Sitting, she felt the rough carpet under her feet. She swayed her way to the sink and rinsed the vile memory from her mouth. After using a linen cloth to pat her lips dry, she ran it under cold water and proceeded to clean her dinner off the floor. Then another three steps back to the sink to purge it from her room.
Back in her berth, she willed the queasiness to subside. Closing her eyes, images of happy times danced before her, just out of reach. She could almost feel Erich’s warm arms. Almost. The tiniest of smiles found its way to her lips, and tears slid slid down, moistening her cheeks.
A heavy wind tore him away and Erich disappeared into the abyss. She desperately tried to grab him, hold him, save him. A scream formed in her throat, “Erich!” But it couldn’t make the long journey to her mouth. In Erich’s place, black heels clicked, joyfully taunting her.
Anna’s eyes sprang open. Her breath was rapid and shallow. Fingernails dug into her belly trying to break skin, while her stomach threatened to expel whatever remained. She willed herself to match Frau Lauchheimer’s calm breaths drifting down from the berth above. The sea was calm for a change. Anna’s numbness returned. She resigned herself to sleepless hours waiting for the sun to rise and trumpet to sound summoning everyone to breakfast.
***
When Anna entered the dining room, terrifying uncertainty overwhelmed her. Nobody talked. Only the silverware clinked on plates and cups struck their saucers. Not today. Not after last night. She forced a smile and looked around for a table to cheer.
Completely distracted, she failed to notice a toddler running towards her until he had grabbed her leg. Flinching, she looked down to find the boy who had celebrated his second birthday on May 13: the day the St. Louis had left Hamburg. Joachim Hirsch made her smile.
“Hallo, Kleiner! Wie geht’s Dir? How are you?”
“I’m so sorry!” Margot Hirsch rushed up and plucked her child from Anna’s leg. “I turned away for one minute…”
“Looks like I’m the chosen one. He’s a gem.”
“Frau Anna. Eat.”
“He has excellent taste in people as well.”
Margot’s light laugh briefly veiled the room’s thick tension. “We’ve just ordered. Please join us.”
“Frau Anna, komm!”
Joachim’s enthusiasm momentarily replaced her grief with forgotten joy. “I would love to,.” Anna said.
Margot’s husband, Max, stood to greet her, and Anna chided herself over her pang of jealousy. Had Erich been here, she would have loved becoming close to this family. She imagined couples’ nights out and dinners at home entertaining little Joachim. The Familie Hirsch had been wonderful, but she couldn’t help feeling like the third wheel. They had tried to get her to join them at some of the parties before Cuba had dashed their hopes for a future, but who would dance with a grieving thirty year-old widow? No. She couldn’t face that loneliness.
Sitting, she used her menu to engage in a fierce game of peek-a-boo with Joachim, who shrieked with laughter. Passengers at nearby tables turned to watch. Many softened at the sight of innocent, unbridled joy. A few glared over her audacity to betray the gravity of their situation. Anna flashed a defiant smile. “The end of the world is upon us. A priest, an imam, and a rabbi gathered their followers. The priest said to his flock, ‘The Messiah is here. Repent your sins and be saved.’ The imam told his followers, ‘Mohammad opens the gates. Seventy-two virgins await.’ The rabbi got up and said, ‘Did everyone remember to cancel their milk order?’”
Several passengers laughed. Her detractors merely turned away. All except one. “How can you joke about our situation when we’re all dead?”
“How can you not joke and still be alive?”
“Ever the clown.” Max flashed his warm, genuine smile.
Anna shrugged off the lingering jealousy as her steward placed an elegant cup of coffee at her right hand. She picked it up and contemplated the coffee’s bitter blackness. The abyss threatened to engulf her and she quickly returned the cup to its saucer. I really need to lighten it up with cream and sugar.
***
After breakfast, Anna stood on the deck staring at the coast guard boats trailing their ship. Germany doesn’t want us. Cuba doesn’t want us. America is going out of its way to demonstrate it doesn’t want us. I guess we’ve been chosen to not be chosen. The irony both amused and horrified her.
The sudden awareness of another presence yanked Anna from her thoughts. Bella. The passenger who came closest to understanding her plight. She put her arms around her new friend. It felt good to savor the embrace of another human. Bella missed her husband terribly, and even though he was alive in Havana, she at least understood what it meant to desperately miss a piece of her soul.
“Amerika wird uns reinlassen. Then Leo will find a way to get me to Havana.” Bella’s voice betrayed fear.
“Yes. Captain Schrӧder is determined. He’ll convince Roosevelt to let us in.” The coast guard boats narrated a different story. The longer they circled the waters around Miami, the more Anna lost hope.
