Excerpt from The Neighbors Son by Liesel Appel:
You look at me and pay attention, she demanded. My mother had strong, large hands. She grabbed my shoulders and shook my limp body until I opened my eyes. I saw her take a side-glance towards the door. Did she expect someone to eavesdrop or burst in?
Do not listen to people you dont know, she said. Thats very foolish. Your Papa would never save a Jew. He saved you. He saved us from the Jews. He was a good man."
But they lived next door where the Witkes live now." I tried to break free from her grip. Papa saved his son on Christmas Nacht. The man said so.
Stop it, Liesel. Your father was a good man; he saved many people, but never that man or any of his kind. Not ever a Jew." She stepped back and seemed about to cry. Good God, why in the world would he have saved a Jew? Why? In Gods name, why? I didnt know the answer.
What could this man--this Jew--have done that was so terrible? Then my epiphany! My very own parents might somehow be linked to the strangers tragedy and not in the way I had imagined. Once I heard Opa tell Mutti about hearsay that Nazis had killed innocent people in the neighborhood, children, even babies. Until this moment I had not made the connection and believed Nazis were boogieman.
Now, like a flash my mind replayed my parents words from way back when I was younger. Were Nationalist and proud of it and Liesel, youre special and a Nationalist too.
Papa didnt save the baby? I probed. What did we do in the war, Mutti? I didnt want to hear her answer. I felt giddy, closed my eyes and put my head on my chest. With both hands I grabbed my hair and pulled hard on it.
In my minds eye I saw the flailing arms of the little boy who was thrown from the balcony. There was no worse horror and crime. What did we do? I whimpered.
My mother reached for me again. This time she tried to take me into her arms and comfort me, I her only daughter, her husbands legacy. I shrugged from her. Never before had there been a challenge like this between us. The truth about my own family was just beginning to dawn on me. I was terrified.
We looked into each others eyes, my mother and I. Neither one of us was able to comprehend that at this very instance our lives had changed forever.
Then I blurted out the terrible, final words that I could never take back to the end of my days.
You! My voice sounded like it belonged to a different person. You are murderers. Dont ever touch me again
She looked as if I had slapped her and she tried to hold me, but I pushed her away. She raised her hands and stood back against the huge, carved bookcase as if she had to hold it up with her body. Nothing mattered to me now. Deep in my chest I felt disgust and hate, unpleasant, painful emotions I had never experienced before.
I ran back to my room and slammed the door shut behind me with such force that a picture fell off the wall. I needed to get away from my mother to be alone and think. Because there was no key on the inside I knocked the books and dolls off the top of my dresser. For a thin nine year old I found enough strength to push the heavy wooden dresser against the door.
Exhausted, I threw myself on my bed and sobbed.
That was the day I found out about my parents. My beloved Papa, who used to sit me on his knee and tell me fairy stories, who laughed with me and who smelled of fresh air and musky earth from his hikes in the woods. My Mutti, who took good care of me and praised every one of my accomplishments; on this day my childhood innocence was gone forever.
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