The two women stood in silence watching the waves and trying to pretend they couldn’t see their guards. Georg Lenneberg, the charming man who, prior to Cuba’s betrayal, had entertained everyone by showing off on roller skates, shuffled by. “Guten Morgen.”
“Good morning, Herr Lenneberg.”
Anna nodded. The previously dapper man’s now disheveled look dismayed her. His spark had died. Was there nothing left to live for? A protective joke formed in her mind. “Three goyim died and went to Heaven. God met them and said, ‘I’ll give each of you a new car. But the car you get depends on how faithful you were to your wife.”
Bella stared at Anna, a slight smile on her lips.
“The first man was completely devoted to his wife and never even looked at another woman. He got an Alfa Romeo. The second man loved his wife, but was weak and gave into a few temptations. He got a Volkswagen.”
“And the third?”
“He married a matron for money and entertained young tarts in beer halls. He got a bicycle.”
Bella covered her mouth as a squeal escaped.
“The three men were driving along the clouds when suddenly the man in the Alfa broke down sobbing. The other men wondered why he would cry when he had the best car in Heaven. Between sobs, he managed, ‘My wife just passed me on roller skates!’”
“Oh no!”
Anna laughed until a cloud passed through her. “Erich has the Alfa.”
“And you would be in the passenger seat right beside him.”
She nodded. Her friend’s figure blurred.
Bella put her arms around Anna. Anna lay her head on Bella’s shoulder and surprised herself with something she hadn’t allowed since childhood: the clown cried in the presence of another.
***
Anna found herself at the precipice of the abyss. Erich’s voice echoed. She strained to hear. “Shanghai.”
“Things will get better. We’re patriotic. We’re Germans.”
“Hitler says we’re not.”
“Your brother fought for Germany in the Great War.”
“And a lot of good it did him. It took a brave doctor risking his practice and his life to put Benno back together after he was left for dead.”
“See? Many Germans defy Hitler.”
“At what cost? Should we continue putting them at great risk? Should we continue putting ourselves at great risk?”
Anna looked away. “This is temporary. We can wait it out.”
“Komm, Anna. This is our last chance. Borders are closing. We must join Benno in Shanghai now.”
“Then go without me.” She knew he would never leave her.
“Blinder Sturkopf! You are blind and stubborn!”
The wind kicked up, its angry howls whipping a storm around her. Once again, the giant gust’s hands pushed her back and she fell forward, down, down, down…
***
Anna bolted upright, the scream caught in her throat. Nausea overwhelmed her. The ship swayed. Anna shook. I am a blinder Sturkopf. Moving onto hands and knees, she focused on her breath, trying to match Frau Lauchheimer’s calm rhythm. This had become a nightly ritual. She finally stopped shaking, but the nausea barely subsided. She maneuvered slowly to appease her stomach. Rough carpet under her feet. Three steps to the sink. Cold water over her palms. Through her fingers. Water on her face. Cool linen pressing her cheek, nose, mouth. Three steps back to bed. Wait for the sun to rise and trumpet to sound.
***
That morning, Anna sought out the Hirsch family. She needed Joachim’s enthusiastic innocence to drown her terror and guilt. Scanning the dining room, she found neither the beautiful boy, nor his parents. She walked among the tables, hoping to feel his soft hands grab her leg. Nothing. Stewards approached with offers to find her a seat. She declined. She needed to be distracted. After her fourth weave through the room, she angrily admitted defeat. I’m still nauseous. I shouldn’t eat. She decided to go up to the deck to see Miami’s palm trees. Perhaps the fresh air will soothe my stomach and clear my head. At least, it can’t get worse. A voice rose inside her: “Sure it can!” I’m such a Jewish optimist!
She found the once bustling deck empty. Since the Cuban betrayal, most passengers remained in their cabins or gathered in small, somber groups in one of the social halls. Only her few friends and humor provided an escape from the oppressive air.
The wind blew hard, pulling her hair out of its clips and whipping it in her face. Anna wrapped her scarf around her head. Walking the 170 meter deck, she contemplated the freedom of the wind to blow as it pleased. Was Erich now that free? Could he blow about at his leisure? Of course not! He’s a prisoner in a grave in Berlin. If only I had listened.
Her knees buckled and exhaustion overcame her. She grabbed the railing to steady herself. Waves of nausea crashed over her. The boat swayed and the wind stole her breath. Gingerly, she made her way back to her cabin, white knuckles gripping anything available.
Relieved to be alone, she lay in the fetal position trying to imagine Frau Lauchheimer’s rhythmic breath. Calm her head. Mollify her stomach. Her eyes felt heavy.
***
The gallows went up right around the corner from their flat. A Nazi officer had been killed. The penalty was ten Jews. Everyone feared going out. But Erich’s aunt was sick. His uncle had to visit a doctor for medicine. He didn’t return. A neighbor had passed a newsstand. The photograph on the front page of the Vӧlkischer Beobachter caught his eye. He brought it to them. Ten Jewish men stood against a wall, eyes frightened. Erich’s uncle stood in the middle. The headline proclaimed:
“Traitors to be Hung for Death of Officer”
Erich grabbed his coat.
“You can’t go out!”
“I have to save my uncle.”
“How? Are you going to burst into a Nazi jail and waltz out with your uncle?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“That’s a suicide mission.”
“My uncle raised me.”
“I need you. You have to stay.”
“Get out of the doorway.”
“No.”
“I’ll ask…”
They all jumped at the bang on the door. “Ӧffnen! Raus!”
Silence. Erich pulled Anna into the back bedroom. Their neighbor followed.
The front door shattered. Boots marched through the flat. Nowhere to hide. An SA officer’s uniform burst through the door. He pointed at Erich. “You will hang the prisoners.”
“Nein.”
Anna’s jaw dropped.
The uniform beat Erich with its pistol. “Komm!”
“My uncle’s among the prisoners. Nein.”
A gun sounded. The most horrible sound. Erich fell backwards, his blood flooding the floor. Anna screamed and rushed toward him. The uniform pushed her away with brute force. Angry boots kicked Erich. Finally, the uniform picked up Erich’s limp arm and let it fall. He disappeared.
Anna knelt over Erich. Her neighbor’s hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
She couldn’t speak through sobs.
“I know someone with a wheelbarrow. I will help you.”
Anna stood at the edge of Erich’s grave and watched the grave digger lower him in.
The wind felt like knives and the happy sun mocked her pain. The abyss loomed large and deep. There was no bottom. Without Erich, all she could do was fall down, down, down…
***
All the passengers congregated in the dining room. They had nothing to eat. The trumpet had summoned them at 4:30 am. It was now early afternoon, and no news. Rumors flew about America granting asylum, America turning them away, the coast guard arresting everyone…
The room was stuffy. People had removed their jackets, and the men loosened their ties. Children fidgeted and cried.
Captain Schrӧder entered. Silence. Nine hundred and eight pairs of eyes followed him trying desperately to read his poker face.
“Meine Damen und Herren, the United States refuses to let us dock.”
A collective gasp from the crowd.
“President Brú of Cuba has ended negotiations and ordered us out of his waters. Our supplies are dwindling. We’ve no choice but to return to Europe.”
Many women and some men cried. Upon seeing their parents, the children also cried.
“Please don’t give up hope!” Captain Schrӧder begged. “We continue to work on a solution.”
This provided no comfort to the crowd of doomed Jews. Hitler’s knives were sharpening.
Anna sat numbly in her chair, alone in the crowd. The clown had nothing to say. No amount of humor could improve this fate. She leaned back and closed her eyes. She could have saved Erich. She could have saved herself. She could have gone to Shanghai.
Ich komme, Erich. I’m coming.
Professional Judge’s Feedback
1st Place, Round 1, NYC Midnight Short Story Competition 2022
“I loved this piece’s interpretation of “the clown.” It is first and foremost a character piece–the dramatic tension stems from Anna’s mounting guilt which plays so beautifully off her naturally ebullient spirit. Her moments of despair feel that much more earned because of the energy she puts towards entertaining others. I also love the way this story is paced, to gradually reveal the source of her pain in all its intricate layers.”
NYC Midnight Judge No. 2022
“Ohhh, this is a very haunting story. Poor Anna and the guilt of living with her life-altering decisions. You do a great job at painting the scene and building a strong character arc. I really felt like Anna was a sympathetic character. I love how you weave the present with the past and build up the tension to make a multilayered story. The writing is also strong.”
NYC Midnight Judge No. 2014
“Very beautiful descriptions are used throughout the story. There is a very dream-like feel to the story which makes it unique and interesting. Adding to this, there is a very intriguing use of dialogue between the characters. For example,
‘How can you joke about our situation when we’re all dead?’
‘How can you not joke and still be alive?’
There is a beautiful juxtaposition that is reoccurring in the story.
Another thing I really appreciate would be the historical element of the short story. The history of the MS St. Louis, also known as the “Voyage of the Damned” is accurately told throughout the story.
NYC Midnight Judge No. 2239